In Praise of the Square

 Gray's Mill, Graysville, Georgia

Rolliecord Vb, Ektachrome film

(Click to enlarge)

 

Maybe it's because my first "good" camera was a square-format Ricoh Supper 66 twin-lens reflex, or perhaps it's because my first great (and continuing) influence in photography was Fritz Henle, known as "Mr. Rollei" for his almost exclusive use of the square format Rolleiflex TLR during the most productive years of his life. (He later switched to the Rolleiflex SL66 single-lens reflex, but it was also square format.) 

Whatever the reason, I've always loved the square format, and I've always loved the twin-lens reflex because one must look down into the viewfinder instead of holding the camera at eye-level and looking through it.

 Many photographers would consider those two things to be drawbacks.  But I find that composing to fill the square makes composition easier. And looking down into the top of the camera to see the viewing screen seems to help me shut out the rest of the world and concentrate on what I see on the screen.

Another thing I like about TLRs is that most of them don't have interchangeable lenses. That greatly simplifies things, because instead of trying to be prepared for everything, I can look for subjects the camera is suited to handle. That is by no means as limiting as it might sound –- in fact, it's actually liberating rather than limiting. Maybe that's why my square format photographs often seem to convey a special sense of serenity

Henry County Courthouse, McDonough, Georgia

Yashica 24 TLR, Fujichrome 100 film

 

It's true that with my Fuji cameras (and many others) I can set the camera to shoot in square format. And i can even pull out the rear screen so that I can look down to compose a photograph. But for me, it's just not the same.

I don't shoot much square format these days, because twin-lens reflexes (and medium format single-lens reflex cameras which shoot square images, such as Hasselblads and Bronicas) are film cameras and film is expensive. But every once in a while I load a roll of Fujichrome in my Minolta Autocord and take it along with me just in case I find something that grabs my eye and says "Shoot that with your TLR."

Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins 2021

I post three times a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone 

Tags: Dave Jenkins, photography, Ricoh Super 66, Fritz Henle, Rolleiflex, TLR, twin-lens reflex, SL66, Hasselblad, Bronica, Minolta Autocord, Fuji, Fujichrome, Graysville, Georgia, Rolleicord Vb, Ektachrome, Yashica 24, Henry County, McDonough Coourthouses

 

What is Photography?

 

 Pencil of Light: McLemore Cove and Pigeon Mountain

Pentax 6x7, 105mm f2.5 Takumar lens, Fujichrome 100 film

(Click to enlarge)

 

What is photography? Is it a hobby? A craft? A profession? 

Is it art?

Are photographers artists? 

The answer to both questions is sometimes. Not all photographs are art, but some are. Not all photographers are artists, but some are.

Photography got off on the wrong foot at its birth, more than 190 years ago, because no one was sure just how it should be classified. Since it rendered three- dimensional reality in two dimensions on a flat surface, photography soon came to be regarded as a form of drawing, albeit inferior because it was achieved by mechanical and chemical means.  Most photographers accepted this evaluation unquestioningly and set out in great earnest to prove that photography could compete with the older media by producing work that looked like drawing, painting, or engraving. 

Part of the problem then and now is confusion of terminology; using the words medium and art as though they were interchangeable, when in fact they are not. Painting is a medium, as are sculpture, engraving, photography, and pottery.  When practiced at a high level of competence within the context of its own inherent qualities, each medium is a craft which may become art when imbued with an indefinable presence imparted by the being of the artist himself.

The essence of photography is that it is photographic. It is a picture made by the action of light reflected from something that has objective reality onto a sensitized surface. Light rays bouncing off something that is really there go through a lens and are recorded onto film, a sensor of some kind, or something not yet invented, but whatever it is, it is "writing with light." 

As distinguished from other visual media, the art of photography is primarily the art of seeing. A photograph is created at the instant of exposure, and nothing done to it afterward will make it art if it was not well seen to begin with. Throughout the history of the medium, the works that have had power, the works that have lasted, have been straight photographs. Furthermore, most of them have been documentary photographs. Their power and their art are in the photographer's ability to see and to present his vision in a tangible form.

So what about the photograph at the top of this post? Is it art?

 Maybe. Probably not.

Am I an artist?

Maybe. Probably not. But I always work with artistic intent and an artistic attitude. Other than that, I don't worry about it. History may declare that my photographs have staying power and that I was an artist, but I won't be around to receive any plaudits. So I make my photographs the best I can and am happy in the doing. That's all I can do. 

Photograph copyright David B. Jenkins 2021

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone 

Tags: Photography, art, art of photography, Pentax 6x7 camera, Takumar lens, Fujichrome film

The Village of Rex

 

Rex Mill, Rex Village, Georgia

Minolta Autocord Twin-Lens Reflex camera, Fujichrome Provia 100 film

(Click to enlarge)

Hidden in Atlanta’s back yard less than 15 miles from the state capitol is a tiny pocket of non-progress -- the Clayton County village of Rex. Old Rex Road, with its one-lane bridge over Big Cotton Indian Creek is still there, as are Rex Mill, with its dam and small, overshot wheel; the row of storefronts, and the Masonic Lodge. 

The mill itself was built in 1830 by I.L. Hollingsworth, and named after his dog. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. And although it has been idle for many years, a few older folks still remember the days when farmers brought their grain to the mill in horse-pulled wagons to be ground into flour or cornmeal. 

Rex Village

Canon EOS 5D Classic camera, Canon 24-85 f3.5-4.5 EF lens

But now, fifty yards downstream and high above the creek, a new Rex Road on a modern bridge spans the little valley from the past. The Village of Rex has been bypassed both figuratively and literally by the twenty-first century. 

(Adapted from my limited-edition book Georgia: A Backroads Portrait. 

Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins 2021

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone

Tags: Photography, Atlanta, Clayton County, Rex Mill, old mills, Canon EOS 5D Classic camera, Canon 24-85 f3.5-4.5 EF lens, Minolta Autocord Twin-Lens Reflex, Fujichrome Provia film

A New Book (sorta)

 Benjamin Gachet House, Barnesville, GA

An unusually fine example of Plantation Plain architecture.

Canon EOS 6D, 28-105mm f3.5-4.5 lens

(Click to enlarge)

I guess my book Backroads and Byways of Georgia is doing okay. It was published in 2017 by Countryman Press, an imprint of W.W. Norton. They have just ordered another print run and have asked me to do a second edition.

Georgia is a big state, densely packed with interesting things to see and do. I traveled nearly 11,000 miles to explore Georgia and map out fifteen tours encompassing the best the state has to offer -- from Savannah to St. Mary's along the historic Atlantic coast, the Appalachians in the northwest, the broad plains of the southwest, and the Blue Ridge Mountains of the northeast. And lots of interesting stuff in central Georgia.

With so much geographical diversity, Georgia makes a great driver’s getaway.  Everywhere you look, there's something new to discover: abundant natural beauty, the historic, the quirky and offbeat, the strange and unusual, and the beautiful. Old houses, old churches, old courthouses, old mills, covered bridges and historic sites. It also includes itineraries for trips of differing durations and in different seasons, tips for comfortable accommodations, great food, and good shopping.

For the second edition I will need to drive the original tours, taking note of any changes that may have occurred. I will also need to contact the various restaurants, hotels, and attractions that I listed to see if there have been change in hours and/or prices. Sadly, in this time of the dreaded virus some of them may no longer be in business 

The publisher has also asked me to add one more tour, which will be southeast Georgia, a region that I neglected in the first edition.

My wife is facing two surgeries, which will keep us here at the campground for a few months while she recuperates, but I can use the time to contact the restaurants, hotels, and attractions to confirm and update their information.

You can get a copy of Backroads and Byways of Georgia at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, or your local bookstore. Or you can order a signed and inscribed copy directly from me at djphoto@vol.com. The cost is $21.95 plus $3.50 shipping. My email address is my PayPal ID. Go ahead and order your copy now, because the second edition won't be out until mid-2022.

Photograph copyright David B. Jenkins 2021

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone

Tags: photography, backroads, Georgia, Savannah, St. Mary's, Barnesville, Appalachians, Blue Ridge Mountains, Countryman Press, W.W. Norton, Canon EOS 6D, Canon 28-105 f3.5-4.5 EF lens

The Mills of Rabun County, Georgia

Barker's Creek Mill

Canon EOS 6D, Canon 17-35 f2.8L lens

(Click to enlarge)

I guess it's no secret by now that I love old mills. Georgia has a good number of them scattered around the state; some in remarkably good condition, and many still in operation on a limited basis. Rabun County in the northeast corner of the state is home to four mills, with three of them in good condition and easy to find.

Barker's Creek Mill on Betty's Creek Road, to my mind the most beautiful, was built in 1940. Powered by a 12-foot overshot wheel, it still operating and grinding meal on the first Saturday of each month from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Silvan Falls Mill, on Taylor’s Chapel Road, was built in 1840 of locally milled “wormy chestnut.” The original wheel was replaced in 1952 with a 27-foot overshot wheel that is one of the larger ones in the country, although not as large as the 42-foot wheel at the Berry College mill near Rome. Fed from springs atop Black Rock Mountain, water is channeled  from a small waterfall to power the wheel. The mill has been converted into a bed and breakfast inn, but the owners still grind a variety of grains for meal, grits, and flour. 

The Bell Gristmill was built by C.B. Bell in the 1920s near Coweta, North Carolina. It was moved to the Foxfire Museum and Heritage Center at Mountain City in 1972 and restored to working condition. Foxfire is open Monday through Saturday, 8:30 a.m. - 4:30 p.m. 

Warwoman Creek Mill

Olympus OM-D E-M5, Panasonic Lumix 14-140 f3.5-5.6 II lens

These are all great mills, however, the one that tugs at my heart is the remote, obscure, nearly gone, little Warwoman Creek Mill on John Houck Road east of Dillard. I've been unable to find who built it, or when. I photographed the mill in 2016, and only a fragment of the small, overshot wheel remained at that time. The walls were sagging and the roof was falling in. If it's still standing, it won't be for much longer. 

Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins 2021

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone 

Tags: photography, old mills, Rabun County, Georgia, Foxfire Museum, Black Rock Mountain, Warwoman Creek, Canon EOS 6D, Canon 17-35 f2.8L lens, Olympus OM-D E-M5 camera, Panasonic Lumix G-Vario 14-140 f3.5-5.6 II lens

 

 

Starr’s Mill

Starr's Mill, Senoia, Georgia

Olympus E-PL1 camera, Zuiko 14-42 f3.5-5.6 lens

(Click to enlarge)

One of the most beautiful, well-preserved, and visible of Georgia’s many old mills is Starr’s Mill on Whitewater Creek, about eight miles south of Fayetteville on GA Highway 85. It's also one of my very favorites.

The first mill at this location was built of logs by Hananiah Gilcoat sometime before 1825, but the name “Starr’s Mill” came from Hilliard Starr, who owned the property from 1866 to 1879. The present building was erected in 1907 and was in operation until 1959.

Like many Georgia mills, Starr’s Mill was powered by an underwater turbine rather than a visible waterwheel to grind corn and operate a sawmill.  There was also a cotton gin on the property, and in its later years, even a dynamo that produced electricity for the nearby town of Senoia. 

Just for fun, I photographed Starr's Mill with a Canon 5D Classic, an Olympus E-PL1, and a Yashica twin-lens reflex loaded with Fujichrome Provia film. The Olympus and the Canon both have12-megapixel sensors, although the Canon's sensor is much larger, and the Yashica, of course, is medium format. This time, at least, the Olympus won.

(Photograph copyright David B. Jenkins 2021)

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone

Tags: photography, old mills, Starr's Mill, Fayetteville, GA, Senoia, GA, Olympus E-PL1 camera, Zuiko lens, Canon 5D, Yashica, twin-lens reflex

The Canals of Bruges, Belgium

A canal in Bruges

Olympus OM camera, Zuiko lens, Fujichrome film

(Click to enlarge)

1990 was a banner year for Louise and me. In March, we went to six countries in Eastern Europe to document the changes that resulted from the fall of the Berlin Wall. In June, our son Don was married to Kimberly Keith, with our brand new barn the setting for their rehearsal dinner.

In November, the Church of God sent us to Western Europe, to document mission activities. We went to England, Belgium, France, and Spain, and also to Ceuta, a Spanish city on the North African coast. From there, we spent a day in Morocco with an unusual missionary with an unusual mission to Muslims.

It was a great trip, wrapped up with a great English breakfast at Harrod's in London. However, I think the place we enjoyed most may have been the beautiful city of Bruges, Belgium, with its network of canals. Naturally, we took a ride in a barge. Later, Louise bought some of the lace for which the city is famous.

Canal Bargeman, Bruges

Everything was great, that is, until we were leaving England. A constant problem for traveling photographers in the film era was x-ray machines at airports. Since x-rays could degrade or destroy the latent images on film, knowledgeable photographers asked that their film be examined by hand rather than then x-rayed. I had some close calls, but managed to travel to 28 countries without having my film x-rayed. Until this time. Approaching the gate at London's Heathrow Airport for our return flight to the U.S., I asked the attendant for a hand examination of my film -- the film that held the entire record of our trip. "Sorry," he said. "It has to be x-rayed." I pled with him, but to no avail. "If we don't x-ray your film, you don't fly."

The film was x-rayed.

The good news is that there appeared to be no damage. All the film was usable. Today's digital photographers have no idea how easy they have it.

(Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins 2020

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone

Tags: Bruges, Belgium, canals, Berlin Wall, Church of God, England, Belgium, France, Spain, Ceuta, Morocco, photography, film, Fujichrome, London, Harrod's, Heathrow Airport, London, Olympus OM camera, Zuiko lens

Lost in the Woods

Not officially a "lost barn," but pretty darned hard to find.

Canon EOS A2 with Canon 28-105 f3.5-4.5 EF lens, Fujichrome film

(Click to enlarge)

 A lot can happen in 35 or 40 years. Trees can grow up, barns can fall down, highways can be moved. Whole populations of people can move into or out of an area. In central and southeast Georgia many roads are lined with abandoned houses surrounded with trees and brush.

Technically, this little barn on U.S. Highways 25/341 near Everett City, Georgia, about 14 miles north of Brunswick, was not lost. I had one of the old file cards used by the Rock City sign painters in the 1950s and '60s, with a photo, the highway, and the distance from Brunswick. It's the bottom middle card shown below.

 

 The file cards used by the Rock City sign painters.

 

As I said, it was not lost -- except that it was, because I couldn't find it. I spent at least three hours driving up and down U.S. 341. To make things worse, a road crew was working on the highway and I had to wait for the flagman to let me through each time.

I showed the picture to several people, including two guys changing a truck tire at Manning Bros. General Merchandise. They told me the barn was "at the curve."

  

Manning Bros. General Mdse., Everett City, Georgia

 

Curve? What curve? The road was straight. No curves. Finally, someone told me exactly where to look, which, as it happened, was a dirt road about 50 yards from where the roadwork was being done. There appeared to be nothing there except a dense thicket, but when I literally parted the foliage with my hands, there it was. Lost in the woods for many years.

I later learned that the old alignment of U.S. 341 had run up to the front of the barn and then curved left. The barn had indeed been "on the curve," but that was probably 30 years ago.

(Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins 2020)

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone

 

Tags: Central Georgia, Southeast Georgia, Everett City, Georgia, Brunswick, Rock City, sign painters, Canon EOS A2, Canon 28-105 f3.5-4.5 EF lens, Fujichrome film

Lookout Mountain

Clearing storm over Lookout Mountain

Canon EOS A2, 80-200 f2.8L "Magic Drainpipe" lens, Fujichrome 100 film

(Click to enlarge)

 

Lookout is not a spectacular mountain. Folks out west would probably laugh at the notion of calling it a mountain at all. In fact, were it not the home of Rock City Gardens (“See Rock City atop Lookout Mountain”), probably only the local people would know about it. 

 A southern extension of the Cumberland Plateau, Lookout Mountain is less than 2400 feet at its highest point. If you were to look at it from above you would see that it looks like an alligator with its jaws open. The tip of its nose is in Tennessee and its body sprawls southwest for 80 miles across the northwest corner of Georgia and into Alabama, where its tail tapers out at Noccalula Falls in Gadsden. Its top is a rolling tableland maybe ten or twelve miles wide in some places, but mostly narrower than that. 

As I said, Lookout is not spectacular. But I grew up in Indiana, where we have no mountains at all, so when I came south to college it seemed like a sure enough real mountain to me. 

Lookout was the first mountain I got to know. I drove its backroads (mostly dirt in those days), roamed its canyons, waterfalls, and swimming holes, kissed girls there, and even wrote poems about it (about the mountain, that is, not about kissing the girls). When I moved away, Lookout kept drawing me back. For 33 years I lived in its shadow, in a valley between Lookout and its extension, Pigeon Mountain (the “lower jaw of the alligator” in the aerial view). From the back windows of my house I could watch the sun rise over Pigeon, and from the front windows I could see it set over Lookout. 

I no longer live in that valley called McLemore Cove, but my lifelong love affair with Lookout Mountain continues. In all seasons and in all its moods, Lookout has symbolized for me God’s beauty, peace, strength, and eternity. 

 (Adapted from my limited edition book Georgia: A Backroads Portrait.)

(Photograph copyright David B. Jenkins 2020)

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone

Tags: Photography, Lookout Mountain, Rock City Gardens, Cumberland Plateau, Tennessee, Alabama, Georgia, Noccalula Falls, Gadsden, Pigeon Mountain, McLemore Cove, Canon EOS A2, Fujichrome film, Canon 80-200 f2.8L lens, Magic Drainpipe

A Lost Barn and a Lost Friend

 Can you see the tops of the letters "c," "h," and "a?"

Canon EOS A2, 28-105 f3.5-4.5 EF lens, Fujichrome 100 film

(Click to enlarge}

 

1995 was a busy and enjoyable year for Dave Jenkins Photography, with most of the time not booked for studio sessions taken up with travel and photography for a book about Rock City barns.

In October, 1994, a few days after I agreed to do the project, Rock City sent me a box containing hundreds of old office file cards from the 1960s; Rock City's only record of most barn locations. They had literally been gathering dust in a closet in the advertising department for 30 years. On each card was the name of the property owner at that time, the highway, and the distance from the nearest town. Most had a small photo attached, apparently taken about 1960. Rock City had had no contact with most of these barns since the barn painting operation was greatly curtailed in the late '60s, so the only way to find out if they were still standing was to go and see.

The old-style office file cards used by the Rock City sign painters.

Most barn photography trips were one to three days in duration, but since there were barn locations in 15 states, some trips were longer. In fact, the trail of barns led my old Chevy Blazer nearly 35,000 miles to more than 500 sites over 18 months.

In July of that year, John Huckaba, who was a retired dentist, a member of my Sunday School class, and my best friend at the time, asked if he could go with me on one of my photo-trips. Accordingly, I planned a one-day itinerary to locate and photograph a number of barns on and around East Tennessee's Cumberland Plateau. 

John had survived bladder cancer in the late '80s and was fit and active, but he said I wore him out with my relentless pursuit of barn sites, continuing until there was no longer enough light for photography. He also said that I appeared to have a sixth sense about barn locations. 

At one site we found a welding and machine shop where we had hoped to find a barn. The photo of the barn on my file card showed a house in the background with an oddly shaped upstairs window, and indeed, the farmhouse next to the machine shop had exactly that style of window. John marveled when I showed him the old photo. 

I walked around a bit and found where some of the tin from the old barn roof had been repurposed as siding for the shop. It had been painted over, but if you look carefully, you can see parts of three letters. I think they are the "C," "H," and "A" from "Near Chattanooga, TN," a phrase which appears on many Rock City barns. 

It was a very enjoyable day with John, but by the time we got home he was tired and experiencing some discomfort. A few days later we learned the cancer had returned. 

John died six months later. I still miss him. 

Photographs copyright David B. Jenkins 2021

Soli Gloria Deo

To the glory of God alone

 Tags: Rock City, Rock City barns. East Tennessee, Cumberland Plateau, Canon EOS A2 film camera, film, Fujichrome film, cancer, Chattanooga, Chevy Blazer, Rock City sign painters, Rock City Barns book