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The photographic news
- Bandzählung
- 12.1868
- Erscheinungsdatum
- 1868
- Sprache
- Englisch
- Signatur
- F 135
- Vorlage
- Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst Leipzig
- Digitalisat
- Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst Leipzig
- Digitalisat
- SLUB Dresden
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- Public Domain Mark 1.0
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- urn:nbn:de:bsz:14-db-id1780948042-186800009
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- Sammlungen
- Fotografie
- LDP: Historische Bestände der Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst Leipzig
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- Parlamentsperiode
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- Wahlperiode
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- Bandzählung
- No. 499, March 27, 1868
- Digitalisat
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- Parlamentsperiode
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Zeitschrift
The photographic news
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Band
Band 12.1868
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- Titelblatt Titelblatt I
- Kapitel Preface III
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- Register The Index To Volume XII 619
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Band
Band 12.1868
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- Titel
- The photographic news
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154 THE PHOTOGRAPHIC NEWS. [March 27, 1868. Oorxespondence, “ LUX GRAPHICUS ” OX THE WING. Dear Mr. Editor,—I have often troubled you with some of my ideas and opinions concerning the progress and status of photography, and you have pretty often transferred the same to the columns of the Photographic News, and troubled your readers in much the same manner. This time, however, 1 am going to tell you a secret—a family secret. They are always more curious, interesting, and important than other secrets, state secrets and Mr. McLachlan’s photographic secret not ex cepted. But to my subject: “ The Secret.” Well, Dear Mr. Editor, yon know that my vocations have been rather arduous for some time past, and I foel that a little relaxation from pressing cares and anxieties would be a great boon to me. You know, also, that I am a great lover of nature, almost a stickler for it to the exclusion of prejudicial art. And now that the spring has come and winter has fled on the wings of the field fares and woodcocks—that’s Thomas Hood’s sentiment made seasonable—I fain would leave the pent-up city, where the colour ot the sky can seldom be seen for the veil of yellow smoke which so constantly obscures it, and betake myselt to the country, and inhale the fresh breezes of early spring ; gladden ray heart and eyes with a sight of the bright blue sky, the glistening snowdrops and glowing yellow crocuses, and regale my ears and soul with the rich notes of the thrush and blackbird, and the earliest song of the lark at the gates of heaven. It is a pleasant thing to be able to shake off the mud and gloom of a winter’s sojourn in a town, in the bright, fresh fields of the country, and batho your fevered and enfeebled body in the cool airs of spring, as they come gushing down from the hills or across the rippling lake or dancing sea. I always had such a keen relish for the country at all seasons of the year, it is often a matter of wonder to me that I ever could bring my mind to the necessity of living in a town. But bread-and- butter do not grow in hedgerows, though “ bread and cheese " do; still the latter will not support animal life of a higher order than grub or caterpillars. “ There’s the rub.” The mind is, after all, the slave of the body; for the mind must bend to the requirements of the body ; and as a man cannot live by gazing at a “ colt’s foot,” and if he have no appetite for horseflesh, he is obliged to succumb to his fate, and abide in a dingy, foggy, slushy, and bewildering world of mud, bricks, and mortar, instead of revelling in the bright fields, fresh air, and gushing melodies which God created for man, and gave man senses to enjoy his glorious works. But, Mr. Editor, I am mentally wandering among “cowslips,” daisies, buttercups, and wild strawberry blossoms, and for getting the stern necessity of confining my observations to a subject coming reasonably within the range of a class journal which you so ably conduct; but it is pardonable and advan tageous to allow mind to run before matter sometimes, for the latteris more frequently inert than the former,and when the mind has gone a-head the body is sure to follow. Melancholy in stances of that present themselves to our notice too frequently. For example, when a poor lady’s or gentlemen's wits are gone, lettres des cachets, and some kind or unkind friends, send the wit less body to some retreat where the wits of all the inmates are gone. I must, however, in all sober earnestness, return to my subject, or I fear you will say: “ Ho is going to Hanwell.” Well, perhaps I am, for I know that photography is practised at that admirable institution ; and now that I have struck a professional chord, I may as well play upon it. Lenses and cameras, like birds and flowers, reappear in spring, and, as the season advances and the sun attains a higher alti tude, amateurs and professionals are quickened into a surprising activity. Renewed life is imparted to them, and the gregarious habits of man are developed in another form and somewhat in the manner that the swallows return to their old haunts. At first, a solitary scout or reconnoitering party makes his appear ance, then another, and another, until a complete flock of amateur and professional photographers are abroad, seeking what food they can devour: some preferring the first green “ bits ot foliage ” that begin to gem the woods with emeralds, others waiting till the leaf is fully out and the trees are thickly clothed in their early summer loveliness ; while others prefer a more advanced state of beauty, and like to depict nature in her russet hues, when the trees “ are in their yellow leaf.” Some are contented with the old-fashioned homesteads and sweet green lanes of England for their subjects; others prefer the ruined abbeys and castles of the feudal ages, with their deeply interesting associations; others choose the more mythical monuments of superstition and the dark ages, such as King Arthur’s round tables, druidical circles, and remains of their rude temples of stone. Some delight in pictorializing the lakes and mountains of the north; while others are not satisfied with anything short of the sublime beauty and terrific grandeur of the Alps and Pyronneos. Truly, sir, I think it may be safely stated that photographers are lovers of nature, and, I think, they are also lovers of art. If some of them do not possess that art knowledge which is so necessary for them to pursue advantageously either branch of their profession, it is much to be regretted ; but there is now no reason why they should con tinue in darkness any longer. I know that it requires years of study and practice to become an artist, but it doos not require a very great amount of mental labour or sacrifice of time to become an artistic photographer. A little hard study of the subject as it appears in the columns of your Journal and those of your contemporaries—for I notice that they have all suddenly become alive to the necessity of imparting to photographers a knowledge of art principles—will soon take the scales off the eyes of a man that is blind in art, and enable him to compre hend the mysteries of lines, unity, and light and shade, and give him the power to compose his subject as readily as he could give a composing draught to an infant, and teach him to deter mine at a glance the light, shade, and atmospheric effects that would most harmonize with the scene to bo represented. Sup posing that ho is master of the mechanical manipulations of photography, he has acquired half the skill of the artist; and by studying and applying the rules of composition and light and shade to his mechanical skill, ho is then equal to the artist in the treatment of his subject, so far as the means he employs will or can enable him to give an art rendering of nature, fixed and immovable. I do not profess to be a teacher, but I do think it is much more genial in spirit and becoming the dignity of a man to impart what little knowlege he has to others than to scoff at those who do not know so much. If, therefore, Mr. Editor, in the course of my peregrinations, I see an opportunity of calling your attention, and, through you, the attention of others, to any glaring defects or absurdities in the practice of our dearly beloved art, I shall not hesitate to do so ; not, however, with any desire to carp and cavil at them for cavilling’s sake, but with the more laudable desire of pointing them out, that they may bo avoided. During the coming summer I shall have, or hope to have, many opportunities of seeing and judging, and will endeavour to keep you duly advised of what is passing before mo. My letters may come from all parts—N., E„ W., and S.- so that they will, in that sense at least, harmonize with the nomenclature of your periodical. Where I may bo at the date of my writing, the post-mark will reveal to you. And now I must consider my signature: much is in a name, you know. I can hardly call myself your “ Special Correspondent ”—that would be too much a la Sala; nor can I subscribe myself an “ Old Photogragher," for that would be taking possession of another man’s property, and might lead to confusion, if not to difficulties; neither can I style myself » “ Peripatetic Photographer ”—though I am one—for that namo sometimes appears in the columns of a contemporary ; and my own name is such a long one, consisting of nearly half th 0 letters of the alphabet. Well, I think, all things considered, I cannot do better than retain my old nom de plume. And will* many apologies for this long round-about paper, and every expression of regard, I beg to subscribe myself your obliged and humble servant, Lux GRAPMICUS. Udarch, 1868. GAS OR OIL LAMPS FOR THE MAGIC LANTERN. Sir,—While endorsing the very admirable of your correspondent, Mr. Martin, relative to ment of mineral oils for illumination with a iag . must dissent from him in respect to the fitness or unfitness ot gas. I use gas in a lantern having a 84-condenser and quarter plate Voightlander portrait lens, and get exceedingly good effects with a six-foot disc. As a practical photometrist » know that there are very few towns in England in which 80818 supplied of such indifferent quality as to give loss than the recommendation the non-enploy; voci, lantern. I
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