William Morris speaking on ‘Art and Socialism’ in 1884, expressed succinctly the political ambitions of the Arts and Crafts movement;
It is right and necessary that all men should have work to do which shall be worth doing, and be of itself pleasant to do; and which should be done under such conditions as would make it neither over-wearisome nor over anxious.
William Morris ‘Art and Socialism’, lecture given before the Leicester Secular Society at the Secular Hall, Humberstone Gate, Leicester; 23rd January, 1884
This is sometimes understood to be no more than the assertion of craft over manufacture but Morris’ political vision was far larger and more serious and extended beyond mere handmade wallpaper, furniture or other interior design elements. His target was the ‘black horror and reckless squalor’ of 19th Century industrialisation and the ‘chaos of waste’, both human and material, that this had produced. Morris did not however, entirely successfully resolve the dichotomy between machine production and handmaking although he would no doubt be horrified to see the continued popularity of his designs globally marketed and industrially produced under the conditions of late-capitalism.
The argument that there should be no division of labour between the design and execution of an object, either for use or for art, persists, as evidenced in the current popularity for ‘artisan’ coffee, beer, bread etc. and the emergence, ironically, of a whole ‘crafting’ industry. The expression of a renewed rhetoric of craft in photography is perhaps best seen in the trend of a return to film and the resurgence of interest in ‘alternative printing’ processes. I wanted to introduce a craft element into my current project as part of my exploration of the social construction of work, including photographic work, in order to locate what I am doing in the context of the images I produce.
Of all of the alternative processes, perhaps that which retains most mystery, taken literally, is platinum printing. Hence, I enrolled on a two-day course with Richard Freestone to learn the craft of producing platinum prints.
Richard was an accomplished professional photographer in his own right before turning to print making. He has produced prints for a number of Magnum photographers and has won several awards for his botanical and floral subjects.
It is impossible to do justice, on screen, to the tonal subtlety of Richard’s prints and it is the wholly matt finish and tonal range, the widest of any chemical printing method, that defines the aesthetics of platinum printing.
Brief history of platinum printing …
By the time of Morris’ lecture on Art and Socialism, the platinum print or platinotype had become an established photographic medium, to judge by exhibition statistics, the prestige of its users and its commercial success. The light sensitivity of platinum had been discovered by Ferdinand Gehlen in 1830 and Robert Hunt had succeeded in producing non-permanent platinum prints in 1844 with the first patent for a stable platinotype process being obtained in 1873 by the engineer and inventor, William Willis. Willis went on to form the Platinotype Company in 1892 and Kodak started to sell platinum papers in 1906, despite the difficult chemistry involved.
The advent of the First World War found other uses for platinum. It became essential in the production of electrical equipment, sulphuric acid, amplifiers and primers for artillery shells and its use in photography was prohibited in the UK and the US (see Lael and Killen, 1982). After the war, prices of platinum continued to rise and in 1937, Willis’ Platinotype Company was formally wound up.
Essentially from the late 1920s to the 1970s, platinum printing fell into neglect although it was during this period that the current form of hand coating papers for platinum printing was developed. In 1970, George Tice, an American photographer best known for his images of marginal communities and the urban landscape of his native New Jersey, published The Lost Art of Platinum Printing which can rightly claim to have sparked a revival in interest in this form of printing. Tice’s images, in the tradition of Robert Frank and Walker Evans but echoing also the Bechers’ ‘matter of fact’ interest in industrial forms are notable for their technical precision and craftmanship.
Irving Penn (1917-2009), fashion photographer and arguably one of most significant figures in still life photography of the second half of the 20th century, had been experimenting with platinum in the 1960s and in the 1970s he too began to exhibit images, including some of his already well-known photographs, as platinum prints. Arguably, his technique is not typical in that he tended to the high contrast approach that he often resorted to in his fashion photography.
In the following two illustrations, it is possible, despite the limitations of scree-viewing to get a sense of the difference between the platinotype and the ‘standard’ silver gelatin print;
A small number of photographers have produced platinum prints in more recent years, including Magnum photographers Chris Steele-Perkins and Thomas Hoepker. It is difficult to judge the popularity of platinum printing today but to judge from the difficulty of obtaining the necessary chemicals in the UK and the high price of platinum, it seems likely that it is the preserve of a relatively small number of enthusiasts. This is not to say that the attraction of platinum prints has itself diminished.
The process
At its simplest, the platinotype is a process whereby a finely precipitated iron salt (ferric oxalate), under ultraviolet light, reacts with a platinum salt (e.g. potassium or sodium chloroplatinate), reducing it to elemental, black platinum. The print is developed using Potassium Oxalate. Since the 1930s, palladium, another noble metal has been added alongside the platinum solution both because of its one time lower price and because of it produces a slightly warmer tone and better separation of shadows.
The print is produced on pure, uncoated cotton rag paper. Indeed, one of the attractions of this form of reproduction lies in the fact that it sits ‘in’ the paper rather than on it, resulting in a flat, matt finish which is, to all intents and purposes, permanent.
Platinum printing is a contact printing method and requires the production of an image size negative held to paper sensitised by brushing on a mixture of, in this instance, sodium chloroplatinate, sodium chloropalladite and ferric oxalate. The aim is to produce an even coating of the chemicals, using a damp, nylon brush or glass push rod.
The paper is exposed using UV light. Exposure is determined using a standard step wedge and test strips to determine D-Max and D-Min. In this instance, exposure was typically 14 minutes, but this will vary by atmospheric conditions, intensity of UV light source, density of the negative etc.
The image is developed in a bath of warm potassium oxalate. The image appears instantly but is improved by gentle agitation for a few minutes. The print requires thorough cleaning in 3 successive baths of hypo (and EDTA) before a 15-minute wash in water and air drying.
The production of a suitable negative, in this instance from digital originals, requires, not only the usual CaptureOne/ Photoshop editing processes but also the application of a final curve to the digital negative and some fine adjustments to the printer driver. The curve, and the adjustments to the printer settings are particular to the film transfer medium (in this instance Pictorico Premium OHP) and the paper (in this instance, TPU100 Bergger Cot 320) but are in the form of an exaggerated S curve and the printer working at the highest possible resolution.
I produced 3 prints over the 2 days I spent with Richard:
Worth it?
My original intention was to see what the Rolls Royce of printing techniques, certainly as far as cost is concerned, could add to whatever beauty was to be found in my subject; to see if arguably the most subtle and decisively the most durable form of photographic reproduction could add any depth and permanence to the ugly or banal structures and temporary places that I was exploring. Within the limitations of my competence with this form of printing, an arguable case could be made although, so equally might the case be made for trying to gild the lily.
There is no doubt that the gentle, methodical and quiet process of handcrafting a platinum print is utterly beguiling. There really is something to be said for a hand and eye process to reinforce the experience of making rather than just taking a photograph; to find in what Morris called the ‘sacredness of handiwork’ the ‘natural solace’ of labour. But Morris required labour, and art, to be useful in the service of his revolutionary war against ‘Commerce’. He reviled the ‘useless things’, the luxuries and the ‘toys of fashion’ that formed the ‘mountains of rubbish’ filling the shops of his time. He fervently believed that,
Nothing should be made by man’s labour which is not worth making …
William Morris, 1884, as above.
And it is here that the making of these prints has proved useful; they do not enhance, refine or reflect whatever quality of beauty might be found in the shape, arrangement or form of the subject. Rather they provide an ironic commentary on them; they are no more than useless luxuries in Morris’ terms. The buildings become uglier, more anonymous and alienating; more inhuman and drab. They make explicit the continuing existence of the meaningless, degrading, wasteful labour that Morris observed over 200 years ago and the estrangement of art, including photography, from the experience of that labour and from the lives of those who labour still.
Reference:
Lael, R.L. and Killen, L. (1982) ‘The Pressure of Shortage: Platinum Policy and the Wilson Administration During World War I’, Business History Review Winter 1982 Vol. 56 p. 545-558
