interview from Without Lenses

Noriko Ohba: Featured Artist

Erin Malone — Wed, 19 Mar 2008 05:06:51 GMT

I am in love with you, zero2000 medium format camera

Our first featured artist is Noriko Ohba, a pinhole photographer living in Japan. I first noticed her work on flickr and have been following her work for the last couple of years. I hope you enjoy her work as much as I do.

Your Location? I was born and grew up in Hiroshima. But, I live in Osaka now.
Osaka and its surroundings is a very beautiful area. Classical and modern buildings, cityscapes and nature coexist well; Osaka is a wonderful city.

Breath, zero2000 medium format camera

How long have you been doing Pinhole work? I began to take the pinhole photographs from the early 2004. I am surprised because only four years have passed.

What cameras do you use? I use three cameras in large part.

1: Zero2000 Deluxe (Zero image)
This camera gives me courage to take the photo.

2: HOLGA (altered)
I removed all the boards and the partition of inside of this camera. and I'm taking 6x9 formatted. I love the tunnel effect of this camera.

3: Pinhole Blender
This camera annoys me very much. But, it's very happy and can take a fantastic photograph like the fragments of the memory, by taking different colors and different scenery from three pinholes on this camera.

My favorite???
It is very difficult to decide it. If you insist... I like the altered HOLGA. I have an attachment to this mostly because I remodeled this camera by myself but this camera is in the worst shape of the three.?

Reflection, Pinhole Holga medium format camera
Your favorite subject? My favorite subject is a flower, the gradation of the sky at the magic-hour (the time as it is darkening after sunset), and buildings. These have become the themes I photograph.

Pink carpet, zero2000 medium format camera
See more of Noriko's work: Website :: flickr

A Pinhole Diary of Eating Out

Erin Malone — Sun, 02 Dec 2007 08:00:00 GMT

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“...people seem to enjoy seeing the meal from this very different perspective.”

Close on the heels of one of the biggest meals of the year in the US, it is only fitting that we feature the work of an artist who has spent the last five years capturing the passage of time over a meal.
Nancy Breslin, takes her pinhole camera everywhere and brings it out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Over the last several years she has dined, documented and created over 600 images. Starting in the fall of 2002, she took the images online in 2003.
Without Lenses asked Nancy to elaborate on how she started this project and where she is going from here:

Erin Malone: Is this a continuing, ongoing project?
Nancy Breslin: While the first was in fall, 2002, since the spring of 2003 I have been shooting my meals out (restaurants, friends homes...) with that pinhole camera very consistently, soon after I started posting them at fotolog (in May, 2003) I began to note the date, place and exposure time for each one.

What type of camera/format do you shoot with?
The Zero 2000 which takes 120 film. I typically shoot with TMax 400 and I process it myself.

With the f/138 opening of this camera, it gives me 1-2 second exposures outdoors, 10-30 seconds by bright windows, all the way down to an hour or more (e.g. a restaurant with low lighting and candles). I carry a light meter and mini tripod (along with the camera) all the time.

Do you ever build your own cameras?
I have built a number of pinhole cameras, including ones from photo boxes, cookie tins and, of course, an oatmeal box, but I've continued to use my Zero 2000 for all pinhole projects. I recently bought a beautiful Cameo 625, which takes 120 film like the Zero 2000, handmade by Mark Brown of Virginia, and plan to use it for a landscape project.

You mentioned that the waiters and waitresses often move the items you bring as well as the table items - do you tell them you are making a photo?
I try to keep an eagle eye on my camera when food is brought - if the camera is moved to make way for a platter or some ketchup, the shot is ruined.

I do mention the camera to people I am with, but don't make a point of telling waiters, although they often ask me what the pinhole camera is (it's more obvious if I have to put it on the mini tripod). When I explain, most people are really interested. I also try to keep a postcard from one of my shows with me, for people who seem particularly interested, or who can't understand how the camera works (some people think that a long exposure means the camera is recording a moving image, like video). I've had a few "camera phobic" friends who need reassurance that they won't be recognizable in the image, although one person still asked that the camera be pointed the other way.

Do you ever take a final image back to the restaurant - when the image is made in a restaurant?
I haven't taken images back to the restaurants. However, when I have lunch out with a friend, or at a friend's home, I send a link to that person when I post that meal on fotolog, and people seem to enjoy seeing the meal from this very different perspective (the blur, the different vantage point...).

What's the weirdest place you dined and made an image?
I'm not sure which would count as "weird," but some have been unusual, such as photographing my husband and daughter eating pretzels under one of Christo's gates in Central Park or eating pasties at platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station of Harry Potter fame.

Do you have a favorite image?
I don't think I have a single favorite, but am most drawn to some where the lighting is beautiful (while doing other types of photography, I'm very drawn to wonderful light, but for this project I have little control over that - the table by the windows looks great, but the hostess might seat us somewhere else) and also to images with teapots.

With over 600 images in this project, do you think you've captured it all?
I see no reason to stop now! Each image is so different, even when I revisit a particular restaurant.

Is it ever done?
Not yet. Maybe after 10 years of this...

In your bio, you say you came late to photography. Did you start out with traditional lens cameras or did you start out doing pinhole?
I took an intro photo class in 1996, and loved it so much that I decided to become a photographer. I used lensed cameras exclusively for the first few years (except for one failed attempt with a badly-homemade pinhole camera), but in 2002 I saw the Zero 2000 in the Freestyle catalog and bought it on an impulse. It's been in my bag ever since and it is now my primary camera.

What artists/photographers inspire you?
I think most of the photographers I'm drawn to use lensed cameras, but their work typically has some of the soft, odd, ethereal appeal of pinhole. Back in the 1970's, long before I knew anything about photography, I was grabbed by the unusual fashion photography of Deborah Turbeville. I love the work of Gertrude Kasebier and some of the other pictorialists, such as Clarence White. The dreamy dystopias created by Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison are strange and wonderful. Pinhole photographers I like include Martha Casanave, Craig Barber and Jesseca Ferguson. A favorite pinhole image is the funny and charming potato self-portrait by Ralph Howell.

What advice do you have for those just starting out?
If you tried building a pinhole camera on your own and it didn't really work, don't give up. I had built my own before buying the Zero: I used a needle and tin foil, had no idea about exposure, and got a small, dark, round image and gave up on it. Seeing the results of the Zero, I was careful when I built my next one, and when I have students build cameras they need to know the needle diameter, use pie tins or soda cans instead of tin foil, sand down the opening, and calculate the f/number of the camera. Most then get great results with little frustration.

What's your current project?
I have several ongoing projects, in addition to "Squaremeals." I have a growing pinhole amusement park series, part of which was recently exhibited at the Art Trust Gallery in West Chester, PA. This may sound peculiar, but for a few years I've also been photographing hotel "amenities"—the arrangement of soaps and shampoo that is left on the bathroom counter—and also the hotel pool if there is one. I have presented the soaps and pools from the same hotel as diptychs.

Aside from pinhole, I have also been printing on fabric, including cyanotypes as well as inkjet on silk.

Nancy Breslin with poodle

NANCY BRESLIN came to photography a little late, after spending a decade as an academic psychiatrist. She completed her MFA in photography at the University of Delaware in 2000 and received an Individual Artist Fellowship from the Delaware Division of the Arts in 2003. Her work has been exhibited in over 40 juried or curated shows, and she has had solo shows in Wilmington (DE), Arlington (VA) and Philadelphia. Since 2002 she has had several ongoing pinhole projects, including "A Pinhole Diary of Eating Out," "Amenities," and a series of amusement park rides. She teaches photography part-time at the University of Delaware. More of her work can be seen at www.nancybreslin.com.

Imagined Spaces

Erin Malone — Wed, 22 Aug 2007 06:08:51 GMT

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“If you aren't making artwork, then you're not an artist, and if you're not an artist you don't belong in a classroom teaching art.”

In April 2007, I attended the first f295 Symposium and was treated to the vision and work of Lou Krueger. I was fascinated by his work and the combination of intricate dioramas he constructs and the custom cameras he makes to take the images. A new camera for each scene. We talked to Lou this summer and he peels back some of the mystery by sharing his processes and taking us behind the scenes of these fascinating constructions.

Erin Malone: When did you start working with pinhole?
Lou Krueger: I first started with pinhole in the early 80's. My work to that point was a variation on cliches-verre (hand-drawn, light-printed) in which I constructed and painted16"x20" color negatives or positives and printed them as C-prints or Cibachromes. That process encouraged an image that was at its heart, somewhat surreal and unpredictable. For me pinhole embraces a similar kind of fantasy, the distortion of space, focus and scale provide fertile ground for images that are simultaneously truthful and fantastic. The thesis sentence from my most recent artist's statement pretty much summarizes 35 years of photographs: “My work is fantasy masquerading as reality, with an emphasis on the existentially absurd.”

What came first—the idea for the image and the construction or the camera?
Depending at what stage of my career, I might give you a different answer. When I constructed my first pinhole camera it was a very modest device capable of recording images on 4x5 film with very little thought given to much else other than making large 50-60 inch color, pinhole prints. I used that first camera for15 years, and made mural size installations that exploited scale and distortion. Today I use a variety of cameras that help me better achieve my specific narrative.

In fact I've discovered that I'm as much an object-maker as I am an image- maker. I think I like constructing the cameras and the dioramas because they appeal to the toymaker in me…the process of trial and error, the hands-on of directly forming object that can respond to itself as you go. Whereas the photographs appeal to me because of the illusions they represent… of the magic created by truth and fantasy sharing the same space.

Inside and outside shots of teeth used for the image "French Kiss"

When you build the environment and cameras, do you work on each simultaneously, or do you sequence? Do you make different incarnations of cameras in order to “get” the image imagined?
I wish I could say that it's all clear cut and that one follows the other logically, but unfortunately it doesn't always work that way. I have a series of cameras and removable lens boards that can be altered to suit my particular needs. As an image evolves either on my worktable or in my head, I usually build or design features that will best take advantage of the set that I create. For example, the 4x5 camera and lens design for “Honeymouth” was made specifically to record an image that would be sharp at about 21/2 inches (the front part of the teeth) and then flare everywhere else within the image giving the feeling that the bees were in motion. The model of teeth was purchased at a flea market thirty years ago and redesigned by me to attach (rest against, on a stand) to the front of the camera.

What motivates you to create?
I believe strongly in the democracy of art, the opportunities that it creates, and feel privileged to be a practitioner of it. I'm a storyteller, and stories tend to transcend both time and tragedy. My narratives will never change anything, but perhaps they have ability to preserve something. So if nothing else my artwork (I also paint and draw on occasion) represents a point of demarcation, and a reflection on the absurd nature of the contradictory and inexplicable messages that routinely bombard us as we go about our daily business in a world that is going mad. I'm a maker of fiction, and as a reader of it, I've learned that frequently there is a better description of truth in fiction than you can find in documents of the phenomenal world.

It's not too often that most of us find the right words to frame a catchy comeback, or in the heat of argument discover an articulate, spontaneous rebuttal. But I can think of one occasion, in my own experience, where I said exactly what I wanted to say, and it summarized perfectly my feelings about making artwork. I was in the process of having my MFA photographs matted at a local frame shop, and one of the other patrons in the store looked at my work and asked, “were you on drugs?” I replied, “Madam, they—gesturing to my prints—are the drug.” The phrase was a quote from Dali…. (To any students out there, attend your art history classes!)

What artists / photographers inspire you?
I'm afraid the list is endless and doesn't stop with visual artists. Musicians, writers, performers also work their way into my consciousness on a regular basis. I have no clear-cut standards that might apply universally. My work and process embrace an overly baroque complexity, but I have deep respect for simplicity. I admire risk-takers and think that most truly meaningful artwork usually breaks with convention. But if I have to pick out a few of artist/photographers: Charles Eisenman and Diane Arbus for their recognition of stratification and marginalization; Duane Michals for creating unbelievable narrative structures; Susan Meiselas ,James Nachtway, and Sebastian Salgado for taking photographs I could never take; Joel Peter Witkin, Eric Fischl and Andres Serano for examining the taboo and accepting all the crap that accompanies it; Gregory Crewdson and Sandy Skoglund for obsession times ten; Robert Frank for speaking frankly; Larry Sultan and Mike Mandel for their use of satire, irony and wonderful juxaposition; Sally Mann for her family of man and clarity of purpose; Janine Antoni, Nan Goldin, Cindy Sherman, and Carrie Mae Weams for undermining stereotypes; Sophie Calle for her introspective view of intimacy, or rather that which substitutes for it in contemporary society. And the list goes on, and on.

Two of the cameras Lou Krueger works with. The multi-lens camera is currently under construction.

Do you ever photograph your creations with traditional cameras?
I haven't yet but there are times when I am tempted. The odd thing about this is that I bought a Hasselblad thirty years ago, and that's the camera I use to record images of family, friends, and travel. It's my two-dollar, home-made pinhole cameras that I use to make my serious work.

Do you use pinhole out in the “real” world?
A qualified yes. For the first 15 years of my pinhole work I photographed a broad cross-section of subjects as I discovered them, but always with the knowledge that the camera would distort, disrupt, and alter the meaning of the thing being photographed. So I don't think anyone would ever place my work in the category best identified as straight.

What do you do with the construction and the camera after you have made the image?
Good question. When I started with the dioramas it was my intention to treat the set as a small stage or theater; with a curtain and moveable partitions, etc. My thinking at the time was that I'd simply change scenes, figures and lighting to create a whole new environment for each new print. But what has actually happened since was not something I anticipated.

Usually, I'll spend a month or more creating the components for the diorama that I create, and then I'll shoot about 25-30 negatives to get to the final iteration of the print. What I discovered was that the sets are often times as interesting to me as the prints that record them. As with any constructed reality or tableau image (think Sandy Skoglund here) there are those that will find the thing itself as rewarding as the document of it. The difference being that the camera has but a single point of view and prevents the viewer from finding other ways to understand or interact with the scene itself. And with my work the camera is constructed to compress space, alter scale and exploit that point of view in such a manner that the resulting image is not just a simple record of the diorama, but rather it's an interpretation of it.

Cigarettes being made and constructed into the image "Smoking May Be Hazardous to Your Health."

With some sets I'll spend far too many hours trying to resolve small issues. For example, in the piece, “Smoking May Be Hazardous to Your Health” I spent two weeks trying to figure out how to make the cigarettes look as if they were actually lit while flying through space. What I discovered was that there is a particular foil wrapper that surrounds a Hershey's Kiss that worked well for my purpose. That foil, removed from the candy, balled up and rubbed with a permanent red marker looks pretty convincing when reinserted into the cigarette. I spent weeks making the cigarettes and building the set, and the getting the exposures right; I took the photograph, made 30"x40"prints of it and dismantled the whole thing. The issue for me now is that set was pretty exciting in its own right, more so than the final image, and now that I've got some distance from the image I'd love to go back in there and change the primary figure and re-photograph it, but obviously I can't because the set no longer exists. In this case the photograph is not one with which I'm satisfied; the components are far better than the print.

So I learned to save the sets. Since that point, I've come to the conclusion that the cameras, the sets, and the prints work very well together and hopefully might make for a provocative exhibition someday. The few people that have seen one of my dioramas, and the print of it, appear to respond positively to both. I was concerned that first-hand knowledge of the set might undermine the magic of the print, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

How has this work affected your teaching?
I can think of a thousand ways…. If you aren't making artwork, then you're not an artist, and if you're not an artist you don't belong in a classroom teaching art. So on a general level, I believe that it is your work as an artist that gives you credibility in the classroom. As an educator you feel less like a fraud when actively engaged in the process of making work, and that usually translates into increased risk-taking by you and your students. Faculty and their students share similar issues as artists, so how I approach my own artwork clearly influences how students approach theirs. If done properly I try to model in myself those behaviors I'd like to see in my students.

However, and to better answer your question, this particular body of work has a direct link to my current teaching. Every so often you get lucky as an instructor and a perfect storm occurs, the planets align. I recently taught an advanced course titled, “Experimental Camera,” that in fact drew directly from my research with cameras. I spent forty hours a week on that class alone, and not because I had to, but rather because the kids worked so far beyond the parameters of their existing knowledge that I wanted to see how far we could push the envelope. They were driven, I was driven, and at one point I remember declaring to them that “this is no longer a class, it's a #@$*&%! quest.” We fed off each other and what I was in the process of discovering about my own camera constructions, dioramas, and prints made an imprint on their learning, and what they learned in turn influenced how I thought about my work.

Set for the image "Disarmed". Bottom image: Arms closeup.

What's your favorite image you have created? What was the hardest to build and photograph?
It's funny but over the whole of my career I think that I've made only about twenty pieces that I'm really, really satisfied with… pieces that in hindsight I would not change. Of the current group of photographs I'm pretty happy with “Disarmed”, “Honeymouth,” and “The French Kiss”. Of those I'd have to choose “Disarmed” because of its personal significance. This particular print incorporates photographs that I took of my parents at times of extreme duress. The image of my dad with the cat on him—unbeknownst to us at the time—turned out to be an image of his first epileptic seizure. He was confused, lost and so he crawled up in a sleeping bag and slept for two days; it was the first time that I'd ever experienced him in a position of jeopardy. And the image of my mother—the figure hovering above him—was taken a couple of months after my dad died. Because I took the photograph of her with my pinhole camera her arms tended to morph into the table she was sitting at it and it looked very much like she was frozen in a block of ice. In both cases my parents appeared to be without the use of their arms and vulnerable to whatever may come.

Thus the arms in the diorama provided a kind of symbolic support and protection.

And if not the hardest to create…certainly the most complex piece technically was “The French Kiss” with it's constructed mouths, and six different light sources (including sparklers), and ten minute exposures.

What advice would you give to someone starting out in this media?
I've taught for thirty years and probably not a day goes by without me questioning my position to give advice. However, I give it often, I give it freely, and I also know that what works for me doesn't always work for others. Everyone develops differently and at varied rates depending on both motivation and exposure to stimuli.

My advice: You'd better love what you're doing because if you're serious, you'll probably be doing it for sixty or seventy years. So find the thing that you are truly passionate about, do it, and don't apologize for doing it. Artists—and scientists, I think—establish their own problems to be solved. We design the thing that we want to better understand. There is no one telling us that you must do this, or you must do that. We choose, and perhaps sometimes, the thing itself chooses us. There is no high quite like completing a piece that expresses almost perfectly the thing you feel. It's not about celebrity, status, recognition, or acclaim it's about expression and discovery. I find that the better I'm able to express myself, and the more I learn, the more adequate I feel as a human being.

And a closing thought… my goal: to be an engine of inspiration in the lives of my students, to create magic with my artwork, and find grace with my life.

Lou Krueger in his studio

LOU KRUEGER received both of his degrees from Northern Illinois University; a BFA in Metals, 1970, and an MFA in Photography, 1976. Over the last thirty years he has taught photography at NIU, Elgin Community College, Syracuse University, and currently Bowling Green State University. Krueger was one of the co-founders of the Syracuse University art photography program, and has also served several stints as an arts administrator, most recently as the Director of the School of Art at BGSU. Lou's photographs, drawings and paintings have been exhibited locally, regionally and nationally.
“I have been deeply privileged as an artist-educator, love teaching, and firmly believe that my best artwork still lies in front of me.”

Magic on the Playa

Erin Malone — Wed, 22 Aug 2007 06:08:51 GMT

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“We're not a collection of individuals but instead a group of artists working together to produce something much greater than we ever could as individuals. We're a group of 100 or so people over the 9 years that pinhole has been in existence.”

Each summer in late August, August 27 through September 3, 2007 this year, thousands of people travel to the remote and barren Black Rock desert of Nevada to create the Black Rock City, also known as Burning Man. Home for a week to artists, revelers, people who want to express themselves through dance, art and play and home to the Pinhole Camp.

Without Lenses caught up with Yvette Pasqua, from the Pinhole Camp group of artists, to learn about this highly collaborative project and some of the unique challenges of creating pinhole imagery in the middle of the desert, in a moving truck.

Erin Malone: When did the Pinhole Camp start?
Yvette Pasqua: It started about 9 years ago in 1999 and the first project was the Burning Man festival that year.

Whose idea was it to do a pinhole camp?
Pinhole was the brainchild of a handful of friends (all guys) who were going to Burning Man for the first time to participate. They all lived in the LA and SF area. They wanted to contribute to the art at Burning Man in a unique and lasting way. Many of them attended college together and were engineers and architects and all of them had a love for art, community, and fun.

Who are the main artists involved?
I'd prefer to keep any individual names out of the pinhole description because we're not a collection of individuals but instead a group of artists working together to produce something much greater than we ever could as individuals. We're a group of 100 or so people over the 9 years that pinhole has been in existence. Over that time, leadership of the group has transfered from one collection of artists to another, but some of the participants have remained the same throughout. Most of the the techniques, the process we use, the materials we use, and vibe we create around teaching people how to make our art has been handed down from group to group and remained the same.

Have some years been better than others?
Of course every year is different. That's one of the many exciting, wonderful things about both Burning Man and Pinhole Camp. Some years we're a group of 12 and other years we're a group of 50 people. Some years the weather at Burning Man is easier for producing our art and other years it's harder. Some years we're placed in an area of Black Rock City that is highly trafficked by participants and others we're in a more quiet location. Some years we spend more time preparing and other years we need to make do with less preparation. That said, every year has produced art that excites us and makes both the pinhole artists and Burning Man festival participants smile.

How do you work in this very dust filled environment?
Dust and light are our 2 biggest enemies on the playa. As a result, we have to be careful about two main things: ensuring the pinhole cameras (large barrels) and the darkroom are dust and light tight. We repair the barrels each year using our favorite tool of choice, black gaffers tape. We build a light tight and relatively dust free darkroom inside a 16-25' moving truck. The moving truck is the pinhole camp's transport out to the playa and it doubles as the light-free container for our darkroom. All sides of the truck are light and dust free.

To seal light and dust from the one open side exposed to the outside, we hang three layers of Duvateen drapes in a maze-like pattern from the top of the truck to the floor of the truck. The multi-layered drapes ensure that light and dust don't make it to the back of the truck where the darkroom magic happens. The drapes also ensure that light doesn't enter the truck if someone is entering the truck while we're processing prints and, as before, we use gaffers tape whenever we need a minor light or dust block.

What's been the most difficult part logistically?
The most difficult part is getting all the materials to and from Burning Man. At it's smallest, off-season, the pinhole camp occupies a 10'X5' storage space. That doesn't include all the supplies that we need to replenish each year. We need a whole crew just to load and unload the materials from the storage space and into the truck and to purchase any needed new materials for the year. This takes on average, a group of 6 people about 20-40 hours of work each.

Images are hung inside the dome at the Pinhole Camp. photo by: kikipedia (2006)

Do you set up a "gallery," of the prints once you develop them, during Burning Man?
Yes! The pinhole gallery is one of the best parts of the pinhole camp. We set up a gallery in our 15' diameter geodesic dome. We hang about 10-12 prints at a time facing the interior of the dome, and typically change the prints each day so as to create something new for festival participants and pinhole camp members to view, explore, and appreciate.

What happens to the images after camp comes down?
We, pinhole camp members, take some of our favorite prints home with us, but we give the vast majority (about 70%) of our prints away as gifts to other Burning Man participants. We almost always give them to either the artists whose work we photographed or to a festival participant who volunteered their time to help us at pinhole camp (either by working in the darkroom, by taking photographs, or by helping us setup/breakdown camp, etc.). We especially love giving away the prints to that group of people.

How has your process changed over the years?
Our process started with a stationary pinhole camera that we would build out of wood. It was about 10 feet long, by 7 feet wide and 7 feet tall. The front of the camera had the pinhole and we'd attach the photographic paper there. The back of the camera had our darkroom. We would encourage festival participants to come by with their friends; in costumes, in arts cars, etc. to take pictures with us.

Barrel camera in place to photograph a sculpture on the playa. photo by: Tom Davis (2003).

We then evolved to barrel cameras that we attach to little trailers on the back of bicycles which journey all over Burning Man to take photos of art projects and festival participants. The barrel cameras come back to our darkroom inside our truck and we process the images there. In addition to that big process change, we've also refined our process in some minor ways. These include better ways of making the barrel cameras light tight (gaffers tape and bungee chords), making the pinholes more consistent (using soda cans for the pinhole instead of the barrel material), keeping contamination out of the darkroom chemicals (labels and covers), and making the photographic paper cutting faster and less time consuming (we use a large paper cutter).

Has group participation increased since you switched to the barrel camera on wheels approach to making images?
This new approach was very liberating for us. Unlike before, where the art had to come to us, the portable barrel cameras enable us to find interesting and unique art or moments in time no matter where it is. This allows us to really work our imaginations and experiment with different compositions, exposure times and other ideas.

Have you stuck exclusively to pinhole or have you tried experimenting with other lenses (zoneplate, slits etc)?
We've basically only explored pinhole photography as a group, but we do take high resolution pictures of almost all of the pinhole prints each year so that we can document our gallery each year before gifting the pictures to festival participants or taking them home.

We tried a 10' zoom lens one year that was just a long cylinder attached in front of the pinhole. The zoom worked pretty well but it was too hard to focus and determine the right sweet spot for exposure.

Is there a favorite camera or image?
Too many unique beautiful images to pick one...and our cameras are just a means to art. we love them but all equally :)

What's in the works this year? Anything different or new folks should look for?
Each year we make small improvements that make for better pinhole art but most people won't notice those things. The thing that excites us the most is that every year the work we produce is unique and awesome in the true sense of the word. We make people smile just by looking at our art and we make people feel good about themselves by learning a new skill as interesting and different as large scale pinhole art. Folks should look to capturing their own dreams and visions at Burning Man this year through our pinhole art.

Do you have advice for others wanting to create a large, participatory pinhole experience?
Go for it. It's a great medium for group participation, as anyone, technical and non-technical, formally trained artists and untrained artists alike, can participate and create beautiful art.

The pinhole camp has been creating large-scale portraits with Burning Man festival participants since 1999. After the 2007 event, the camp plans to collaborate with artists in the Disorient camp to add pinhole to Disorient in 2008.