The Red Door

 The Red door is a cobbled together collection of pine boards, glass, trim, antique hardware, improvised locks, and ancient red paint. It opens onto a torturous deck that is renown for producing slivers that resemble chef's knives. A fact to which I and my big toe have been a victim.

 

Its red paint has witnessed countless hours of sun, wave lapping sounds, and cicada songs.

 

When it has been repainted; it always is the exact same shade of red, and it's former layers attest to the many coats it has layered upon the pine boards. This door occupies an inordinate amount of visual space within my mind, because traveling out the door and across the deck leads to a view of paradise.

 

Even the pets are drawn to the view from the red door

There literally is a point of land called "Paradisa" which the sun rises over to kiss this door every day. This little post is my nod to whomever built this magical door perhaps close to 70 or 80 years ago. It was never meant to last this long, but it has been treasured by many, and still serves its original purpose.

Here is the pre-dawn light rising over Paradisa point recently witnessed by me.

New gear - new inspiration

In February I accidentally (long story) purchased a bucket list lens - the Nikkor 200mm f2.0 AI.  In March I added a new to me camera - the Canon 5DSR. In May I found a new way to scan film negatives that results in perfect color. That prompted me to purchase an "Essential Film Holder" from an engineer working out of his kitchen with his wife in London, because they are swamped with orders. Next (there is always a next) I needed software to convert the scans to get that perfect color - enter "Negative Lab Pro". Which necessitated a used Nikon PG-2 focusing stage, a CRI 95 light panel,  plus wireless triggers for the cameras. Straight up it has triggered a renewed energy in my passion for photography resulting in me shooting more images in the last seven months than the previous two years. 

This is the new way to scan negatives. You use a DSLR to shoot the negative. Pictured here is the Canon 5DSR (50 megapixel), a 50mm f2.8_Schneider Componon-S enlarging lens (proved better than my other four macro lenses) plus a set of Nikon "K" tubes. The Essential Film Holder, with a light panel providing the illumination. (not pictured is the wireless trigger).

Since an enlarging lens does not have a focusing helicoil that is why a Nikon PG-2 focusing stage was required. Here are some of the results. (click photos for larger  versions)

Notice in this 100% crop that even the grains of the Fuji iso 400 film are in perfect focus. No sharpening has been applied, or noise reduction.

 

Max

   When I was a boy in northern Michigan's woods in the 1960s I met this amazing veterinarian named Max. Max had more cats and dogs than anyone I knew. He loved to build things, and problem solve. His hands were all balled up and crooked from arthritis, and Max smoked pipes constantly. Max loved his wife Beryl, and out of his massive workshop she requested he make something practical like plates. Instead of more things for the shop or other people.

 

Max and Beryl

Max's tool shop was two stories high measuring 30' x 60', and he had built solid cherry cabinets to hold his tools. It smelled of smoke and wood as did Max.

                                                  Two of Max's many Cherry tool cabinets

So Max made Beryl some plates, and she said..."I was thinking of something oval".

 

 Stack of round plates on left 

                                     Laying out plates                                     Gluing plate blanks

I wasn't there for his reaction, but I am sure he had a twinkle in his eye. A challenge, and a problem to be solved. "How could I make identical oval plates?" His quest began.

Max went to work building a machine that would create identical oval wood plates using a router, and an acme screw hand crank.

Here is that machine as I shot it in 1992. I imagine it ended up in the dump, and no one knows what it made, or the wonderful mind that conceived it.

...And here is one of  Beryl's oval plates. We had lunch that day on the plates Max made, and my engineer father and I were once again amazed by Max.