By
Clive G — You are probably sick and tired of me extolling, ad nauseam,
the virtues of film photography. You are no doubt fed up to the hind
teeth hearing about how digital photographs are so very vulnerable to
oblivion. And you are probably fit to be tied when you see me rabbiting
on about how we must avail ourselves of photo printers and good quality
photographic paper and print our best shots as insurance against our
digital storage devices getting corrupted, self-destructing, or becoming
obsolete. And you no doubt feel an almost overpowering urge to strangle
me with my own camera strap when I say that if you do not make an
effort to look after your best photographs and preserve them for
posterity, then you are robbing your descendents of their right to a
family past. No problem, you can thank me later!
“Enough already! We get the message,” you are probably yelling at this page. “How about giving us a few solutions for a change instead of just going on and on about the legions of problems associated with digital photography?” OK, here’s one. The week before last, I joined a couple of friends for dinner at a little Thai restaurant in Qurum. There was a Thai soap opera showing on the television, there was a gaudy fountain in one corner gurgling incessantly, and there were plastic covers on the tables. In short, the place was so unpretentious and unassuming that I could easily imagine myself back in my favourite little family-run eatery in a side street off the Surawong Road in Bangkok. If the food is half as good, I thought, then I’ll be a happy man.
My friends, a married couple from Australia, are both very interested in photography, though never having been through the mangle of an undergraduate Photography course as I have, they are much less hung up on technical issues than I am. The fairer half of the couple is the more prolific photographer, as she makes a point of having a high-quality compact digital camera in her handbag at all times and of using it on a regular basis. While we waited for our papaya salad, spring rolls and Tom Yum soup to arrive, she produced a ‘print-on-demand’ photo book they had made together as a Christmas gift for their family and friends. The book contained dozens of excellent photographs, documenting their travels around Oman and their holidays to such photogenic locations as Ethiopia and Italy. As I leafed through the pages, I couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it must feel to be in such a loving relationship that you are constantly impelled to record your life together. Well, Australians are famous for knowing how to enjoy themselves, aren’t they?
Some of you may be wondering what the heck a ‘print-on-demand’ photo book is. Well, simply stated, it is a way to produce a professional-looking book of your photographs at a very reasonable cost. The beauty of it is that rather than having to pay for a print run of, say, 1,000 books, which would cost the earth and which you will never be able to get rid of in a thousand months of Sundays, you can print whatever quantity you like, from just one upwards. If you Google ‘print on demand photo books’ you will find quite a few companies that can turn your collection of digital photographs into hard or soft cover books. All you need is a computer and a bit of time to edit your images and drop them into the easy-to-use templates you can download for free from the website of whichever company you choose.
Last week I mentioned one such book I made of my late grandmother’s old negatives. I have also made one of the best photographs I took when I went to India with my little boy. And I’ve made some others relating to photographic projects I’ve worked on here in Oman, including one I made last summer on the beautiful old village of Al-Qaryatain in the Wilayat of Izki, in which the two photographs accompanying this article appear. Print-on-demand books are relatively inexpensive, they bolster your pride in your photography, they are immense fun to do and they will make you want to up your game as a photographic practitioner.
Most importantly of all, they put in place a safety net for your otherwise vulnerable digital photographs. (“Oh, no! There he goes again!”) I can easily imagine that in twenty, fifty or even a hundred years from now, future generations of my Australian friends’ extended families will be able to look at those photographs taken in Oman, Ethiopia and Italy in the first decades of the 21st century and marvel at what a beautiful couple their ancestors were. I offer one word of warning, though. Making such books is highly addictive!
And by the way, the food was absolutely delicious.
“Enough already! We get the message,” you are probably yelling at this page. “How about giving us a few solutions for a change instead of just going on and on about the legions of problems associated with digital photography?” OK, here’s one. The week before last, I joined a couple of friends for dinner at a little Thai restaurant in Qurum. There was a Thai soap opera showing on the television, there was a gaudy fountain in one corner gurgling incessantly, and there were plastic covers on the tables. In short, the place was so unpretentious and unassuming that I could easily imagine myself back in my favourite little family-run eatery in a side street off the Surawong Road in Bangkok. If the food is half as good, I thought, then I’ll be a happy man.
My friends, a married couple from Australia, are both very interested in photography, though never having been through the mangle of an undergraduate Photography course as I have, they are much less hung up on technical issues than I am. The fairer half of the couple is the more prolific photographer, as she makes a point of having a high-quality compact digital camera in her handbag at all times and of using it on a regular basis. While we waited for our papaya salad, spring rolls and Tom Yum soup to arrive, she produced a ‘print-on-demand’ photo book they had made together as a Christmas gift for their family and friends. The book contained dozens of excellent photographs, documenting their travels around Oman and their holidays to such photogenic locations as Ethiopia and Italy. As I leafed through the pages, I couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it must feel to be in such a loving relationship that you are constantly impelled to record your life together. Well, Australians are famous for knowing how to enjoy themselves, aren’t they?
Some of you may be wondering what the heck a ‘print-on-demand’ photo book is. Well, simply stated, it is a way to produce a professional-looking book of your photographs at a very reasonable cost. The beauty of it is that rather than having to pay for a print run of, say, 1,000 books, which would cost the earth and which you will never be able to get rid of in a thousand months of Sundays, you can print whatever quantity you like, from just one upwards. If you Google ‘print on demand photo books’ you will find quite a few companies that can turn your collection of digital photographs into hard or soft cover books. All you need is a computer and a bit of time to edit your images and drop them into the easy-to-use templates you can download for free from the website of whichever company you choose.
Last week I mentioned one such book I made of my late grandmother’s old negatives. I have also made one of the best photographs I took when I went to India with my little boy. And I’ve made some others relating to photographic projects I’ve worked on here in Oman, including one I made last summer on the beautiful old village of Al-Qaryatain in the Wilayat of Izki, in which the two photographs accompanying this article appear. Print-on-demand books are relatively inexpensive, they bolster your pride in your photography, they are immense fun to do and they will make you want to up your game as a photographic practitioner.
Most importantly of all, they put in place a safety net for your otherwise vulnerable digital photographs. (“Oh, no! There he goes again!”) I can easily imagine that in twenty, fifty or even a hundred years from now, future generations of my Australian friends’ extended families will be able to look at those photographs taken in Oman, Ethiopia and Italy in the first decades of the 21st century and marvel at what a beautiful couple their ancestors were. I offer one word of warning, though. Making such books is highly addictive!
And by the way, the food was absolutely delicious.
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