Be prepared......!

I have talked before about the logistics and dangers of taking photographic equipment abroad. I try very hard to be organised and prepare for every eventuality. I was a scout a long time ago and 'be prepared' was the motto. Taking large format cameras about with their attendant lenses, tripods, film and various accessories requires almost military logistics. 

10" x 8" camera on location in Sardinia 2000

So, together with all the equipment and all the ancillary requisites there is a lot to think about. You also have to be prepared for possible damage or mechanical malfunctions. I always have a few lenses of various focal lengths so if one should pack up for some reason I have others. Using a wooden field camera also means that glue, screwdrivers and gaffer tape can fix most things if the worst happens. A 10" x 8" field camera also has one extra extremely vulnerable component - the ground glass viewing screen. Over many years I had never broken one, but I always, always, take a couple of spares with me, safely packed in foam in an old film box. 

One week into the last of my field trips to Sardinia, in the mountainous Barbagia region all was going well. Exhibition was promised by the Associazione Culturale and venues booked both there and back in the UK. Grants from various sources had been arranged and received for the work and just needed the last week's work to complete the project. I stopped at a possible location, opened the boot of the hire car, unwrapped the camera from its protective swathes of focussing cloth and stared in disbelief at the sight of a shattered ground glass. Not just a crack which could have 

been coped with, but a complete shattering. A dozen slivers of glass was what I was left with. OK, slight problem, reach for my spare glass and a small screwdriver and ten minutes work has me back working again. It was then I realised that despite my careful planning and packing, I had left the box with the spare glasses in on my bench in the studio. I had failed to pack them. Disaster. In the wilds of Sardinia, on a weekend there was no chance of a replacement glass. Even in the UK it would probably taken two weeks to get a replacement. 

Barbagia, Sardinia, 2000

So, trip over, exhibition off, might have to refund grants to arts council and British Council etc. etc. etc. These were the thoughts as I drove back down from the mountains to the village where we were staying. Then I had a wild thought. I made my own spare glasses that were back at the studio so I could, given the materials, make one here. In the hotel room was one of those ubiquitous framed prints that adorn the walls of hotel rooms everywhere. I thought that if I ripped that out, salvaged the glass, found a glass cutter I could cut it to size myself. I then needed some grinding paste, the kind used by garages for valve grinding would be fine. All this on a sleepy saturday lunchtime in the wilds of Sardinia. An outside chance, but a chance nevertheless. 

On the drive back, by some miracle we passed a tiny village with an open garage and a mechanic working on a car inside. Apart from forgetting to pack the spares glasses I had prepared in other ways. I had learned the Italian for 'my camera is broken'! 'la mia macchina fotografica è rotto'. I just knew it might come in useful! The bemused mechanic clearly thought I was a madman, dashing about his workshop opening cupboards while clutching a wooden camera and shards of broken glass. Of course I hadn't learned the Italian for 'I need some grinding paste'! My Italian didn't stretch to that. 'Ho bisogno di un po 'di pasta di rettifica'. Yes I know, it's too late now! Anyway he got the idea and produced some very fine rouge that was just too fine. So I apolgised for disturbing him and went on my gloomy way. 

Back at the little hotel / cafe where we were staying and had also  stayed on a previous trip, the locals in the bar were surprised to see me back in the middle of the day. They were used to my routine. Out early, back only when the light went for film changing, drinks in the bar and dinner. Puzzled looks were greeted with my best Italian again, 'la mia macchina fotografica è rotto, La Sardegna è finito!' They all gathered around, took my camera off me, passed broken shards of glass around and argued among themselves. I settled at the bar with a beer resigned to the trip being ruined. After phone calls were made, a firm hand guided me and my broken camera into a car outside. (Not the one with the bullets holes I have described earlier). We drove furiously around the village and up the hill and I was guided into a large shed. 

Barbagia, Sardinia, 2000

As it was bright midday outside my eyes through my tinted glasses were unable to see a thing for a moment. When my vision cleared I was standing in a large workshop with timber, partly made up windows and coffin boards stacked to one side. Grinning at me was, I assumed the joiner / undertaker. I wasn't quite sure what service I was being offered. After earnest conversations between him and the driver which I didn't understand he produced a sheet of clear plexiglass and showed it to me. Ah, I said, really struggling with my Italian now, 'but it has to be ground'.....'ha bisogno di essere terreno'. 'Basta aspettare un attimo signore'. So I waited patiently. He then carefully measured my camera up, cut a piece of the plexiglass to size, checked it, then produced an orbital sander and proceeded to rough up one side. He saw my smile as I realised that this might work and handed me the sander to finish it as I wished. So, from disaster a little while before, here I was, making my own unbreakable ground glass in a strange Sardinian's workshop surrounded by windows and coffins. Our friend from the cafe and the workman were grinning broadly as I worked. When I was satisfied with the level of grinding, I beamed and thanked them profusely. I also realised that there would be a cost to this but it wasn't of great consequence as the cost of not having a replacement would be far greater. 'Molte grazie signore, quanto ti devo'? Much shaking of heads and protestations. 'No no, tu sei il famoso professore dal Galles fotografare il nostro paesaggio. Felice di aiutare'. I didn't argue! Back at the hotel it was ten minutes work to replace the broken camera with my new, unbreakable viewing screen. Not quite as good as ground glass but served me well for the rest of the trip. I always keep it now with the other spares as a reminder of the kindness shown to me out there. I haven't broken one since though.......