A little experiment in digital art. It began with a photograph of one of the Gothic gateposts outside the chancery behind St. Paul’s Cathedral in Oakland. That was made black and white, and then put through a multiple-layer “etching” filter, and then every detail that looked at all modern was scribbled over. This is the result. Was it worth the work? Probably not, but one can always learn something from these experiments.
Sometimes old Pa Pitt decides to try some experiments with image editing. Here, for example, is a tree in color, with the rest of the picture in shades of grey. Was the result worth the effort? Well, possibly.
Technical problems kept old Pa Pitt out of this site, and he finally gave up and moved elsewhere, where the Internet ignored him. It seems that this is where the Web wants him to be. Having made the effort to overcome all obstacles, he is adding new content both here and at the other address, and gradually transferring two years’ worth of articles back here. (Update: The transfer has happened, and the other address no longer works.)
Father Pitt regrets that he may not be able to answer all the questions that accumulated while he was away. However, one that comes up frequently is “Can I use this picture?”—and the answer is always yes. All Father Pitt’s pictures are released under a Creative Commons CC0 public-domain dedication. You can use them for any purpose without asking permission.
A change of tenants in this Victorian building on Liberty Avenue reveals an earlier layer of signs—one that makes old Pa Pitt wax nostalgic. For many years there was a Foto Hut here. Foto Hut was a chain of photography stores where amateur photographers could get all the basics for photography—including, of course, film and film developing. Digital photography is much cheaper, but Father Pitt still misses film.
David Gilmour Blythe, self-taught painter, produced some of the best satirical and humorous art in the nineteenth century. What made his humor and satire stand out was his eye for composition and shading: he may make you laugh, but it’s likely that the first thing you noticed was the striking play of light and shadow. He lived in Pittsburgh and environs all his life, and the Carnegie Museum of Art has a whole wall of his paintings in the nineteenth-century gallery; this is one of them. (The Duquesne Club also has a distinguished collection.) Father Pitt has known some horses like this one. How do you know when your horse has had enough? Don’t worry: the horse will let you know.
Old Pa Pitt often tells young photographers that there’s no such thing as correct exposure. He likes to make dogmatic pronouncements like that and watch their reactions. But this is what he means. These two pictures of the skyline at night are taken at quite different exposures (two whole stops apart, in fact). The one above is the kind of exposure you will usually see in a night shot of a city skyline. The one below is much closer to the way the skyline actually appears to the eye of the observer. Which is correct? Neither, of course. It is a matter of taste, and of creating the image you, the photographer, wish to create.
Do you wish the world were more like an old postcard? Then you will want to visit Father Pitt’s new Two-Color World, a silly photographic experiment in which every picture is presented in old-fashioned two-color printing, like an old postcard or a two-strip Technicolor movie from 1929.
East Liberty
Over at Mental Floss, an interesting article tells us How 65 Pittsburgh Neighborhoods Got Their Names. Someone pointed out the article to old Pa Pitt, and he immediately noticed that three of the pictures were his. These are pictures he has donated to Wikimedia Commons, as he does most of his pictures these days, and he is delighted to see that people are finding them as useful as he had hoped.
Carrick
Garfield
Another experiment with limited color. Old Pa Pitt enjoys all kinds of photographic experiments, but in this case he has a particular reason for presenting this picture this way: it was a photograph that could not be easily rescued in full color.
You may see the original color photo below if you really want to see it. Father Pitt will draw back the curtain for a moment and reveal the insignificant man with the levers and switches.
In spite of much manipulation, including a gradient filter applied in the GIMP, the highlights are still bleached out completely, making it look like a picture from a cheap cell phone rather than Pa Pitt’s treasured Olympus E-20n.
Reducing the saturation made it look more artificial without making it look more attractive.
But somehow imitation two-strip Technicolor made an attractive image. In the words of Michelangelo, go figure.
Usually old Pa Pitt thinks of his photography as illustration rather than art. Here, however, is a composition motivated by art alone, although it is certainly appropriate for the current weather.
