Curb Couches

Free couch at the Delaware Hotel, Leadville, CO



Carport couches, a variation on curb couches.

Typecast via Hermes 3000 the middle child version.

Typed onto newsprint paper:

A Personal Kind of Archeology

Quairai Ruins, photographed June, 1981





There are a number of poems from this post-Navy era of the early 1980s in my archives, that deal with dreamlike images involving the environs of the Sandia and Manzano mountains. It must have been some psychological impact from having been transplanted back home, after six years of roaming the high seas on an aircraft carrier. A change of mind, a change of place, becoming rooted once again into the ancient hills. This poem is both enigmatic and symbolic, as is the ongoing mystery of secrecy surrounding the Base that adjoins my hometown, with its urban legends of things built deep underground best left unmentioned. Like the best kinds of mysteries, we want both resolution and the ongoing sense that some things will never be known in full.

Typecast via Olivetti Studio 45

Seeking a Photographic Lifestyle

In-camera diazo print, 8x10 format, exposure time 1 hour 44 minutes, Fujinon F/4.5 Xerox Lens



Free



Gravel



These are the sorts of photos I've been making lately, as I stroll through the sleepy sidewalks of suburbia with the little GR3 on a thin wrist strap. This isn't art, just observations shared via the medium of photography.


Lost Dog


Cthulhu. This is what supposedly protects our neighborhood. Go figure.


Shadow of your's truly, lurking in the early morning light.


R.I.P.


Mail truck


Ethan

Wither Goest the Photography?

Wildlife crossing, Wyoming.



I missed this little beauty during my road trip, instead taking the Hermes 3000.



Kevin and I typing under a pagoda on the edge of a motel parking lot in Wyoming. The Hermes worked well on the road, as it's very quiet, though a bit heavy to carry for any extended distance, due to the uncomfortable handle.


The discarded couch from the Delaware Hotel in Leadville, Colorado. We had a pleasant evening here, smoking cigars, sipping scotch and conversing with the locals.


Nick Dvoracek's Evil Cube pinhole camera made from a Tomatin scotch box. I'm looking forward to running a roll through it, and hopefully making prints of any good images.


My Bronica ETRS with Zenzanon 75mm F/2.8 lens. I've had this camera since the late 1980s. It shoots the 645 format and yields 15 images per roll of 120 film.


The little Ricoh GR3 with lens extended. These are the smallest APS-C sensor cameras around. I've yet to get in the groove with it, more work is needed.

In answer to the broader question of "wither goest the photography," I'd say the creative energy I expend on video production seems to satisfy my creative urges, mostly. Though I really do enjoy large format and especially working with paper negative or Harman Direct Positive paper to get one-of-a-kind small prints. These aren't the kinds of photographic methods that lend themselves to an extended photo stroll or trek, like what you'd do with roll film or a digital camera, with their multiple exposures and general convenient in rapidly recording multiple images.

Shortly before I left for the road trip, I'd installed the Instagram app on my phone and began using it during the trip. My goal became one decent image uploaded per day. I've never been an Instagrammer, but enjoyed the challenge of finding that one decent image -- and also lamenting the instant positive, ego-stroking feedback that the app is designed to generate, a psychological trick that purposefully triggers endorphins and gets you hooked on the "likes," one that also threatens to rewire you self-worth around this positive feedback from strangers. As much as I enjoy sharing these images with friends, I don't like the sugar-jolt ego-stroking the experience delivers. There should be a higher purpose or calling to sharing photographic art with others than stroking our fragile sense of self-worth.

These opinions of mine are only applicable to myself. If you enjoy the experience of photographic social media, that's wonderful. Maybe you can change my mind, but that's what I'm feeling right now.

We should work hard at our craft to gain the self-confidence to know who we are as artists, without the artificial sweetener of fake friends and their fake likes, dusted on top like some icing. That's what I hope to work toward in my retirement next year, regaining my skills as a photographer and being confident in my abilities. But for now, these meager attempts will have to do.

I must extend a thanks to Nick Dvoracek for spurring me on toward working more with pinhole cameras. Thank you, Nick!

PS: Here's that Polaroid SX70 print of my grandson:

Tuesdays at Ethan's

Joe at Ethan's on a cold winter's day, preflashed grade 2 paper negative exposed in 4"x5" pinhole camera by Ethan:

Ethan by fence, preflashed grade 2 paper negative exposed in 4"x5" pinhole camera by Joe:

Ethan testing a newly handmade camera:


Ethan in his kitchen:


Ethan's website: https://www.cameradactyl.com

Ethan's main YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/CAMERADACTYLCameras

Ethan's Cowabunga Pencil Time Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSo_L_g5YYGF0p3lsQEI-cA

The Corona 3 Folding Typewriter

As I indicated in the video, there were various versions of the Corona 3, including some with an integral carriage return arm, rather than the pinch-style of this one. Some also had automatic ribbon reverse, whereas this one has the S-curve ribbon threading path (where the ribbon threads counterclockwise on the left spool and clockwise on the right) and the spool nuts are used for manual reversing -- the nut is tightened on the intended takeup spool and loosened on the intended supply spool. It certainly gives you the feeling that you're intimately involved in the machine's operation, reminding me of a manual-transmission car.

There are 28 typebars on this model, though some international versions had up to four additional "dead-key" typebars for accent symbols. These machines also came in a variety of colors, though black was by far the most common.

The heritage of the Corona 3 comes from the Standard Folding version, made by the Standard Typewriter company from 1906 to 1912, when the company was renamed Corona. In 1925 Corona merged with L.C. Smith to form L.C. Smith & Corona Typewriter Inc.

Robert Messenger has a nice article on his blog about the history of the Corona 3 folding typewriter tripod, here.

The July 1988 edition of Et Cetera magazine has a detailed article about the Corona 3, here; and the June 1990 edition has an article about the designer of the Corona 3, here.

It was certainly fun to read back into the early days of typewriter collecting, in these back-issues of Et Cetera; wherein they recommend the Corona 3 as a good "starter" machine for neophyte collectors, due to their commonality (the collector market has certainly changed since then).

Using the Corona 3 in Practice

So, what's it like to actually use the 3-bank Corona? If you're a touch-typist, you'll find it necessary to place your right pinkie finger atop the right FIG shift key, since there are no other keys to the right of the "L". In fact, Corona made an accessory finger-support bracket for just this purpose, that clamped to the right frame member (these are about as rare as the telescoping tripod). Aside from that, I find myself typing more pedantically, using a slower, more deliberate keystroke. Part of this is so I don't outrun the machine, but also because I'm less than accustomed with the locations of the various symbols, and the necessary use of the FIG shift keys. I've made numerous typos due to instinctively hitting the CAP shift instead of FIG shift when accessing the more commonly used symbols.

Just to refresh the reader's memory, for every key except the bottom right two (,&, and .), unshifted gives you lower case letters; CAP shift gives you upper case letters; FIG shift gives you symbols and numbers. For the ",&," key, unshifted is a comma, CAP shift is the ampersand (the sole exception to symbols being accessed via the FIG shift key), while the upper comma is accessed via the FIG shift key. For the lower-right period key, all three positions yield a period. The apostrophe is a FIG shifted J, while the question mark is a FIG shifted C (which leads me to pretend that the word "question" begins with a c-sounding phonetic, just as a memory aid).

Yes, you'll require a bit of practice in order to get accustomed to the 3-bank keyboard. But yesterday I typed three full pages on the machine, what I call my typewritten journal (essentially anything typed for no other specific purpose), and I found the experience pleasant. What I noticed was my "speed of thought" -- limited by those frequent pauses required to gather my ideas into sentences, as I compose directly onto the machine -- are slowing me down more than the machine itself, or my inexperience with the keyboard layout. This might not be true were I merely transcribing text, doing what might be called secretarial work. But for rough-draft composing, the Corona 3 presents little in the way of limitations.

As I perused various websites late last night in search of more historical information on the Corona 3, I kept coming across this image, of an officer typing on the 3 using the folding tripod. Knowing my fumble-fingers technique was barely adequate to the task, as I remain less than fully versed in the keyboard layout, it got me wondering how an officer, such as the one in the photo, would get along with the machine. He appears to be using a touch-typing technique, rather than two-fingering his way across the keyboard; and I'm assuming military discipline would require error-free text. Did he have some eraser pencil handy? Was he permitted the luxury of strike-through corrections on official reports? This got me to doing a bit of searching, and I came across archives of what were essentially daily action reports. Here's one example:

You'll notice the correction made on the third line from the bottom. So it certainly seems that typos, to a certain extent, were tolerated in these daily action reports. Perhaps they would be retyped later at some divisional unit command level.

I also did a bit of searching through PDF files of US Army officers manuals, looking for the topic of typing etiquette, but came up empty before the hour got late and it was time for bed.

Though my machine is from 1929 and not The Great War, I feel some kinship with those officers and men who knelt over their typers, making reports on the day's combat. I certainly feel blessed that I can do so in the comfort and peace of my home.

The Soroban Abacus Addition Method Explained

By now you know I've been an abacus aficionado for most of my adult life. Yet, despite the oddball nature of bead-frame calculators in the 21st century, I've met a number of people over the years who were actually interested enough in learning basic abacus addition to make an honest effort. Invariably, many of these adult learners would struggle with the concepts, never gain proficiency and eventually lose interest.

I was one of those adult learners who also struggled with some of the concepts, until I met a school teacher in Socorro, NM, a Taiwanese native and abacus user since her formative years, who showed me a few key concepts that made the Japanese soroban style of abacus much easier to use. In so doing I also noticed that the concept I struggled with was one she took for granted, having learned the soroban in her formative years, when the cerebral cortex is much more malleable. I soon realized that part of the problem was the nature of adult learners such as I.

My interest in the abacus waxes and wanes over the years, interspersed as it is with many other passions. Recently I've come to reconsider the problem of adult learners of the abacus, since I currently have an exhibit of my abacus collection on display at a local public library, and have been working to simplify the teaching of addition on the Japanese-style soroban.

The problem presented by the abacus is you have a limited number of beads available to represent numbers, thus when adding numbers together you frequently run out of beads, necessitating roundabout methods of completing the problem. I realized the seasoned abacus operator intuitively recognizes these various situations, on-the-fly, and immediately responds with the appropriate technique almost subconsciously, through rote training. What I immediately set about doing was documenting those various instances when alternative techniques are required to complete a calculation, with the goal of systematizing a formal methodology for approaching any addition problem.

Naturally charts and graphs would be employed, as I can imagine Arlo Guthrie explaining in his classic piece Alice's Restaurant Massacree: "...twenty-seven 8-by-10 color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was, to be used as evidence against us..." So be forewarned about the color glossy pictures ahead!

As I said, I've been using the abacus for years, with proficiency sufficient for basic addition, and thus I had to slowly unravel my thinking process of how I approach these problem situations. I started by mapping all of the possible addition problems and color-coding them with their requisite solution technique.

Figure One:

Addition problems on the soroban require four general categories of response. The first category, where the cells in the above chart are white, are direct-entry problems where no special technique is needed. Simply enter the starting number (indicated by numbers along the left column of the chart) and then enter the addend (indicated by numbers along the top of the chart) and the answer presents itself on the soroban.

Here, these direct-entry problems have been isolated from the rest of the cells:

Figure Two:

The second category of problem response are when adding numbers together that are both less than five, but there aren't enough beads on that rod to complete the problem. These are indicated by the cells highlighted in yellow, and marked with a "5" in Figure One. These cells are isolated in Figure Three, below. The solution of these problems require the employment of what are termed "fives complements."

Figure Three:

The use of complementary numbers is a technique designed to get around the problem of running out of beads to complete a calculation. Instead of adding the number, we subtract its complement and add the next higher bead. Consider the following table in Figure Four:

Figure Four:

The top row lists the digits 1 through 9, and the following two rows list the tens complements and fives complements of each number, respectively. The five complement of a number is a number that, when added to the original number, equals five. Similarly, the ten complement of a number is a number that, when added to the original number, equals ten. It is a requirement that the abacus operator know by heart both the fives and tens complements.

So, in this second category of problem the solution is found by adding a five bead to the rod and subtracting the fives complement of the number, in one swift downward motion of the index finger.

The third category of problem response are those whose solution is found by employing a tens complement operation, as indicated by the green cells in Figure One. With these problems, the tens complement of the addend are subtracted from the rod, then a single ("ten") bead is added on the next rod to its left. These problems have been isolated in the chart in Figure Five, below:

Figure Five:

There is a fourth category of response, indicated by the rose colored cells in Figure One, and isolated in Figure Six, below. These kinds of problems were the ones that I stumbled to understand, as they are ostensibly tens complements problems but require a fives complement operation to also be performed; what I call "nested" or "combined" complements problems.

Figure Six:

The shortcut method my abacus teacher taught me for solving these kinds of problems was to "push up" the number, then add the single ("ten") bead on the rod to the immediate left (instead of thinking of it as a fives complement problem nested within a tens complement problem).

In addition to categorizing the soroban abacus operations into four categories of response, I had to decipher in what order I tend to solve them in my mind; since I often solve the simpler problems automatically, with little conscious thought. In so doing I devised a checklist, in the form of three questions I use to interrogate a problem, resulting in the four possible response methods.

Figure Seven:

By following this checklist in the order suggested, the simplest solutions are arrived at first, followed by solution methods of increased complexity. I've found that following this sequence of questions always leads to a solution every time, but there are two additional complexities to unravel before we can call this bulletproof.

The last two solution methods involve tens complement operations, where a single ("ten") bead is added on the next rod to its left. However, there are two situations where that single ten bead cannot be entered.

Figure Eight:

As you can see from Figure Eight, above, if the rod to the immediate left of our problem is either a four or a nine, there will be insufficient beads available to complete a tens complement operation. In the case of a four, all the beads on that rod are lowered, while in the case of a nine, that rod is cleared and the single bead is added to the next rod to its left.

This is essentially all that one needs to know in order to master addition on the soroban. However, there are a few things I've left out, assuming you already knew them. The first is how numbers are entered. The abacus is "cleared" when the top and bottom beads are pushed away from the dividing bar. Numbers are entered when they are pushed toward the dividing bar. The four beads below the bar are each worth one point, while the single bead above the bar is worth five points.

Secondly, numbers are entered on various rods in place-value fashion, similar to how numbers are written on paper. For addition, multidigit numbers are summed from left to right instead of the more usual right to left. When adding multidigit numbers, each digit is treated as a separate single-digit problem, using the rules outlined above.

Finally, proficiency is only gained through constant practice. One easy practice method is summing the number sequence 123,456,789 ten times. In the process, every possible combination of addition problem will be encountered. You can easily tell if you've arrived at the correct answer because it should be: 1,234,567,890. This lengthy number should be compatible with any soroban having at least ten rods.

You can also use your grocery store and shopping receipts as another kind of practice problem. Add up the prices listed on your receipts and they should match the store's subtotal. This is a good way to bring some fun into the drudgery of shopping, as you look forward to adding up the receipt totals afterwards.

I've presented these techniques in a comprehensive video, embedded at the top of this article. My intent is, by following this method, addition on the soroban can be mastered by the average adult learner with but rote practice to gain proficiency and speed. I hope you will consider becoming an abacus practitioner.

Post-Script: I'm frequently asked for links where people can buy a soroban-style abacus at a reasonable price. Keeping in mind that artisanally-crafted Japanese soroban are works of art and their construction methods an official national treasure, I've found some inexpensive Chinese-made versions with beads sufficiently large for the adult westerner. Here is one such example: www.shorturl.at/tvwM8