Binary Silver

The simplest of constructions, my Pringles camera obscura (literally, dark room), primitive as it may look, has afforded me to have a glimpse of a world that has intrigued, excited and opened the eyes of many more than five hundred years ago. It is this same amazement that connected me to these people. As a photographer used to the ease, convenience and instant gratification that modern equipment of the trade, or art, it is as if I’m staring into a more pure and raw form of viewing an image, albeit fleeting.

The camera obscura is really nothing new, even during the time it was invented. As we now come to understand it through Science, the principles governing image projection is just the same principles in how we see. The image passes through our eyes, is projected to the brain as an inverted image and then corrected for proper orientation.

The device that I built consisted nothing more of a 163 grams, Ranch flavored Pringles cylinder container, tracing paper, a clear scotch tape and a black electrical tape. Add a dose of excitement and anticipation of seeing the image projected inside and I was all set.

First, the cylinder was cut into two with the smaller part only two inches in length from the bottom. At one end, a hole was then punctured at the middle of the metal bottom with a pin. Tracing paper cut to the diameter of the canister was then taped at the other. I then taped together the two parts with the black electrical tape. Voila! My camera obscura is done.

I pointed the end with the pinhole outside my window, cupped my hands and placed my right eye at the other. Amidst the darkness, a faint image at the center started to form. As my eye adjusted, I can now see more clearly the upside-down image of the grilled inverted arcade outside. The red color of one roof was discernable. So was the blue one. As I shifted, the cracks, blotches and imperfections of the wall became apparent. For a few minutes, I was staring and moving like a child seeing such images for the first time! Now I can relate to how the people half a millennium before me felt.

Seeing the images, I can’t help but think the effect. Of course, after the initial excitement died down and odes given, it must have led to something. It would be safe to conjecture that the next big thing should be how to capture these images permanently. Artists have been using it to trace landscapes for their work. But to have the projected image permanently captured without human intervention seemed to be the Holy Grail for the next 400 years.

In a documentary episode I have watched a few years ago, there was a feature on the Shroud of Turin. One of the theories put forward by the experts was that the image was no other than that of Leonardo da Vinci who used a camera obscura to record his image on a treated cloth. Whether this is true or not, it would be safe to theorize that there were constant attempts of experimentation to capture the image.

The camera obscura is the foundation of today’s Photography, a modern invention and a product of the Industrial Age. On a personal note, seeing the images with it connects me to a deeper level. It gave me an opportunity to come face to face to where my art started.