While I could find no exact “how-to” instructions to guide me, working with three materials, I figured it would be hard to get too lost.  I mixed bitumen of Judea (a dark-colored powder with a very interesting, earthy smell) with enough lavender essential oil to make a thin paste, used a cosmetic sponge to spread it on a small piece of pewter, and let it dry.  (I operated on the assumption that because it takes hours upon hours of sunlight to make a good exposure, this emulsion is insensitive enough to light that exposure to light prior to the “official” exposures is of no consequence.  That said, I did not leave it out in the light unnecessarily.)

I decided to try an exposure using my 4 x 5 view camera as my first experiment.  I affixed the pewter piece in the camera with a makeshift light-tight camera back that I constructed from a cardboard box and black plastic.  Since the exposure would be days long, I needed to find a place for the camera that was inside the house, somewhere where it wouldn’t be disturbed, and near a window.  These criteria had me imitating Niépce by default—my camera was placed in a second floor window overlooking the scene of my backyard, not at all unlike Niépce’s set-up.  His was a bit more artistic a composition than mine, but artistry wasn’t my concern at that time.

Most sources state that Niépce’s exposure time for his famous photograph was around eight hours.  Marignier, however, (who used Niépce’s notes, for heaven’s sake) found that “several days” were most likely needed.  I took that vague but useful bit of information into account and exposed mine for a week and a half.  Perhaps the sun was stronger in Niépce’s Burgundy than it is in my New England, but after processing my exposed plate with a few drops of lavender oil and some rubbing (once again using a cosmetic sponge), I found the pewter plate had returned to its original condition—no varnish remained, no image appeared.  Knowing that the angle has to be “just-so” in order to view an image made on this kind of material, I turned that pewter plate to every angle under every kind of light in search of an image of my backyard, but it was futile.  It was a failed experiment.

But I didn’t give up there.  I’d also read about Niépce’s success with contact printing using the same bitumen process and an ink drawing on paper that he’d made translucent.  Marignier said this exposure required “hours”—so I used a negative, a pewter plate treated with the bitumen varnish as before, and set it out in the sun under glass for nine hours.  The varnish was then removed and Eureka!—the faintest sign of sprocket holes was left on the pewter!  Inspired, I set up another experiment—I double coated the varnish on this plate, used the same negative, and set it out on all the sunny days of August—totaling 72 hours of direct exposure over the course of the month.  It was a long wait, but the process yielded a true success: an unmistakable, positive image of the stone garden monument and flowerbeds that were in the negative.  (See image, above.)  Turned at the proper angle, all of the details came into view.  (At other angles, the varnish that remained after processing gave indication of “something” less clearly defined on the pewter.  Unlike in my very first attempt—where the lavender oil removed all the varnish—with substantial exposure to the sun, the lavender oil used in processing only removed some of it this time (that which hadn’t hardened).)

I continued my contact printing experiments with larger (4” x 5”) negatives and repeated the success of image-making via this process.  My exposures were once again in the 70 to 80 hours range, completed over the course of a month.  (As noted earlier, it is possible to get results in less time; it will depend upon what you are looking to create.)

SOME TIPS FOR TRYING IT YOURSELF

1.     Fortunately, the needed materials aren’t too hard to come by.  Lavender essential oil can be found in most health food stores and many grocery stores.  In my experiments, I used an Amaco brand product called ArtEmboss, which offers pewter sheets in a medium-weight.  This product is available in arts and crafts supply stores.  The Internet may be the best resource for the more unusual bitumen of Judea.  I purchased mine from a New York company called Alchemy Works (their Web site is www.alchemy-works.com). 

2.     Wear gloves when handling the pewter—it contains lead, has sharp edges, and your fingerprints will spoil the image.

3.     When mixing the varnish, aim for a paste that is thin enough to spread, but thick enough to put some tar on there.  When applying the varnish to the pewter, brush it on to start, then stipple.  The stippling helps to make the varnish denser on the plate.  The denser the varnish, the better, but be aware that after a certain point you’re rubbing off as much as you’re putting on.  Apply all your coats at once—waiting to dry in-between coats won’t work, as the same oil takes off the varnish in the end.  The varnish is not drippy and won’t run off your plate, but do let it dry before commencing your experiment.  Preparing the plates can be done in the light, but once coated, keep the plates in the dark as a measure of safety.

4.     After exposure, processing is merely a matter of dropping a few drops of lavender oil on the surface of the plate (with negative removed, if contact printing was done) and rubbing away until the image emerges.  A cosmetic sponge is excellent for this purpose, but no doubt similar items will work as well.  As a reminder, the goal is to see the image, not to remove all the varnish.  (It should not be possible to do the latter anyway, if there was enough exposure.)  It can be done in the light.

5.     In contact printing, the varnish will not harm your negatives, but there is some discoloration from so much sunlight.  So use negatives that aren’t your best or favorites, or shoot some specifically for this purpose.

6.     For best results, choose black & white negatives that feature large, clearly identifiable subjects.

[i] Niépce’s first photograph is alive and well and awaits your viewing at the University of Texas’s Harry Ransom Center in Austin. (If Texas is too far, you can visit the on-line exhibit that the Center has created for it at www.hrc.utexas.edu/exhibitions/permanent/wfp/.)   The University of Texas acquired this work in the mid-1960’s and has conducted extensive and elaborate scientific inquiry into its chemical makeup, using this information not only to confirm its authenticity (and that of the suspected materials used in Niépce’s process), but to construct a viewing cabinet for it that will preserve it as well as is possible, since the gas inside the structure is now oxygen-free.  The cabinet is also specially designed to use light and angles to make the image most easily viewable. Return to text

[ii] Both coming from Greek, “photo” refers to light and “helio” to the sun.  Nowadays, “heliograph” is a term used more commonly to refer to the mirrored instruments used to communicate with flashes of sunlight over long distances.  Technically, however, many of the photographs made today could be called heliographs, as the sun is still the most often used light source.  The term photography gave a more accurate description of the method as other light sources came into use over time. Return to text

[iii] It is said that from the time of Niépce’s death in 1833 until around the time Marignier and his colleagues began their studies, Niépce’s home was pretty much left alone, but today it is a museum you can visit, having opened to the public in 2002.  There is a virtual tour available at www.niepce.com/pagus/pagus-house.html.  And by the way, some think Niépce’s proper credit took 175 years to come about and is thanks to Marignier’s research. Return to text