Digital Infrared #1 - Monochrome Summer

There’s something compelling about seeing the unseen: whether it just tickles the part of me that has to overcome the limitations of my all-too-human flesh prison or whether it is a genuine curiosity about the world beyond what is immediately perceptible is probably neither here nor there, the compulsion exists either way. I’ve armed myself with a full-spectrum converted Sony a7 (or ILCE-7 or α7, depending on where you fall on the “Japanese alphanumeric soup” to “impossible to type on a standard keyboard” product naming spectrum), a couple of lenses and a Hoya R72 filter (to block out visible light) over the past few months and I’ve had an excellent time in British “summer” with increased contrast, dramatic skies and surreal foliage.

The a7 is camera I have some history with: I’d originally bought one in Singapore’s Changi airport thinking it was a good deal - it was not, I had done the calculations on tax and exchange from Singapore Dollar to Great British Pound somewhat incorrectly - as my first full-frame digital camera. I did not enjoy it; I regretted the purchase. There was something so staid and dull about Sony cameras of that era and a focus on clinical “correctness” in their output that just put me off. I also did not enjoy how the camera felt to use: its ergonomics were not to my liking, and the shutter just did not feel good to press. Perhaps vain and broadly ignorable or correctable issues, but they were sufficient for me to get rid of the camera. So why would I get another one for experimenting with infrared photography? It actually was a good deal this time (~£200 for the pre-converted body) and I still had some FE mount lenses that I did like.

I still don’t enjoy the camera to use, really, but the novelty of being able to see the world in a different way was enough to keep the camera in my bag for three months with no interruptions. The summer has blessed us with a fair amount of sun this year and that has lent itself to very, very bright infrared reflections from foliage. Blackfriars Road is somewhere I spend a lot of time on account of my commute, and this has led to some sense of wonder being restored for what is a very, very dull stretch of road for me: the mundane is granted some unfamiliarity and I’m rewarded with a more exciting walk. We’ll ignore that I could avoid this sense of ennui by taking different routes: that would necessitate me actually being ready to leave when I should be. Dull and expedient has its virtues too - at least that’s what I tell myself.

Am I likely to abuse the nature of infrared photography as being inherently striking - assuming sufficient sun - as an excuse to actually develop a style of my own? Probably, given sufficient sun. Given my location usually being a punishingly grey island, I am not too worried about it. I’m just as bad with black-and-white and red filters and that hasn’t been too much of an impairment for me there. While it could well be used as a crutch for any sort of intent, I think it’s a compelling enough look that I could be myself compelled to ignore any concerns about resting on my creative laurels: its high contrast, with tones interacting with each other in a manner that they don’t intuitively in visible light, and skies that are simply otherworldly should be seen as inspirational rather than an easy way out for making better images through other means. Even with these modifiers in play, bad composition will be bad composition.

If I can find an 67mm IR Chrome filter in the UK for a reasonable cost, I will be excited to experiment with colour infrared, trying to chase the Aerochrome dream. Now, that would become a crutch: red foliage with broadly normal colours otherwise is even more striking that the increased contrast of monochrome infrared photography and I don’t think that I’ll be able to resist the its siren song, even with the unfortunate side-effect of black irises in portraits. Maybe I can sell that as a dramatic feature rather than a trip to uncanny valley.