The Saturday Evening Post » photography

How to Digitize Your Old Print Photos

Katherine Gray — Fri, 02 Mar 2012 19:00:18 +0000

By now, unless you’re a really steadfast old-school photographer, you’ve probably embraced the wonders of digital cameras. And it’s no wonder, with their ability to take as many pictures as your memory card will hold, preview images instantly on your camera’s LCD screen, and easily whisk digital copies out to friends and family.

But what about photographs from before you started snapping away in digital delight? You know, the ones languishing in dusty photo albums or shoeboxes tucked in the back of your closet? Great photography didn’t start with the invention of the digital camera, after all, so it’s quite likely you’ve got some old print photographs lying around somewhere, whether they’re your own snapshots or hundred-year-old black-and-white family portraits.

So what can you do with them? And why would you want to go through the trouble? Read on to find out!

Why digitize?

Photo by Riccardo Panello.

Why should you take the time to digitize your old photographs? After all, doing so can be an extremely lengthy and sometimes expensive process. There are, however, several important points to consider as you decide whether it’s worth it to you.

Preserving history. Unless you have the original photo slides or negatives archived somewhere safe, those old photos you have might be the only copies of those images that exist. As you’ve probably noticed, old photos tend to degrade over time and exposure to light, moisture, and other environmental factors. Creating digital copies allows you to keep the original while also safeguarding those memories in digital format, which is easy to back up.
Restoring images and repairing damage. With a digital copy, you can repair a lot of the damage that occurs to physical prints over time. Scratches and tears, discoloration, dust spots, and other issues can all be fixed with the right software and a little time and know-how. And all this can be done while leaving the original untouched, thus preserving its historical value.
Sharing is caring. While it’s certainly possible to make a copy of a physical print, it’s much easier to make a digital copy of a digital file. Once that copy is made, you can send it anywhere in the world with a simple email, post it online, or do anything else you want to with it.

Should you try doing it yourself?

If you have either a stand-alone desk scanner or an all-in-one printer, you can scan your old photos yourself. Such devices are pretty cheap these days, and most scan at high resolution. There are some pros and cons to doing it yourself, though.

DIY pros

Photo by Delilah Jenkins.

It’s free, assuming you already own the scanner.
You control the set-up for each photo you scan, so you can adjust for layout, size, and so on.
The photos never leave your possession, so you don’t have to worry about precious memories getting lost in transit.
Immediate gratification — you’ll have the digital copy as soon as you scan it.
You control the creation of the digital files, so you can choose how to name, organize, and store them.

DIY cons

Home scanners are generally slow, so if you have hundreds of photos to scan, it will take you a lot of time.
You’ll need some technical knowledge of the scanning device and software and how to handle the resulting digital file.
Doing any major restoration or alteration requires software that can be expensive and challenging to learn.

Scan it yourself

Photo by Carolyn Williams.

If you’re going to scan your photos yourself, here are a few tips to help you get the best results.

If you have the option and ability to scan negatives or slides instead of prints, do so. They are far less likely to be discolored or scratched, and you can scan them at a higher resolution than prints. (More on that in a moment.)
Before you begin, check your photographs for dust and debris. Don’t attempt to clean or repair the actual prints; if they’re dirty, simply wipe gently with a clean, dry, soft cloth. Never use liquid on photographs — it will discolor them.
Check the scanner bed (called the platen), and clean it if necessary. Again, use a clean, soft cloth — you can use a bit of cleaning solution like Windex if you’d like, but be sure to apply it to the cloth, not directly to the platen (to avoid getting liquid in the scanner). Be sure the platen is completely dry before you put any photographs on it.
Adjust the settings. Check your scanner’s manual to see how to adjust the resolution of the scans. Generally, your goal is to aim for 300 DPI (dots per inch) at a size of 8 x 10 inches. Most scanners let you set this directly, but some only allow you to set the scanning resolution instead of the target size; if that’s the case, you’ll have to do some math. If you’re scanning negatives or slides, you’ll have to use a very high resolution — around 3,000 DPI — because the original is so small. Note that using a target resolution higher than 300 DPI is generally not necessary, as it won’t yield any better results. This is because you’re scanning a photograph that’s only printed at about 300 DPI, so there isn’t much more data there to scan!
Save your images as either .jpg or .tif files, and be sure to use the highest quality and lowest compression settings.

Let someone else do the work

If scanning your photos yourself sounds like too much work or you have a large number of photos to scan, you might decide to send your photos off to a scanning and digitizing service to do it for you. There are some significant advantages to this option. Many companies do things like color correction, cropping, rotating, red-eye removal, and fixing dust and scratches.

Photo by Erwin Recinos.

Keep your memories close

However you decide to digitize your old print photos, the results will be completely worth it. Imagine being able to write a family history and post it to your website, including photographs of your ancestors. As long as you keep a backup, your photographs will be safe from fire, flood, and loss and available for future generations to enjoy.

This story originally appeared on Tecca. More from Tecca:

Beginner’s guide to digital photography

7 ways to manage your digital photo collection

Digital Photography 101: The care and feeding of your digital camera

How to Digitize Your Old Print Photos The Saturday Evening Post

Classic Covers: Leading Ladies of the ’60s

Diana Denny — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 12:00:50 +0000

This 1966 cover is one of several I’ve unearthed to answer the burning question: “Which celebrities appeared on the covers of The Saturday Evening Post?” Next week, great celebrity MEN like Newman, Redford, Connery… But this week it’s sizzling sixties sirens!

Elizabeth Taylor – December 3, 1966

Elizabeth TaylorPhoto: Paul RonaldDecember 3, 1966

Elizabeth Taylor may have been a shrew on the December 3, 1966 cover, but she was also a stunner. She and Richard Burton were starring in The Taming of the Shrew. The Paul Ronald photo gives credence to those who argue she was the most beautiful screen actress of all. To my surprise and delight, the cover folded out to show the man attempting to tame her (Burton as Petruchio). Well, it certainly never happened in real life.

Sophia Loren – October 21, 1967

Sophia LorenPhoto: M-G-M PhotoOctober 21, 1967

Just when you stick your foot in it and assert that Liz was the greatest screen beauty ever, you run across a gorgeous cover of Sophia Loren from 1967. The battle rages on. The movie star had a rough beginning, “even for a poor Neapolitan,” wrote John Cheever in the accompanying article. “She was seven years old when the three-year of bombardment of Naples began during World War II, and she and her mother suffered the hazards of poverty and war.” Forty-three years later, she’s still gorgeous.

Ann-Margret – May 4, 1963

Ann-MargretPhoto: Lawence J. SchillerMay 4, 1963

Looking sassy, sexy and joyful all at once is Ann-Margret, an “explosive new star.” Her rise to Hollywood fame was considered lightning fast. “At 22, having emerged from nowhere by way of Sweden and Illinois, Ann-Margret has worked the film town’s official chroniclers into a froth of admiration,” wrote Dean Jennings. As ingenuous as the young star was, she planned “to be the girl who sustains, year after year.” We’re delighted she succeeded.

Faye Dunaway – September 7, 1968

Faye DunawayPhoto: Jerry SchatzbergSeptember 7, 1968

I have been known to rue the day photography replaced art and illustration on the covers of The Saturday Evening Post, but a photo like this reminds even a curmudgeon like myself that photography is an art form, too. The beautiful star was nominated for Best Actress for Bonnie and Clyde from the year before.

Julie Andrews – January 29, 1966

Julie AndrewsPhoto: Philippe HelsmanJanuary 29, 1966

I love the fresh-faced Julie Andrews of this 1966 cover. She was a long way from the Mary Poppins of only a couple of years before, starring in a cold-war themed Hitchcock movie. With her in “Torn Curtain” was Paul Newman (who’ll be one of our “leading men” next week). She was the first to make fun of her squeaky clean image. When Hitchcock complained during a scene, “That light is making a hell of a line over her head,” she responded with hands primly on hips, “That’s my halo.” Okay, no halo, but she certainly had a radiance.

Brigitte Bardot – May 8, 1965

Bridget BardotPhoto: Dan Ornitz and OrlandoMay 8, 1965

“For people like me,” Bardot was quoted as saying, “there is no place left to hide.” The sex kitten was still a hot property at the ripe old age of thirty. According to the article, “police almost lost control of the mob when she got off the plane in Mexico City to assume her part in Viva Maria! Being hounded by the paparazzi isn’t a new thing—the alluring actress was brutally pursued by photographers. She retired less than ten years later and became an outspoken advocate for animal rights.

Next week: The masculine celebrities of the sixties and seventies

Classic Covers: Leading Ladies of the ’60s The Saturday Evening Post

“I’m Going To Step Inside Where I Cannot See It”

Jeff Nilsson — Sat, 01 May 2010 13:00:28 +0000

It could have begun as a tiny spark — we may never know precisely. Whatever the cause, it ignited the 7,000,000 cubic feet of explosive Hydrogen inside the German airship. Hindenburg.

This photograph, by Gus Pasquarella, freezes the catastrophe that took place 295 feet above Lakehurst Air Station, amid the piney flatlands near the Jersey shore.

The time is 7:25 PM, daylight savings time, May 6, 1937. By 7:26, the Hindenburg was lying on the ground, a sagging framework of glowing steel. This single minute was crowded with tragedy, luck, and instinctive heroism.

The explosion was muffled under the mass of the dirigible so that several seconds passed before passenger realized what had happened. Several leapt to their deaths. Others waited while the dirigible slowly lost altitude, then jumped. Many of these survived the fall and began running to safety before the dirigible frame could land on top of them. Others were crushed. And others, too close to the descending inferno, were vaporized by the intense heat. Yet 62 of the 97 people aboard managed to survive the fall and the fire.

The photograph has become an icon of tragedy. Instantly recognizable, it speaks to us of the imminence and awful majesty of unimaginable disaster. It shocked Americans when it was released the following day. The horror it evoked effectively ended commercial travel by dirigible in the US and other nations. (It helped that international airplane service had begun. It was noisy and crowded, but faster and, Americans assumed, safer.)

Images of the flaming airship also had political implications. Hitler had been proud of this massive symbol of German might. The Hindenburg was a valuable tool for propaganda. In its previous ten trips to the United States, it had enabled the German Reich to fly the swastika in stately elegance in the skies over New York, and to defy the American government. Roosevelt had banned the sale of Helium to Germany out of fear it would be used for military purposes. But the German engineers had constructed an airship that used Hydrogen.

But hydrogen is extremely flammable. In a Post article, historian John Toland described how careful the German crew had been:

“The Germans were proud of their precautions. All matches and lighters had been confiscated when passengers boarded at Frankfort. As a further safety measure, the three catwalks, including the main one, which ran along the very bottom of the ship from bow to stern, were covered with rubber. Those treading the narrow ‘sidewalks’ wore sneakers or felt boots to prevent static or sparks. Crewmen who went topside between the billowing gas cells wore asbestos suits free of buttons or metal.
“And the four 1100-horsepower Diesel engines that drove the ship at a dead air speed of 84 miles an hour required no ignition. They used a crude oil with a flash point so low that it wouldn’t burn even if a flaming match was tossed into the tank.”

But all the precautions and all the efficiency couldn’t protect the Hindenburg, or its passengers.

While the crash ended any hope for dirigible travel, the photograph produced an even greater effect; it introduced America to modern journalism. They recognized that this photograph conveyed the tragedy better than the best journalists’ efforts. It was dreadful but it was fascinating, and it raised Americans’ expectations for greater detail and objectivity.

In addition to this photograph there was the recording of radio announcer Herbert Morrison, who was covering the event for radio station WLS in Chicago. His frantic, anguished reporting is often played in synch with motion picture footage shot at the time. However, he was recording the event onto a phonograph record, which the station intended to play the next day for an evening news program.

Toland describes Morrison’s preparations for the Hindenburg’s arrival.

“Inside a little building attached to the west side of the dirigible hanger, Herbert Morrison, an announcer from Station WLS, Chicago, checked over last minute adjustments with his engineer, Charlie Nehlsen. They were to make a recording of the year’s first transatlantic-flight landing… and Nehlsen had just finished setting up his portable recorder.

“As the Hindenburg floated [into sight], Morrison, a small, lantern-jawed man of about 120 pounds, called out, ‘Charlie, I’m going out for the recording.’ He left the building, which also housed the Navy’s radio station, walked onto the field and began talking into his hand microphone.

“Morrison had just announced that this was Captain Pruss’ first command – though actually it was the tenth time Pruss had captained the Hindenburg on a transatlantic flight. ‘Passengers are looking out the windows, waving.’ Morrison went on. ‘The ship is standing still now.’

“There was now a strange quiet. The Hindenburg’s engines were turning over slowly, silently. ‘The vast motors,’ Morrison said, ‘are just holding it, just enough to keep it from —’

“He stopped short. It was exactly 7:25 p.m.

The noise of the explosion was muffled to those directly beneath it, but it was strong enough to knock the whitewash from the ceiling of the room where the engineer was recording Morrison’s report. Nehlsen wiped off the record without stopping it and signaled Morrison to keep talking.

“To Morrison, it looked as though everyone on the ship and most of the ground crew would be killed instantly. ‘It’s bursting into flames and falling on the mooring mast!’ he shouted desperately. Tiny figures seemed to be catapulted from the dirigible, and fell. ‘This is terrible!’ Morrison cried, ‘This is one of the worst catastrophes in the world!’ His agonized voice trailed off into incoherence. He turned desperately toward Nehlsen, who was watching from the window.
“The engineer gave the OK signal, ‘Keep going,’ he said in pantomime.
“’Oh, the humanity and all the passengers!’ Morrison broke into sobs. ‘I told you —- It’s a mass of smoking wreckage! Honest, I can hardly breathe!’ Again, he looked at Nehlsen; again Nehlsen nodded encouragement.”
“’I’m going to step inside where I can’t see it!’ Morrison said, ‘It’s terrible! I—I—folks, I’m going to have to stop for a moment because I’ve lost my voice! This is the worst thing I’ve ever witnessed!’

“Never had a disaster hit with the impact of the Hindenburg explosion. Never before had photographers and newsreelmen been present to record a major tragedy, and within hours shocking pictures of the fire were wired all over the world. By noon the next day, newsreel extras of the catastrophe were being shown in theaters along Broadway. It was a rare showing which wasn’t punctuated by screams from the audience.

In a more ordered world, the public was protected from the direct impact of news. There were hours of intervening calm, as well as banks of editors who removed the shock and hysteria from a reporter’s copy. The story would appear the next morning, set in cold type and couched in serious, thoughtful tones.

But Morrison’s report gave America a taste of what modern media — with its immediate and detailed reporting— would bring. It introduced the sound of emotional turmoil, the hysterical frustration of impotently watching a disaster. It was a feeling most Americans experienced on September 11, 2001.

As newspapers, then motion pictures, then television brought viewers closer to the instant and location of catastrophes, we sometimes feel the need, as did Morrison, to “step inside where I cannot see it.”

Read “Terror in the Twilight”[PDF].

“I’m Going To Step Inside Where I Cannot See It” The Saturday Evening Post

Sunflower

Kevin Rivoli — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 15:47:31 +0000

A field of sunflowers colors the landscape yellow and green along the New York State Thruway between Syracuse and Rochester. Just like their name, sunflowers adore full sun and warm weather. This plant is a North American native and was a key food crop for native peoples. Today, they’re still grown for food as their seeds make a wholesome snack and are pressed into vegetable oil.

Sunflower The Saturday Evening Post