The third  photo session at Currency Creek  in the same period was  slightly more deliberate or considered.  I was now starting to think in terms of large format rather than medium format,  by  learning to take my time making a photo,  and  accepting that this was an integral part of the large format process of photo making.  Its motto was slow down. Take your time. Don't hurry.    

However, my  process was still  largely intuitive. My memory of this event was something along the lines of:  "hey,  this scene looks rather  interesting so why not make a photo. It's a different aspect of Currency Creek than the creek itself."  So I'd line up the Linhof 5x4 Technika IV  and make a photo.  

Then I thought: "hey,   why not  include a bit more of the railway bridge or viaduct. It would make an interesting variation." So I made a another photo.   There was  no pre-visualisation,  planning, attempt to use  the zone system, or any preoccupation with lenses.  At this stage I just wanted to regain my confidence in using a large format camera to take photos of the Fleurieu Peninsula.

The American West Coast approach to large format photography,  with its emphasis on natural beauty,  expertise in fine printing made  in a wet darkroom and aura, had no appeal.  I was more rough and ready,  perfectly happy with a digital darkroom  (scanning and Lightroom) and publishing on the internet and viewed on the screen.  The photos were not envisioned to be shown in an  artspace  or a white cube.   

So what was the conceptuality  of  the Currency Creek project? There wasn't much of one. 

 I wasn't trying to tell story, make masterpieces,  construct a visual narrative,   evoke a mood or feeling about Currency Creek or develop my own style.  These were poor images  of an imperfect photography that is not consumerist; poor images that are not designed to be a visual commodity for the tourism industry.