Today, on his birthday, we recognize one of the pioneers of camera equipment, specifically one Phatbingle Cupidsknot, creator (for want of a better word) of the external flash connection that bears his name, or actually just his initials, since no one wanted to call it either a phatbingle or a cupidsknot – thus it simply goes by the name of PC connector. Yes, Cupidsknot was responsible for the little nested plug that forms the backbone of flash photography even to this day, and in recognition of the holiday, we’re going to delve into the history of this.
In the earliest days of photography, everything was done with available light, since the glass plates that were used had an effective ISO of 0.72 and consequently would take hours to expose, and shutter speeds were thus slow as fuck (and seriously, don’t abbreviate that – own up to it and say the whole thing you little wusses.) In fact, the first cameras didn’t even have a shutter – they just exposed all day long, and come nightfall, the photographer could remove the plate and carry it into the darkroom. But at some point in the past, someone felt that they needed to control more of the conditions that photographs were taken within, and had run out of amusing things to do to their friends with flash powder. They realized that this sudden burst of light might actually work for photographs, and numerous slapstick skits in old B&W movies was born. At about the same time as burn wards in hospitals, it must be said.
Initially, the photographer would simply call out, “Does it look like rain to you?” to their assistant, usually called a poofter from the sound the powder made when ignited, and said assistant would timidly apply a match to the tray of flash powder they held aloft above their singe-balded heads. Before too long though, photographers could no longer find assistants since all of the children were electing to work in the uranium mines instead, and they were forced to find a method that was able to be operated alone.
It was during a January family portrait shoot for the Duke of Planktonberry that an elderly butler, shuffling across the carpet in his slippers, generated a static shock that ignited the photographer’s entire supply of flash powder at once – or at least, so it is surmised from the apparent center of the crater and the delirious rants of the survivor. Cupidsknot learned of this and realized that this might be a useful idea if it could be implemented, and experimented freely with cats and balloons until someone finally invented the battery, and things really began to move forward (other than the cats, which were moving in all directions, generally.)
When films finally got into the double-digit integers in terms of speed, the ability to synchronize the burst of light with the tripping of the shutter was necessary. Cupidsknot initially just licked the ends of the two wires from the battery to stick them to the shutter release, causing him to think the flash had actually gone off at that point and, as a side effect, creating cursive writing (and a few other cursives as well.) Once the swelling of his tongue and the spasms had subsided, he reasoned that a simple detachable connection was in order and set about to create one. Having not the slightest hint of engineering know-how in his entire family, nor the sense to ask anyone, Cupidsknot tried safety pins, chewing gum, pine sap, the black gunk behind the sink, the stuff from cinema floors, all-natural peanut butter, s’mores, and toddler’s hands, all in an effort to get the wires to remain fastened to the camera – and then again, also be detachable. Nothing fulfilled both roles.
In the interim, the flash bulb was invented, allowing photographers a quick and easy way to provide light for their pics while also burning the hell out of their fingertips; some time later, another soul created the flash bulb holder, children now no longer allowed in uranium mines. No, I kid, they were just no longer allowed to be paid for it. But in time, the flash gun was invented, though as yet it required the photographer to press the triggering button at the same time as they tripped the shutter, a level of coordination that’s an awful lot to ask of failed art students (because we all are, donchaknow.) The world was ready for Cupidsknot’s innovation, should he actually manage to ever provide one.
It was as he doing household chores that Cupidsknot stumbled upon the idea of the connection that seemed initially tight, but would loosen no matter what, inspired by the top of his spray bottle of glass cleaner. In short order, he created a simple two-contact plug with no locking mechanism, prone to damage, that could break connection with no warning or external indication, thereby ruining crucial photos at entirely random times, and the connection that bore his initials was born. Manufacturers were quick to adopt this design, probably due to the amount of lead in drinking water back then, and it became the go-to interface to mate external flash/strobe units with cameras. This was only enhanced with the usage of ‘stainless’ steel that corroded in contact with skin oils.
Even today, despite the invention of the hot shoe and countless connectors that actually fulfill their purpose flawlessly, most cameras and strobes still carry this interface that Cupidsknot created, and photographers remain one of the largest consumers of Valium because of it. Sadly, Cupidsknot passed away a few years ago in obscurity, likely enhanced by a name change and much plastic surgery, so that those who wish to pay appropriate dues to this intrepid inventor can no longer do so, while his legacy lives on or, chronically, dies at the worst times. So the next time you find yourself wiggling this stupid fucking plug and cursing fluently, hoping that this time it stays in contact long enough, you’ll at least know the history behind it and why it is the way it is. Well, the history, anyway. Will this help? Not a damn bit…























































































This is, naturally, evidence of a fairly recent shed, only he’s never managed to dislodge it completely and possibly has no motivation to, since it’s about as out-of-the-way as it can be. But I noticed something odd in the old skin, shown here, an oval pattern which didn’t seem to fit. Now, if it were a snake, I’d say this was an eyecup, since snakes shed their eye coverings with the rest of their skin, but anoles don’t do that. Ear, perhaps? No, that’s an opening too and should only be a hole in the skin. Then piecing things together along that spinal ‘seam,’ I realized it was probably from the parietal eye (I’d always called it the pineal eye, another term for it but apparently not the preferred one,) which is a simple light-sensing organ centered nicely on top of the skull, not in focus in the image below but sitting just opposite in the frame, in between the grey areas just aft of the proper eyes:

There are three User Defined Modes here, allowing the user to save the parameters of Picture Style, Sharpness, Contrast, Saturation, and Color Tone to a given preset that can be made active in moments. Here, my Definition 1 shows Standard style, neutral Sharpness, but lowered Contrast and Saturation, and then neutral Color tone. And the reason for this is, I shoot primarily in natural light; sometimes brilliant sunlight with high contrast and the ability to overpower colors and bleach out highlights, and sometimes full overcast with its very low contrast and weaker color response. So I have a couple of presets to counteract these traits, which could otherwise exceed the limits of typical digital photographs. This setting is what is used in those bright sunlight conditions, reducing the contrast and saturation to help keep the color response and dynamic range (the range of brightness from full black to full white) within control. You’ll notice, however, that I’ve only adjusted by one ‘step’ on these, while three are available. In my experience, having the camera make more drastic adjustments can often result in images that begin to look unrealistic, yet you may find that your own uses benefit from higher settings. Something to remember: if the camera saved the image file with certain adjustments, you likely won’t be able to reverse these if they’re too strong. And at the same time, if the sunlit snow bleaches out to pure white, you’re not bringing detail back into the image. I have a decent grasp of digital editing and can make adjustments if needed, so I tend to prefer keeping the in-camera effects to a minimum, but again, season to your own taste.