Open Mike: Cameras Not of the Year

The coolest kid in the fifth grade at Bayside School was Murphy Singer, who for some unknown reason decided that he wanted to be my friend. Murphy moved around school with a retinue. I am not exaggerating—wherever he went there were eight or ten kids in his wake. He had runners to get him Fritos and an audience for whatever he said. To my surprise, Murphy invited me to his birthday party, so I invited him to mine in return. My birthday is in winter, but that year I had my party on my "half birthday" so we could do things outdoors. My Dad devised a number of games and contests. One of them was that everyone took off their shoes and created a big circle in the yard. Stationed around it, we all took off running around the circle. The game was that as soon as you got touched by the kid in back of you you were out. The last man standing won.

I was a runner when I was a kid and I was the fastest kid in my grade by a comfortable margin. (Only C.B. Harper in the neighborhood could give me a good race. C.B. was quicker, but I was faster in a straight line.) Pretty soon it was just me and Murphy Singer left. Now, Murphy was a winner—he was competitive and had determination. So I toyed with him. I'd almost catch up to him, and he'd run with a will to escape me; then I'd do the opposite and let him almost catch me, but stay just out of his reach. I was going to see if I could wear him down.

But he was game, and did not wear down. After a while the other kids started to get impatient, my father (who could see what I was doing) started to get cross, and I started to get bored of my plan. So I slowed down and let Murphy win. Hey, he was my guest, you know? And he wanted to win so badly. I, on the other hand, didn't care.

My father was furious. I got a stern lecture about how you should always win when you can, and I spent some time in my room as punishment even though it was the day of my party.

I tell this story to explain why I have never shown my work. It's too...competitive. And I'm just not a competitive type of guy. It doesn't appeal. I decided in art school that my photography belonged to me, and that was that.

I had an early experience (well, several, actually, but this is one) that reinforced that view. For a few years after I graduated I did what I called "plain portraits" that were influenced by Mike Disfarmer (obviously another uncompetitive guy—he took his moniker because he detested farming, the local industry). I made simple, 35mm B&W portraits of unsmiling people, dressed casually, standing and facing the camera, sometimes in front of plain backgrounds.

But as I did more and more work for pay, my style morphed to suit the clients. Many people wanted color; many people wanted to be dressed up and well coiffed; many people wanted to choose their own backgrounds. Before I knew it, I was charging a pretty penny for my work, but I was doing medium-format color portraiture of a decidedly more formal cast.

Then, out of the blue, I got a call from Merry Foresta, a curator of photography at one of the Smithsonian Museums. I never knew how she had learned of me or who had recommended me to her (perhaps she had seen an exhibit of my pictures at a friend's frame shop). But she knew of my "plain portraits" and she wanted to see a portfolio of my recent work in that style.

Trouble was, there was no recent work in that style. All I was doing were commercial portraits.

Oops. As my friend, former teacher, and Zander's grandfather Paul Kennedy used to say: "You know what they say: 'Oh well.'" I had to beg off Merry's request.

So anyway, I've really only ever shown my work once, I think. After graduation, I was asked to curate a large photography show at a Park Service gallery in Washington, D.C. I chose six young photographers I knew. The show took up two floors. I included myself. I showed a set of then-new B&W medium-format work that constituted my self-motivated attempt to "loosen up" conceptually.

As the "frontispiece" for the show, I hung in the doorway of a building a color 4x5 shot of my own, of a northwoods lake. It showed a yellow canoe far out on the lake, hit by the rays of the setting sun. A storm had just passed, and the sky and the lake were the same gunmetal-gray color. It was just meant to be decorative; you know, color.

Even as we were hanging the show, I got inquiries about that print. Trouble was, I had printed it in the beautiful color darkrooms at Northern Virginia Community College, where I had been teaching, and I had only made two prints. One I had given away. So the print that was hanging in the show was the only one I had. Many of the prints in the show were for sale, and I guessed I'd continue to get inquiries about that lakescape. So, to forestall any interest in it, I put what I thought was an outrageously high price on it—$650. (Other prints in the show were selling for up to about a third of that—one photographer in the show had his prints priced at $35, if memory serves. The standard price for a "student" or recent graduate's prints back then maxed out at about $350.)

And I sold three of them! Much to my amazement. But even though I was desperately poor at the time, I turned down the money. I didn't want to have to figure out how to go make more prints.

People have this idea that being an art photographer is somehow less work than being a professional. It's not—you're just working for a different clientele. You still have to promote yourself tirelessly, service your customers, schmooze with all the right people, network, and fit your work to the tastes of the market. It's just as competitive as any other kind of professional photography, and requires just as much assertiveness and just as healthy an ego.

[Disclaimer: The information that follows is all entirely from memory, and the research wasn't rock-solid to begin with. So don't take this as historical fact unless you get corroboration. —Mike with Ed.'s hat on]

The camera that I used to shoot the pictures in that show was one of my favorites. Thinking back on it, it was a "retro" camera even when it was brand new. Heinrich Mandermann was a German industrialist who owned a number of photographic companies, including the famous lensmaker Schneider-Kreuznach, Rollei GmbH of Rolleiflex fame, and Exakta. Evidently he had worked in the Pentacon factory in Dreden as a young man, and had a nostalgic fondness for the ancient Pentacon 6, a 1950s medium-format SLR, itself based on the even earlier Praktisix. So he built and briefly marketed a modernized version with contributions from several of his companies. Although based on the old Pentacon, the camera was called an Exakta (the Exakta 66 Model 2, mine was), and it had modern Schneider lenses. The lenses were breech-lock, a lens attachment method already long outmoded in the '80s when I bought mine. Oddly, the new version was "rubber-armored," which was a fashionable thing to do to binoculars at the time.

1980s Exakta 66. Mine had a different lens than is shown here, the Schneider Xenotar MF. Not only is the lens now rare, but a decent camera to use it on basically doesn't exist.

Not only was I too cheap to buy the metering prism, but I refused to spring for the dedicated camera strap, which I thought was too expensive (it had a curved bracket that fitted under the breech of the lens and screwed into the tripod thread—and it cost ninety bucks. No way). So I shot that camera with the waist-level finder, without a meter (that's where my article "Train Your Brain to Guess Exposure" came from), and I had to carry it around in one hand because I had no strap.

The camera was quite primitive. The viewfinder showed only a portion of what would be on the negative, and what it showed wasn't centered! The bottom edge of the picture was fairly accurate, but the top was wildly off. And the viewfinder image would black out after you took the picture, until you wound the shutter again. The winding mechanism was notoriously finicky—after winding, you couldn't let the lever snap back on its own spring, or it would eventually stop working right—you had to be very careful to let the lever back gently. Many people had problems with overlapping frames.

And yet I loved that camera, and did some of my best work with it. Go figure.

The lens was the best lens I ever owned. Not only was it a great design from a top lensmaker, but I lucked out and got one of those "cherry" examples you come across every now and then...one that is not only within spec, but that happens to be at the very top of the spec. After selling it, I tried to replace it several times with no luck—the otherwise identical replacements lacked that last little bit of magic. I even—true story—saw a print in a gallery show by a local photographer that had the same kind of magic, and I took some pains to track the guy down to find out what lens he was using. Not only was it the same kind of lens as I'd had on my Exakta 66, it was the exact same lens—the woman I'd sold the camera to (Claudia Smigrod, a fine local artist) had sold it on to him! I had recognized the look of my beloved lens just from a print on the gallery wall. I tried to buy it back from the guy who owned it, but by the time I had enough extra cash to make him an offer, he had already sold it. (It really was not a very good camera.)

Looking back on it, if I had wanted to be an art photographer who exhibits, I should have kept that camera and kept photographing in that style and with that technique all the way to this very day. I would have been happy. It was unfashionable and contrarian enough for me, and I loved the technique.

I made a large set of 16x20 prints with that camera that I wish I still had. But I left the portfolio case in the apartment of a girlfriend I was trying to avoid, and by the time I realized where it was, she had moved, and all that work was gone.

That show in the Park was a success, by the way. It was well attended (probably because so many Park visitors wandered in little knowing what they'd find), a lot of the photographers sold work, and we even got written up in the newspaper. But it was a lot of work.

Of course I had to sell that camera to pay the rent one time when money got tight—same as happened to all the rest of my cameras back in those days, even my beloved rosewood Wista 4x5 (Wistas were made a lot better in those days. I've tried to replace that one, too, and the new ones aren't nearly as nice). And then, of course, I started writing for photography magazines. And the rest, as they say, is history.

And in this case all this really is history. Times do change.

Mike

"Open Mike" is the lying-in-the-tall-grass-looking-at-the-clouds page of TOP. It happens on every Sunday that Yr. Hmbl. Ed. has the energy for it.

P.S. And before anyone asks why I didn't just get commercially-made prints made of that lakescape, that just wasn't the ethos then, in my circles. You printed your own work. At that time I wouldn't have considered selling prints I didn't make myself.

Original contents copyright 2013 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Andrew Lamb: "I had an Exakta 66 in the '90s. I experienced no end of focus problems until I worked out that the screen had been installed the wrong way round. The camera suffered from overlapping frames as did most Exaktas. Also, my particular 80mm Schneider lens was good but not magical. Probably, the best thing about it was the packaging. I really liked the boxes it came in it. An odd thing to say but they were the only thing that worked properly. Occasionally, I pine for it until I recall the frustration. I don't regard it as one that got away."

Mike replies: That happened to me too, on one of the cameras I bought trying to replace my first one. I was mystified until I was having dinner with Ron Leven, the U.S. Schneider importer, and he mentioned (with an eye-roll) that they kept getting Exakta 66 warranty returns when all that was wrong was that the focusing screen had been installed upside-down by the factory. As I said, it really was not a very good camera....

Comments

[Hugh Smith]

Mike! What a great post...well, at least for me. My birthday was Friday the 13th and I was reminiscing (probably a bit too much) about photos I wish I had taken.
When I was 12(ish) we lived in Tampa, Florida and the neighborhood was full of celebrities which I of course, just thought of them as... neighbors.
One of my friends, was Scooter Langford. We climbed trees together and every so often, his sister Frances would visit and somewhere there is a picture of Frances teaching Scooter and me how to blow bubbles with bubblegum. And somewhere in our family archives there is a picture of Frances, me and Scooter out back of their house on a picnic table blowing bubbles. Yes, she really was Frances Langford.
And the point is that I only wish I had some of these photos.
It wasn't until many years later that I realized the impact that photo images have on our lives and memories.
Thanks for an insightful post and stop taking so much time off. We miss you.
My two pesos.

[Paul Bass]

Mike, you're making me miss film again.

[D B]

A very enjoyable read.

[El Inglés]

Mike, your comment about not showing your work resonates. I'm often implored by photographer friends on various websites to post. It used to be post more. Now it's just post. Trouble is that not many people like the mundane photographs I like to shoot. The few times I have shared my meanderings with others, they've received a - how shall we say it - lukewarm reception. So I decided a while ago to keep my work for myself. Glad I've found a kindred spirit.

[Mike]

There have been many times where it's occurred to me I might be able to sell more than the odd print or even make some actual money if I focused on a different kind of work. But then I remember I wouldn't have any fun making pictures like that and that seems counterintuitive.

[Ken James]

I love reading what you write. Thanks Mike.

[Robert Roaldi]

You never know till after what was important. It's backwards.

[Dave Karp]

Mike, if you can find that lens again there are adapters to manual focus Mamiya 645 cameras. I know, it is long lost, but there is always hope!

[Carl Weese]

"P.S. And before anyone asks why I didn't just get commercially-made prints made of that lakescape, that just wasn't the ethos then, in my circles. You printed your own work. At that time I wouldn't have considered selling prints I didn't make myself."

Why then, not now? My sense is it's even more important now. Do your (own) work.

[Mark Walker]

My Exacta 66 was green and I had a lovely Xenotar on it (I'm sure I had a plain prism - can't remember a meter, but I might be wrong) but, it had been mistreated and the frame spacing was erratic and I just couldn't afford to get it fixed. It came from a sale of a deceased photographers' effects and I had decided to buy into Contax for my wedding work at the same time, so I let it go very cheaply having only put half a dozen rolls through it. It did produce some outstanding frames and for several years I wanted to find another - as rare as rocking horse manure. It was one of those camera/lens combinations that elevated some photographs into something I thought was a bit special. Thanks for the reminder, Mike.

[Bruce Appelbaum]

Memories. My first SLR was an Exakta VXIIb, bought for me by my father when I was around 13 or so -- this would be in the middle 1960s. He worked in Penn Station in NYC and knew somebody who worked part time at Seymour's Exakta, as far as I know the only camera store that specialized in Exaktas. It was located near Penn Station and in those days that was the camera district (Spiratone, Willoughby-Peerless, Camera Barn, Olden, and a bunch of others). I cannot remember the brand or type of lens it came with, but it was a 50mm and not terribly fast.

Very idiosyncratic machine. Shutter release was on the left side and was part of the lens (the release not only tripped the shutter but also closed down the lens -- you could focus with the lens wide open, and it shut down when you took the exposure.

Mine had a pentaprism, but it was interchangeable for waist level finders. After a few years somebody came out with a pentraprism that incorporated a light meter. You had to set the lens to stop-down mode, though, and the exposures were often widely off -- I used the sunny 16 rule as a check.

There were other interesting features. As with Mike's 66, the mirror was not quick return, you had to cock the shutter to get the mirror in place again. But you could cock the shutter without advancing the film, so you could make as many multiple exposures as you liked, as long as you remember to take up the film tension using the rewind knob first. And there was a little knife built into the camera -- you could cut the film in mid-roll and remove the exposed film. the body was trapezoidal, wide in the middle tapering down on both sides. And I seem to recall that the body was made at least partially of wood. And finally, it had stampings on it saying it was made in East Germany.

In the end, I sold the camera back to Seymour's, I forget how much I got -- maybe $100 -- and put the money toward a new Olympus OM-1md, figuring it was time to move forward.

[Richard Man]

In my book, this is my camera of the year.
http://www.chamonixviewcamera.com/saber.html

A slightly over 2 lbs (with lens) 4x5 combined RF/VF camera. Push HP5+ to ISO 1600 and you can even shoot at indoor. Handheld use of course. This is Provia 100F:

http://richardmanphoto.com/PICS/20131205-Scanned-199.jpg

[Richard Man]

Oh, if you are nostalgic about Xenotar, here's one from Xenotar 135/3.5:

http://richardmanphoto.com/PICS/20131201-Scanned-194.jpg

This is actually half of a 4x5: I lifted the holder partially without the darkslide. Acros-100 on a traditional 4x5 and not the Saber.

[Frank]

A great post. Indeed.

These so called off-topic posts are among my favourites on the TOP.

Many thanks, Mike.

- Frank

[Bron]

Nice post. Much empathy for the "not exhibiting". Early I exhibited, but found it detracted from my work some of the qualities I prized most, and was physically and mentally exhausting, and sometimes emotionally, too. I was and still am devoted to the unsung "art" of being a framewright, and time left from that and the demands of kids and family, was better spent actually making art, than exhibiting. Also, empathy for the selling of tools to make the nut.

[MarkB]

I bought a Pentacon Six just to use my wonderful Zeiss Jena Flektogon 50mm at the width intended. The lens did not disappoint, but that "film holder" sure did... now I use the lens on a digital camera with an adapter, and it's a very large (and still very nice) "normal" lens.

[Steve Jacob]

A very interesting column, and one that resonates in many walks of life and careers. It's networkers and self-promoters that succeed, not necessarily the best or the most competent.

But the internet is changing that. TOP and a handful of other websites and blogs show that you can make a living by being almost entirely self-contained and independent if you have something interesting to say and enough people who care.

And you only have to look at social networking sites to realise how the next generation are entirely comfortable networking with people they will never meet in person, preferring to deal with the thoughtful writer rather than the smooth talker.

In future our virtual projection could well be more professionally important than our gregariousness. This could even out opportunity across the board and make interesting people the success stories of the future.

So thanks Mike - you are blazing a trail for all of us who find office parties and enforced socialising a complete chore. ;-)

[Phil Krzeminski]

Thanks Mike,

As a child I too realized the futility of the competitive approach to life. Later, as a photographer, I managed a couple of print sales, a couple of shows and a few artist residencies, but always tempered these with a more cooperative and noncompetitive understanding of living. While I sometimes wonder where the thread may have lead, I'm deeply satisfied as to where it did lead.

Keep up the good work.

Phil K

[Richard Alan Fox]

Great story Mike.
Memories of photographers with disclaimers.
This brings to mind a current news item making the rounds, (see Dpreview for example) about the more you photograph the less you remember, why bother if you have it stored in RAW you can always develop it later.

[Sven W]

"I tell this story to explain why I have never shown my work. It's too...competitive. And I'm just not a competitive type of guy."

Well, you're lucky no one reads you blog. Much.

;-)

[MartinP]

"Mike, you're making me miss film again."

Film hasn't gone away. Marketing has moved on to fast-and-lazy, that's all.

My medium-format drawer is full of Zeiss glass and P6 bodies, nicely serviced by a tech in Slovakia. They work still :o)

[paugie]

WoW!!!
Wonderful story, lovely read.

[Tom Kwas]

...lot of people still love these, only the "pre-Exakta" one (Pentacon?), lot of people swear by those old Zeiss lenses on the old stuff, too. Amazed that there are lots of people still using them, repairing them, and showing the results on line....

[john crowley]

Hi Mike,

Just to say I am looking forward to your Books of the Year which I hope you will be revealing soon. I am thankful to you for highlighting books in the past especially Alfred Stieglitz, published by Bulfinch Press. Just by way of sharing here are mine for 2013.
http://www.crowleyphoto.com/blog.html

Best wishes
John

[Yoram N.]

I hope you at least keep these stories better than your photographs. One day you will publish a book of great short stories.
A lovely Sunday read !

[Steve Nason]

This is great. I imagine there are so many of us who had to deal with the disappointment of having to sell equipment to pay bills. This post brings up two points that I have thought of throughout my career. First is the argument that the camera is just a tool and should have no effect on your work, I used to believe this... a very long time ago. The second point is how we sabotage ourselves, that sometimes fear of success is stronger than fear of failure.

[Earl Dunbar]

I once had a 50mm DR Summicron that, as best as I can recall, was at the top of spec. Well, at least it seemed magical to me. I sold on the M3 kit (including as well a 90 Summicron and the 21/3.4 SA, both of which were also so good,) and some Rollei SL66 gear to pay bills. I did work with that gear that was very satisfying to me. Ain't it the way?

[Mikal W. Grass]

Better to have loved and lost your prints............

[Steve Snyder]

Mike - great post! If anyone is thinking of going "pro", you should read The War of Art by Steven Pressfield! It's a great book about the struggle to be a professional as a creative type. (In his case, a writer) http://www.amazon.com/The-War-Art-Through-Creative/dp/1936891026

[David Littlejohn]

Maybe you could exhibit under a pseudonym. That might reduce the competitive pressure. In addition, years from now, when your alter-ego is a successful and well-loved art photographer, he can shock the world by revealing his true identity. That would be fun!

[Jona]

Mike, I love your posts about these old cameras. I love mechanical items and I have the mistaken belief that if I have a lens with these qualities then maybe my photos won't stink. I know better than that but I like to dream.

Reading the posts about David Vestal have made me want to get out and learn the light for B&W photography. I have a Pentax MX and 50/1.7 lens so I should have no self-doubt about my tools. But as always, money is tight and right now my priority is to retrain my brain towards compassion and optimism no I can wean myself off anti-depressants one day. So photography takes a backseat (unless there is a way to use photography to help my depression).

PS. I know you mentioned having a problem recently (and it is winter which makes depression worse) and one book I can recommend is "Unstuck" by James Gordon. I've only read a little so far but it's really good. My wife really liked "Buddha's Brain" by Rick Hanson and Richard Mendius. It is about using meditation and other exercises to "rewire" your brain so that your automatic thoughts are more optimistic and compassionate.

[David]

That explains a lot. Wonderful post.

About displaying your work and competitiveness... Yes, many photographers see photography as a contest. And, when I'm honest with myself I recognize that I too keep a photography scoreboard in my head. Competition isn't poison -- sometimes it fuels the rocket of creativity. However, I think we must remember that the spirit of competition is just a small facet of photography and art.

In this era of open warfare for social media eyeballs, I sometimes forget that the ultimate goal of photography is better visual communication. Maybe a competitive site like 500px will prove to be the Peenemünde of visual arts. But, I have doubts.

American's are already saturated with a culture of competition. It's the responsibility of us so called artists to push the conversation in a new direction. Photographers need to celebrate what moves our art forward: experimentation and persistence. For my part, I try to be honest about my process. I share the work that leads up to the masterpiece. At my blog I post my experiments in the same stream where I post my triumphs.

[Bernard]

I still have the predecessor of the Exacta 66 the Pentacon 6. It's one of the cheapest exchangable lens medium format here in Poland. Later on I had various different medium formats, which were objectively better, but somehow I like the pentacon most. The finder is clearly shit, but otherwise ergonomy is quite unbeatable.
As for the overlapping frames I encountered it, both the another destroyed camera (sodl as "for parts") for no money, dismountled it, understood the winding mechanism and learned how to LOAD pentacon. For that time on the overlapping frames happened never again.

[Ken Rahaim]

Merry has since left the Smithsonian but not before elevating photography through her Smithsonian Photography Initiative. Sadly, only portions of her efforts still exist online including this:

http://click.si.edu/ - "Click! Photography Changes Everything"

A collection of essays "...that explore the many ways photography shapes our culture and our lives."

[Crabby Umbo]

...you know I always wondered about these when they were marketed, and flirted with the idea of buying one back when they were introduced..you know, they were SUPPOSED to be 'upgraded' and improved versions of the Pentacon, but from what people are saying on here who owned them, it sounds like the upgrading was limited to putting a new covering on the camera and squaring off the body, doesn't sound like they touched the 'innards' at all, all the same problems...

...you know, the Mamiya 6 rangefinder, a camera still in demand (and over-priced used), certainly showed how to get that full square 120 format while knocking the camera down to a reasonable size...the correct solution...

[Bernard]

It's not true that the Exakta 66 and the Pentacon Six are the same on the inside. Exakta 66s had different focusing screens, quite modern TTL measurement for the time (measurement at full aperture and contacts for set shutter time encoding), pressure plate swichable for 120 and 220 film, "mod3" had (very unconvenient) mirror lock-up. The achilles heel of PSix - which was film winding system was clearly NOT upgraded, nor was the finder coverage, but saying that the changes was only the exterior look is unfair.

My camera repairman says that Mamiya 6 is a camera to avoid, as the system of collapsible lens mount is much to weak. on the contrary he praises Mamiya 7.
(Which is not MY opinion, I havent dismountled neither 6 nor 7)

[Farhiz Karanjawala]

I thought when reading the first four paragraphs that they were from a long lost JD Salinger novel.

[Richard Man]

Hey Mike, don't drool: the Xenotar 80/2.8 re-born:
http://www.getdpi.com/forum/546654-post1751.html