The Online Photographer

Now That's a Bargain

Only $1,100 right now on pre-update closeout. If you want a great camera while saving a handful of hundreds of dollars. Just sayin'.

Mike

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Ken Bennett: "Awww, Mike. I have two already. I don't need another one. But now you have me thinking about upgrading my lovely wife's X-T1 body. Thanks! I think."

This Is How It Goes On a Blog

So this is how it goes on a blog. You do one off-topic post about some stray wacky topic like washing machines, which has utterly nothing to do with photography, and you expect to leave it at that, but you can't just leave it at that—because then people bring up interesting and different perspectives, and all of you learn more about it, and it turns out that, well, there's more to talk about. So then you do a second post about washing machines...and suddenly you're talking about appliances instead of photography. And new people who come to the site in the middle of the discussion think everyone here has lost their minds. Doesn't really matter if the subject is parrots or pool, it always seems to work the same way.

Well, we haven't entirely lost our minds. This will be the last post about appliances, and I am going to do my damnedest to relate it back to photography at the end.

Anyway, yesterday, Jim wrote:

Let's not forget that survivorship bias is a thing. Every appliance I have upgraded (fridge, washer/dryer, dishwasher, microwave, etc.) has always been because the old ones failed (even after extensive heroic repairs in some cases), and the new ones are significantly better in all ways.

Jim's got a point. My first house in Waukesha, which I bought in 2000, came with an ancient 1970s refrigerator that Xander and I used for a number of more years—maybe 12? I can't recall exactly. The thing sucked down electricity, it was loud, and it didn't do a very good job of preserving food, although I didn't realize that till it died. It had no interior light, because the bulb it needed had passed into history. Amusingly, when it finally came time to replace it, I was severely constrained in the models I could choose, because America had gotten fat between the 1970s and the 2010s: the space allotted for the fridge in my kitchen was too small for most then-current models of refrigerator. I had to buy one specifically made to be extra small to fit older kitchens.

The same thing had happened in the kitchen of my little walk-up studio apartment in Washington D.C., but a generation earlier. The kitchen had been built to house those little 1940s "iceboxes" that are about as tall as a person, so the landlord had plunked a then-current '80s fridge, which was too large to fit the space provided, into the dinette area, awkwardly.

Anyway, to replace our '70s fridge in Waukesha I bought a Samsung with two doors that was less fat, and less deep, than ordinary 2012 refrigerators. Even so, it was bigger than the old one and just barely fit.

But as Jim said, the new one was significantly better. And I mean significantly. I can't recall the technology, but old refrigerators evidently used air from the freezer to keep the refrigerator section cold, and the air was dry, which dried out the food and caused it to go bad sooner. By 2012 that problem had been identified and solved. I was accustomed to lettuce, even when wrapped, going bad within a week. To my amazement, the new fridge could keep the same kind of lettuce wrapped the same way fresh for up to three weeks. Food retained flavor better and didn't acquire that "frozen" taste that we used to accept as normal. And no more noise. And I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure the new one was much more energy efficient. The new fridge really did work much better than the old one. (It even had a working interior light—woo-hoo, luxury.)

Of course I don't agree with Jim that "the new ones are significantly better in all ways" (emphasis mine), because they don't last as long, and that's one way in which they're not better. Which was the point of yesterday's post.

The late great Phil D.
Some of you will remember Phil Davis, the photo-scientist who for years wrote erudite experimental articles about B&W film technique in Darkroom Techniques magazine, and who authored the book Beyond the Zone System (BTZS) and invented all of the BTZS techniques and equipment. Phil was a dear friend and a mentor for a number of years, until his final illness. He had been a pilot in WWII, and after the war bought a house and almost a hundred acres of land outside of Ann Arbor, Michigan. Somewhere around the turn of the millennium, his water heater failed and he decided to replace it. He said that the installers who put the new one in tried to sell him on an extended warranty that would cover him for ten years. As he told the story, he said, "Why would I need that? The water heater you're carrying out of here lasted for 55 years." He said the installer's eyes grew round and the man replied, "Oh, Sir! This new one is not going to last for 55 years. You'll be doing well if it lasts for 12. And 15 is all you can hope for. They really don't make them like your old one any more."

Planned obsolescence (a phrase generally agreed to have been coined by Alfred P. Sloan of General Motors but popularized by industrial designer Brooks Stevens, whose car museum in Milwaukee I used to visit as a kid and who I think my family knew), is probably the key area, the fulcrum point, if you will, where things that make good sense in terms of capitalist economics makes bad sense in terms of environmental consequences. It might be good business but it's ultimately a tragic concept.

A couple of decades ago, in one of my periodic "that's-it-I'm-never-doing-any-more-camera-reviews" spells, I resolved to pick one manual/metal/mechanical (MMM) SLR and use it for the rest of my life, keeping it maintained and in good fettle no matter the cost. I happily did the research, and settled on a Nikkormat FT3 as my "last SLR."

The problem was exactly as Jim says...the meter was just not as good as the then-current state-of-the-art (SotA), and neither was the viewfinder, which was smallish and on the dim side compared to the best current ones back then. It didn't really matter how well I maintained it. It just wasn't as good a camera as the best newer ones. (I still have the FT3, but it's a decoration on my front hall table.)

As an aside, I've often wondered what an "ideal" manual/metal/mechanical film SLR would look like. What usually happens economically is that the process of making things ever cheaper to produce while keeping them just barely good enough to sell results in products that are incredibly unpleasing. The old Nikon FM10 (made by Cosina and sold under various other names including Vivitar), a mostly plastic camera that worked fine but was distressingly low in quality, might have been the "terminal SLR" from a product efficiency standpoint. But what would a basic SLR look like if the opposite principle were applied—that is, if it were made as good as it could be based on everything we'd learned through the lifecycle of the product type? I've happily spec'd such an imaginary camera many times in my mind. (I call it the "Spotmatic III," to give you a taste.)

Of course, it's a good thing such a camera will never be made. Even if I got to design it myself, I'd hardly ever use it, if I'm honest.

But if a new SotA MMM SLR ever did come to exist, it would be better than any camera from back in the day, no doubt. The technology is just better now. We know more. And I'd be happy if modern digital interchangeable-lens cameras would all last for 15 or 20 years, but let's face it, they don't need to last longer than that. Because technology moves on, and gets better, and sooner or later you'd want to be part of that. Sooner or later you'd start pining to have the latest thing.

Mike

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Sal Santamaura: "After reading this post and the comments, I felt regret for procrastinating a couple of years ago when we almost bought a Speed Queen set. Our 1993 Whirlpool pair is still going, although my wife doesn't like the mismatched washer timer knob I had to install recently to replace an original plastic one (no longer available) that cracked. Your dilemma sent me off to the YouTube world of washer videos. After spending several hours there, it seems what you're looking for, Mike, is a Maytag 575GW. Were I in your position right now, that's the one I'd buy."

Mike replies: Ever diligent, last night I plumped for Consumer Reports for a year and stayed up way too late sorting through their data. Naturally they like the very brand that's been giving me headaches—don't tell them I told you, but their take on front-loaders can be summed up as "LG is best."

However, they tend to evaluate washing machine performance as opposed to build quality, reliability, or longevity, and the upshot of their testing seems to be that front-loaders have lots of advantages, mainly:

• They agitate the clothes much better
• They use less water
• They're gentler on the clothes, and
• They spin the clothes much drier at the end of the cycle, meaning that drying times are shortened. Since dryers use lots of energy, less time in the dryer = energy savings.

This seems to be the rap against Speed Queens and commercial Maytags and other stout old-fashioned types. They last longer and break less but they don't clean as well and they're harder on clothes.

Canine Hundred

The X-Pro2 in Graphite is on sale [UPDATE: Turns out I was wrong—the kit is not on sale. $2,299 is the normal price. I apologize for the error. —MJ], but honestly that's just an excuse—I just wanted the put a picture of it up on the site again. I love the way it looks. Don't need one, don't want one, but if you ask me, this is about the coolest-looking camera in the history of history. Some people couldn't care less how cameras look, and good for them, but I do, and this beauty triggers my camera-addict reflex like few others.

It's purdy, is what I'm saying.

Longtime readers might remember our discussion of the ugliest cameras in 2006. In case you missed it, here's the final post again in its entirety:

-

The Sam Memorial Camera Award

Son of Sam?

...And we have a winner. Named for Sam, the late purebred Chinese crested hairless that won the "World's Ugliest Dog" Contest three years running until his demise (by all rights, he should definitely have retired the prize), T.O.P. hereby awards the Sam Memorial Dog Camera Award for World's Ugliest Camera to the Simmons Brothers Omega 120, the early American precursor to the Koni-Omega. It is a sad thought indeed, but the world may never see an uglier camera. Mere tastelessness cannot reach such heights, and the sameness encouraged by modern manufacture will probably doom such Rube Goldberg contraptions. R.I.P.

Thanks to the two commenters who nominated it!

(Originally posted Friday, April 14th, 2006)

The X-Pro2 in that beautiful graphite finish is at the other end of the spectrum. The far other end.

...And by the bye, speaking of dogs, were you aware that the new(-ish?) luxury sedan from Kia, the Korean carmaker, is called a canine-hundred?!? Seriously. Maybe somebody at Kia secretly (or not so secretly) thinks the product's a "dog"?

At least it's not ugly!

Mike

Original contents copyright 2018 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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Mike Plews: "There's something majestic about the Omega 120. It appears that not one instant of thought went into the look of the design. There is a purity about that kind of ugliness."

Bill Bresler: "Great post! Agreed on the beauty of the Fuji. I've pretty much let go of G.A.S., but that camera gives me heart palpitations. A friend of mine actually has a working Simmons Omega 120. Like the late Sam, it's so ugly it's cool."

The Pentax K-r Bonnie Pink, with color scheme (should that be in scare quotes?) by Japanese pop star Bonnie Pink

Jim Arthur: "While the dog is ugly-scary, the Omega is ugly-odd. From a color perspective I’d have to give the Pentax K-r Bonnie Pink the Pantone 'Blot on the Landscape' award."

My Three Favorite Rangefinders

Unlike most people, I kinda like rangefinder cameras, and here are the three that were my favorites.

In reverse order:

3. Mamiya 6: A beautiful camera supposedly designed and made for the then-President (owner?) of Mamiya, who was a Leica fan. (I don't know if this was true.) It had a clever system of interlocks that allowed for protecting the film from exposure when changing lenses mid-roll and not making mistakes, and the lensmount collapsed for a certain increase in compactness. It was a very pleasant camera to use, and of course the 2 1/4-inch (6x6 cm) square negatives gave excellent image quality. There were only two problems. One is that direct sun on the metering window could cause exposure problems. Wearing a hat with a brim or a bill would shade the window when the camera was held to your eye, so that solved that. The other problem for me was that the normal lens, which was the fastest lens for the system, was only ƒ/3.5, a stop and two-thirds slower than the ƒ/2 lenses I was used to using in 35mm. In general I think slow lenses are the Achilles' heel of medium-format rangefinders, since it's a limitation that tends to fight against the ready-for-anything-quickly raison d'etre of the rangefinder in the first place.

2. Leica M6. I bought one new and kept it for about two and a half years. My hit-rate went down when using a rangefinder; I didn't visualize as well with it as I did with an SLR. But it taught me a lot of lessons, primarily a.) to not worry too much about depth-of-field (which you tend to do with an SLR because you're always seeing through the lens wide open) and b.) to time the shutter release exactly based on what I was seeing. The metering system was serviceable, although I never completely warmed to it. On the good side, it was such a tactile pleasure to use that I photographed more often, and that period was the only time in my life that I carried a camera with me at all times. I ended up getting distressed with the outfit because the 35mm Summicron (a "pre-ASPH" also bought new) would get small dark flakes collecting on the inside of the elements—flakes of paint or whatever the finish was from the aperture blades. I had the lens cleaned once, but then it started happening again. This was so much at odds with Leica's whole schtick of "premium quality," that I ended up getting rid of the thing. And missed it for a loooong time....

Minolta CLE. Photo by Lordcolus.

1. Minolta CLE. Better metering than the Leica, with a better lens. It was even less conspicuous, and I think it was quieter, too. It didn't have the same feeling of robustness and buttery smooth controls that made the Leica so nice to use, but it was smaller and lighter and attracted even less attention. Curiously, the M-Rokkor 40mm ƒ/2 (a focal length I moderately prefer over 35mm because it banishes the last trace of "wide-angley" feeling a 35mm can have in some shots) was the only lens I ever used in the film era that elicited positive comments about sharpness and subjective clarity from non-photographers. I can't remember why I sold it, but it was likely because SLR viewing felt more natural for me (my next camera after it was an Olympus OM-4T and OM-Zuiko 40mm ƒ/2). The CLE was very expensive on the used market for years after it was discontinued, testifying to demand.

I owned or used many other rangefinders, including a Fuji "Texas Leica" and several other Fujis, a Mamiya 7II, an M3 and M4, and of course the Bronica RF645. Oh yeah, and a Zeiss Contessa! And an Agfa Super Isolette (a gorgeous camera that I'm still half in love with if I'm honest, just as a beautiful mechanical device). I should mention that I also owned, at one time or another, just about every good fixed-lens compact rangefinder there was...Canonet, Yashica Electro 35, Olympus 35 RC and 35 SP (and an XA), Konica S3, Minolta Hi-Matic 7SII. Maybe a few more I've forgotten....

But that was then
Of course, these days, a capable "rangefinder-style" digital interchangeable-lens camera—an Olympus Pen-F, Panasonic Gx9, or Fuji X-E3, for example—has it all over any of the three cameras above in multiple ways: they're quieter, have more accurate viewfinders, focus more quickly, meter more easily, and offer much faster "film speeds" on demand. All three (well, assuming you don't choose the silver Pen-F, but then how could you resist it?) can be as portable, inconspicuous and unassuming as the CLE, cost less than the M6, and probably have higher subjective image quality than the Mamiya 6!

Mike

Original contents copyright 2018 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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db: "I am surprised by the omission of the Plaubel Makina. Fast lens, albeit fixed, and folds to the size of a small paperback book. I second the greatness of the Mamiya 6 however."

Mike replies: I did try one of those—I did a portrait with it of a guy named John McLaughlin, who had a political TV show called "The McLaughlin Group"—but I don't exactly remember the circumstances. Pretty sure I did not own the one I was using. Those were seductive cameras to several of my friends, but several of them also had serious reliability problems with them. I believe the lens on that cameras was a Nikkor.

Peter: "I bought an X-E3 as my take-it-anywhere camera, and absolutely love it. Pairs very well with the 23mm ƒ/2. It's the first non-SLR I've usd consistently, and it makes me realize how much fun a rangefinder-style camera can be to use."

Ernest Zarate: "I had two of your favorite rangefinders as well—the Mamiya 6 and the Leica M6.

"I've been mulling over the questions, provocations, reactions, etc...re: rangefinders in general and the Mamiya 6 in particular. That camera was the first and only camera I ever fell head over heels for. I still get goosebumps thinking about that camera matched with the 50mm ƒ/4 lens. Slap some XP2 in there, take it out into the world, and.... Some gorgeous photos from some very memorable experiences.

"But the other day you asked about would I (I almost said 'you guys') prefer a rangefinder or a SLR. My immediate gut reaction was, well, duh...I'd LOVE to have the Mamiya 6 back in my stable! And as I sat here at my computer contemplating the camera and a response to your query, I came to realize something I hadn't before: I don't shoot that way anymore.

"A rangefinder, as marvelous a tool as they were for me back in the 1990s and 2000s, would not be usable for me and the way I shoot now. Not taking into account the fact that those two cameras are film based, and instead just looking at the features, the limitations, the options those two cameras had, they would not work well with how (and what) I shoot now.

"That was both an epiphany and a letdown. I had always thought of getting the Mamiya 6 again as a 'one of these days...' promise to myself. I can let go of that now. It's not a viable choice.

"Thank you for the posts over the last few days regarding cameras, camera choices, and all the other aspects of what we use. While I feel a bit sad to know that rangefinders would not be functional choice for me, I also feel released from clinging to the nostalgia of the past. Letting go can be both difficult and cathartic."

Eric Peterson: "Raising my hand for Texas Leica, Fuji GSW690III with 65mm lens (28mm equiv.). Does require out-of-body experience to evaluate lower right quadrant because lens blocks view in viewfinder. But just ran four rolls of Tri-X through it last week!"

Steve Rosenblum: "The Minolta CLE is still my favorite 35mm film rangefinder camera, and the 40mm M Rokkor lens is a wonderful bargain. CLE's with 40mm lenses are pretty reasonably priced these days. The main issue is problems with the electronics which are now fairly old. However, my camera repairman has had no trouble fixing or adjusting mine when it was needed, and it shares a number of parts with the Minolta SLRs of the era, so that helps."

Dan Khong: "My three favourite rangefinders are: 1. Leica M6; 2. Kodak Retina IIc (Type 020); 3. Konica Hexar RF. The Konica came in a kit. I regret selling the lens."

psu: "I have one RF camera that I bonded with: the old Konica Hexar. Based on that experience I dabbled in Mamiya 6's and the Hexar RF but ultimately didn't find the RF experience to extend well to lenses that were not 35mm ƒ/2 or equivalent. I kept trying to take pictures that did not fit how you see things in those cameras, for lack of a better way to put it. So for general use I went back to SLR film cameras or SLR/EVF digital cameras."

Mike replies: I knew someone would bring up the Hexar of sainted memory. I actually started a Konica Hexar club on the old CompuServe...but as I'm sure you know, it wasn't a rangefinder-focus camera, it was an autofocus camera. It came out at a time when everyone was breathless over whether Leica would make an autofocus version of the M. In size and shape (though not weight) it did closely resemble an M6 with a 35mm Summicron, and its lens was very nice, but the resemblance ended there. Poor Konica...it attempted to give Leica fans everything they said they wanted, but it only got hated in return! (Because, again, people like Leicas.)

John Krumm: "My most beautiful, luxurious camera was an autofocus rangefinder, the Contax G2. I was always amazed at how silently and quickly it could take the shot and be ready for the next frame. Sold it to buy a lens for my K1. Only camera I ever sold for as much, or maybe even a little more, than I purchased it for. The little Pentax ZX with my limited primes is as good, and lighter, but I don't use that much either. Since the Contax was autofocus, it didn't quite get the rangefinder bug out of my system. I still need to try a classic manual focus one for a few frustrating months...."

Mike replies: I got one of the very first review G2's in North America, when I was Editor at PT. An exciting intro for me! But it was another "pretender" that many Leicaphiles went out of their way to denigrate, because...well, do I need to say it again?  :-) 

Seriously, though, it should be remembered that Leica was in a very fragile state in the '90s and there were many indications that it might not survive. (And it probably would not have, save for its eventual "angel," Dr. Kaufmann, in 2004.) Some Leica fans, justifiably or not, were extremely anxious at the time that products from healthier and technically much more advanced Japanese companies not pirate needed sales from Leica, thereby, or so they imagined, hastening its demise.

People Like Leicas

Leica M10

Here's a dirty little secret for ya...people don't like rangefinder cameras.

I mean, obviously a few people do. But most people don't.

People like Leicas.

All of the faff ever written to glorify rangefinder cameras isn't actually to the glory of rangefinder cameras, it's to the glory of Leicas. Because people love Leica and they want to pay fealty to Leica. They love the heritage, the status, the history, the impressive expense, the primacy and the authenticity, the literature, all the technical minutiae detailed in the literature, the famous names who used them in the '50s, etc., etc.

But over the years I've noticed a few things, just empirically.

First, most makers of rangefinders moved away from them as soon as it was feasible. Look up "Canon P" and "Nikon SP"—beautiful rangefinder cameras...that Canon and Nikon stopped making pretty much just as soon as they could. They're certainly prized on the collector market—like many things that weren't made in very large numbers to begin with.

Second, the heyday of rangefinder cameras, arguably about 1953–59, didn't even last a whole decade. As soon as there was something better to switch to, most people couldn't find the door fast enough. That's why so many impoverished up-and-coming young turks used Leicas in the 1960s and early '70s...because cast-off used ones were plentiful in camera stores for not too much money. (Deardorff 8x10's, ditto, in the "view camera revival" of the 1970s.)

Third, most attempts to make "improved" rangefinder cameras over the years...flopped. Konica Hexar RF, anyone? And alternatives are not nearly as well known or as valued as Leicas. Care to name all the legendary photographers whose names are indelibly associated with Retinas or Contax II's? The lore and legend of the Voitländer Bessa, anyone? Beuler?

Fourth, nobody talks about this, and you won't hear it spoken about much, but the majority of hobbyists and enthusiasts who try to like rangefinders...don't. They'll give it a shot and conclude, meh, not for me. The exception is when they really want a Leica. Then they'll put up with the whole rangefinder ethos thing. But I half suspect that a lot of Leica lovers don't actually like rangefinders all that much. If it wasn't the Leica secret handshake, they'd pass, if they were being honest.

Fifth, lots of pros and advanced amateurs own a Leica or two, along with much more extensive kits of the more practical equipment they really use for 99% of their work, and they'll pay reverent lip service to the legend and the lore. They'll claim they use them "in the situations the camera is best suited for" or words to that effect. But they don't actually use them very much at all. In fact, almost never, if you press them on it.

There was even a digital rangefinder camera before Leica made theirs, called the Epson R-D1. It was so beloved and so popular that...it quickly went away and never came back. And was never replicated by any other camera company. Except, eventually, Leica, at which point everyone was happy.

Yeah, it's required for membership in the club to spout endless tribute to rangefinder cameras and their alleged superiorities, and newbies to the Leica cult sit at the knees of the graybeards and memorize the litany of rangefinder "advantages" so they can intone them ceremoniously when challenged about their own bonafides. But it's Leicas they like and seek to exalt. When it comes to other rangefinders, those bets are somehow off. The Leica M3 is a legend; the Mamiya 6 is just a camera.

Because people don't actually like rangefinders. Not really. People like Leicas.

Mike

For further reading:

My review of a rangefinder I liked

My review of a rangefinder I didn't like, published in three parts: Pro, Con, and Coda—note that these are three separate links. And boy, did I get a lot of flak for these. There's an unspoken but unbreakable rule with Leica: you are not allowed to criticize current products. It's perfectly acceptable now to point out the deficiencies of the M8; but it certainly wasn't acceptable back in 2007, when the M8 was the newest Leica and the group project was to assert that it was the best of all possible digital cameras. I haven't reviewed a Leica product since.

Original contents copyright 2018 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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Jim: "Love it, so true! I have a few friends I'd like to send your essay to, but I think I'll pass and keep them as friends."

Mike replies: Wise man.

Maggie Osterberg: "I'm one of those people who like rangefinders, and, yes, love Leicas. I blame the Canon G-III QL17 Canonette my dad gave me back around '77. It was my first 35mm camera. I used it non-stop. It got to be my default way of seeing stuff. Even when I was shooting sports with my Konica TC (I was the local paper's and yearbook's photographer in high school), I had the Canon along, to shoot what I called 'the goofy stuff,' that wasn't on the field or court.

"I could blather on with all the mystical stuff about window finders, but we've all heard that before, and I think it's really just superstition. But here's the thing about superstition—it works. It's a placebo effect for life. I won't mention it when a SF Giants pitcher is throwing a no-hitter. I won't say the name of The Scottish Play out loud. I have been known to put out a LEGO Ferrari when I watch F1 races. So, when I shoot with my Leica, there's this thing that goes on in my mind that I have to up my game. You know, to live up to The Legacy. Which, really, isn't bad. And since I have a rangefinder-wired brain, it works even better than a rally hat in the 9th inning.

"Yeah, I love my Leica. And my little Canon, which I still have."

Pierre Charbonneau: "Not sure about that one Mike.

"I do have personally a love/hate relationship with the brand. The gear is expensive. Not much thrilled with special editions models, often ugly. Their service is inconsistant and costs dearly.

"On the other hand, they still manufacture these very specialized ones like the Monochrom, the M-D without screen and even this un-metered analog. Talk about going against the tide, I admire their guts. And the lenses do seem to last a very long time.

"I will point out that I started serious photography around 1977, with a very nice Olympus 35 RC, a rangefinder with a 43mm unless I am mistaken. Early, I loved the clear viewfinder. I see clearly what I want to photograph with these white lines projected in the clear window. I see immediately if the subject, non-embellished by reflex viewing, is relevant and worth a click. This has been the roots of my fondness for rangefinder. This Olympus is long gone; it has been replaced after a couple of years by a Leica M4-2. That one had a better finder and lenses could be changed.

"I like the Leica because I have been with one since. And my favorite pictures, the ones that matter to me at the end of the day, have been done with one of these since 38 years.

"But I’d love to try a Nikon SP one of these days."

Graham Byrnes: "I inherited an M3 from my father when he died in '76. I traded it on a Minolta SLR. I was ripped off by the salesman (I was 14) and I regret that, and I regret that I didn't still have it years later when I knew what it was worth. But in every way, the Minolta SRT100X (cheapest SLR they made) was a better camera."

Grant Cunningham: "Dierk said: 'The Minolta-branded CLE, on the other hand, sold better with its advancement in helpful features. It has been sought after years, even decades after it came out, most probably still is.' I was in the camera business when the CLE was discontinued. As our Minolta rep explained, it was discontinued because it didn't sell, and it didn't sell because it wasn't a Leica. Even back then we understood the situation. In fact, a few years after the CLE was dropped from the line, Minolta found a pile of them at their warehouse in (if memory serves) New Jersey. They offered them in kits to dealers at fire sale prices, and it still took them a while to sell out. I considered buying one of the three-lens packages because they were such a steal (basically buy the body at net and get the three lenses for free), but having already been through my obligatory Leica phase, I passed. It was a rangefinder, and it wasn't a Leica...."

Bill Wheeler: "Re '...nobody talks about this, and you won't hear it spoken about much, but the majority of hobbyists and enthusiasts who try to like rangefinders...don't. They'll give it a shot and conclude, meh, not for me.' You've pegged me, Mike. In the past I owned a IIf, an M2 and an M7. Meh, not for me."

Graflex Crown Graphic 4x5 rangefinder press camera

Bill Tyler: "I’ve never owned a Leica, but I used to enjoy a somewhat larger rangefinder: a Crown Graphic with coupled rangefinder. The big negatives were beautifully smooth and detailed, and camera handling wasn’t bad for such a large beast. With Grafmatic back, I also could shoot fairly quickly."

Kirk: "Great article Mike. I'm a Leica guy! Have been since college. But when I started my career as a newspaper photojournalist I sold off some Leica gear and started shooting Canon which I still use for shooting freelance work during my retirement years. The M3 and the M5 went into hiding along with the lenses. However I love shooting with my M-P 240. It's not the greatest camera but using my old Leica lenses and a few newer used ones make me appreciate the way I used to work. Focusing myself has made me think about how I approach my subjects. My fast-focusing Canons make life easier in the fast-paced news world, and shooting sports is a dream. So yes I agree the rangefinder is out of touch for plenty of shooting and for me, not an on-the-job camera. When the M9 and then the M 240 came out I had to see if the magic was still there for me, and yes it is. I enjoy every minute I spend shooting with it."

Shaun O'Boyle: "Have always admired the build quality of the Leica cameras. I owned an M4 for a while, and the M8 for a short while, and never took to the focusing on these cameras. Maybe it's my eyes, but those white lines can be tough to see in many lighting situations. They both went, the M8 for many reasons. Rangefinder-like cameras I do like. I had the Fuji X-E2, and now shoot with the X-Pro2, a superb camera with excellent glass."

Clyde Rogers: "I like what a rangefinder camera makes possible—a compact camera body, and fantastic, compact (especially wide angle) lenses. My favorite film outfit was the Mamiya 7 with 43mm and 80mm lenses (the 43mm was a favorite). My favorite digital outfit is a Leica M that I carry with two or three tiny, fantastic lenses. I also think there's much more to a Leica M than the rangefinder (which I agree isn't the end-all of viewfinders). The M camera has few superfluous controls, and the shooting controls fall to hand and eye with consistency, directness and clarity. I'm accustomed to these controls, so using the Leica is, for me, automatic. For me, shooting with the Leica takes less mental effort than any other camera, leaving more brain cells for the picture. That's worth a lot to me."

Anthony Rizzo: "While I have owned both, I always felt the R6.2 was a far more usable camera than the M6."

Canon Discontinues Last Film Camera

Canon Camera has quietly announced that it has "decided to end sales" of its last available film camera, the once pro-level EOS-1v.

As I understand it (as explained to me by a high level Canon employee a long time ago), when a camera company decides to keep a "legacy" product in stock, what happens is that one last large run is made, and then the product is sold out of NOS (new old stock), with the outflow regulated by gradually raising the price. With demand ebbing at the same time price is rising, the NOS supply can last for quite a long time, meaning that the product remains "available new" for years longer than an ordinary product lifespan. There's no way of knowing when the last "new" EOS 1v's were manufactured, but chances are good is was quite a long time ago.

All things considered, as with Kodachrome, it's quite admirable that the company managed to keep this product available for so long.

Canon also announced (if my reading of the auto-translation is correct) that it will entertain service requests until 2025, but that repairs might have to be refused after 2020 if parts that are needed have been depleted.

Canon, then called Precision Optical Industry Co. Ltd., created its first film camera prototype in 1934. According to Wikipedia, "The name Canon comes from [the] Buddhist bodhisattva Guan Yin (観音, Kannon in Japanese), previously transliterated as Kuanyin, Kwannon, or Kwanon in English."

Canon film cameras are shown and listed at the Camera Hall of the Canon Camera Museum (online).

Mike
(Thanks to Canon Rumors via Phil A.)

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Paulo Bizarro: "This was the epitome of the EOS 1 ethos. I remember seeing the camera ina shop and thinking: I got to have it. It was the only camera that elicited this type of reaction with me."

Kenneth Tanaka: "Around 2009 or 2010 I bought a (well) used EOS 1v just to get the idea of how the 1D cameras evolved. I only shot about 5–10 rolls through it but boy it sure felt solid and had that press-camera durability just like the 1Ds I was using in the day. (I still have the 1v, in fact, lying sadly dormant.)

"I’ve read it reported elsewhere that the last 1v was made in 2008."

McD: "My favorite camera...ever."

How to Buy a Film Leica

Wednesday I said "consider that you can still buy, brand new, a film Leica"—and linked to a Leica M7. When I linked to it, the B&H page said "More on the Way." Soon thereafter, it said "Discontinued." Sorry for the SNAFU; it was not-a my fault.

So here's how to buy a film Leica, Mike variation. (Where Leicas are concerned, you will generally encounter, ahh, let us say "a variety" of opinions out there on the woolly Web.)

You can buy a new one from B&H. Yes, I'd get an M7...it's not a purist Leica to the manner born*, but it's got the easier-to-use rewind crank and a light meter, and aperture-priority AE which I love and find easiest to use with B&W negative film. (Yeah, it's fun to go on a retro adventure, but you still need to be able to take pictures.) You can still buy an M7 new from B&H or Amazon. The M3-style rewind crank on the stylish and beautiful mechanical MP looks great and is best for those who intend to not use their new camera. (Just kidding. But not really. Um, let's move on.)

UPDATE: According to David Farkas at Red Dot Forum, the Leica M7 is officially discontinued as of yesterday(!). He says "Leica will no longer produce any more new M7 cameras, in black or silver." If that's correct, then as soon as current stocks are depleted, that's it. (Thanks to Jeff for this.)

The M-A is an MP with no light meter. Like, you know, used Leicas. Except without all the dirty fingerprints and cooties from other homo sapiens.

But really, unless you've got OCD problems, the best film Leica to buy is the M4. In my opinion (<—note the qualifier, woolly Web denizens). The Ernst Leitz, Germany-made, 1966–75 Wetzlar M4, in chrome because that's how most of them were made. The M4 is the best-built M camera (period—I got this straight from one of the most respected Leica techs in the USA and one of the very best Leica techs in the UK, back when I was Editor-in-Chief of Photo Techniques—but see above point in re woolly Web). It has the least production variation, and, all things considered, will likely be the easiest to use and maintain.

The M4 is not the most prestigious or stylish film Leica in the opinion of collectors, which in my view is a point in its favor (the views of the woolly Web may vary). Historically, values have gone up and down; if purchased in a "down" period, such as we seem to be in now, they can be quite good value for money. They're now running in the ~$1k range and sometimes even less.

An M4 described as "Mint in Box" currently being offered on eBay for $3k

You can buy a "mint" M4 if you want to pay a hefty premium, but I'd encourage you to also look at "users" with some honorable scars...real Leicas aren't meant to be shelf queens, they're meant to be used. A sample with a few bumps and nicks can be much less expensive. A few quirky little marks and dings just makes your camera an individual.

After purchase
After purchase, you're not done yet. First, you need a CLA (clean, lube, adjust)...unless your seller provides documentation that one was recently performed. I won't recommend specific shops, but a little research should lead you to reputable technicians.

Although it can be mighty tempting to try all sorts of lenses, and there's nothing wrong with that, I'd recommend choosing one lens for your Leica and sending the lens to the repair shop when you get the CLA so the lens can be specifically calibrated to the rangefinder. The classic focal length is either a 50mm or a 35mm, depending on your personal preference.

Being contrarian, I'd pick a non-Leica lens for my Leica. Or a nice historical lens. Something like a Konica M-Hexanon 50mm ƒ/2 (a personal fave), or the nifty Voigtländer Color-Skopar 35mm ƒ/2.5 PII pancake (which has excellent contrast for B&W though not the greatest shadow separation), or the Zeiss C Biogon T* 35mm ƒ/2.8 ZM (a sleeper, highly flare-resistant). Of course, Leica's own lenses, such as the marvelous 50mm Summilux-M ƒ/1.4 ASPH., work also. Historical lenses include the lovely pre-ASPH. 35mm Summicron (v. IV) that I owned in days of yore [Ed. sobs for lost youth. Where did that damn youth go, anyway? He was around here a few minutes ago.]

As far as depriving yourself of other lenses, what, you don't have other cameras? Don't invest in lots of Leica lenses. Invest in lenses for your digital camera. Just my 2¢.

I'd also recommend using one film. One film and one lens will send you one your way to mastery and unconscious familiarity. To set the exposure controls, you can either get a modern clip-on meter, which is simple to use and works very well, or Train Your Brain to Guess Exposures like old Henri did. The latter is more fun, of course.

And fun is the name of the game with retro!

Mike-ism
Not be be narcissistic (might be 12 and half years too late, quoth the gnarly blogger), but I did this for a year—shot with an M4 and a beautiful 1950s collapsible 50mm Summicron that a maniacal collector had gotten multi-coated. (Same lens Henri used for 90%+ of his photos for 90%+ of his career.) My good friend Nicholas Hartmann, son of the late former President of Magnum Photos Erich Hartmann—both just the finest of gentlemen—loaned me the M4, which he bought in a "down" market period. It had a precious and prized ding on the back of the top-plate. That ding saved him hundreds of dollars. I guessed my exposures that year, which actually isn't hard if you practice enough.

Of course, you should do whatever you want to. The point of retro is to have fun, and only you know what's most fun for you.

Viewed through the rose-colored glasses of my yearning for lost youth, my M4 year was one of the best years ever in my experience of photography; the results I got weren't always consistent, but when that camera and lens sang, they sang sweetly. Of course it's much easier to get better pictures now, but I don't think I ever felt closer to this wonderful, rich medium of ours than I did that year. Where did that year go? Seems like it was such a short time ago.

Mike

TOP is off on Saturdays. See you on Sunday!

*Let's not argue about this phrase. It can be "manor" or "manner." Wm. Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1602:

HORATIO: Is it a custom?

HAMLET: Ay, marry, is't:
      But to my mind, though I am native here
      And to the manner born, it is a custom
      More honour'd in the breach than the observance.

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Adam Lanigan: "I had a one lens / one film / one month experience with my neighbour's M4 and the dual-range 50mm Summicron. It was a short but great honeymoon. I still count a few pictures from that month six years ago among my best."

Gordon Lewis: "Wouldn't the more pertinent question be why to buy a film Leica (or any Leica rangefinder for that matter)? Personally, I'd want to have a damned good answer to that question before I considered shelling out thousands of hard-earned dollars on equipment that may have no discernible difference in the quality of my images."

Mike replies: Why? Because someone might want to. Is that not a reason?

Ken Tanaka piles on: "I second Gordon's earnest and keen question. (And I do so as someone with an M7, a gorgeous silver MP, an M9, and an M10 close at hand.) Unless you're collecting antique cameras or just like to impersonate a photographer of bygone decades (both of which can be great fun) there's absolutely no practical or rational reason to use either film or a rangefinder camera today. The severe limitations of both represent artificial barriers."

Mike replies: You answered your own objection right before you stated the objection: because it can be "great fun." It can be rational to do something just because it appeals to a person and would be fun for them, eh?

Another reason is "for the experience." After all, there's absolutely no practical or rational reason to ride horseback today. Yet people do.

Mark Sampson: "My first top-quality camera was a Leica M3. In 1978 I had earned enough to buy a new camera. So I went out shopping for a Nikon FM or an Olympus, but came home with a 19-year-old Leica (for which lenses and accessories were nearly impossible to find). With its 50mm ƒ/2 Summicron, I had a lot of fun, learned a lot, and made many photographs; it even earned its keep. To be honest, I bought the romance and mystique; it was a quirky and anachronistic choice, even forty years ago! But the M3 did a great job. It was my only camera for four years, when I bought a 4x5...and, finally, a Nikon FM2 in 1986. I used the M3 (along with an M6, eventually) and various lenses until I soaked it in salt water in 2010. Now it's an honored desk ornament...see my posts from yesterday. So I heartily agree with your recommendation—those few of TOP's readers willing to shoot film will enjoy using a Leica, if they don't already."

Paul De Zan: "I've had an M4 forever, love it, don't use it and will keep it forever. It's one of those things."

Andrew: "I've bought and sold my share of cameras over the years, including many film rangefinders. The only camera and lens combination I miss is my departed M6 TTL .85 with Hexanon 50mm. Wonderful camera and wonderful lens!"

Old Camera Mystery

A reader named "Not THAT Ross Cameron"* writes from Australia: "I saw a window-sized poster for Kylie Minogue (onetime Australian soap actress who then made her fame and fortune as a pop/dance singer) selling her latest range of fashion glasses. I had to chuckle at myself, as I didn't look at her or her glasses, but instead wondered to myself "what is the camera she’s posing with?" Can anyone on TOP slake my curiosity?"

1968
...And speaking of old, it occurred to me this morning that it's been 50 years since 1968, one of the most vivid years in recent history in the western world. Fifty years ago this month, among other things, there were riots in Paris, a little car brand called "Subaru" came to North America, and the Beatles were at Abbey Road Studios recording John Lennon's sneering "Revolution" that the left saw as a betrayal (he was right, though—revolution was in the air** but not in the cards). "The Sixties" have been neutered and romanticized ever since; it's necessary for the reigning worldview to do that with subversive realities. In real life, it was a violent, angry, distressing time. One could argue that politics in America since 1980 has been a reaction to it. 

There's a curious little book from back then called Toward the Year 2018: A Dozen Eminent Leaders in Science and Technology Look 50 Years Into the Future. As with most such attempts, in that book the future was mostly only understood in terms of those days—for example, one prediction listed on the jacket is, "The United Nations holds a debate on outlawing the laser disintegrating ray." (Ray guns were big in 1968—I was 11, and up on cartoons, so I can attest to that.) On the other hand, they accurately predicted cellphones ("citizens' pocket computers" with "portable databases"), and texting and photo sharing.

Nowadays, our predictions of the future are a little more dire, and glum: There's a fad right now for "end of democracy" books. Ya hate that. Things looked pretty dire in 1968 too, though. The one I want to read is Jon Meacham's The Soul of America—anybody read that one yet?

The best book on 1968 is (appropriately enough) Mark Kurlansky's 1968: The Year that Rocked the World, but note that there's a picture book too, from TIME.

Mike

UPDATE: Later this month, on the 28th, Kylie Minogue, pictured at the top of the post, will turn 50. She was born in 1968. I didn't know that when I wrote this post.

Thanks to Ray Kinnane for this!

*I had to look up "that" Ross Cameron who our reader is not: Aussie politician. In case you're wondering.

**Okay, that was '69.

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Joe: "Fifty-six years ago yesterday, Marilyn Monroe sang Happy Birthday to JFK, accompanied by pianist Hank Jones, at Madison Square Garden, as part of a Democratic party fundraiser. Jackie was not present."

Mike replies: Hank is one of my two favorite musicians, and I never knew he was the pianist that night!

Bob Johnston [same ilk, no relation —Ed.]: "You were looking at the camera and not Kylie Minogue? I think you might be getting old Mike! It's a Russian Zenit E. They were probably the cheapest SLR you could buy at the time and so many young European photographers started with one. The lens is the M42 screw-fit 58mm ƒ/2 Helios which was reckoned to be quite good. The camera was a heavy lump of metal that you could probably use to knock nails in, but the build quality was somewhat lacking. If I recall correctly the lens diaphragm was not automatic. As you can see there was a selenium light meter but it wasn't coupled in any way. There was a match needle arrangement in a window on the top plate. Kylie has the rewind knob pulled out."

Michael Matthews: "My wife and I paused on the sidewalk to watch Malcolm Bricklin unload his first truckfull of Subaru 360s into a former retail storefront next to Van Sciver Furniture in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania. Our appraisal of the cartoonish little cars—as ton after ton of befinned Detroit iron soared by on Philadelphia's City Line Avenue—was 'not a chance.' Hmmm."

David Boyce: "Mark Kurlansky is a very good and engaging writer. I have read a few of his books. Cod: A Biography of a Fish that Changed the World and Salt: A World History are very interesting and well worth a read, as is The Basque History of the World: The Story of a Nation. Paper: Paging Through History is on my list of want-to-reads."

Dave Van de Mark: 1968 is certainly a special year for me. As a young photographer and activist, I attempted to portray the awesome beauty of the redwoods—not only as incredibly special trees but, more importantly, as a grand forest environment—as part of efforts to establish a Redwood National Park. But probably a more urgent task was to portray what was happening to the last large remaining block of virgin redwoods, namely the brutal clearcutting operations and their devastating impacts on the environment.

"Shooting mostly in B&W with a Hasselblad 500C camera, these efforts began in 1965. My photos appeared in major newspapers across the country and in conservationist publications. Fortunately, the Redwood National Park was established in 1968 and its 50th birthday is being celebrated this year. Unfortunately, Congress did not create a park with great ecological integrity, and I continued to photograph destructive logging practices occurring right up to the original boundary. These efforts, along with so many others, finally led to the park's expansion 10 years later.

"I donated about 5,000 images to the Park Service in 1988. It is not a common occurrence that a significant photographic history regarding establishment of a park is donated by a living photographer. Now 75, I am in discussions with Redwood National Park to take some pictures of what it looks like now, 50 years later. I certainly hope this will be successful!"

The Camera Hunter's Find

Bellamy Hunt, the man behind Japan Camera Hunter (JCH) in Tokyo, is a sort of antique picker who ferrets out old cameras that have history or provenance, on behalf of a worldwide clientele. Recently he was offered a camera by the family of actor Errol Flynn's son Sean. The story is almost incredible in the vividness and significance of its every detail. Bellamy describes locating and re-homing Vietnam war photographer Sean Flynn's Leica camera as "a once-in-a-career event." Tough to argue with that.

A very short version is that Sean Flynn was kidnapped in Cambodia with photojournalist Dana Stone in 1970 and never seen again. "There were reports that both Flynn and Stone were kidnapped by the Vietcong and then handed to the Khmer Rouge before being executed, but remains were never found. Flynn’s mother spent her life and fortune trying to find a trace of her son, but sadly it was to no avail. Sean Flynn was declared legally dead in 1984," writes Hunt.

Photo: JCH

The camera is a Leica M2 with a steel-rim 35mm Summilux and "a strap that was hand fashioned from a parachute cord and a hand grenade pin" left in Flynn's Paris apartment.

It's a terrific story. You can read it in its entirety and see the eloquent illustrations at the JCH website. The camera will go to a new owner in Saigon.

A camera with history indeed.

Mike

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Ken Tanaka: "It is indeed a good story that I, coincidentally, read last week. I knew of Sean Flynn and his disappearance but the story filled some holes in my knowledge. He was sort of a later-day Robert Capa.

"Memorabilia has always puzzled me. Being in the presence of so-and-so’s mitt from the 1938 World Series, the brushes used by so-and-so to paint a renowned 15th-century painting, the camera used by so-and-so to take his/her most renowned photos...can certainly give an admirer a tingle. But what real value are these artifacts beyond future resale to some other poor tingler at a profit? And what happens when time eventually extinguishes these tingles? Someone will be left with some very expensive junk!

"But the bigger question: what ephemera of today’s generation will be treated as a devotional artifacts in the future? I really can’t think of anything!"

Mike replies: I have that same sort of conceptual puzzlement about such objects. A number of years ago I owned Jack Lemmon's Leica M6 (along with a letter of provenance). I never could figure out what it should mean to me, and finally decided it meant nothing, really, so I sold it. (I should add that I'm not particularly a Jack Lemmon fan. Don't dislike him, but he means no more to me than any other good actor.) On the other hand, a friend has a 35mm camera that was decorated by his friend, Keith Haring. He continued to use the camera and eventually rubbed off all but the faintest traces of  of the Haring embellishments...a mistake, in my view, as that camera might have been worth a lower-middle-class salary by now. I'd have taken the money. (Maybe he'll see this and speak up with his own thoughts.)

Also a number of years ago, I had the opportunity to buy the Leica enlarging lens that Lee Friedlander had owned and used for many years to enlarge his 35mm work. I still regret not buying it (it wasn't considered L. Friedlander ephemera at the time, or at least only enough to command a bit of a premium, some fraction more than its value as a lens). But why should I feel that way? It's not like the object contains the light that was beamed through it. I really have no clear idea why I wanted it or what I would have done with it.

hugh crawford adds: "Re: that Keith Haring camera. It would probably be worth something if it was signed or had some sort of provenance. As it is, it's just one of many things that we sat around doodling on when Keith was best known as the busboy at danceteria with the glasses he was always re-painting. I once had a lot of stuff he doodled on including that car that you posted a photo of a while back, and even a few drawings, all lost now along with some Andy Warhol drawings on dollar bills and a bunch of similar stuff.

"The only famous-ish previously-owned camera I have is a Canon 1Ds once owned by Matthieu Ricard, 'the happiest man in the world' if you Google it. It’s a long story…don’t think it’s a big deal, but who knows. I also have the wheel that kept Paul Newman from winning LeMans, also a long story. The rest of the car recently sold for 4.4 million dollars (he came in second after the wheel jammed on the axle during a pit stop and it took a half hour to replace the axle) so maybe there is something worthwhile there."

Dave Kerr: "I'm reminded of the time a Vietnamese student came to class with a somewhat beat-up old Nikon. Her father was there in the late '60s, early '70s. She didn't have much of its history other than it once belonged to a famous news reporter. Crudely etched on the base plate was the name 'T. Koppell '66-69.' I photographed it and sent Mr. Koppell a photo and the story, thinking he might want to have it back. No reply. Like you, for a fleeting moment, I thought I would have liked to own it."

Larry Gebhardt: "I bought renowned Miata writer, and sometimes photographer, Mike Johnston's old Miata. I expect the collectors to be lining up at my door any day now. While waiting I'll continue to drive it on nice days."

Mike replies: Now that has provenance!

Geoff Wittig: "Many amateur artists obsess about the tools used by artists they admire. Any skilled painter giving a presentation or workshop will be bombarded with questions about which specific pigments, linen supports or brushes they use, because aspiring painters hope to learn some secret of tools or materials that will reliably lead to a masterpiece. But of course it's the artist's thought process, the thousand decisions over the course of a painting's creation that contain the magic, not the tools. It's no different with cameras and lenses. I could sleep with Henri Cartier-Bresson's Leica under my pillow, but my street photography would still suck."

Ilkka: "Tim Page has written two books that talk quite a bit about Sean Flynn. Page After Page is an autobiography where he describes their adventures as photojournalists in Vietnam. Another, later book, Derailed in Uncle Ho's Victory Garden, talks about when Page went back to Vietnam after the war and spent some time searching for Sean Flynn. Interesting reads both of them."

Gary B: "I read this article when it first appeared on the Japan Camera Hunter website a couple of weeks ago. I'm currently living in Hanoi, so at the weekend whilst passing the recently opened (last year) Leica boutique store I called in to ask when the exhibition of the camera and related photography would open. The staff knew nothing about it!"

Fuji Bargain!

Today only: Remember when I called the Fuji X-T1 Graphite "One Good-Lookin' Camera"? Remember how it cost $300 more than the then-high-priced regular version of the X-T1? I think it was selling for $1,800. That was back in '14. Well, now you can get that very same camera, brand new, for $599. Wow. The X-T1 is no longer the latest thing, and it "only" has 16 MP, etc., etc....but it's still a very nice camera, with excellent capabilities for general shooting and excellent files. (I have one.) A way to get into the Fuji ecosystem on wings. It's cheaper than the black one for the next 11 hours. And at $599, it's possible you might not even lose much money on resale, even.

As a first lens, I'd suggest the 27mm pancake, the 23mm ƒ/2, or the 35mm ƒ/2 (note that that silver versions are a slightly different color of silver).

I'd rather have this beauty than lots of new cameras in the $600 price class, I can tell you that.

Mike

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Dogman: "I bought a used one of these a little while back. I really wasn't looking for the graphite silver model, just a standard black X-T1 would have been fine. But the silver model was available in nearly new condition (but lacking the box) for less than the black ones so I grabbed it. Pretty camera. Functionally identical to the black body. It makes for a nice permanent home for my 14mm Fujinon lens.

"The X-T1 was the camera that really led me to finally accept EVFs. By the way, I've always shopped for recently discontinued camera bodies and new or nearly new lenses. Missing out on a few new camera features is not a big deal for me. But I always try to use the best lenses available."

Future Christmas Presents (More Imaginary Cameras)

As I said on Saturday (first post below this one), when I think of cameras I tend to think in terms of ideas that would enable photographers to do good work, not necessarily products that would sell well. Of course the two aren't by any means mutually exclusive, but the camera manufacturers are quite naturally vitally interested in the latter. The former is collateral to it, but not the main point for them.

I come at it from the opposite direction. For manufacturers, the important thing with products is to get them to the crucial point of the essential transaction—the point at which the buyer opens his wallet and forks over the cash, or, more likely these days, the moment she clicks the "BUY" button. Companies naturally care about what happens afterward too, but mainly because it also influences that crucial point, the point of sale.

Most of my thinking is about what happens after that point. As a reviewer and writer I've always cared about what people do with their cameras after they have them. For years I've held a firm view of a reviewer's role. Bob S., the former Editor of Shutterbug magazine who is unfortunately serving a life sentence for involuntary manslaughter now (I say that so you'll know I'm not hurting his career by sharing what I'm about to share), once wrote me a scathing letter in which he admonished me that our business as reviewers is to help the companies move merchandise. I disagreed with him then and I disagree still. What I have at heart is the long-term interests of the person who has either spent money for a photographic product or is about to. Defending and supporting those peoples' interest is how I see the reviewer's role. A reviewer is properly not an extension of the company's marketing department, but rather a sort of consumer advocate before the fact.

In other words, to put it in magazine terms, I worked for the readers, not for the advertisers.

All that's a long-winded way of saying that I'm not proposing the following ideas primarily as marketing ideas. I don't know how marketable they'd be and that's not really the point to me.

Anyway, here's a short list of cameras we "might could use" that we don't have:

• A camera designed around a hooded waist-level viewing screen that I talked about on Saturday. I won't elaborate more today.

• An inexpensive B&W-only camera. I've made the argument for years, even well before the M Monochrom existed, that a camera that shoots only B&W would help some people (not all, do not write me letters) to visualize better in B&W and hence to be more creative with B&W. The only company that seemed to listen was Leica, which is a nice affirmation (even if no one there ever actually heard—or heard of—li'l ol' me), but Leica is unfortunately also a premium product line with nothing but premium prices—partly status goods, partly also useful as working tools of course, but too expensive for many. I can't believe that a B&W-only version of an existing camera wouldn't be cheap for a cameramaker to produce in terms of manufacturing expense. The base camera wouldn't even have to be one with a very large sensor; with each sensel devoted only to luminance values, you'd get higher resolution out of fewer pixels (and anyway, is resolution really a problem any more? It's been a long time since I've used any camera that wasn't sharp or detailed enough. But I digress).

Leica M Monochrom Typ 246: If a B&W-only digital camera is such a stupid idea, why does this exist?

The problem to my mind is that it would have to have the proper spectral response and tonality curve. This should be modeled on known FDP (film-developer-paper) curves and spectral responses. The historical spectral response and tonal curve I like best is that of Kodak Plus-X with a Wratten No. 8 or K2 filter developed in D-76 1:1 printed on old Agfa Portriga (original Portriga, not post-reformulation Portriga). More radically, Kodak Verichrome Pan with a K2 filter developed in D-23 and printed on Kodak Medalist. Or even Dassonville Charcoal Black! (Heh. Just kidding, I never used Charcoal Black. Esoterica to the nth. Don't mind me.) It's probably not even possible to analyze these FDP combinations because the products no longer exist. I'm not sure if enough measurement data exists about them to reconstruct enough now in order to extract the relevant information. But surely, with empirical studies similar to the sort that Mees and Jones conducted in the 1930s, an FDP combination using existing materials could be chosen with available modern materials that could be used as a model for the digital targets. Only if I were in charge, of course. I did say this is an imaginary exercise.

Of course, if you were really doing it right, you would provide the same camera with a choice of three different sensors, each with different spectral/tonal options. To be chosen according to taste.

I won't even get into my pet idea of a complete bespoke B&W workstation engineered to be integrated from camera sensor to image processing software to printer and carbon-ink output, which I think is the most natural idea for B&W of the future.

Nikon Coolpix 990, a swivel-body compact. This was a fun camera to use.

• Two or three cameras with a native square format. Again, for purposes of visualization, which is unimportant to camera company engineers but potentially critically important to certain working art photographers and committed enthusiasts. Obviously one can technically get to square pictures with existing cameras and rectangular sensors, but what I'm concerned about is the way photographers conceive of and visualize pictures in their minds and on their viewfinders in the field. If you accept the premise, do this: go look at a 2003 Sony F-828 and imagine a body design like that with a modern square sensor. That camera, with the body and lens hinged, was awkward for verticals but is stone natural for a square. Or a design similar to the Nikon Coolpix 990 from 2000, a great little camera undone by its awkwardness shooting verticals. Case closed? So to speak?

• An inexpensive true mechanical rangefinder with a Leica M mount. This pretty much exists, but only pretty much. It also existed at one time, in the Epson R-D1. I still can't share what I know about why, but suffice it to say that despite decent popularity the R-D1 was orphaned, deliberately, back in 2007. But by now the world has changed, and the conditions that killed the R-D1 are no longer pertinent, and it's not too late to bring out a modern R-D2 (or near clone along those lines built by someone other than Cosina) now. Some people want that. Can't risk saying too much here.

The late, lamented Epson R-D1, still the only true mechanical digital rangefinder outside of Leicadom

• Finally, what I consider the next frontier in camera marketing: "Super-Simple" variants of existing designs. And I don't mean cheap, dumbed-down, low-quality, low-status entry-level cameras, either, I mean premium, high-quality cameras that might even be luxury goods but that are extremely simple to understand and use. People only incompletely understand that what made Steve Jobs such a genius was mainly his taste. He sympathized with the non-technical end-user, and insisted on simplicity and intuitiveness, ergonomic and physical elegance. And it was far from a simple battle—but he pursued it all his life, with an iron will, and (fortunately for all of us) enough power that he influenced all consumer computers, all computational devices, and all operating systems vastly for the better. (Of course he did make missteps and I am not interested in rehashing Jobs in my comments section, so Applehaters please give us a break please.) But when I imagine the world of computing devices if they had taken the same path as digital cameras....

The cameramakers, with one exception, don't even begin to get simple, and for the most part seldom even come anywhere close to it. The Sony NEX-6 was an attempt at it, to name one such example, but its designers conflated simple with limited and insofar as it succeeded it was but a baby-step in the right direction. Such "exceptions to the rule" examples mainly serve to highlight how poorly simplicity is conceptualized. Note here that I'm not saying all digital cameras need to be simpler: some of us are mavens and can handle the complexity (although when a digital camera is too complicated for me, something is wrong), and some of us are pros and need full functionality. But—as with all the ideas in this post—some percentage of buyers would be grateful to have the option. Choice is good.

Leica S Typ 007, a camera beautiful in its simplicity

The exception? Leica again. Aside from enjoying the highest quality lenses currently available for pictorial photography, the Leica S is a beautiful camera that is fundamentally simple in its conception. I would love to know who "directed" its design—many other camera companies need a dose of his or her medicine. Cameramakers have complexified themselves into a corner—it's gotten so that normal people either put 'em on auto and never even learn half the capabilities of their own cameras over the life of their ownership, or just avoid cameras altogether (or leave them at home) and take pictures with their phones.

Your future Christmas present
I've got a lot of radical ideas about how simplification would be done and what it would look like, but this post is long enough already. I should also do a post about the range and extent of all the weird and wonderful things we do have available, from the DxO One to the Sigma Foveon-sensor cameras (which everyone should try once, just for their education) to the Nikon Coolpix P900 with its astonishing 2000mm-equivalent zoom reach. I'm not saying in this post that wonders don't exist! Or even that there is any shortage of perfectly adequate tools. All I mean to highlight here is that there are plenty of possibilities that are currently not being explored.

And just to be clear, this post also isn't about the future of photography. It doesn't even address that subject. These are just cameras which don't exist, but which might have, had cultural and business factors (such as demand and consumer expectations) taken different turns than they did.

For the comments: rather than critiquing my ideas, how about letting us know if there are any cameras you wish were available but aren't? Does anyone who does panoramas, to name just one example, wish there was a digital equivalent of the Linhof Technorama 617S III or the Hasselblad X-Pan? Pretend you're the President of a camera company and you get one vanity project, cost and marketing practicality be damned. What, if anything, would you decree to be built?

 Mike

Original contents copyright 2017 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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Speed: "Mike wrote, 'Bob S. ... admonished me that our business as reviewers is to help the companies move merchandise.' The primary business of (sustaining i.e. profitable) print, television and on-line publications is to deliver eyeballs to advertisers. These businesses do so by publishing interesting, entertaining and informative writing, pictures and video. Once the eyeballs are delivered it is up to the advertiser to move the merch. It's a good system."

Mike replies: ....If it works as intended. Unfortunately the temptation for corruption is high, the transgressions difficult to track, and violations commonplace. Take this as a semi-hypothetical example: an audio magazine assigns a writer to review a pair of $15,000 speakers and pays a paltry few hundred dollars for the article. The reviewer pens a glowing review, the manufacturer offers to let him keep the "review sample" for a "reviewer discount" at $4k, the reviewer accepts, keeps them to listen to for a few months to a year, then turns them around and sells them used for $6,500, thus adding $2,500 to his "pay" for the review.

I could tell a great many stories along these lines, from merely grubby to almost shocking, and going both ways—media cheating manufacturers and manufacturers being ruthless to media—but the funniest was probably a photography magazine that published a camera review but neglecting to change the case from "we" and "us" to "they" and "them" etc., thus making it obvious it was just verbiage provided by the manufacturer's marketing department. And so it goes, nothing new under the sun.

Oren Grad: "The Fujifilm Instax Square SQ10 model uses what is plainly a sensor with a 4:3 aspect ratio, but treats the captures as squares in order to cater to what Fujifilm sees as the Instagram and Polaroid markets. Given the cost of sensor development, that's probably all that you can expect—the manufacturer cropping a capture to square underneath the hood, so that the user doesn't have to agonize over 'wasting pixels' or not being suitably constrained in visualization. The other way of getting 'true' square captures is to use one of the variable-aspect-ratio cameras that actually record raws in the selected aspect ratio, rather than simply tagging the file to identify default (but defeatable) cropping for the raw converter. The various Panasonic models with "multi-aspect ratio" function come to mind; these include 1:1 as an option. Visualization is taken care of, as the screen or EVF shows only the selected area."

Richard Skoonberg: "My Pentax K-1 has crop setting for shooting square format. I can tilt up the LCD screen to 90 degrees and use it as a waist-level finder with the live-view. The LCD displays a square image and the camera saves the RAW file as a square image."

Mike replies: The K-1 has everything, even a low price. Seriously.

Bahi: "I know you are not looking for book ideas but I’d guess that, were you to write a book called Do Not Write Me Letters, filled with all the insider information you have about industry skullduggery (advertising/editorial crossover, bribery, fake vintage prints, rogue editors, rogue writers, rogue photographers, mysteriously abandoned camera releases), the result would be quite something."

Mike replies: Actually the person to write that book would have been Bob S., who actively collected such stories. I know a few but not enough for a book. And although I am "in the disclosure business" in David Vestal's fine phrase, tell-alls aren't my style.

Nick Rains: "Hi Mike. Stephan Shultz was the lead designer/project manager for the original Leica S2. Not sure if he is still directly involved in the S007 but he's still around. Totally agree with the simplicity aspect (Das Wesentliche) which is why I use the Leica SL and CL."

Soeren Engelbrecht: "When I went 'mirror-free' a couple of years ago, my primary reasoning for dismissing Sony as a potential system was the lack of a 1:1 format option.

Photo by Soeren Engelbrecht

"I went Micro 4/3 instead and am very happy with my choice—love to be able to do those square format portraits."

Mark Roberts: "What I'd like isn't a camera for me but one for the students taking my introductory (college) photography courses: Manual focus, manual exposure, no frills (or frills that can be selectively changed through password-protected firmware). A digital K1000, in other words.

"I went to a Pentax demo at Hunt's Camera here in Boston about a week ago and the reps there were saying they wished Pentax would make such a camera. I can't see it happening, myself. But we can dream."

Not THAT Ross Cameron: "Re simplification, if only the manufacturers would allow us to simplify their menus! An app could do that.  :-)  In all seriousness, issue/sell the camera with the standard default menu items and structure, but allow photographers to design their own menus and items, maybe even our own menu labels and labels for the features/menu items. And then save them as bank 1/2 or U 1/2 etc. (yes, Nikon shooter). Let me completely configure the camera for how I what to use it based on the different types of photography I practice. Let me save my menu set-up to my device, share it online with others, see how others set-up their menus etc. Dare the manufacturers to give up control to their customers. Heck, if the manufacturers took photographer menu set-ups and tried loading them into the cameras they might learn a thing or two about how we use them in practice. Sorry, rant off.  :-)"

Richard Man: "If I have $10 million to burn (that is, after feeding the poor etc.), I'd have a crackerjack team to design a digital XPan and takes ƒ/2 lenses. It doesn't have to be 'full XPan frame,' either; a double APS-C sensor would be just fine and probably a sweet spot. And of course the other Holy Grail—the 75MP Hasselblad 56x56mm 203FE-D. Sweeeet!"

beuler: "A telescope shaped camera for telephoto work. Because why not, why not?"

Joe: "Holy smoke, Mike, I just read the Wikipedia entry for the former Shutterbug editor Bob Shell—what a crazy, sad, awful case. The man apparently had some demons. I'll understand if you don't want to publish this comment, since it identifies Bob S. and encourages your readers to go read the Wikipedia article."

Mike replies: It's public knowledge, as you discovered. I even wrote a post about it myself.

John Hufnagel: "Damn, you had to mention Verichrome Pan. I still cherish the negatives I made with that paper-backed stuff. With careful scanning and the Photoshop curves tool I can almost get a digital print that captures that magic!"

Struan: "I want a Rollei 3000 with a screen on the top plate and a 40mm-square sensor. By Christmas.

"Failing that, a least one focus-on-a-screen camera that allows you to brace the thing against your body as you compose and focus. That is what I really miss from waist-level finders."

Jeff: "The initial Leica S2 interface, consisting of four soft buttons surrounding the LCD, was a concept borrowed from Phase One. Michael Reichmann wrote about this.

"The Leica SL shares the four-button S interface, but in a different form factor. I read that Leica considered a smaller S body shape for the SL, but the designers ultimately opted for the slimmer, more modern body to distinguish the mirrorless counterpart.

"Leica has taken some lumps with reliability and service issues regarding the S system, particularly with lens AF motor failures, which have now been solved. There are some rumblings about a possible successor (S008?), so it will be interesting to see what direction the system takes."

 

Are Pro Film Cameras the Least Desirable Cameras?

Nikon F5: its capabilities are no longer in demand

Reader John to me: Do you know anyone in your vast collection of friends who might make good use of a Nikon F5? I’ll never do film again and it’s just sitting there on a shelf, staring at me. I would be willing to let it go for the low low price of…uh…nothing. But, I don’t want to give it to someone who'd just flip it on eBay. I could do that. I would like to get it to somebody who’d use it.

Me to reader John: Hmm. Nice offer, and I will have to think about that.

It’s a bit of a paperweight…they go on eBay for only $350 pretty consistently, which as you know isn’t a lot relative to its original cost, and they burn through batteries, meaning it has to be someone who’s willing to cycle rechargeables. And there’s no real call for its talents of high frame rate and focus tracking and so forth.

I think your wisest move might be to find a school program that's still oriented toward film and donate it to them. It would be the kind of thing that kids and newcomers might be interested in experiencing without wanting to own. If it belonged to a school or a community program, it could be a shared loaner and a lot of people could find out firsthand what a big pro camera feels like.

It's an interesting question. It's probable that cheap, bad cameras might be the least desirable cameras in the world, but it's possible that the relative position of "pro" and "advanced amateur" (AA) film cameras have flipped in the days since digital. Pro cameras might actually be less desirable than their AA brethren.

Inverted values: The Sinar on the left was more expensive new,
but less desirable now

That seems to be happening with view cameras...wooden folding field view cameras are still sought after, but professional monorail studio cameras—which were more expensive and of higher precision when they were new—are not as useful to anybody now. The Swiss Sinar P2 on the left was one of the best and most expensive professional cameras when it was new, but it's being offered by shueido on eBay right now for $1,379, while the older style American Deardorff 5x7 (with 4x5 reducing back) on the right is being offered by irohas for $2,780. (Both of these examples appear to be priced at the high end of the range.) Their relative desirability has been flipped upside down.

Is it possible that, among good cameras, late model professional film cameras might be the most unwanted orphans?

But if you know of an educational program still based around film that might want to add reader John's F5 to its arsenal, let me know, and I'll put you in touch.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2017 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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Tom: "If the F5 is undesirable then I probably own the most undesirable accessory for it, a Forscher Polaroid back. Can't have put more than a couple of packs through it before digital came along."

Mike replies: You have seen me and raised me! That's even more of an unwanted orphan.

Jim Grey: "As a guy who's collected film cameras for more than 40 years I can say that the semi-pro cameras are usually much, much more pleasant to use than their full-pro counterparts, without significant loss of functionality."

Scott A: "Considering the comments from a few weeks ago it is interesting that my daughters' school program is still based around film, one of the reasons being because it is cheaper. Apparently film and chemicals are cheaper than the computers, software and printers they would need, and need to continually upgrade, to stay relevant.

"Two of the other noted benefits being the extra deliberateness required when shooting with film and delayed gratification. Apparently this is something the school really values as teenagers are too dependent on instant gratification and the inherent delay created by using film is good for them. Unfortunately for me I am stuck in a quandary. I have a pile of digital cameras but long got rid of my film ones. I am loath to purchase a film camera just so my daughter can take the photography elective."

So You Say You Want to Shoot Film

Costs $109, weighs 495 grams, looks like a toy. Perfect.

-

Written by Steve Rosenblum

I’m shooting some B&W film these days for fun. I put together a pretty amazing camera/lens combo for next to nothing that I've been having fun with. Like Mike, I have always liked the 40mm field of view. Film cameras with fixed 40mm lenses and autofocus have become a kind of Veblen goods with the Contax T3 in the $1,200–1,500 (!) range and Fujifilm Klasse S selling in the $600 range.

Here is the solution I cobbled together.

For the camera body: a Canon Rebel T2. This was the last iteration of the film Rebel series. It sports a 1/4000 top shutter speed, ETTL 2 flash (not that I use it), all the usual modes including AV, TV and manual, full control over ISO, etc. It is compact but with a good hand grip (fits fine in my hands) and weighs in at a minuscule 365 grams.

I got the camera essentially for free. I bought a "lot" of two cameras on eBay that included this T2 plus a Rebel G for $16. No shipping because the seller is 30 minutes from me and I picked it up. Because of a screw-up on the seller’s part they threw in a mint Tiffen yellow filter for free, so I reckon the T2 is free—the filter is worth $16.  :-)

For the lens I bought the Canon EF 40mm ƒ/2.8 STM Lens which is a pancake lens that sells at B&H Photo for $179 now but, amazingly, has killer image quality. Roger Cicala at LensRentals tested it and couldn't get over the image quality.

I bought one in perfect condition used on eBay for $109. It weighs 130 grams. Focuses crisply and is quiet.

So last weekend I was shooting at a local Oktoberfest with this compact camera that does everything I need with a superb lens that cost me a total of $109 and weighs in at 495 grams for the whole shootin' match. Also, no one pays any attention to it because it looks like an old toy camera. Perfect.

Pretty incredible.

Steve

Steve Rosenblum is a retired cardiologist who now works to improve cardiac care for patients nationally. He's an avid fly fisherman and a longtime photographer.

©2017 by Steve Rosenblum, all rights reserved

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Worth as much as a yellow filter
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emptyspaces: "Nice! That lens is a cracker. I've got a Canon Elan IIe that lets you select an autofocus point with your eye (your choice of three!). It works just like any Canon digital camera I've owned.

"You're wise to go with that Rebel for how light it is. And I love that someone else is shooting my favorite film camera, the Olympus XA2."

Hugh Crawford: "I don't know, this seems to me more like how to keep most of the things I dislike about digital photography, but still use film."

Steve Rosenblum replies: I know what you mean, Hugh. The main cameras I have used since going back to shooting film are solid, manual focus ones that feel a lot more like a substantial "tool" and are satisfying in that sense. In particular, I have really enjoyed using a 1970s Olympus 35 RD rangefinder (also a 40mm lens) and an Olympus OM-4T. Fabulous cameras. Feel like Swiss watches rather than mini-computers. However, for candid street photography I now find my somewhat slowed reflexes and aging eyes make accurate quick manual focusing more problematic. Yes, I can stop way down and zone focus, but sometimes I want a more isolated look requiring a narrower depth of field. For this I find quick, silent autofocus is my friend. This surprised me. 

Earl Dunbar: "One of the best options (in my irrelevant opinion) for a fixed lens 40mm compact is the Olympus 35SP. (OK, it's 43mm, but who's measuring?) It has had its moments of cult status, so a good sample might set you back more than $109, but the lens is excellent and the ergonomics are great; it is lighter than a Leica but feels like it in the hand. The 'SP' in the model name stands for 'spot,' as in spot metering. With the push of a conveniently placed button, you can switch the camera's metering from average to spot, with the spot corresponding to the rangefinder patch. Brilliant. Add some B&W film and Rodinal, and you're going to be having fun."

The Old Nostalgia Train

I've already written way too much about the old Exakta 66, a camera of direct interest to roughly .03% of you. (That number might be optimistic, but then, only optimistic people would shoot an Exakta 66.) However, Oren uncovered some numbers yesterday about what it cost:

"The B&H ad in Popular Photography from Sept 1988 lists a discounted bundle of body, waist-level finder, and 80mm ƒ/2.8 at $749. It doesn't spell out which 80mm, but I'm pretty sure it was the Xenotar MF. Doing it à la carte was much more expensive ($596 + $776 = $1,372), and the lenses other than the 80mm were way more expensive (40mm ƒ/4: $2,382; 55mm ƒ/4.5 Perspective-Control: $5,606; 60mm ƒ/3.5: $1,307.50; 150mm ƒ/4:: $1,427; 250mm ƒ/5.6: $1,660; 75–150mm ƒ/4.5: $3,099; 140–280mm ƒ/5.6: $3,170)—another reason why the system didn't get much traction even as a bargain option.

"And for completeness: plain prism finder $269; TTL prism $710; 2X converter $1,104.90; pro strap $38.

"For comparison, the Hasselblad 500CM / WLF / 80mm ƒ/2.8 promotional bundle at the time was $2,189, less $150 temporary rebate = $2,039; similar Bronica SQ-A bundle was $1,449. Of course, the rest of the Bronica lenses were much less expensive than the corresponding Schneider or Hasselblad lenses."

I'm almost positive I bought that "discounted bundle"—that $749 figure seems very familiar. For days now I've been claiming that the strap was a $90 accessory, and that's clearly wrong—it was $38. On my base salary of ~$1,417 a month before deductions I guess $38 just seemed like $90.

I never did buy any of the other lenses. Given the frequency with which they appear on the used market, not many other people did either.

My '80s Exakta 66 turned out to be well worth $749, though...even with its problems, and even though it took such a significant bite out of my bank account at the time.

I need to get off the nostalgia train now! It's hurtling along the tracks at a breakneck pace and it's rickety as hell!

Mike
(Thanks to Oren)

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Eamon Hickey: "Well, your old nostalgia train provided me with a few hours of diverting entertainment. Despite being a manager in a pretty good camera store in the late '80s/early '90s, I knew basically nothing of the Exakta 66 or its East German progenitor, the Pentacon 6. The site you linked to (for the picture of Herr Mandermann) has page after page of operational and historical information about the Pentacon 6 of the kind that can only be written by a passionate devotee. I mean that as a great compliment. I had to fight the very strong urge to buy one, even though there's no chance I would shoot more than one roll of film before my attention wandered!"

Vertical Cameras

Speaking of the iPhone and the Exakta 66, I thought I might mention that I've always liked vertical-format cameras. There have been very few of them over the years; two I know of are the rare Linhof 220 (right) and the Fujifilm GS645s, a naturally vertically-formatted 645.

I suppose the iPhone isn't naturally vertical format, but that's how I find it easiest to hold and how I often use it.

Almost unconsciously, when I began using the Exakta 66 in the '80s, I began cropping everything—I mean everything—to vertical format, in approximately a 645 proportion. I even marked off the viewfinder that way. I took more horizontally-oriented pictures with the GS645s than I did with the Exakta 66. It's one reason I liked the camera so much. (It also meant I didn't have to guess where the side boundaries would be with the Exakta 66—there would be quite a bit more on the film that was shown in the viewfinder.)

With TTL eyepiece cameras it's not that big a deal to turn the camera vertically, and some cameras have battery packs with vertical releases which is almost as good as a natively vertically-oriented camera.

I don't know why I like vertical cameras, but I do. I guess I see that way pretty readily. Anyway it's why I didn't necessarily prefer 6x7 cameras to square cameras. Otherwise, the Pentax 67II (to name one) is a far, far better film camera than the Exakta 66.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2017 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.

Always upright
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Featured Comments from:

Trey: "Ever try the Bronica RF645? I nearly got one years ago but opted for the Mamiya 6 instead. Turns out I dislike the square format and did not really bond with it. Maybe the vertical 645 would have stuck."

Mike replies: Of course, I should have mentioned that one. It was produced after Tamron bought Bronica. I reviewed that camera on The Luminous-Landscape—and later owned it, but had already largely switched to digital by then so I never used it much.

Trey replies to Mike: "Ha! That was you. I lingered long over that article as I was making my purchasing decision back then. Thanks, Mike!"

kirk tuck: "One of the most comprehensive systems conceived of as vertical cameras was the wonderful Olympus Pen F and FT half-frame camera system. The camera used a rotary titanium shutter that sync'd with flash at all speeds (up to 1/500th of a second). The design was the spiritual ancestor of the early Olympus Micro 4/3 cameras such as the EP–EP3 and also the current Pen F. The system included about a dozen lenses, some of them extraordinarily good for their time and some of which are still competitive today on cropped-sensor cameras. If they were good enough for Eugene Smith...."

Eric Rose: "When I was just starting out at the age of six or seven I used my dad's 35mm camera. Almost all my photos were vertical. My dad didn't think this was normal and asked me why so many verticals. So I explained to him that most things you encounter in life, especially when you're a kid, you have to look up at. Hence most things I found interesting lent themselves to a vertical orientation. He thought I would grow out of of this 'fad.' I didn't."

Philippe Debeerst: "Good morning Mike. In 1987 Hasselblad introduced the hard-to-find A12V film back for their 6x6 cameras (1987/88 catalogue #30106). With this, one could shoot 12 frames of 4.5x6 vertically on a 120 roll. This film holder was intended to be used by magazine photographers because the magazine format was mostly vertical.

"This brings me to Linhof: the Linhof 220 was indeed intended for the press and the film frame had the exact dimensions of 56x72 mm that corresponded with the traditional (shorter than the A4) magazine dimensions. The Linhof Press 70 was the Linhof 220's big brother, with exchangeable lenses and exchangeable film holders, of which the Press-Cine-Rolex intended for 53(!) exposures on 70 mm filmstock was very notorious. By the way, all the Linhof Rolex film holders are always a few millimetres 'longer' than the competition's models, don't ask me why. Linhof called the 56x72 mm 'Das Idalformat.' The Japanese '6x7' was actually 56x68 mm. I think that generally speaking, the vertical film frame (medium format) cameras were intended for press/magazine photographers (and portraitists). Salut, Philippe.

"P.S.: As an avid Hasselblad film shooter, I am still looking for a A12V film holder....

"P.P.S.: I sometimes happen to use my Linhof Technorama 6x17 vertically, which is very interesting indeed!"

Mike replies: I suppose the A12V was matched with a focusing screen that marked off the vertical side boundaries? As I recall, my original Exakta 66 had a finder with ~645 rectangles marked off, both horizontal and vertical. The I've been trying to remember, but I don't think I ever shot a horizontal rectangle with that camera. Almost all verticals and a few squares. The current Mod. 2 has a grid screen, but the grid lines are very fine and hard for me to see.

Unboxing II

By now you remember my little "unboxing" joke when I got the old Mamiya 7II out of the camera closet one dreary day last February. One thing led to another, and I ended up "trading in" the Mamiya for an old medium-format camera much closer to my heart....

...And look what came! All the way from Japan in a mere three days. This camera is world-traveled—it was born in Germany.

A bit closer...

Be still, my beating heart! (By the way, that phrase was first used in William Mountfort's Zelmane, 1705.)

Almost just like the factory packaging! Well, no.

And there it is, in all its dignity and majesty. Not my old boon friend and companion, but its brother. Excuse me as I dab a bit o' moisture from my eye.

...And here's the reason for paying top dollar: the Xenotar MF. There is also a Xenotar E, but it's not remotely the same lens. The Xenotar E is nothing but an adaptation of the old Carl Zeiss Jena Biometar in Exakta 66 rubber-armored livery.

The 1984 Exakta 66—descended from the Praktisix of 1957, the year I was born, through the Pentacon Six—was in part a vanity/nostalgia/hobby project of the German industrialist Heinrich Mandermann, who also owned Rollei, Schneider, and B+W at the time. The Xenotar MF is optically the same as the one that Schneider made for the Rollei 6000 series in the 1980s—and those were better than the Zeiss 80mms that everyone wanted. In Praktisix/Pentacon Six/Exakta 66/Kiev 60 breechlock mount, the lens is genuinely rare. I know that for sure, as I've searched online for them from time to time over the years.

There are some pictures of Heinrich Mandermann with his baby here. He died in 2002.

The Exakta 66 was the cheapest medium-format camera you could buy new when I got mine, and I had to stretch for it on my photo teacher's salary, which started out in 1985 at $17k and change. This bit, along with the webbed strap, was a $90 accessory back when I bought my Model I in the mid-1980s—it didn't come with the camera (what?). So I never owned one—and thus never had a way to attach a strap to the camera. That right there is a bit of drawback in a camera's design. I carried my camera around in my hand.

The little knob that holds the strap bracket on, in the foreground, serves a double purpose—along with the knob-ends of the film spool wells on either side of the camera body (see below), it forms a tripod that lets the camera sit level when you set it down, so it doesn't rest on the nose of the lens.

Who needs Camerasize.com when you've got TOP? The 1984 Exakta 66 medium-format camera with the 1980 Pentax LX, smallest of the 1980s professional 35mm system cameras. The Exakta is only slightly smaller than the much more popular (and, it must be said, better) Pentax 67.

The Exakta 66 was a flop—and probably, given all the problems it is heir to, it deserved to be. It has lots of problems and weaknesses! I could list every last little one. It was unfortunate, but the '80s update failed fix the major problems of the Praktisix and Pentacon Six—the limited viewfinder coverage, the iffy film flatness because of a poorly designed pressure plate, and—most annoying—the poor and trouble-prone film winding mechanism. In 1985 the production target was 2,400 cameras a year, but by 1990 Herr Mandermann admitted that they had only sold more like 600–700 annually. One thing that meant was that eventually, all the cameras were assembled by a single employee! (That redoubtable fellow's name is not known to me. Maybe the position rotated.)

Speaking of rotation, look at all those shutter speeds that will sync with flash! Helpfully heralded in red. All the speeds anyone could ever need, eh?

Despite its updated appearance, there's nothing '80s about the Exakta 66. There's a lot of the 1950s in it, though.

(I keep writing the "66" because an "Exakta" is mainly a 35mm camera made by a different company. Herr Mandermann's first job was at Ihagee Kamerawerk in Dresden, Germany, where Karl Nüchterlein's Exaktas were made. Herr Mandermann, who was a true photography guy and who I'm quite sure would have been right at home reading TOP, also owned the remnants of the Ihagee Works and the rights to the Exakta name.)

Holding the camera again felt like coming home. It felt very natural, and all the controls fell right to hand. I really bonded with mine back in the day, as they say.

After my time with the Exakta, I spent an extended period reviewing medium-format cameras for Camera & Darkroom magazine (the California-based one), but, oddly enough, I never found one I bonded with like I did with the Exakta 66. I did the most work with a Bronica SQ-Ai, which I liked well enough. I also liked the Mamiya 6 but couldn't afford one until much later—after I had decided to embrace the fact that I was really a 35mm guy.

I rummaged around in the barn and found this old print from the 1980s, back when I was convinced I was going to be an art photographer all my life. (You know the auld Robbie Burns quote, "The best-laid schemes o' Mikes and men....") It was taken with my Model I Extaka 66 on Roosevelt Island in the Potomac River. I sat cross-legged for an hour trying to catch planes on their approach to what was then called National Airport in the heart of Washington D.C. Note the de rigeur mid-'80s silver Neilsen frame and acid-free rag mat. And the careful proportions—I was a good craftsman. The picture was shot on Tri-X 400 film, with a K2 filter, developed in D-76, and printed with a Rodenstock Apo-Rodagon 80mm ƒ/4 in a Saunders/LPL 4500II. A lot of work and time went into the production of such prints—for example, I developed two rolls at a time at the kitchen sink, and it took just under two hours from loading the reels to cleanup. That's two hours work for 24 frames just to get to the negatives. It encouraged you to be careful with your shooting.

So those weren't actually the days, but, in spite of that, permit me to say, "those were the days!"

Mike

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Three More Things About the Spotmatic

Three funky little points about the ultra-retro-hipster icon the Pentax Spotmatic that I failed to mention the other day:

1. Spottie without a spot meter: The name "Spotmatic" derived from the fact that the camera was originally intended to incorporate a spot meter. Late in pre-production the decision was made to abandon the spot metering function, but the name was already in the pipeline and for some reason more difficult to change, so it stuck—even though the reason for it had gone away.
2. The "Takumar" name for the early lenses was adopted in honor of the Japanese-American painter Takuma Kajiwara.
3. Like buttah: The Super-Takumar and its immediate successors has the smoothest, silkiest, most tactile helical focusing action in the history of cameras and lenses—better than any Zeiss lens, better than any Leica lens, better than any Nikon lens, better than any anything—at least in my experience, and I have a fair amount of experience with old lenses. It's the gold standard for manual focusing action, the apogee, the peak, the best of the best. That's not something some people give a fig about, but there it is anyway.

Four versions
There were four versions of the M42 screwmount 50mm ƒ/1.4 for the Spotmatic worth knowing about. The first was the original 8-element Super-Takumar. This had a cemented triplet with all surfaces of all three elements being spherical.

Lore I've heard concerning the Super-Takumars over the years:

• One of them has an element of then-special rare-earth glass that is radioactive. Some say it's the 8-element lens that has it (this is what I always heard, back in the day); some say it's the later 7-element version that does (more common to hear lately).
• Some Super-Takumars take on a yellowish cast over time and the cure is sunlight—leave it out in strong sunlight for a few hours and the yellowish tint will go away.
• Some people attribute the yellowing to the radioactive glass element, but it's more likely the glue between the cemented elements...
• ...which was made from pine sap.
• Set a Super-Takumar with the radioactive element on a piece of Polaroid film for a few days and it will record a faint circle of exposure on the film.
• You shouldn't hold it up to your eye for too long or bad juju will happen to you.

I don't know if any of these are true. Since Asahi quietly changed from the 8-element to the simpler 7-element version on the fly during production, there's no easy way of identifying the 8-element version. Some people think you can do it by weight (8-element version 245 g, 7-element version 230 g); some say the focusing ring on the earlier lens is slightly wider; some say it can be done with serial numbers, which method has the advantage that you can dispute happily about the serial-number ranges till the cows come home; some point out that the convex rear element on the earlier lens protrudes farther; and some say that on all the 8-element lenses, the red infrared focusing index mark is inside the "4"s on the D-o-F scale. All?

This early lens—I'm still talking about the 8-element Super-Takumar—was intended by Pentax to be a better lens than the Zeiss Planar of the day. And it was. Not only that, the Pentax fast 50s were better than Zeiss Planars all the way up to the AF era—sez me, anyway. This—the 8-element Super-Takumar—was most likely the lens that Pentax produced at a loss; it was a loss leader for the sake of company pride...and Japanese national pride.

Here's the rub, though: there's no evidence that the 8-element lens was any better than the 7-element Super-Takumar or the later versions. The contrary, in my opinion. That's if you can detect any difference at all beyond sample variation, which I doubt most people could. Some mavens go to great lengths to hunt down the fabled 8-element Super Tak, but there's no reason to do so IMHO. There's also no reason not to—this all falls under the heading of enthusiast stuff—so suit yourself. As far as health risks are concerned, I doubt the "radioactive" element could hurt you if you swallowed it, but then I don't know, and that's another thing people can argue about.

The second version is the garden variety 7-element Super-Takumar, produced in great quantities as Asahi's "The Pentax" became the best-selling "good" SLR of the 1960s. This reduced the cemented triplet with a doublet at 4/5 (but still with concave and convex surfaces, unlike the flat surfaces in most planar-types). Most Super-Takumars were single-coated but some late ones were probably multi-coated.

The third version has improved coatings. The whole truth about this is difficult to research, and indeed probably lost to history, but what I believe is that Zeiss and Pentax worked cooperatively in the early days of multi-coating came up with their solution jointly. Zeiss called it T* (pronounced "tee-star") and Pentax called it "SMC" (for super multi-coating), but they were more or less the same thing at first. Something that is not well known by photography buffs is that not all lenses are coated on all surfaces—many lensmakers try to cut corners, and coat lens elements only where they think it's needed. So earlier lenses might have a few elements multi-coated, a few elements single-coated, and in some cases even a few elements uncoated. Coatings are highly proprietary, but one of the reasons for that is that many lensmakers didn't want you to know how much they were skimping.

Of course, these days, coating of lenses has progressed greatly and gotten much cheaper, thanks to zooms—which were essentially made possible by advances in coatings. Before multicoating, a zoom with many elements would have been impossible—the aggregated flare from all those air-to-glass interfaces would have overwhelmed the image-forming light. One of the reasons the famous Tessar developed by Paul Rudolph of Zeiss was so sharp is that it had only six air-to-glass surfaces, which minimized flare before lens coatings came along. Now, Olympus can make the whimsical and fantastical 25mm ƒ/1.2 PRO lens with an over-the-top nineteen elements (I love that, I have to say)...and that lens probably has less veiling glare than an uncoated 4-element Tessar-type from the early 1900s! That 25mm PRO is a prime lens that only exists because zooms do. Coatings are much more important to lens design, and lens performance, than most hobbyists realize.

Third version—note that "Super-Multi-Coated" is written out.

Anyway the third version is marked "Super-Multi-Coated Takumar" (with the words written out). It's important to realize that at least up till this point, Asahi was trying its best to put as much value into these fast 50s as it could—the engineering it applied to the products was devoted to making them better rather than to making them cheaper. There's often if not always a war between these two impulses. So the Super-Multi-Coated version of the fast 50 was multicoated on every surface. It might have been early MC, but they weren't cutting corners.

Next we reach the end of our tour with the SMC Takumar, with the initials for "super-multi-coated" on the lens instead of the words written out. This version has a rubberized focusing ring with a checkered pattern rather than the scalloped and grooved metal focusing ring of the earlier versions.

What went with what
The Super-Takumars were the lenses sold with the original SP, including the SP500 and SP1000; the Super-Multi-Coated Takumars (quote-unquote) went with the much better-constructed but similarly-featured Spotmatic II; and the SMC Takumar was the native lens for the Spotmatic F and the Electro-Spotmatic, ES, and ESII, the world's first SLRs with autoexposure.

After that, Pentax changed to the K-mount bayonet mount, after sticking with the M42 screwmount probably a bit too long.

And the verdict...
So which one is the best? The same basic 7-element design followed the Pentax fast 50s all the way through the K-mount era into the autofocus era, with the SMCP-FA lens you can still buy today. That included the SMC Pentax-M and SMC Pentax-A. The SMCP-FA is the last 50mm that Pentax still makes that dates from the film era—and it's a direct descendant of the justly famous 7-element Super-Takumar screwmount lens of the 1960s.

Block diagram of the 7-element Super-Takumar

Block diagram of the SMCP-FA autofocus lens

I've used all of these lenses, each long enough to get a handle on them (but only with B&W film, it should be noted), and to be honest they're all great—"3D," characterful, and possessed of the famous old Planar-type "look." The Super-Multi-Coated Takumar was the best-built, but the later K-mount cameras are more convenient and I prefer the SMC Pentax-M as a user, as it handles the best. The SMC Pentax-A K-mount lens is considered by Pentax fanciers to be the sharpest of them all, probably attributable to coatings. Honestly, though, there's not much to choose.

I've never used any of them on a digital camera.

The Pentax fast 50 is not a Zeiss and it's not German, but in my opinion it's the ultimate expression of the classic Planar lens design—and one of the treasures of the Land of the Rising Sun.

Mike

UPDATE from Ray Ulrich: "Here's more information on Asahi and multicoating. I'd heard this before (OCLI was in my home town—Santa Rosa, California), but this was the only link I could find that mentions their part in it."

UPDATE from Paul Farkas: "If you haven't already heard, in May of this year former President of Pentax Ricoh Imaging USA Ned Bunnell made two posts on his Instagram account outlining the differences between the 8-element and 7-element 50mm ƒ/1.4 Takumar lenses: here is the first, and here is the second. Since then, he's been posting numerous photos of pictures taken with both lenses on a Pentax DSLR. Additionally, he wrote about the 8-element version on the casualphotophile website.

"His recommendation: 'The 8-element is quite rare and going up in value; samples in pristine condition are going for $200–250 and more these days. A similar condition 7-element will fetch just $70–100. So your choice is pretty easy. If you want a beautiful vintage 50mm prime M42 manual lens to use everyday, get the 7-element. Buy the 8-element if you want a part of Japanese lens history which will continue to appreciate in value and give you great satisfaction while you own it.'

"P.S. My favorite Pentax 50mm lens is an SMC Pentax-M ƒ/1.4."

Mike replies: Thanks gents! I had not seen Ned's posts.

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Smooth like buttah
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Tom Burke: "I enjoyed reading that, Mike—obviously a subject about which you care.

"A slight aside, but—what happened to Pentax? I recall that in the late '60s, when I first became aware of SLRs (and photography generally) a Pentax SP500 was the goal, at least for an amateur. Nikons were around but were probably viewed as professional cameras only. (This is in the UK, by the way.) The other camera that people bought was the good old Practica, from East Germany, and many people had them—including me—and they used the M42 thread. But everyone agreed that they were nowhere near as good as a Pentax.

"Then I suppose I started hearing about Canon SLRs—especially the FT QL—and then later models such as the A-1, AE1, and AE1-Program. I started seeing Nikkormats around that time also. The Olympus OM-1 appeared in the early '70s, followed by more Canons—T50 and T70 especially—and somewhere in there Pentax just seemed to vanish from consciousness. I know the ME Super was around, but by then Pentax was just one of the pack—at least in the UK the marque had lost the status it had enjoyed in the '60s.

"Do you know how that happened? And was it the same in the US?"

Mike replies: Well, the fortunes of companies ebb and flow. Just off the top of my head, I'd say Pentax was a player up until at least the LX, a wonderful camera with a couple of quirks (don't they all seem to have them?). Mainly that the strap lugs were proprietary and the shutter made a noise like a firecracker exploding. (I mean it was on the loud side.) The LX came along in 1980. There were 1,000 gray titanium bodies issued in 1994 to mark the company's 75th anniversary, with 300 more in black two years later; and finally there was a Japan-only Pentax LX 2000 to celebrate either the new millennium or the long run of the LX itself (accounts vary). It finally left the scene in 2001, after the digital transition had begun.

Pentax was still selling loads of cameras through at least the 1980s as far as I recall. Most, however, were amateur models—the company had gotten a reputation for catering to hobbyists, amateurs, and casual users, and of being for those who could not quite afford a Nikon or a Leica. Sort of the Chevrolet of cameras, if you will. Of course the company made the K1000, which was endlessly popular and well known as the basic camera for students to learn on.

The company was called Asahi Optical starting in 1938. It was dismantled after WWII but allowed to re-form in 1948. It changed its name to Pentax Corporation in 2002, probably because that's how it was mostly known anyway. Then in 2007 Hoya acquired 90% of its stock, mainly for the non-photographic businesses. Hoya then sold the camera bits on to Ricoh in 2011.

People who use Pentaxes are afflicted with a stereotype to this day. Which is, they're like Canadians—all nice, mild, and polite. They tend to be decent people free of disputatiousness and bloodymindedness, who love their parents and children, are modest about their wealth and accomplishments, and are courteous, kind and friendly to others.  :-)

Out and About with a Camera You Like

One more comment before I leave the subject of old film cameras to break for the weekend:

It's been a long while since I've recommended this, but Ivor Matanle's Collecting and Using Classic Cameras is a particularly delightful book. I think any photography enthusiast would enjoy it, even if you're not a film user or a classic camera user or a camera collector of any sort—and even if you have relatively little interest in old cameras.

It's great chiefly because Ivor himself is so present on the pages, and he's such wonderful company. This book was undoubtedly a labor of love, the result of many years of happy activity. It's the story of an enthusiast who likes getting "out and about" to run a few rolls of film through a variety of prized old cameras. In the book he tells you about each camera and shows you the pictures he took with it. Along the way you'll get to know a friend and kindred spirit. Quite incidentally, he imparts a good feel for the joy a lot of us find in doing what we do.

One of my favorite photography books, and I don't have very many books about cameras per se. It can be read straight through. Recommended warmly if it appeals.

Another nice old book not too far off from the first is What the Traveller Saw by the globetrotting travel and adventure writer Eric Newby. In it he gives an account of where he was and what was happening when he took a variety of whimsical and wonderful photographs. He, too, is great company, and his pictures are quite fine even though he's not primarily known as a photographer. And this relates very nicely to the past few days here at TOP, because most of the pictures in the book were taken with an old manual Pentax with a 50mm lens.

The crickets are noisy already
See you back here on Monday, and I hope you have a very pleasant weekend! I just can't believe the dog days are almost upon us—this Summer has sped by at breakneck speed. It will be Fall before I blink three times.

Oh, and a blog note: I'm way behind on the comments again, and there are many great comments on the last three posts still to appear. I need to go ship the Mamiya 7II to Victor H. now, and edit a portrait shoot I did on Wednesday, so please do come back later today or tomorrow to catch up on all the new comments.

Cheers,

Mike

Original contents copyright 2017 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.

More to come
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Rob L.: "I've just gotta laugh at shipping a Mamiya to a Victor H."

'Mamiya For Sale' Part II (Or, the Perfect Camera)

Here's what I bought with the proceeds from the sale of the Mamiya 7II yesterday—it's on its way from Japan:

Ebay seller's photos

I saw it for sale yesterday priced at $1,649, and I figured yeah, I would trade my Mamiya for that. (The camera shows up relatively often but this lens is genuinely rare.) So that's why I asked $1,649 for the Mamiya—straight trade, from my point of view.

I know it's neither as good a camera as the 7II nor as desirable. This acquisition is purely "the armchair narcissism of nostalgia," to use a memorable phrase whose author is lost to my memory.  The Exakta 66 Mod 2 with the 80mm ƒ/2.8 Schneider-Kreuznach Xenotar MF a.) was the first medium-format camera I ever bought, back when I was a nearly penniless high school photography teacher in the 1980s; b.) had the best lens I ever used, ever, although I'm fairly positive that the one I had was a "sweet spot" sample, at the apex of the sample variation—the lens coming from Japan will most likely not quite measure up; c.) was the camera I used to make the photographs in the only public exhibition I was ever in—a group show of six photographers I curated for the National Park Service in Rock Creek Park (which got reviewed in the Washington Post no less) and, finally, d.) is the camera that, over the years, I have most most regretted selling and most wished I had back.

Now I do. Once it's here and I've run a roll or two through it, maybe I'll write a post on the history of the camera. I actually know quite a lot about it.

Not to splash cold water in the faces of film fans and APUG.org denizens and enthusiasts of old cameras, but I doubt I'll ever use this seriously. However, I'm sure I'll be very happy to have it—and other people won't mind, either. When I wrote the post about the Mamiya 7II, several readers took me to task for hoarding it without using it, thus not allowing it to be used as it was intended to be. So now I've set the Mamiya free, so it can be used to fulfill its manifest destiny of making great photographs!

I doubt very many people will feel the same way about the Exakta. It's really not a camera most people would want to use. It has film-flatness problems and a delicate film-advance mechanism and a wonky viewfinder that is offset from what you'll get on the film. And the mirror is not instant-return—you get blackout after taking a shot until you cock the camera again. The lens mount is breechlock. Did I mention it's meterless? That's why I wrote the article "Train Your Brain...To Guess Exposure" for Ed Buziak's Darkroom User magazine back in the '90s. I actually guessed my exposures when I used the Exakta as my only camera. Never used a light meter.

Oh, and no way to attach a strap, at least not built in. The only thing this one has that is not identical to what I owned is that it has the strap bracket for attaching a camera strap—a $90 accessory back in the '80s, and something I could never afford. (It's that semi-circular bracket affixed using the tripod thread.) So I wandered all over D.C. with that camera simply holding it in my hand—I had no way of attaching a strap.

I'm going to take a WAG—wild-assed guess—and speculate that the cosmetic blemish in the word "Exakta" on the waist-level finder of this camera is the reason it's being de-accessioned from some Japanese camera collector's collection. But I don't mind that. It can stand as the one thing that keeps the camera from being perfect.  :-)

Mike

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Exaktaly!
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Douglas Chadwick: "I am glad you mentioned being reviewed in the Washington Post. It reminds me of my one review there a few years before for a show at Henri's Gallery near Dupont Circle. It certainly seemed like a big deal to me to see a review of my work in that paper. Even though the review basically said it was the best of a bad lot, But a nice mention of one of my photographs. It seemed like the start of something, and it did lead to a show at a museum in West Virginia. But my gallery success was on a downhill trend as it turned out—business got in the way perhaps. But the Post was doing nice reviews of photography shows back then, I suppose they gave that up? It was just, I don't know, an interesting trend at the time? You were there for a while, what is your take on it?"

Mike replies: I was actually asked to write photography show reviews for the Post at one time. But the pay was so miserable I had to turn down the opportunity. The decision was wrenching for me—it would have been a high-profile position with a fair amount of respect and influence, but I had been doing lots of hard work for very little pay at the time and just seriously needed to be putting food on the table. It didn't help that my walk to work every day took me past the Georgetown mansion of the then-owner of the Post.

Andrew Lamb: "What a glorious folly! This is one for the romantics, a triumph of hope over experience. Congrats, Mike. I wish you all the best. We both know you're going to need it. Ex-Exakta owner."

StanB.: "That's some seriously serious nostalgia!!! You traded a precision instrument for an overgrown Holga...then again, some of my favorite photographs have been taken with one!"

Michael Roche: "Mike, I don't know whether I want to laugh or cry. I hope you will have lots of enjoyment from your purchase, but I can't convince myself you made a wise decision. However when it comes to hobbies all decisions are only temporary anyway and only serve to take us on to the next phase. Have fun."

Benjamin Marks: "I totally get the 'nostalgic' repurchase of a camera that is/was emotionally significant. Hobby-objects that fall into that category for me: A Pentax Spotmatic, a Pentax LX, a Crown Graphic, a Nikon FM2, and (off-topic, and recently) a Cannondale 53 cm road bike (what was I thinking?). I have often written that it's 'the painter, not the paintbrush,' but if that were really true, why do we painters get so attached to these specific paintbrushes? Well, my explanation is that sometimes things just 'click.' (and, oh yes, pun intended). When you have that relationship to your tools, you can do your best work. I had a Kiev 88 that, despite its many shortcomings, did pretty well for me. Not going to repurchase that one though. So: Mike—I am raising a glass of iced tea—here's to the paintbrush! I hope you take your best photograph with it. Or second best.  ;-)  That would be pretty great, no?"

So You Say You Want a Film Camera?

"Slow photography" is hip, and everybody thinks you need an old Leica or an old Nikon if you want to participate. Not so, I say. If you want a film camera and have never shot with one, the way to go is Pentax.

Old silver Pentaxes are the quintessential 35mm film cameras. Mainstream, but iconic. Well made, but no frills. Stone classic.

There are lots of ways you can go with film. You can shoot color negative film and have it processed for you. You can shoot Ilford XP2 "chromogenic" black-and-white film and have it processed commercially, but then make your own prints with an enlarger. Or you can shoot genuine silver-halide black-and-white film and process it yourself at your kitchen sink—there's slow photography, and then there's slow slow photography.

If you want to go a little more modern, the killer camera would be a beautiful chrome MX. The MX was an MMM (manual, metal, mechanical) camera produced between 1976 and 1985.

But if you really want to go whole-hog into hip retro, no holds barred, no punches pulled, the way to go is to get a Spotmatic.

In either case, here's what you do: instead of spending big money on an old Leica, spend small money on an old Pentax, then spend as much as you can on the best servicing money can buy. Buy the top treatment at any good Pentax camera repair service center such as Abilene Camera Repair in the old Wild West cow-town of Abilene, Texas (401 Neas Road, Abilene, Texas 79601, 325/676-2524, contact@abilenecamera.com or acrkori@gmail.com). I don't have personal experience with Abilene; use whichever shop you want. (Google is your friend.)

I'm just using Abilene as an example so I can talk about prices. Their top-level "restoration" service costs $245 for either an MX or a Spotmatic. Added to the cost of a good camera, the total is still cheaper than many classic Nikons and all but the most beat-up classic Leicas. And you will have a camera that works as it is supposed to—clean, lubricated and smooth, with new seals and all parts inspected. It will run as well as a fine pocket watch. And will continue to work as it's supposed to for years to come.

The fabled "Spottie" was the legendary mainstream screwmount Pentax that spanned a number of models from 1964 to 1976. (The top choices being the original SP, which had two "budget" alternatives, the SP500 and SP1000; the SPII; and the later Spotmatic F.)

One thing to look out for is sellers screaming "MINT!!!" at you like manic candy salesmen—the Spotmatics featured double chrome plating over brass, and the cameras wear like iron. Many of them still look fresh and clean today, even if they've been abused. This excites sellers, who think they have "survivors" even though what they have might actually be pretty typical.

Having been well trained by our consumer culture, we all have a strong tendency to want to optimize. My advice: don't. If you want to go slow and retro, then go slow and retro! Don't try to get the latest or the sharpest or the one with the most features. 

Another buying hint: both these cameras were much more common in chrome finish. The black ones, therefore, are more prized, rare, and valuable. The thing is, with any camera, the more valuable one will be the one in less supply. Don't think a black one is any better just because people are making a fuss over it. The classic look is chrome. Get that.

And you might be tempted to skip the CLA ("clean, lube, adjust"): well, that would be optimizing! (For minimal investment, in this case.) I just told you not to do that.  :-)

The first lens you want for the Pentax MX is called an SMC Pentax-M 50mm ƒ/1.4. The ƒ/1.7 is a fine lens and a little sharper, but the ƒ/1.4 has perfect bokeh and, optically, just looks a little better overall. 

For the Spotmatic, the screwmount lens you want will be called a Super Takumar, Super-Multi-Coated Takumar, or SMC-Takumar. Get the 50mm ƒ/1.4 first.

Although cheap now, they are legendary lenses: Pentax believed at the time they needed to do better than Zeiss if they wanted to overcome the perception that Japanese cameras were shoddily built (as many Japanese products were in the immediate aftermath of WWII). The company put everything they had into building these fast 50s, producing them, at least at first, at a loss. A famous comparison by Burt Keppler of Modern Photography and later of Popular Photography pitted the Pentax Super Takumar against the equivalent Leica lens. The Super-Tak came out on top.

With a 50mm lens, you will miss the pictures that you could have gotten with a wide-angle or a super-telephoto lens, but here's the way to console yourself: the number of possible great pictures you can take with a fifty is "infinity."

Don't fret. Have fun.

The right camera with the right lens: $159 for both,
leaving money left over for a thorough restoration.

True retro would be a restored and revived Pentax Spotmatic SP with a Super-Takumar 50mm ƒ/1.4, using a handheld light meter, shooting Kodak Tri-X or Ilford HP-5 Plus and developing it yourself, making your own prints on fiber-base paper. My personal choice would be a restored and revived Pentax MX with an SMC Pentax-M 50mm ƒ/1.4, using the camera's meter, shooting Ilford XP2 and getting it developed commercially, possibly making prints yourself on RC paper.

Either one is the perfect retro film-camera experience. You don't even need to bother with spending more money.

Mike
(Thanks to the commenter who mentioned the MX the other day)

UPDATE from Ned Bunnell: "Mike, FYI, the go-to-guy for servicing film Pentax cameras is Eric Hendrickson. He's a former Pentax service manager who moved to Tennessee many years ago. He has all the equipment to work on the early film cameras including the various 6x7 models. He adjusted the 67 I bought from you. His work is superb, and he's honest and very reasonable with his rates. Contact info:

http://pentaxs.com/index.html 

pentaxrepairs@aol.com

Cheers, Ned."

[Ned is the former President of Pentax USA. —Ed.]

Original contents copyright 2017 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:

Dennis (partial comment): "I just took a look at the Spotmatic after reading this—it's a beautiful camera! I noticed that it uses 1.35 volt mercury batteries for the meter and that rang a bell...years ago, when I bought my HiMatic 7sII, I paid for a CLA and to have the meter circuit adjusted to 1.5V batteries. Apparently, that's one of the things that Abilene does as part of their repair service, but just another argument to not skip the CLA step."

Mike replies: Thanks. I should have mentioned that. Yes, the Spotmatic takes long-since-outlawed mercury batteries, so it's necessary to get the circuit converted. Another option is to use the Voigtlaender VC Meter II, which has the added advantage of being transferable to all your other old film-camera bodies. If you get a Spotmatic SP and want to use a VC Meter II, note that you need the clip-on "cold shoe" (the bit above the eyepiece meant to hold the flash), which itself is an add-on with the original Spottie.

Andrew adds: "It is my understanding that Pentax Spotmatics have a bridge circuit in the light meter and can use modern 1.55v silver oxide batteries without re-calibration."

Mike replies: Thanks. I really don't know the ins and outs of the meter circuit. As I implied in the post, I always used a separate meter with my Spotmatic II.

Bill Poole: "Ah, yes. During my brief time working in a retail camera store in the late 1960s, I came to love the Spotmatic, and to recommend it often to customers. (You don't mention to lovely clunk of its shutter—the solid sound of quality.)

"I'm not sure why you didn't mention that commercial development is also available for silver-based black-and-white films. While I continue to develop at home sometimes, I also use Photoworks San Francisco, just down the street, which also has a mail-order service. They charge $8 a roll, cheap enough, and the quality is superb.

"Also, you do not have to print wet to get the unique look of film images. Scanning and printing digitally yields lovely results, while Lightroom and Photoshop provide impressive controls over image contrast, burning, dodging, etc."

Paul B: "My first camera was a Spotmatic II, and saw me through high school and college. Later cameras never pleased me as much as my Pentax, probably not even my Leica M3 (which I love dearly). That Pentax was as rugged as a tank, and took as much abuse as I could dole out. When I was 'done' with it, I gave it to my brother who used it until he went digital in the early '00s. So it served us for almost 40 years with barely a whimper. And the lenses were great. Worked in all kinds of weather, too. I often think that people who want to learn photography ought to start with a Pentax, either a Spotmatic (partly for the screw mount experience), or a K-1000, and use a hand held light meter. But I guess I'm just an old guy now, with old fashioned ideals...."

Richard Alan Fox: "I was a camera repairman at Brooks Camera on Kearny Street in San Francisco during the mid 1970s. Pentax Spotmatics have a spring-loaded lever under the cover used to cock the shutter; a typical problem would be this lever popping and needing to be adjusted (if my memory serves).

"I received this award from my fellow repairmen after a rather unfortunate incident, and now, forty years and a continent away, I would like to share it with the world:

Dennis Mook: "Photographed well over a hundred dead bodies in the '70s and early '80s with a Spotmatic, 50mm ƒ/1.4 Super-Muliti-Coated Takumar, Tri-X, and a huge Honeywell potato-masher flash with a 510-volt battery hanging off my belt. Never let me down, not once. And no, I'm not going to explain anything more...."

[I'll just add that Dennis is not talking about dead camera bodies. —Ed.]

David Raaum: "My first camera was an Argus C-3 while I was in high school. When I got to Vietnam I bought the Spotmatic with the 50mm ƒ/1.8 at the Marine PX for $189.50. I used it through my entire Vietnam tour, even in the dug-in radio relay hole in Khe Sanh, South Vietnam. It worked all through the rest of the '60s, '70s, and the '80s until I switched to Nikon in 1990. I took a lot of great pictures, on Kodachrome slides, with that camera. When I stopped using it the meter had quit working; other than that it was fine. Great memories."

Jeroen: "Another point: I think the MX has a more than decent finder magnification (almost 1x with a 50mm). That makes photographing 'with both eyes open' much easier."

Mike replies: Some of the Olympus OM cameras also have great finder magnification. A luxury that the market never quite understood, unfortunately, but a pleasure to use even today.

Rod S.: "Mike, your post sent a thrill down my spine this morning when I scrolled down to the picture of that handsome Pentax MX in all its delicious chrominess.

"I loved the Pentax MX and used two bodies from 1977 until 1995, when I moved to the medium-format Pentax 6x7. I looked for but never found a better 35mm camera. The MXs accompanied me on many challenging adventures, including trekking expeditions to Everest in 1978 and K2 in 1994, and I was able to publish two magazine articles as a result.

"One special image from 1978, a portrait of two local boys in long-gone traditional dress, under dappled sunlight, will forever be one of my best photographs. The framed 16x20 Cibachrome print is remarkably detailed.

"The MX's controls are simple and intuitive. In particular, the meter display with 1/2 stop LEDs is perfect, easy to read and quite genius in concept, making 1/2 stop underexposure of transparency film—but only in direct sunlight—straightforward for maximising colour saturation. And the placement of the K-mount lens lock makes changing lenses one handed easily done.

"My only regret is that the wonderful design of the MX held me back from changing to medium format by a decade. That eventual change, and the use of a hand held light meter it required, really challenged my understanding and practice of photography.

"My first camera, though, was a new Spotmatic F (F for full aperture metering), a gift from my father in September 1974 for my eighteenth birthday. That camera introduced me to the Pentax tradition of 'elegant simplicity.' By comparison, most other brands of SLRs seemed bloated, heavy or had awkward controls. I am very appreciative of my father's thoughtfulness.

"Still, I came to see that the original Spotmatic has the most elegant line of the pentaprism housing of all, narrow and uncluttered by the hotshoe of subsequent models.  :-)  "