Author Archives: Leicaphila

Leica I

Why Shoot Film?

By: Kirsten Ireland. Reprinted from the Film Foto Forever blog.

Why shoot film? In a digital world of instant information and communication, there is something very appealing about a medium that requires one to slow down, focus and delay, (thus enhancing) gratification. There is nothing like shooting a roll of film, then, whether processing yourself, or waiting to receive your results from a lab, viewing the results of what was so carefully crafted.

Professional photographers know and love the image quality of film. Many professional artists will tell you that there is a quality to film that isn’t easy to, or even impossible to replicate digitally. In a fast paced digital world, there is definitely a need for digital photography within the professional realm, but there will always remain a cherished place, and desire for film as well. There is a growing embracement of film among creative youths, who are discovering its magic for the first time. With the increasing accessibility of high quality cameras and lenses at affordable prices, it’s easy for anyone to get started with film. This has opened up a thrilling resurgence of creativity and ingenuity within the world of photography.

When photography first came onto the scene in the 1800’s, many people thought it would usher in the death of painting. Why would anyone commission the painting of a family member, or landscape when a photograph could be obtained almost immediately? Sound familiar? Instead of the death of painting however, we saw the transformation of it. Released of its commercial constraints, painting as a medium, was free to venture down yet unseen creative avenues, and it did so with brilliant results. Film photography is headed in this same direction. The manipulation of film before, during, and after its exposure is being embraced and explored by today’s artists, with amazing results.

One factor aiding in the transformation of film photography, is the easily accessible volume of different types of cameras and equipment. Equipment and knowledge that used to often be inaccessible to the beginning photographer are now easily and readily available. With such a broad range of tools within reach, the boundaries of this medium can, and are being pushed. Film photography is experiencing a transformative rebirth, one that is, and will continue to have a positive impact on the creative world.

So, why shoot film? Because there is a remarkably exiting world out there, one that is incredibly rewarding for those willing to slow down and explore it.

You Are What You Shoot

“Every image he sees, every photograph he takes, becomes in a sense a self-portrait. The portrait is made more meaningful by intimacy – an intimacy shared not only by the photographer with his subject but by the audience.” – Dorothea Lange

I guess we are all familiar with an approach to diet that claims “you are what you eat”. If you keep stuffing yourself with a home roasted salmon with asparagus, some decent grain and a healthy salad, there is a good chance that your life as well as your persona will show that. Same goes for someone who lives on a six happy meals a day diet. Do not despair however, I will not try to convince you to eat healthy or preach about the health benefits of broccoli. This rule, or rather an idea, can be applied to any aspect of ones life.

If you are what you eat then you definitely are what you shoot.

Every photograph is a portrait of some sort. Not only people, but if you photograph landscape for instance, it will be a portrait of that particular landscape feature. When Michael Kenna spoke about photographing Tree by the Lake Kussharo ( http://procameraman.jp/Interview/overseas_File08_201207/Japan/Kussharo%20Lake%20Tree%20Study%201%20Kotan%20Hokkaido%20Japan%202002.jpg ) he referred to it as a portrait of “that old lady” and he spoke about her it that very fashion, as he would about a human being. If we take that every photograph is a portrait and bring words of Dorothea into the picture, every single photograph we make becomes, in a sense, a self-portrait.

We are One

“I am that old man crossing the street. I am that woman passing by. I am the rolling hills in the mist. I am Nikon.” Hang on… Actually, this one is bull, but I guess you get the idea.

What I found, in my not-too-long photography adventure, is that vision is single most important skill, or rather an ability, that you can have available to you. Vision, in a sense, that reflects your inner projection of the world around you. As an individual, you perceive the surroundings with an unique viewpoint. If, for instance, Josef Koudelka had your personality, along with your character, his photographs would look a bit different. In no way better or worse, he would still create great work, but it would carry a different feel to it. I often find people refer to it as a “style” in photography. It is not about what format you are shooting with, where you usually put your subject within the frame (upper left junction, anybody?) or how you expose your shots. This does play a role, but a very minor one. What makes up for a style is how you “see” your subject, how you interact with it and what is the out coming emotion. If you can convey this, you have found your style, and it is nothing else, but your Self reflecting off the lens. That is when your work becomes great, even if your photographs are a bit underexposed.

Finding your Self

My former kendo sensei, when asked how one could get better at kendo outside of the dojo, answered: “eat well, live well and be happy”. Becoming a better person will make you become a better artist. There are tons and tons, and then some more books on self-development. It is a well overused term and, just as creativity, I have grown to hate it. But the idea is showing the right direction, regardless of the label. Math writes itself here. Nasty character will show up when photographing people in a demeaning way, exploring their flaws and insecurities. Interest in people and human condition will make you approach them with respect. If you are driven by nature in your daily life, a little stream by your house will make for an astonishing print. One that will show it in its greatness.

Follow your drive. Answer this question: “If money were no object, what would I do/photograph?”. Way too many photographers lose their drive as they pursue a “career” in photography, changing directions as the wind changes, heading where the profits lay. Go with whatever resonates with you the most. The rest will show up when the time is right.

What we do, and how we do it, determines what sort of personality do we carry with us on a daily basis and thus what we photograph it shows a reflection of our inner voice. We need to listen to it intently. Skills, equipment aside, this is the thing that matters most. A skill that needs practice, but if you give it a lot of time and patience, it will reward you as no other. Have that in your tool box and you will far surpass master technicians with not much to say.

Greg Krycinski is a photographer and an author. You can find more of his work at www.ditchitall.com, a blog about creativity and self expression in arts and crafts.

The Leica M3-P

Leica M3-P “20 Years Leica Shop Vienna” with Leica Noctilux-M 50mm f/0.95 ASPH

The Leica M3-P was a special edition released in 2011 to celebrate the 20th Anniversary of the Leica Shop in Vienna. Only 20 were offered, so they are fetching big bucks now when they come up for auction (I’ve seen auction prices from $65,000-$85,000)

The M3-P is an analog Leica MP in silver chrome finish with vulcanite cladding and top cover in the vintage Leica M3 style. Each camera has a special edition number on the hot shoe. Leica threw in, for free, a Leica Noctilux-M 50mm f/0.95 ASPH Lens in silver anodized finish when you bought the camera.

I hate Leica “Special Editions” because, as a general rule, they’re tacky and stupid and appeal to vulgar people. I expect the usual suspects – Lenny Kravitz, Seal, a couple of members of the Saudi royal family, a chinese billionaire – all own one of these, and none of them have ever had a real roll of film run through them. But I’ll make an exception for this one; it’s simple and minimalist without the usual “Sultan of the Universe” engravings. And that Noctilux sure looks pretty on it.

The Renaissance of Film Grain in the Digital Age

I love the picture above. It’s not so much the subject ( a throwaway portrait), it’s the aesthetic of the photo, and particularly, the grain. It has a beautiful traditional black and white 35mm look, a function of the classic optical rendering (a 50’s era Nikkor H 50 f/1.4 Leica Thread Mount), the tonality of a classic emulsion (Tri-X), and the overlay of grain inherent in the film process. Grain is the random optical texture of processed film caused by small metallic silver particles developed from silver halide. Unlike pixelation, film grain is an optical effect, the amount of which depends on both the film stock and observational distances. For me, its the grain that sets traditional black and white film photography apart from digital black and white and why many of us prefer the labor intensive film process to digital black and white.

Which is ironic, because as a general rule, back in the film era, grain used to be a thing we tried to avoid. We chased newer emulsions that gave use a cleaner, less grainy look. C-41 films like Ilford XP2 and Kodak CN400 gave an almost grainless rendering and were popular for that reason; or we handicapped ourselves by shooting slow speed films like Kodak Panatomic-X (iso 32) or Ilford Pan-F (iso 50) as much for their lack of grain as their enhanced tonality. If we needed decent speed but unobtrusive grain for 11 by 14 prints, we shot Plus-X (iso 125). Or we avoided grain altogether by shooting medium format. When we needed low light capabilities, the quick easy shot, we opted for 35mm Tri-X or HP5, maybe even pushing it a stop to 800 iso, developing in a speed-enhancing developer like Microphen and crossing our fingers.

But a curious thing happened with the advent of digital photography: we realized the power grain had as an aesthetic characteristic in itself. When seen in contrast to the sterility of digital capture grain revealed its inherent importance to the look of film photography. After we lost the rearguard battles of resolution, dynamic range and tonality to digital capture, we were left with the grain, and we finally recognized the particularity of film, its “look,” was the result of the organic quality of the grain and how the medium itself, with its random imperfections, was a necessary part of the image itself. And now we shoot film for the grain.

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So, many of us who cut our teeth on film photography have now discovered the role grain plays in what we perceive to be a proper aesthetic of a photograph. We’ve found ways of changing film grain characteristcs in the darkroom by using certain chemicals, and we often choose film with specific grain for different occasions. In many ways, what sort of grain we want for a given look – coarse, subdued, plentiful – is as important as our choice of lens.

Havana, 1997, Leica M5 and Tri-X

If film grain has aesthetic value, high ISO digital noise does not. Not all sensors produce ugly noise at higher sensitivities – some produce noise almost “filmlike” (The Ricoh GXR M Mount comes to mind), but it’s usually only a matter of degree, not quality. In digital capture, the equivalent of film grains are the individual elements of the image sensor, the pixels; just as small-grain film has better resolution than large-grain film, so too an image sensor with more numerous pixels will usually result in an image with better resolution. However, unlike pixels, film grain is not the limit of a given film stock’s resolution. While film grain is randomly distributed and varies in size, image sensor cells are the same size and are arranged in a geometric grid. In general, as the pixels from a digital image sensor are set in straight lines, they are less pleasing visually – thin, as it were – then randomly arranged film grains. Viewers will reject an enlargement that shows pixels, when a film enlargement with ample grain and lower resolution will look normal, and ‘sharper’ at a normal viewing distance.

Various software exist to mimic the generic “look” of scanned film by converting to grayscale and adding random noise to emulate film grain. However, the results are often not convincing, because:

real film grain is not random noise
real film grain looks dramatically different across different film stocks
real film grain expresses itself differently based on exposure

A discerning eye can tell it’s not film, because real film grain, and the real film look, is a function of innumerable variables that go into the choice, exposure and development of a roll of film. To add grain to a digital image so that it would completely mimic film grain you would have to match the measured dynamic range and spectral response of a specific film stock and then correctly incorporate that film’s actual film grain into the image, duplicating how that grain expresses itself relative to exposure, stock, and development process.

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Buddha and Melissa, 2013, Leica X1, Silver Efex Tri-X emulation

For me, film images look like images should look. Digital capture has a transparency to it that’s off-putting, even when you run them through an emulation like Silver Efex (see above). There’s a certain thinness to digital capture, because it lacks the organic texture intrinsic to the film image. The organic nature of film grain adds a layer of separation from reality, and this separation, far from adulterating the image, helps feed the viewer’s imagination. It’s this separation from strict reality that gives grain it’s power and character. Real film grain gives us something more than an indexical transposition of the “real”; it feeds the imagination. That’s why, in an age of crystal clean 3200 iso digital capture, I prefer to shoot HP5. And I always push it a stop to 800 iso, just for the enhanced grain, because its a look I simply can’t duplicate even with a dedicated black and white tool like the Monochrom and Silver Efex.

Leica Selfie #6

Honoring Evan: Welcoming a Leica M3 Into My Home

By Chuck Miller, reprinted from the Albany Times Union

Five years ago, blogger and good friend Teri Conroy gifted me a camera that was in her family’s possession – it was a vintage Rolleiflex Automat MX. I’ve used it for many photographic excursions, and I still use it off and on today.

And last Friday… someone else gifted me a camera that had been in their family for generations. They hoped that I would find a new use for the camera, that I would appreciate it as much as they did.

I met the family – Polly and Pat and their daughter Claire – at the Gateway Diner in Albany. We shared a meal, and then Polly showed me the Quantaray camera bag. And inside – along with two speedlights and an ever-ready camera case… was this:

My heart nearly stopped. This is a Leica M3 rangefinder 35mm camera. It’s one of the early models; the serial number identified it as manufactured in 1955.

Whether you shoot with a Nikon, a Kodak, or even a Canon, there’s one camera brand that simply exudes class and precision and delight. To hold this camera is to hold a precision instrument. This camera will make you fall in love with photography. And that camera is a Leica M3.

You know how people will look for a modern digital camera like the Fuji X100 and say, “That’s the next Leica M3″?

Well, there’s a reason for that. To own a Leica is to own a true piece of art.

The family and I talked for a while. I wanted to find out more about the camera’s previous owner – Polly’s father. His name was Evan Leighton Richards, and he was a reporter and columnist (and photographer) with the Times Union‘s sister afternoon publication, the Albany Knickerbocker News, during the 1950′s and 1960′s. He later worked in public and private service, and passed away last January at the age of 86.

“He was always using that camera,” Polly told me, with a smile on her face. “He went everywhere with it.”

And there it was, in my hands. A sixty-year-old camera with all the gleam and wear of sixty years of photos taken – everything from news stories to family get-togethers. This is cool. Way cool.

When I got back to my place, I examined the camera again. Then I called my friend Catherine, who’s been my trusted friend and confidante for many, many years. When I told her that I received a Leica M3, her first words were, “My father had a Leica M3, it was the most amazing camera and he took the greatest pictures with it.”

Why do I get this feeling that this little camera is going to change my life – and, for that matter, for the better?

And now it’s my turn. My turn to work with this stunning camera. My turn to discover if using a Leica M3 is everything everyone says it can be.

First test roll – a pack of Kodak BW400CN, a black-and-white film that can be developed in contemporary C-41 chemicals (i.e., drop it off at Walgreens). And on what was essentially the first truly warm day of the season… I took a short trip through the Adirondacks. First stop – Stillwater.

Then I cut across Route 9P to Saratoga Lake. Found this beachfront scene at Dock Brown’s Restaurant.

And although the Malta Drive-In hasn’t opened for business yet, at least the sign has let people know that there will be an upcoming movie season…

And just for the heck of it… a new (for me) angle of the Hadley Bow Bridge.

Let’s start out with the positives. Look at the freakin’ detail in these shots. I’ve only used one other rangefinder in my arsenal (my Kodak Medalist II), but this little beauty is just ten levels of impressive. The mechanics on this camera are amazing, the shutter is whisper-quiet, this camera is just totally cool and awesome and stellar, all at the same time.

Okay, the negatives. Give me a second.

Hmm…

Honestly?

There are no drawbacks. This camera is swank.

My utmost thanks to Polly and her family for allowing me to bring new life to Evan’s camera, and to give it a new run through the world. If I can get shots like with a pack of Kodak B&W drugstore-developable film in this chassis … imagine what I could get if I packed a roll of efke in here. Or a roll of Fuji Velvia. Or maybe even some Kodak Ektar. Or some Revolog boutique film.

Yeah, Chuck is going to have fun with this camera.

Lots and lots of fun.

4 Reasons Why the M2 is Better Than the M3

Reprinted from http://casualphotophile.com

The Leica M2 is just a simplified and cheapened version of the M3, right? Yeah, it’s a good camera, but if you’re going to buy a Leica M why not buy the best, why not buy the original? Right?

Well what if we told you that there are valid reasons for using an M2 over its legendary predecessor? What if we told you that, today, the M3 is actually the worse of the two classic rangefinders, and that anyone looking to buy an M3 would be better served shopping for an M2?

With clear understanding that we’ve already sent half of you running for your pitchforks, hear us out. Both cameras are amazing, and a case can be made for each, but we honestly think at this moment the M2 is best.

Here are four justifications for our heretical blaspheming.

REASON #1 – THE M3 IS UGLY

Alright, it’s not ugly, but the M3 is a bit cluttered aesthetically speaking. The physical allure of the M rangefinder is in its no-nonsense, clinical approach to design. It’s a camera that’s sleek, clean, and streamlined. Except, the M3 kind of isn’t. It’s got bulges, ridges, and knobs all over the place. Did we not know better we’d assume Leica was the German word for “bezels”.

The M2, by contrast, is decidedly more refined. All optical windows are flush-mounted, and the raised ridge on the front of the M3 has been shaved away. This gives the M2 a more modern and contemporary design, and seems to adhere more closely to the Bauhaus aesthetic that’s surely at the heart of the M rangefinder’s design brief.

We know some fans love the moldings surrounding nearly every feature of the camera, but we don’t. We feel they’re overwrought and add nothing to the overall aesthetic. Even worse, they actually detract from the whole.

We just can’t understand why Leica embellished their flagship camera with so many useless bits of metal. And those photophiles who are truly obsessed with simplicity can even search out an M2 with virtually nothing extraneous hanging off the front. It’s possible to get an M2 minus the frame line selector lever or self-timer lever, and with a surreptitious rewind button in place of the M3’s rewind lever. You can’t possibly find an M3 without that giant self-timer lever protruding from the front.

Are we picking nits here? Yeah, a little bit. But if you like concise design, the M2 is the best choice.

REASON #2 – VIEWFINDER WOES

This is the big one; the most important difference between the two cameras and the number one reason to shoot an M2 over an M3. It’s so important that we’ve nonsensically embedded it here in the very middle of the article. It’s the viewfinder.

Yep, the M2 has a better viewfinder than the M3. There, we said it, and we can already hear the raucous harangues over .92X magnification, 50mm focal length, and the prevailing opinion that the M3 is the best viewfinder in the history of the universe. But we’re going out on a limb and proclaiming that none of that matters, because the M3’s viewfinder is two-thirds useless.

It’s all in the frame lines. Both the M2 and M3 have automatically selected frame lines correlating to the focal length of the mounted lens. With both cameras, attach a 50mm lens and 50mm frame lines appear in the viewfinder. Or attach a 90mm lens and 90mm frame lines appear. But mount a 35mm lens and only one of these two Ms will show 35mm frame lines. Guess which?

That’s right, the M2 is designed to work with the 35mm focal length without adding any extra weight, cumbersome accessory viewfinders, or shelling out humongous sacks of cash for specialized “goggle” lenses. If you want to shoot 35mm with an M3 you’ll be spending a lot of money, carrying extra weight, and losing viewfinder brightness. The alternative is to guess your framing and go for it, but that’s so… un-German.

Some will argue that the M3’s native 50mm, 90mm, and 135mm frame lines are a better set compared to the 35mm, 50mm, and 90mm found in the M2, but we disagree mightily. For our money, the frame lines found in the M2 are far more practical. 35mm and 50mm are among the most important focal lengths in all of photography, and having the choice to use one or the other is vital.

Not to mention that when shooting at 50mm with an M2 there’s the added benefit of extra viewfinder coverage. Shooting this way with an M2 allows one to look through the viewfinder and watch as subjects pass in and out of the image field. This is especially useful in street photography, or to easily scan the environment for elements that will work best with your composition.

Plus, when was the last time anyone shot an M with a 90 or 135mm lens? Honestly. That just never happens.*

*We acknowledge this is a highly subjective opinion, but you’re reading an opinion piece. What do you expect?

REASON #3 – PRICE

The Leica M2 was released as a simplified “budget” version of the M3, originally costing around $250 compared with the M3’s price of around $290. The well-known secret then being that while the M2 was marketed as a lesser M3, it really never was. Build quality is of the same impressive caliber as found in its more-respected brother. Cock the shutter and fire both cameras while wearing a blindfold and you won’t feel any difference.

So why does the M2 cost less than the M3? There are different opinions on this, but we’re chalking it up to reputation. Featured in everything from James Bond novels to Steve Jobs’ keynote presentations, virtually everyone’s heard of the legendary M3. When someone says “Leica”, people reflexively think “M3”.

Conversely there are many people who’ve simply never heard of the M2. And it’s human nature for many people to operate under the assumption that “if it were any good I would have heard of it.” So essentially, M2s cost less because less people know of them, and less people want them. Simple enough.

While the price difference between an M3 and an M2 has shrunk since they were newly released machines, and continues to shrink these days, there are still substantial savings to be had by choosing an M2 over an M3. Often the difference in price today falls between $100 and $300, depending on condition and how lucky you may be. Look for a copy with worn vulcanite, replace it yourself with new leather, and you’ll save even more.

Just this past weekend we picked up an M2 for $400. Pretty amazing.

REASON #4 – IT’S NOT AN M3

To our earlier point, literally (figuratively) everyone has heard of the M3. The M3 is so last year. Who wants to be seen with the camera that everyone else is shooting? What’s up, you don’t have a mind of your own? You can’t make your own decisions?

“Oh, you have an M3?” Yawn.

Owning an M2 shows you’re a smarter, more discerning, more specialized photographer. You’re likely better looking, have higher taste, know more things about stuff, and are better in bed than a comparable shooter with an M3. Obviously.

All the cool kids are shooting M3s, and that makes shooting an M3 lame. If you want to be cool, you’ll shoot an M2. Simple as that.

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Well, we hope we’ve presented this with enough delicacy to avoid the pitchforks and flaming torches of the mob. If not, let us backpedal a bit. Is the M3 a bad camera? Of course not. It’s amazing. It’s one of the best machines ever made. It’s just that we think the M2 is marginally better and feel it deserves more recognition.

Do you agree? Disagree? Maybe you think the M6 is better than them both? Or maybe you think the M1 is all you really need! If that’s the case, let us hear about it in the comments.

Want an M2?

Magical Thinking and the Illusion of Continuity

“With the introduction of a perpetual upgrade program, every LEICA M8 will forever be a state-of-the-art digital camera. Today’s and tomorrow’s users will always be able to incorporate the latest refinements and developments in handling ease and technology. It is our aim to secure your investment in the LEICA M8 for the future. While other digital cameras quickly become outdated and are replaced by newer models, our new concept extends the value retention and resistance to obsolescence embodied in the Leica ethos. Over time, we will gradually offer new product features and developments as upgrade options, declares Steven K. Lee, CEO of Leica Camera AG. Our customers can therefore still invest in the photographic tools they need without worrying that they will miss out on improvements and technological developments along the way.”

The above is promotional copy issued by Leica after the introduction of their first digital M, the M8. In retrospect, I’m sure Leica would love to take it back. Now a $6000 M8, introduced only 8 years ago, is considered a technological dinosaur and is worth a fraction of what it cost new. This really isn’t Leica’s fault. In 2008, like everyone else, they suffered from a certain opacity of vision with respect to how the future of digital imaging was going to unfold. I’m sure their intent was good. Rather, what’s happened to the longevity of digital cameras is the consequence of the shortening of product lives and consumer cycles of constant cosmetic updating. This constant fetish for the new, the upgraded, is claimed as progress, but in reality it is simply the result of a producer strategy on the part of the large players in the camera business – Nikon, Sony, Canon – designed to maximize manufacturer profits. The reality, even today, is that the M8 is a very capable camera that produces excellent results basically indistinguishable from the images of the current M which is sold as an exponential advance on previous models. It just isn’t new, and that’s the problem, because there exists no practical incentive for Leica to maintain and service it for any extended period given current realities. The M8, is, in effect, an orphan, through no fault of Leica.

As Erwin Puts has noted, buying a film M was an act of trust built on the assumption of stability. You knew that the camera would be around for decades and repair parts would be available for generations. And you knew that any new Leica M camera would be, at best, an incremental change from the current model. A used M kept its value because it was a camera locked into an evolutionary cycle of Leica cameras. It was based on a culture and tradition of stability.

The new generation of Leica digital cameras has inevitably succumbed to the mass produced consumer cycle, though, given Leica’s relatively limited resources visavis Japanese manufacturers, at a pace in the rear of the digital pack. This creates a double dilemma for Leica – having forsworn stability they are now locked into a consumer cycle game that, given their modest technological means, they can’t have a hope of winning.

Leica can still draw on their experience, but the increase in both innovation and production volume required by new digital realities creates profound problems for traditional handmade Leica culture. In the past Leitz increased production by hiring more people and giving them extensive training. Now the production of digital Leicas requires faster production lines with extensive computer support. But the adjustment of the traditional components of the M series, for example the rangefinder mechanism, still requires a level of precision impossible to achieve, unless, as in the past, a very experienced worker does the job and is given the time needed to do it correctly.

The technology of traditional handmade production relied heavily on the manufacture of components in the Leitz factory itself or on the outsourcing of components to factories that made the parts to Leica specifications based on decades of experience. For any part needed, the responsible manager knew how to assess what was necessary and could anticipate potential problems. This intimate knowledge of the camera’s components is no longer possible in the digital age. Leica has to rely on the experience of external suppliers that deliver the electronic and computerized components that are needed to build a digital Leica M.

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So, the conundrum facing Leica now is this: Is it possible to make a ‘Digital Leica’, a digitized camera that embodies the traditional ethos of the Leica – something small, simple, built to last, enduring? I would argue that the term is an oxymoron, and its been borne out in Leica’s history of digital offerings. Those of us who’ve used both knew immediately that Leica in the digital age, even with the best intentions, is selling us a bill of goods.

Other than a similarity of form, the differences between a film and digital M are profound. The 35mm Leitz Camera was small. Oskar Barnack, who invented the Leica, was so concerned about maintaining the original diminutive size of the Leica I he insisted that the rangefinder, added later, be kept as small as possible. The M3 was large compared to the Ur-Leica, but it was still compact by most standards. Digital Ms have incrementally increased in size and weight over the years, bloated in relation to a traditional film M. Its not something we talk about though; the example of the M5 too close at hand. As for simplicity, the current digital M’s are as simple as digital requirements allow them to be, but that doesn’t mean they are simple in the sense of the old Leitz made film cameras. With their nested menus, electronic shutters dependent on Lithium Ion batteries, computerized circuits and digital sensors, they are computers with all the attendant complexities. Enduring? No. Enduring design is not in the nature of digital technology, with the exponential technological increase built into computerized technology by Moore’s Law, which makes it impossible to remain technologically competent over time and thus hold value over the long run.

Elvis w/ His Leica M3

Leica: The Professional 35

Woody Allen’s M3 … and a few others

The ‘Clean, Lubricate and Adjust’ as a Political Statement

“Our enormously productive economy demands that we make consumption a way of life, that we convert the buying and use of goods into rituals, that we seek our spiritual satisfactions in consumption. We need things consumed, burned up, worn out, replaced and discarded at an ever growing rate.” American Marketing Consultant Victor Lebow, 1955.

Ironic that this quote coincides with the age of the iconic mechanical Leica camera, the M3. The M3, produced by Leitz between 1954 and1966, is the product of a Leitz corporate culture at odds with the prevalent business ethos; A Leitz culture that valued quality and durability, costly as an initial consumer outlay, no doubt, but prudent when viewed in the context of the product’s productive lifespan, and for Leitz, at the expense of accelerated improvement cycles.

As the marketeer quoted above noted already in 1955, speed of product decay has become a corporate good; durability a hinderance to the cultivation of new consumer appetites. The idea of consumer progress and corporate profits depends on rejecting as valueless what has come before, corporations constantly repudiating what they had only recently proclaimed.

And thus, through advertising, the constant thought shaping of a desire for the newer, the improved, which leads to the consumer’s preoccupation with the next purchase, always chasing future happiness through the a delusive pursuit of something “better.” Of course, this is the big lie that is the necessary premise of the whole philosophy of consumerism. What you desire is always just out of reach, and you will only have what you want with the next purchase. Anything that is “old,” outdated, last year’s model, is inferior, of no note, no value. And, like good sheep, consumers that we have been programmed to be, we buy it. Thus, you see talk on any camera forum about 2 year old cameras as being “obsolete” and can observe the neurotic buying and selling amongst the denizens there, chasing the new and improved with the constancy of a metronome.

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As a general rule, I think that the CLA (“clean, lubricate, adjust”) culture surrounding ownership of mechanical Leicas is crazy. People having their cameras pulled apart and “cleaned and lubricated” every few years is completely unnecessary and, frankly, deeply neurotic. Most Leicas, even shelf queens without much use for long periods of time, will gradually loosen up with use – wind-on will become smoother, lower speeds will free up and become consistent with exercise. Dismantling a camera to deal with these issues invites the potential for as much harm as good. As a general rule, if its not broke, don’t fix it. Of course, if viewfinders are hazy, or rangefinders need alignment or re-silvering, by all means do so.

That being said, from a philosophical perspective, I applaud the idea of fixing a serviceable tool like a mechanical camera as opposed to retiring it for something newer. Fixing things, as opposed to upgrading, can be an act of protest, a thoughtful subversion of the mindless consumerism demanded by an always accelerating economy whose logic insists that the only proper response is to replace what you have with the newer and “improved,” and, of course, to pay exorbitantly for the privilege of doing so. This, and this only, is what drives profits for camera companies. But keeping things and fixing them is both a a financial remedy and a philosophical stance. Ownership of a finely made tool can be something we see within a larger context, a trust almost. It can take on a certain moral quality that can deepen the joys of owning something finely made, and made for long use.

While we as owners benefit from the investment in well-made, purposeful tools, it creates a financial conundrum for manufacturers of quality like Leica. It is, in reality, a corporate ethos at odds with market necessities. And thus we see the necessary gimmicks Leica employs to stay solvent, because a 50 year old M4, a tool manufactured and sold by them generations ago, properly maintained, is as functional today as the day it was produced. In almost all respects, it is the better of the cameras being produced today by Leica, even those, like the MP, which presume to maintain the leica’s mechanical heritage, given that they have been incrementally dumbed down in the course of modern updating and reduced quality components. Why buy a $4500 MP when you can buy a beautiful, fully functional M4 for a fifth of the price?

Leica MP Brochure

Dear Leica: Please Build This Camera!

The Konost FF Digital M-Mount Rangefinder

In spite of all its digital era missteps – M8 IR filters, M9 delaminating sensors, Lenny Kravitz Editions – I give Leica grudging credit. They’ve attempted to keep alive their traditional virtues – minimalism and simplicity combined with technical excellence, into the digital age. And for the most part, they’ve done a decent job; the Digital M’s retain a certain charm, a timelessness, vaguely reminiscent of the traditional M film cameras, although their form factor has been increasingly compromised by electronic bloat.

But, to my mind, they are inexorably travelling a slow road to irrelevancy in a digital age. The most obvious problem is their price and what you get for it. Leicas have always been expensive, but in the mechanical age the Leica price differential – what you paid for what you got – wasn’t as seriously out of whack as it is today. Back then – the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, the years of the classic M’s – you paid twice as much for a Leica that was built for long, hard use, a tool of unsurpassed quality that would remain viable indefinitely. Many of us are still happily using those Leica cameras built in the 50’s, cameras that will be working when my grandkids get old.

A Black Chrome Leica M4 – The Best 35mm Camera Ever Made

Unfortunately, The days of finely crafted mechanical cameras are long gone. Today, cameras are computers, and Leica offers to sell you one for five times as much as a similar offering from Fuji. Actually, something that isn’t even as advanced technologically as the Fuji offering. And then there’s Leica’s stubborn problems with quality control; in spite of the “robust build” mantra newer leicaphilies continue to mindlessly bleat about in the face of all evidence to the contrary, Leica digital quality has been dodgy at best.

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What Leica desperately needs to do is to rethink, from the ground up, what ‘Leica Quality’ should mean in a digital age, and how a new definition of quality can be accomplished with more cost effective production methods. The concept of the overbuilt hand assembled camera is a dead end, a mechanical era anachronism, unnecessary and counter-productive in the digital age of limited life cycles. Here are some easy ways to reduce production costs without impacting ‘quality’ i.e made properly for the necessities of the digital age: replace brass with lighter, less expensive materials; design for easy assembly; replace handbuilt processes with automation where appropriate; outsource simple parts to cheap production countries; standardize form factor and parts among camera lines.

Now combine this with a renewed focus on simplicity as a guiding aesthetic and ergonomic principal. No auto focus, multi-function dials, movie modes, EVFs, or other various digital bloat. Just a simple camera with minimal bells and whistles – a shooting experience akin to a traditional Leica film rangefinder, with manual focus, manual aperture, and manual shutter speed controls, with a decent sensor that doesn’t need replacing every year. A beautiful, minimalist form factor like the iconic film M’s, but not merely a slavish retro throwback. The ability to use M mount lenses. Competitively priced. Give us that, Leica, and people like me will beat a path to your door to buy it.

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And it looks like we may get it, but not from Leica. U.S. Based Konost plans to launch a full frame digital rangefinder that hardens back to the minimalist ethos that made Leica famous. And it sounds – and from first photos, looks – really cool. The Konost FF is an aluminum bodied 20 megapixel M-mount “rangefinder style” camera that uses a secondary image sensor rather than a traditional rangefinder mechanism. The secondary image sensor, located in the round window next to the lens, produces an image calibrated to the lens position and then electronically displays it as the rangefinder focus patch in the optical viewfinder. Users compose shots using the optical viewfinder and manually focus the camera in typical rangefinder fashion by superimposing the two images.

Konost also plans a smaller version of the digital rangefinder with a 12-megapixel APS-C sensor, and the Junior, a JPEG-only fixed-lens camera with a 1-inch-type sensor. They’ll all share the same basic body architecture.

The full frame model will use a 20-megapixel (36 x 24 mm) CMOS sensor, a maximum shutter speed of 1/4,000 second, and a 4-inch rear LCD monitor. The Konost FF will use M-mount lenses and simple manual controls.

Konost plans to release The camera in 2016. “Like any small start-up, there are still many things to do and our resources are limited. However, we are doing our best everyday. We are just a group of engineers building our own dream camera. We’re not stopping until it’s out.”

It’s a great idea for a really promising digital camera that will finally bring the promise of traditional rangefinder simplicity to the digital age. It’s what Leica should have done 10 years ago. It’s still not too late, before a small US based start-up steals a march on Leica. Leica will have no one but themselves to blame if they do.

Simplicity as a Creative Imperative

This was originally published at Ditchitall.com, a blog about creativity.

Ockham’s Razor is a philosophical maxim attributed to the 14th century logician and Franciscan friar William of Ockham. “Pluralitas non est ponenda sine neccesitate” which, translated literally means “entities should not be multiplied unnecessarily.” In simple terms, it means this: The simplest solution is almost always the best. The truth of Ockham’s maxim spans disciplines and endeavors. Simplicity possesses an elegance which is a proof of its truthfulness.

Simplicity is also a powerful spur to creativity. Simplifying counters the endless psychic demands placed on us, demands that take us away from the free and open consciousness that is needed for any creative activity. Why? because simplicity encourages focused attention. Simone Weil called attention prayer, and attention is the faculty that pulls us out of habitual ways of thinking and seeing and joins us to the infinite potential of the world.

Creativity is an inquiry. It requires sustained concentration. Form in art is how we bring that attention to life. For Weil, it is the answer to our creative prayer. Attention is necessary to any formal creative act, as important as the time we have, but it is rapidly depleted by modern technologies originally meant to expand creative possibilities but which have grown new, unexpected, hydra-like complexities.

To simplify doesn’t mean to reflexively give over to automated processes that we can do ourselves. In fact, it is the opposite. Simplicity creates a virtuous circle: it promotes attention, attention then demands creative processes at odds with automation, which in turn reinforces simplicity. To automate a creative process short circuits the relationship with our creative muse. It does so because it subtracts the tangible, the need of the creative impulse to interact with something palpable, something it can feel, hold, manipulate and transform. What neurobiology and common sense teach us is that it’s difficult to penetrate to the sense of things without taking them in hand. Tangibility, the feel of a thing, provides us a sense of agency and mastery by allowing attention that is coherent and concentrated.

Simplicity and tangibility are both means to attention, attention to understanding, and understanding to the coherence of our creative endeavors. It is by attending to and manipulating things that we understand the world, and it is only with understanding that our creations are true.

Bluebird, 2066, Acrylic on Canvas

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I am a painter and a photographer, although these days the bulk of my creative pursuits involve photography, both as a documentarian and a publisher of the blog Leicaphilia. What I’ve learned in pursuing creativity for over 40 years is the value of simplicity: simple ideas and simple tools to craft them. Simplicity unclutters your creative pallet. You don’t need exotic places to create meaningful photographs; in fact, I would argue that your best photographs will be of those things close to you and intimate to your understanding. Likewise, fixation on better gear will not make your photographs “better.” Over-investment in technology for creative pursuits is a dead end. I’ve long ago lost any interest in artisty that depends on technical advantages.

What I’m not arguing for is an enforced simplicity taken to its extreme. Rather, I’m advocating a simplicity within the context of your creative endeavors, in order to free your creative impulse. If you merely want to photograph something as a means to record its existence, a completely automated camera phone will do fine. When I need to record something quick and easy, without ultimate archival concerns, my method of choice, often as not, is digital capture, usually with recourse to many of its automated features. But I’m a traditionalist when it comes to the art of photography. I like the distinction Robert Hass makes: a snapshot is the picture of a thing; a photograph is the picture of a mind perceiving a thing. My preferred means of practicing photography as a creative activity is with a simple all-mechanical film camera.

At base, photography is simple. All you need is a light tight box, a means to focus and control the flow of light, and a light sensitive material. It can be done with a cardboard box sporting a needle hole. When you use an old film camera, you can see how the lens opens, how the film moves across the focal plane, how adjusting aperture and shutter physically effects the operation of the camera and ultimately the production of the photo. You learn how to manipulate these variables to your own ends.

Today’s photographers press buttons and things happen but they often never acquire real mastery over the world of things. They activate options from nested menus that intitiate incoherent processes. The results are a pattern of disembodied zeroes and ones. Formerly a tangible thing – a celluoid strip of negative imprinted with light – is now only a neural memory stored in silicon, without heft or substance. Photographers have become symbol manipulators, and what is in danger of becoming lost is a fundamental knowledge of the tangible, replaced by the mysteriousness of virtual reality.

Digital cameras are opaque to mechanical understanding, designed not to betray the physical nature of their workings. That is a shame, because understanding how our tools work is important in helping us understand our craft and to understand our world. Using a fully mechanical device doesn’t allow you to have that technical detachment. If it doesn’t work, if your photos aren’t successful, your failure is obvious and you know who is responsible. One of the most important things in any craft is learning from your mistakes, and ultimately enhancing and controlling errors. When cause and effect isn’t hidden by the complexities of your tools, creative acts can provide a kind of moral education which also benefits intellectual creativity.

Ironically, the technologies that have promised to simplify photography too often radically complicate it. Lets not speak here of the ongoing archival conundrums posed by digital technologies – I’m speaking here the efficacy of different tools to human creativity. Simple tools- a mechanical camera, say – give us enduring satisfactions because they become, in their simplicity, transparent as creative mediums, while creative “technologies” – let’s use Adobe Photoshop as an example – become an end in themselves, and too often create an obsessive, insatiable craving for the next version, the 2.0 that will finally deliver what they’ve promised. Of course, the “updates” never end. The ironic and toxic result of the technologies saturating our environment is they flatter us with delusions of our autonomy and agency, when in fact we are their slaves. Creative technology is at its best when it is invisible, invisible when its simple and thus capable of our full attention. Only then can we truly attend to creativity.

The Ricoh GXR: The Digital Leica CL

Let’s get this straight at the outset. Digital Leica M’s – the M8, M9, MM and M240 – are not traditional Leica M cameras. They are computerized simulacrums of traditional film M’s, sharing only a certain corporate continuity, a rangefinder mechanism and aesthetic likeness of form, albeit fatter, heavier and less pleasant in hand. Most importantly, their useful life is measured in years as opposed to decades.

Many of us who grew up shooting Leica film cameras learned these lessons the hard way, at great frustration and expense, and for many of us, those experiences have caused us to re-evaluate our relationship to Leica in the digital age.

I remain firmly grounded in the film world, both for technical and philosophical reasons, for 90% of my work. But the practical requirements of capturing quotidian experiences- snapshots as it were- sometime require the quickness and immediacy of a digital process. So, I need at least one digital camera to keep myself (and others) happy. But I’ve bought them reluctantly.

My only criterion when buying a digital camera is never to be an early adopter. I won’t buy a digital camera that isn’t at least 2 to 3 years old. Let the early adopters work through the bugs and take the digital depreciation hit. In return, they can obsess about their newest toy and its revolutionary IQ standards while warily eyeing the new, improved version inevitably around the corner.

What I want: a manual focus camera that uses my extensive collection of M mount rangefinder optics, and I want a decent size sensor that doesn’t turn my Rokkor-M 40 f2 into a telephoto. 12 mp or thereabouts is the sweet spot – I don’t need 36 mpx files because I print, at most, 19 inches on the long side, and if I want bigger I can always “res up” with the appropriate software. My alternatives: an M8, M9, M240, Sony NEX or A7, Fuji X…. or the Ricoh GXR. The Sonys are designed by computer guys, not photographers, and it shows. Too computerized, with their nested menus and touch screen technologies. And, like the Fuji, their sensors aren’t maximized for the limited flange distance of M lenses. So this leaves the Leica models…and the Ricoh. The M’s are simply too expensive for what you get. And there’s the issue of dodgy sensors that continue to plague the CCD M’s. Spending $6k on a camera body, only to have to replace the sensor at scheduled intervals, is insane. The fact that digital Leica owners accept this is, if nothing else, a testament to the irrational in many’s purchasing decisions.

This leaves me with the GXR. Ricoh has a tradition of funky, quirky cameras that appeal to serious photographers. The GXR follows in that tradition. Unlike conventional digital cameras which either have a fixed lens and sensor or interchangeable lenses and a fixed sensor, the GXR takes interchangeable units, each housing a lens, sensor and imaging processing unit. This allows each unit to have features optimized to one another and a specific task, whereas with conventional interchangeable lens cameras, each different lens must use the same sensor and engine. The sealed units also prevent dust from reaching the sensor, which can be a problem with interchangable lens bodies used in the elements. Having previously owned an M8, I know it to be a definite issue with digital M’s.

In addition to a 24-85 zoom and superb 28 and 50 mm auto focus units, Ricoh offers a 12 mpx unit to mount and use Leica optics, the A12 M Module. The Ricoh’s M mount is strictly designed with the technical specifications of the M bayonet in mind. It contains shifted micro-lenses on its periphery to deal with the angled light produced on the sensor plane by M lenses with short sensor plane distances. You get a Leica M sensor with all the advantages for wide angle lenses, without a AA filter to boot. And the Ricoh is as modular as a Phase One or Hassy. You can change out the sensor in a second to use the excellent Ricoh lens modules if you need auto-focus or are lazy and want to use a zoom.

The Ricoh with A12 M Mount is a much less expensive alternative to digital M’s that does an incredible job with M-mount lenses. I recently picked up two GXR bodies, an A12 M module and the 28 and 50 modules, all for just a tad over $1000, which is pretty remarkable for what you get. I’m not an IQ guy, but I can’t help but be amazed at the sharpness and depth of the files the GXR M mount produces with Leica lenses, a function of a sensor without an AA filter tailored to M mount lenses and the native quality of the lenses themselves. And both the 28 and 50 2.5 AF units are exceptional as well, the equal optically of any Summarit or Summicron I’ve used with the M Module.

Ricoh GXR, A12 M Module, 21 VC f4

The relationship between the GXR and current digital M’s is similar to the 1970s Leica CL and its relation to the M5. While both shared the same format, meter, etc, the CL was lighter, smaller, and much less expensive, although it felt built to a price point, while the M5 retained the traditional robust Leitz build. The CL used the same Leitz lenses, which, of course, was more determinative of the final output than all the other considerations, and, in practice, produced negatives indistinguishable from the M. Ironically, in a transposition of the relationship between the CL and M5, the Ricoh feels better made, more solid and durable than the often fragile digital M’s. It’s an exceptionally well made camera with the heft associated with durability. It feels great in the hand, and it’s compact and unobtrusive in a way the fattened digital M’s no longer are.

Ricoh discontinued them in 2014, probably because the interchangible lens/sensor unit design never caught with most folks, which is a shame. The upside to this is that new units are still available and you can find them cheap.
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My B&W workflow with the GXR: set the display for B&W RAW. set EV at -.07 to avoid blown highlights, ISO at 1600 or, when needed, at 2500. Process in SEP2 using either the HP5 or the Tri-X simulations, or if you want something really gritty, the Neopan 1600 emulation, very minor sharpening on output. Voila! Only a trained eye will notice any difference between this and a roll of Tri-X shot with your CL.

A Dead Canary in the Leica Corporate Mineshaft

From the gold-plated Luxus to the pink Hello Kitty M6, Leica has been known to issue some questionable limited edition cameras. Another in a long list of such, Leica recently announced the “Lenny Kravitz Correspondent MP,” (which begs the question of what Lenny Kravitz has to do with being a correspondent). According to Leica,

Even as a child, the singer, songwriter and rock star, Lenny Kravitz, was fascinated by cameras. But rather than taking photos, he played with them and he never lost that fascination with them. Later in life, photographers he knew, renewed Kravitz’ acquaintance with cameras – with a Leica. But now, he was already an artist with curiosity and a particular talent for observing the world around him. Kravitz’ design, in the form of a classic reportage camera, is an homage to his first Leica.

Lenny Kravitz is famous around the world as an exceptional and very successful musician. But he treats photography with his Leica with exactly the same passion. The Leica M-P ‘Correspondent’, a desirable collector’s piece in the style of legendary reportage cameras, was created in collaboration with the artist. Thanks to deliberate, carefully executed wearing by hand, it appears as if it had been in constant use for decades and would have countless stories to tell.

Many Leica cameras are unique. But now, all 125 examples of the strictly limited Leica M-P ‘Correspondent’ set are all unique, each in its own way. An elaborate wearing process completely by hand has carefully rubbed, scuffed and scratched the black enamel finish away in several places on both the camera and lenses to let the bright brass surface shine through. The look changes every time the camera and lenses are touched and begins new, personally written chapters in the story of their design.

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The Correspondent MP is, unfortunately, another exhibit in favor of the argument that Leica has become a company in the business of retailing luxury goods to foolish people with stupid money.

Granted, Leica remains a solidly profitable company. They seem to be doing very well financially, and, of course, that’s the raison d’etre of any business. I’m certain this makes Leica’s owners and management happy. But I can’t help but see it as a symptom of a larger problem, sort of a proverbial dead canary in the Leica corporate mine shaft. Leica now produces little of interest to its traditional base, photographers who used Leicas as real working tools for many years. We are no longer Leica’s target demographic.

Which is odd, because Leica has the ability to make whatever they choose to make, at a high quality level, and yet many would say they’ve abandoned what made them an iconic name to make a quick buck recycling nostalgia. In spite of currently producing innovative cameras like the MM and the S, Leica is increasingly becoming perceived as a boutique luxury goods company, trading on the cache of a brand made famous over decades by having produced top quality mechanical instruments.

It is increasingly difficult for Leica traditionalists to consider a new Leica as a camera we would want to own. Granted, Leica will have no trouble selling them to someone, and to the degree it funds development of new, innovative cameras, these sorts of frivolities for the moneyed class may be a necessary compromise for Leica. Admittedly, collector editions have been part of Leica’s DNA since the 1920s.

The problem is that it seems that’s all they’re doing these days. As time passes and the underlying foundation for Leica’s revered reputation retreats in collective photographic memory, Leica are in danger of irreparably diluting the perception of the brand, which even now remains their strongest asset. Hopefully, Leica understands that it is not a big jump from easy profits to complete irrelevancy. When your viability as a company becomes completely dependent upon the perception of your brand, there’s no going back once that perception is irrevocably compromised.

Who the Hell is Peter Lik and Why Doesn’t He Use a Leica?

“Peters Whisper”, Peter Lik

Apparently, Peter Lik is the guy who claims to have sold the world’s most expensive photo (see $6.5 Million Landscape Is World’s Most Expensive Photo). Lik sells his work through 15 of his own branded galleries, the kind you find in touristy hot spots where the Nouveau Riche tend to congregate. He claims to have sold over 100,000 photographs for more than $440 million. The New York Times, however, is questioning his claims. At auction, the most his photos have sold for is $15,860, and that is his only verifiable sale that has brought in more than $3,000. Hucksterism, anyone?

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On a related note, I found this nugget on Mr. Lik’s blog, Exposed (!). Apparently he’s not a “Leica Guy”:

Austrian artist and photographer Ernst Haas once said, “Leica, schmeica. The camera doesn’t make a bit of difference. All of them can record what you are seeing. But, you have to SEE.” It is important for photographers not to get discouraged by the standard of their equipment (or lack thereof). So if you don’t have top-of-the-line equipment, don’t sweat it. It’s the talent and tenacity of the person clicking the shutter that is the most critical ingredient in getting great shots.

And he is right, although he may not be the most believable of messengers given his technologically driven creations, but that doesn’t make the message any less true.

And as for his art, well, ‘Art’ is what people say it is, and clearly, he’s selling enough of his to rightfully claim that many people see his work as ‘Art.’ Is it something I’d buy? No. But aesthetic sensibilities vary, and the majority of folks don’t understand critically acclaimed creations that require an aesthetic, cultural or intellectual context, as attested by the fact that Steven Speilberg movies have a much larger audience than something by Györgi Feher.

Frankly, you can argue that most ‘Art’ today is a confidence game, defined by a power structure of curators and dealers with little criteria other than what will make them money. In photography, Cindy Sherman comes to mind. But its been that way since the mid 1800’s, when the rise of bourgeois wealth created a demand that the new vocation of art dealer arose to meet. With it came the self-promoting Artist, whether it be Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray or Thomas Kincaide and Peter Lik. And with it came the art enthusiast who waits for others to say “this is Beautiful art” before he can say the same. It’s just the way it is.

Which is not to say there ultimately isn’t any objective standard one can use to define great Art. If you’ve ever visited the Vatican and stood in awe in the Sistine Chapel, or sat in a church in Mississippi and listened to a gospel choir sing Amazing Grace, or listened to John Coltrane interpreting a blues standard, you know transcendent Art exists. And Mr. Lik is correct: it’s got nothing to do with equipment and sterile technique. It’s about vision, about an idiosyncratic conversation with the otherwise unobserved.

Take this photograph by Daido Moriyama for example: I’d trade every Peter Lik print ever produced for one 11×14 print. Why? Because it speaks to me, and that’s my definition of “Art.”

Bio-Hazardous Custom Brassed M2

Found these pictures of a “brassed M2” floating around on the net. I kind of like it. It’s not pretending to be anything but what it is. Collectible? No. But cool in an offbeat way. Plus its an M2, which is the coolest non-metered Leica M ever made, right up there with the beloved M5 (beloved by me, at least) for usability. Apparently someone stripped the chrome finish to the brass underneath and “weathered” it.

I’m not sure I’d want to use it as my daily user, however. Brass is an alloy of copper and zinc. Copper isn’t terribly harmful for you, though it will turn you green and cause funky rashes and skin irritation. Zinc commonly upsets skin with comparable results. For “castability” most brass contains nickel, which is poisonous. In addition, brass that is not made for jewelry usually comes from an industrial source where it is alloyed with any number of additive metals to serve an industrial purpose: rustproofing, spark resistance, insulation, heat dispersion. Industrial grade brasses frequently contain lead at concentrations of around 1-2%. This is a harmful metal to be in contact with the skin— highly damaging to brain and organ tissues. Other alloying materials include arsenic and phosphorus. The brass sourced by Leitz for its camera bodies probably is industrial quality. There’s a reason they put chrome over it.