Category Archives: Film photography

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:

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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.

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

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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…

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

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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.

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Simplicity as a Creative Imperative

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

Paris 2004Ockham’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, 2006, Acrylic on Canvas

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.

 

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The Elephant In The Digital Dark Room

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“Six major Hollywood film studios have gotten together to help Kodak remain in the movie business. Twentieth Century Fox, Paramount Pictures, Sony Pictures, Universal Pictures, Walt Disney Pictures and Warner Bros. have all signed deals on advance purchases of Kodak’s film stock, which will help keep the company’s production plants operational. Kodak is the last company to make motion picture film, which some filmmakers prefer for aesthetic reasons.“We were very close to the difficult decision of having to stop manufacturing film,” said Jeff Clarke, Kodak’s chief executive, according to the Wall Street Journal. “Now with the cooperation of major studios and filmmakers, we’ll be able to keep it going.”” TIME, Feb 5, 2015

The qoute above is deceptive. It presumes that the ongoing demand for film is a result of certain filmmaker’s “aesthetic preferences.” And it is, as far as that goes. But that’s not the whole story about why the motion picture studios want to “save” film production. It’s not even the main reason. The main reason will surprise you, but, like the proverbial elephant in the room, nobody is talking about it.

In the “analogue age,” a movie studio would bundle up a completed master of a motion picture and ship it off for physical storage somewhere cold.  Twentieth Century Fox, Paramount Pictures, Sony Pictures, Universal Pictures, Walt Disney Pictures and Warner Bros. have for decades been archiving and storing their 35-millimeter film masters and associated source material in salt and limestone mines in Kansas and Pennsylvania.

It’s an inexpensive archiving system, a highly effective means of preserving the motion picture heritage. Archived 35mm film stock remains stable for centuries under proper climactic conditions. With digital, however, the film industry is discovering that its core assets, its digital motion picture masters, aren’t as permanent as the film stock they’ve replaced. It’s a BIG problem, but studios, in their shortsighted quest for the bottom line, at least until recently, haven’t really been paying much attention.

And there’s an object lesson here for photographers, or at least those paying attention.

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Hasn’t digital made information of all kinds more available, and less expensive to produce? Isn’t it so much cheaper to shoot digitally, without the need for the expense and bother of film and the ridiculous analogue processes that sustain it? Well, it does, and it is, but unfortunately at the expense of the media’s permanence.

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In 2010 the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences released the results of a yearlong study of digital archiving in the movie business titled “The Digital Dilemma.” Their findings: To store a digital movie master costs about $12,514 a year, versus the $1,059 it costs to keep a conventional film master. And to keep the enormous amount of ancillary data – outtakes, alternative scenes, assorted ephemera –  produced when a picture is produced using digital processes, rather than on film — increases the cost of preservation to $208,569 a year, exponentially higher than the $486 it costs to dump the equivalent camera negatives, audio recordings, on-set photographs and annotated scripts of an all-film production into the Kansas salt mine. A film preservationist who helped prepare the academy’s report claimed that the problems with digital movie storage could cause the film industry a return “ to the early days, when they showed a picture for a week or two, and it was thrown away,”  what he referred to as “digital extinction” over a short span of years.

At present, copies of almost all studio movies, even those shot using digital processes, are still stored in 35mm film format, giving the movie 100 years or more of shelf life. Most modern motion pictures are edited digitally, and then are transferred to film, which results in images of lower quality than a pure film process, and this is what becomes stored for posterity. But the ongoing conversion of theaters to digital projection is sharply reducing the overall demand for film, eventually making it a problematic market for Kodak. If film were to go away, pure digital storage will be the norm, and with it the persistent problems of digital’s lack of permanence.

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In addition to digital’s lack of tangibility, digital hardware and storage media are much less stable than 35mm film. Hard drives fail in as little as two years when not regularly used, and even the most archival grade DVDs degrade and become unreadable within 2 decades. According to the report, only half of “archival quality disks” can be expected to last for 15 years. Digital audiotape tends to hit a “brick wall” when it degrades and becomes unreadable. Constant changes in technology only add to the digital confusion: as one generation of digital storage replaces the previous, archived materials must be transferred to the new format, or they eventually become unreadable. My graduate thesis, written on an 80’s era IBM and saved to one of those giant floppies, is unrecoverable 30 years later. There’s no equipment to read it. Meanwhile, every negative I’ve ever sleeved from 1971 onward is perfectly preserved in binders, ready to be wet-printed or scanned. Before your faith in technology causes you to dismiss this as anecdotal hysteria, consider this:  recently NASA discovered that they were unable to read digital data saved from a Viking space probe in 1975 because the format was now obsolete. Think about that.

“It’s been in the air since we started talking about doing things digitally,” Chris Cookson, president of Warner’s technical operations, said of the quandary facing motion picture archivists.  As the report put it, “If we allow technological obsolescence to repeat itself, we are tied either to continuously increasing costs — or worse — the failure to save important assets.” I would submit that it’s not just a quandary faced by the motion picture studios, but one faced by all of us who document our lives for the benefit of posterity. And it’s one you avoid or ignore at your own peril.

But, more so, a cultural peril. Each successive generation is the steward of its cultural memory. We bear the responsibility of handing down our memory to the future, but that stewardship can be problematic given the ephemeral nature of current digital technology. Digital technology may put the transmission of this knowledge at risk. Ironically, when the world is saturated with images, we run the concurrent risk of no image enduring. Our digital memories, the evidence of our lives,  now ‘exists’ only in a virtual world, a patter of 1’s and 0’s not really located anywhere, and, because of the accelerated pace of technological change and obsolescence, increasingly susceptible to degradation, erasure and loss. Meanwhile, traditional media, paper and film, is tangible, real, and can still be filed away and retrieved without the mediation of technology.

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When I was 12, my father bought me a camera. Crazy with my new found love of photography, I’d photograph the neighborhood kids at play. A year or two ago I pulled those early negatives from the shelf and found pictures of a young neighbor boy, a sweet little child I used to babysit, who had died suddenly and unexpectedly at three years of age from a viral infection. Confronting those pictures after 45 years, I realized I had in my possession something incomparably precious to someone somewhere, the recorded memory of a life tragically taken from a father, mother and siblings. The right thing to do was to see that they were returned to his family. To that end, I did an internet search and found his brother, and emailed him what I had found. Would he want these negatives I had of his brother, now 45 years gone?

Within minutes of sending my email I received a response. With it was attached a picture:

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It was a picture I had taken of his brother which I had given his mother shortly after his brother’s death. He told me he had had this picture on his bedside table for the last 40 years, and it was one of his most important possessions, something he had found comfort in since he was a child, since it perfectly captured how he remembered his brother, with a shy smile and happy eyes. Yes, of course, he would be incredibly grateful for any others I could send.

It was, even for me, an emotionally powerful experience, full as it was with the power of a simple photograph to memorialize the ineffable and conjure distant memory. I had given a profound gift to another human through the simple intercession of a photograph.

Photographs allow us to give this gift to the future. In 50 years, will your heirs retain possession of your photographic patrimony?

For a related post go here.

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Leica M2-R w/ matching DR Summicron and Goggles

My M2-R My M2-R2(click on photo to see larger definition photo)

This is a (my) beautiful collector grade Leica M2-R, 1969-70, no. 1249498, chrome, with a Summicron f/2 50mm lens no. 2181428, close-up finder and lens hood.

In 1960, Leitz contracted with the US Army to supply an M2 with rapid-load three prong take up spool. These were designated as the Leica M2S. After the Army cancelled the order in 1968, numbers 1248201-1250200 (2000 units) were designated Leica M2-R and were sold to the public in the States only through Leitz New York in 1969 and 1970.

Leitz sold the M2-R as a kit with a very late version of the 50/2.0 DR Summicron with close focusing goggles. The DR Summicron offered with the M2-R was a second generation optical design produced between 1956 and 1968.  The Summicron was a revolutionary design when first introduced in 1953 and has been updated optically only twice since. The DR Summicron was introduced in 1956 as the first iteration of the non-collapsible M-mount Summicron. This revised edition incorporated a harder front element and different geometry with the rear element recessed 4mm deeper than the collapsible version, with weight increased from 220g to 285g.

Both this lens and the Rigid are considered to represent the pinnacle of Leica’s manufacturing quality. The DR is also superb optically. A 50 DR measured the highest resolution ever tested by Modern Photography Magazine at over 100 lines per mm.

The DR Summicron  (SOMNI/11918) has two focusing ranges, normal and close focus to 19 inches. Later DR’s have a dual feet and meter focusing scale, with a simpler Leitz logo, and focus to 20 inches. The “goggles” (SDPOO/14002)  fit on the lens for close focusing and places ocular lenses in front of the M2-R’s rangefinder and viewfinder windows. All DR Summicrons are silver with the exception of 1 black paint unit made to special order.

M2-R’s with the late model DR Summicron command prices upwards of $3000-4000 depending on condition.

 

 

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Why We Shoot Film

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Results from the ILFORD PHOTO film survey

At the end of 2014 Ilford conducted a comprehensive international survey to help them better understand film users. Thousands of users from over 70 countries completed the survey and the results were inspiring.

That support for traditional film is growing was confirmed by the 30% of respondents who were aged under 35, with 60% of them using film for less than 5 years.

For many of those the interest began after receiving a film camera as a gift from family or a friend. Canon, Nikon, Mamiya, and Pentax cameras all featured strongly in the survey, with a large percentage also being bought on EBay.

Around 84% of respondents said that they had taught themselves how to use film with a little help from books and the Internet and more than 49% now develop and print their own pictures in a darkroom.

Of those who responded, 98% used black and white film with 31% shooting it exclusively. Just 2% use only colour film.

Interestingly 86% of respondents used roll film, and the Lomo and Holga cameras proved popular in this category.

On-line groups and Forums are used by 90% of respondents for product information and technical advice with a similar number finding what they need from www.ilfordphoto.com.
When asked “What first attracted you to using film?” comments included

“It’s fun”

“It’s retro”

“I wanted to slow down and really think about what I was doing rather than just shoot 15 versions of the same shot to get it right. As I have grown into film, I also enjoy the craft aspects of it. Developing etc.”

“The fact that there goes a lot more thinking in taking a photograph. Because of the “limitation” of 36/12 pictures on a roll you think more about a shot you take. While with digital you just shoot.”

Steven Brierley, Director of Sales and Marketing at HARMAN technology/ILFORD PHOTO, commented “Thanks to the film users who took part in this survey, we have confirmed what we thought, which is that the recent growth in film sales can be attributed to the new users coming through. We are providing support to these new users and making it easier for them to find darkrooms should they wish to. It’s a year since we launched localdarkroom.com and we now have over 650 tutors and sharers in more than 60 countries around the world. Without the support and help from the film community who complete our surveys, this couldn’t have happened”

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F11 and Be There! (Exposure for Dummies)

 

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One of three types of photographer is probably reading this: 1) A crusty old pro who knows everything about film photography and could teach me a thing or two; 2) A gearhead with the latest digital kit who stumbled upon this site while looking for Thorsteen Overgaard’s latest missive on the magical properties of the Leica Experience;  or 3) A younger photographer increasingly turned off by the dummy-proof automation of modern computerized cameras. This post is for those in camps #2 and #3, although I suspect a good portion the #2’s will dismiss it as the rantings of a bitter old man with no relevance to their Nikanon or Leica M or X and that big A on the shutter speed dial (“Dentist Mode”) that takes care of such pedestrian concerns. For those of you still paying attention, let me tell you a story.

Back in the day (i.e. until about 40 years ago), most professional cameras were not automated in any way. No electronic or computerized circuits to do any thinking for you. Just a purely mechanical light tight box with an aperture and shutter speed dial to control the flow of light onto the film plane. No exposure meter. This was true of the “real” Leica M’s, the  M2/M3/M4s hand assembled in Wetzler, the ones loved and used by most of the 20th century’s iconic documentarians. Yes, we had those annoying meters that would slide onto the accessory shoe, but they were bulky and inconvenient and they marked you as an incorrigible dilettante. Real photographers knew how to expose, external meter be damned.

Practice makes perfect. One benefit of using a meterless camera is the skill you develop in guestimating exposures. When I learned the intracacies of exposure in the 70s, I walked around with a hand held meter and estimated exposure for various lighting situations. After a few weeks, it became instinctual. Once you get the hang of it, the ability to see and correctly judge light, you’ve freed yourself from the tyranny of the machine.  You’re no longer a monkey pushing a button. You see more; you notice light in ways you’d miss when using the A setting and letting the machine do the thinking for you.

It also makes a great parlour trick, at least with your technologically sophisticated digital shooters using matrix metering on their bizooka sized Nikons and Canons. Never miss an opportunity to screw with them at their expense. I recently had a conversation with a nice woman, the wife of a friend, who has taken up wedding photography as a profession. We talked photography, and cameras, and the business of photography. I showed her my humble little Leica M2, a vintage curiousity to her, no doubt, and we spoke about how it worked, and about the subject of manual exposure, of which she was unfamiliar. I explained the Sunny 16 rule and demonstrated how it worked in practice, correctly estimating a number of varying exposure situations which she subsequently confirmed with her dSLR. She seemed amazed that i could accurately “guess” the correct exposure in differing lighting situations while she pushed buttons and changed meter matrixes with a serious expression on her face.

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On a cloudless sunny day, the correct exposure for any subject is f/16 at the shutter speed nearest to the film speed. For example, if you are using ISO 125 film (the now defunct Plus-X), the correct exposure would be 1/125 second at f/16.  This is called the “Sunny 16” rule. The “Sunny 16” rule gives us an base setting to use in mentally calculating exposure since it contains all the elements you need to know for proper exposure: film speed (ISO 125), aperture (f/16) and shutter speed (1/125).

Is it 100% accurate? No, but neither is your in camera light meter, which works with reflected light. If you need consistent, accurate meter readings, you need either 1) A grey card or 2) a hand held incident meter.  As a practical matter, your film has enough latitude to compensate for a guestimate a stop or two off. You ‘might’ lose some shadow detail, or your photo may need to be printed on a non-standard grade paper (or you could just fix it in Lightroom), but you’ll get the shot, which, of course, is what matters. You’re not Ansel Adams. Stop obsessing about tonal values and shoot the damn thing. This is not spectometry, its photography. The more you practice  the better you will be able to simply look at a lighting situation and immediately know the correct exposure for your purposes.

The “Sunny f/16” base setting, combined with your knowledge that each change of one step in a factor doubles or halves the exposure, makes it easy to select a correct exposure for any photographic situation you may be confronted with. Each step up or down in one variable represents a doubling or halving of the amount of light required to make a correct exposure. For example, an overcast day would halve the light falling on the subject. If the light reaching the film is cut in half, ONE other variable needs to be changed to increase (double) the amount of light. In this case the shutter speed could be reduced to 1/60 second OR the aperture could be increased to f/11 OR the film speed could be increased to ISO 200. Any ONE of these corrections would provide the correct amount of light. Make the correction that best suits your photographic purpose (decreased depth of field — the distance in front and behind of the subject that is acceptably in focus — or enhanced apparent subject motion).

In the same sense, a change in any of the variables can be offset by a reciprocal change in any other variable. For example, you may need a faster shutter speed to stop action. If you choose 1/500 second, the light will have been reduced by two steps (cut in half from 1/125 to 1/250 and cut it in half again from 1/250 to 1/500). You could compensate for this by opening up the aperture two steps (from f/16 to f/11 will double the light and f/11 to f/8 will double it again). You could also  make the same correction by increasing the film speed by two steps, called “pushing” a film (pushing an  ISO 100 film to ISO 200 doubles the light and from ISO 200 to ISO 400 doubles it again; so, a 100 ISO film rated at 400 ISO would be a “two stop push”). Or, you could increase the aperture to f/11 and push the film to ISO 200.

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 THE FINE PRINT

Film Speed:
Film speed is a number that indicates the sensitivity of film to light. Film sensitivity is measured by a set of standards established by the International Standards Organization (ISO).  The number series for film speed is:
25, 50, 100, 200, 400, 800, 1600, 3200
Moving to the right, each number is twice the preceding number, and represents twice the sensitivity to light as the preceding number. There may be some intermediate steps (such as 64 or 125) on your dial. Set the light meter or camera for the same number that is on the film.
This leaves only two things to adjust to achieve the correct exposure while making a photograph; shutter speed and aperture (f-stops).
Shutter Speed:
Shutter speed indicates how long the camera shutter remains open to let light onto the film. The number series for shutter speed is:
15, 8, 4, 2, 1, 2, 4, 8, 15, 30, 60, 125, 250, 500, 1000, 2000, 4000, 8000
These numbers are whole seconds or fractions of seconds. They aren’t expressed on your shutter speed dial as fractions, but that is what they represent:
15, 8, 4, 2, 1, 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, 1/151/30, 1/60, 1/125, 1/250, 1/500, 1/1000, 1/2000, 1/4000, 1/8000
Again, each number moving to the right is half the value of the preceding number, and represents half as much light as the preceding number.
Aperture (f-stops): 
Aperture refers to the size of the opening inside the lens that the light must go through to reach the film. Aperture is measured in f/stops as indicated in the series below:
1, 1.4, 2, 2.8, 4, 5.6, 8, 11, 16, 22, 32, 45
These are actually fractions. They should read as follows:
1/1, 1/1.4, 1/2, 1/2.8, 1/4, 1/5.6, 1/8, 1/111/161/22, 1/32, 1/45
Like the shutter speed series, each progression represents half as much light (moving to the right) as the preceding number.
The numbers represent the ratio of the focal length of the lens to the diameter of the lens diaphragm opening. The designation “f/2” means that the diameter of the aperture is 1/2 the focal length of the lens. The designation f/32 means that the diameter of the aperture is 1/32 the focal length of the lens. f/2 on a 100mm lens means that the diameter of the diaphragm opening is 100/2, or 50mm. The amount of light reaching the film is dependent on the SURFACE AREA of the opening,  NOT the DIAMETER. The method of calculating the surface area of a circle is Pi times the radius, squared (Pi is approximately 3.14; the radius is half the diameter, squared means that the number is multiplied by itself). Therefore, in our example, the surface area of the opening would be 3.14X25X25, or approximately 2000 sq. mm.
Looking at the next f/stop, which is f/2.8. 100/2.8=35.7mm. The surface area would be 3.14X17.85X17.85. If you multiply it out, you will see that the surface area is now approximately 1000 sq. mm, or HALF the surface area of f/2.Therefore, each succeeding smaller aperture lets in half as much light as the previous f/stop.

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Leica In the Nazi Era

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By the 1930s the family-owned firm of Leitz, Inc., was internationally recognized as a premier German brand.  During the Nazi period, and throughout WW2, Leitz produced cameras, range-finders, and other optical systems for the Nazis. The Nazi government needed hard currency from abroad, and Leitz’s single biggest market for optical goods was the United States.  It’s an inconvenient historical fact that might make many, even today, uneasy about patronizing Leica, Leitz’s corporate legacy.

As with much complicity during the Nazi era, the realities can be nuanced, making moral generalizations difficult. Certainly this is the case with Leitz family and its covert efforts to support and save German Jews. Like many German industrialists during the Nazi era, Leitz family patriarch Ernst Leitz II joined the Nazi Party and remained a member throughout the 1930s.  Recently however, historians have claimed that the Leitz family and Leitz as a company took an active role in quietly subverting Nazi harassment of German Jews, and many of these claims detail heroic efforts in behalf of German Jews by the Leitz family and the corporate edifice of Leitz, Inc. “The Greatest Invention of the Leitz Family: The Leica Freedom Train,” by Frank Dabba Smith, details the various ways the Leitz family and corporation acted in attempting to save its Jewish associates.

Upon Hitler’s ascension to power and the implementation of the Nuremberg laws, which restricted the movement of Jews and limited their professional activities, Ernst Leitz II began helping Jewish employees, acquaintances and families leave Germany.  Leitz established what has become known as “the Leica Freedom Train”, allowing Jews to leave Germany in their role as Leitz “employees” assigned overseas.  Employees, retailers, family members, friends of family members were “assigned” to Leitz sales offices in France, Britain, Hong Kong, and the United States.  After Kristallnacht in November, 1938, these overseas assignments intensified. Jewish “employees” and families would be sent by sea to New York, where executives in Leitz’s Manhattan offices helped them resettle and found them jobs in the New York photo industry.  Many new arrivals were given a Leica camera and paid a stipend by Leitz until they could find work. This “Leitz Freedom Train” reached its greatest urgency in 1938 and 1939, delivering groups of refugees to New York on a regular basis. At the time of the Nazi invasion of Poland on Sept. 1, 1939, when German borders were closed, hundreds of Leitz Jews had escaped to America with the covert assistance of the Leitz family and Leitz Inc. Out of this humanitarian migration came many designers, repair technicians, salespeople, marketers for the American photo industry and writers for the American photographic press.

Leitz’s actions in behalf of German Jews were not without consequences for the Leitz family and company management. The Nazis jailed Leitz executive Alfred Turk for friendliness toward Jews and freed him only after a large cash payment to the Reich. The Gestapo imprisoned Ernest Leitz’s daughter, Elsie Kuhn-Leitz, after they caught her helping Jewish employees cross into Switzerland. She had initially fallen under suspicion when she had attempted to improve the living conditions of 800 Ukrainian slave laborers who had been assigned by the Nazis to work in theLeitz’s Wetzlar production plant. After the war, Kuhn-Leitz received numerous honors for her humanitarian efforts, among them the Officer d’honneur des Palms Academic from France in 1965 and the Aristide Briand Medal from the European Academy in the 1970s.

Why are Leitz’s honorable actions during WW2 not more widely known? According to writer Norman Lipton, the Leitz family desired no publicity for its heroic efforts. Only after the last member of the family was dead did the “Leica Freedom Train” finally come to light.

 

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Can The Camera Shape the Photographer?

An interesting conversation with Mike Avina, Chris Farling, David Horton, Hector Isaac and Tom Young from www.observecollective.com. Some are photographers who have “graduated” from film to digital but still understand the enduring strengths of film capture, others having taken up photography in the digital era. A very germain conversation for those of us who use Leica rangefinders, whether film or digital.

A recent magazine ad for the Fujifilm X-T1 said, “The camera you carry is as important as the images you make.” But among street photographers, it is not cool to obsessively discuss “gear.” We take that for granted – cameras are just tools. While that is true, there is no better tonic for “photographers’ block” than a new camera or lens. Some photographers have truly found their vision when they switched to a certain camera. Back in the pre-digital days you had a camera. It was either a Leica, or an SLR. And you kept it forever. Today with so many choices of equipment, a photographer can pretty much find the perfect camera to suit their shooting style and personality. Or is it the other way around? In this post we hope to discover how the equipment a street photographer uses influences what their pictures look like.

OBSERVE
Chris, you were shooting with an Olympus E-P1. Your work was solid and gaining some notice. Then you bought an OM-D E-M5 in the spring of 2012 and it seems like your vision really blossomed. I immediately noticed the quality of your work ramp up several notches and that trend continues. Do you feel that you held a vision that the OM-D finally released? Or did the new equipment present possibilities the E-P1 didn’t… i.e., eye-level viewing, fast autofocus, etc.

Chris Farling (CF)
I don’t want to diss the E-P1 overmuch in that the E-P1 itself was a quantum leap over the fully automatic mode-style shooting of the digital point-and-shoots that I had owned over the previous decade. When I committed to ponying up the $$$ to buy the E-P1, I made a parallel commitment to being more serious in my study and practice of photography. It was with the E-P1 that I really dug into controlling aperture and shutter speed and exploring different focal lengths and lenses. I’m actually glad I started with a camera that had some clear limitations (no VF, iffy sensor, slow AF, & poor high-ISO), much the way you need to play the $&@! out of a student horn before moving onto a more powerful but perhaps more complicated or less forgiving instrument in music. Everyone starting out wants to buy some perfect camera that will make them a brilliant photographer overnight, but the paradox is that it’s only through working around limitations that you grow and develop good habits. If you start out with everything handed to you, it can breed in you a certain laziness and you’ll most likely get bored and frustrated.

The E-P1 was also my first experience using fixed prime lenses and that more than anything helped me to “see” as a street photographer would and to be able to pre-visualize frames to some degree. It was really a wonderful camera to experiment with and learn on and I don’t think I will ever sell it.

OBSERVE
So you’re saying that a more basic camera can provide a better learning experience?

CF
Exactly. It really did liberate me when I upgraded to the E-M5 along with the Oly 12mm f2 lens because I had much of the basics in place from the E-P1. Most of the gains weren’t surprising in that I knew what I wanted out of this new camera and what advantages it held over the old one. I honestly can’t imagine needing a more powerful camera in the foreseeable future.

OBSERVE
That was a pretty wide lens to start with! Just what are those advantages the E-M5 gives you?

CF
The one thing that I want from a camera more than anything else is versatility. And I include the lightweight form factor of the m4/3 system as a key part of that versatility. Not for me the heavy necklace of an SLR… I like to be able to shoot quickly and reflexively and so I don’t even want the camera to be on a strap. The E-M5’s EVF was a real boon to helping me execute better edge-to-edge compositions. I for one really like having all the settings info available in the EVF, though I know many prefer optical ones. The touchscreen, which allows you to tap a focal point or even to release the shutter directly, added even more flexibility. The almost instantaneous AF (as well as the simple zone focusing capability of the 12mm lens’s pull ring) meant that I could depend on my own sense of timing and reflexes and not worry that the camera wouldn’t respond when I was ready. The E-M5 helped me to learn more about on- and off-camera flash. Perhaps the most useful thing, surprisingly enough, was simply the extra customizable dial and button, allowing me to have immediate tactile access to virtually any setting I would want to change quickly in anticipation of the next shot. Also, it bears mentioning that the rich Olympus JPG quality from both cameras has influenced my color sensibility.

As much as I like the E-M5 and feel that it has helped me develop and execute my vision, I’ve since adopted the APS-C sensor Ricoh GR as my principal camera, reserving the E-M5 for special situations where I want the different lenses or the weatherproofing. In many ways, the Ricoh is a step backwards in quality and features, yet it is so perfectly portable and well-designed in its flexibility (a real photographer’s camera) that those advantages trump all other considerations. Plus there’s that awesome TAv mode that let’s you specify both aperture AND shutter speed… I find the Ricoh is the perfect camera for my style of quick close-in shooting with a fixed 28mm-equiv. and I suffer little when adapting it to other types of shooting.

Click for a gallery of images by Chris Farling

OBSERVE
So with the E-M5 you became accustomed to the convenience of customizable dials? That would make the GR a logical move because, since the line’s inception, it has been praised for its flexible interface. As DP Review said, “We’ve often referred to the Ricoh interface as arguably the best enthusiast-focused interface on a compact camera.”

David, you followed a similar path as Chris, moving from an E-P2 up to the OM-D E-M5. Among this group of photographers, you used the focal length closest to what is considered a “normal” lens: 20mm (40mm equivalent). There is less margin for framing errors than with a 28mm or even 35mm. As a graphic designer, tell us how the precise eye-level framing of the OM-D has influenced your photography, especially with the 20mm lens.

David Horton (DH)
When I first started dabbling in SP, I was using a Canon G9 which has a 35mm default lens. I liked that length a lot. When I moved to the E-P2, I opted for the Panasonic 20mm (40mm equiv.) because it was considerably faster than the 17mm Oly lens* (34mm equiv.) and it received considerably better ratings and reviews.

OBSERVE
*You mean the Olympus 17mm f2.8 Pancake, correct?

DH
Yes. Oly’s first 17mm prime did not have very good performance especially in the corners. Although I used the Pany 20mm almost exclusively for over a year (and was very pleased with the IQ of the lens), I often found the focal length limiting. I wished it was a little wider.

The primary reason I moved to the EM-5 was speed. Although I adapted to the slow autofocus of the E-P2, I was missing more and more shots. Although the add-on EVF on the E-P2 was acceptable, it was a bit cumbersome. I shoot exclusively through a viewfinder. So the ergonomic design of the built-in viewfinder on the EM5 was also very appealing. What I didn’t know until I received the camera is that, to benefit from the increased speed of the EM-5, you also had to have one of the newer Oly lenses. At the time I bought I camera, the fast Oly lenses only existed in 12mm and 45mm lenses. The 12mm (24mm equiv.) was too wide for me. I waited for at least three months for the rumored 17mm 1.8 lens to come out. (It was my dream lens.) I preordered it and got it as soon as it released. I’ve used it exclusively since the day I got it. The combination of the EM-5 and that lens is extremely fast.

The other thing I like about the EM-5 as opposed to something like the Fuji X100 (which I also considered) is the ability to change lenses. Although I rarely do, it’s nice to have that option. I always carry the 45mm 1.8 Oly lens (90m equiv.) with me too, just in case.

Click for a gallery of images by David Horton

OBSERVE
It is nice to have the ability to change lenses, particularly when on a trip, even if you don’t do it often.

Mike, you have used quite a variety of equipment, from Leica M3 to Sony RX1 and many things in between including compact P&S’s and the Ricoh GR. I know that you are a dedicated student of photography with a deep curiosity about what is possible. Does this explain your variety of equipment? You seem to always come back to shooting b&w and I have the impression that, ideally, film is your medium of choice and because of that much of your digital work looks like film.

Mike Aviña (MA)
I’d like to challenge the conventional wisdom of sticking to one camera and one lens. There is a time and a place for sticking to a narrow set of gear. When you get completely accustomed to one focal length and one camera the gear does become more intuitive, you can set up shots and frame them before you pull the camera up to your face because you know where to stand at what distance to include given elements. That said, smaller cameras have certain advantages: deep depth of field, very fast autofocus, and tilt-screens. There are world-class photographers that have discovered and exploited these advantages. I just purchased a published book shot entirely by phone–the images are superlative. I’ve made 12” by 16” prints from an LX7–they look great.

To answer your first question–yes, I prefer film. The dynamic range of film and the separation of subjects one can achieve with shallow depth of field on a fast lens is a necessary creative tool. I have never used complicated post-processing to add blur to digital images; this is a method that ends up looking artificial. A wide, fast lens on either a full-frame sensor or over film is therefore a must-have. Shallow depth of field however is only one tool and not one I use all or even most of the time.

OBSERVE
Arguably, you can come pretty close having a digital image file look like it was shot with film in post processing. But the methodology of shooting film is a whole ‘nother animal.

MA
Film versus digital is probably better left for another discussion! I also have an abiding love for small, pocketable, point-and-shoot cameras. As others have mentioned above, small cameras are easier to haul all day. In addition, shooting like a tourist, with innocuous little shots framed through the LCD rather than a viewfinder, is often more effective than pulling a big rig up to your face and clacking away. Even with a small rangefinder, people react more when you pull a camera up to your face than they do to an apparent tourist snapping casually with the LCD. I tend to frame faces off center; when using a wide angle lens this means people are often not sure they are in the shot because it isn’t clear you are shooting at them. The shooter and the subject have a complicit agreement to the fiction–the photographer is shooting something else; the subject ignores the shooter as long as it isn’t too intrusive. This helps one work close in crowded spaces. Having a bundle of different tools allows flexibility and simultaneous exploration of different creative options.

OBSERVE
You make a very good point Mike. Why shouldn’t we use whatever tool best suits the situation? Some of our peers carry dslr’s with a zoom lens mounted that will cover most scenes. Maybe one of them will comment to the pros and cons of a zoom.

Interesting path you have followed Chris… from LCD framing, to eye-level framing, back to LCD framing. I found myself “borrowing” the small Samsung EX2F I bought for my wife and became addicted to the tilt screen. I find that I am very comfortable shooting from waist level and I really prefer the perspective of that PoV, rather than “looking down” at everything from my 6’2″ eye level.

How hard was it to adjust back to the loose framing of the GR’s LCD screen versus the precise eye-level framing of the E-M5? The concrete canyons of NY offer some shade to better see the screen, but how do you frame in bright sunlight when you travel? How often do you use the optical viewfinder?

CF
I do use the optical viewfinder on the GR sometimes (in a way, it’s less obtrusive and noticeable than holding the camera out from your body) but I have a tougher time seeing all four edges of the frame in the viewfinder than I do with the screen. As wide as I generally shoot, I have to kind of scroll with my eye in each direction and that’s too limiting and slow for me. I also don’t like the tunnel vision that develops where you can’t receive new information about the way the scene is changing and what’s happening on the margins with your peripheral vision. With the OVF, you also don’t see the central AF point if you’re using that to lock AF and then recompose. It may seem like a minor point, but I’m also very left-eye dominant so I have to block my whole face with the camera when using the VF, even if it was a corner-mounted one.

OBSERVE
An interesting observation I have made is how most of us frame on an LCD using both eyes, but frame through an eye level viewfinder with one eye closed. Truth be told, for street photography, framing using any device is probably best done with both eyes open, but a hard habit to get into with an eye level viewfinder. I find an optical viewfinder more conducive to shooting with both eyes open and it gives you the advantage of seeing what is going on outside of, and about to enter or leave the frame.

CF
That is an interesting point about shooting with both eyes open. That may be what I like about using the LCD of the GR. Viewing the LCD in sunlight hasn’t bothered me too much with either the E-M5 or the GRD since the screens can be made pretty bright. Most of the time your own body acts as shade and, even when it doesn’t, you can still easily see which shapes and areas of light and dark correspond to what you’re seeing with the naked eye. I think it’s actually kind of cool having a slight degree of abstraction (less detail) when considering the composition, the same way a photo thumbnail is often easier to use for judging the effectiveness of a composition in editing than the enlarged version.

It’s also interesting that you say you prefer shooting from a more mid-body angle than always looking down at everything. Being 6’2’’, I have the same issue and, while using the 12mm lens almost exclusively for a year, I became cognizant of the great care one must take in controlling the perspective distortion with a wide-angle lens. Even having backed off to the 28-mm equiv. of the Ricoh, I still think that the default orientation with such a lens should be relatively straight on and not tilted excessively.

DH
My biggest gripe with the EM-5 is you have to rely too heavily on the digital interface. I wish there were manual knobs to adjust the ISO, aperture, and shutter speed. Since I don’t use the LCD, I have it turned off. To adjust any of these settings, I either have to hold the camera to my eye and turn the knobs or turn the LCD on and adjust them. Neither option is ideal or fast enough. This is what I find so appealing about the X100 or a Leica. I also can’t wait until they design better battery life for these digital cameras. As Chris can tell you (from spending a day shooting with me), I opt to carry a number of batteries with me than worry about preserving battery life in the camera. I turn it on and leave it on. When I need to react quickly, I don’t want to have to wonder if the screen’s going to be black when I bring it to my eye.

OBSERVE
That’s what evolution has brought to cameras, David. With a basic film camera, like an M3 or Nikon F you have two settings: shutter speed and aperture… and, of course, focus (and film choice). Cramming so many features into a small digital camera leads to compromises.

Mike made a good point about not limiting ourselves to a single tool. Sometimes we tend to set unnecessary limitations for ourselves. Although we may at any given time favor a particular set of gear, I think most of us here have more than a single camera. We always have the option to change cameras if a project or different direction comes to us Having your equipment be intuitive is the most compelling reason for limiting equipment choices. When I saw you this last summer Mike, you were using the Sony RX1. The IQ is the obvious reason why this camera has a strong following. Is it your perfect camera? If not, what would be? The others can answer this as well.

MA
The M3 is, for me, more or less the perfect camera–I am just reluctant to keep spending the money on film. The chemicals also concern me. For an everyday digital shooter the Ricoh GR may be my favorite. The RX1 has laggy autofocus which hinders the advantage of the high IQ and beautiful rendering that the Zeiss lens offers.

Click for a gallery of images by Mike Aviña

OBSERVE
David, you mention that you use an eye level viewfinder exclusively–is that because you want precise framing? How come you didn’t gravitate toward a DSLR? There are plenty of choices in size and features to fit any budget and many SP’ers use them. Was it because you already had m4/3 glass?

DH
I certainly find my framing more precise and that’s certainly one of the primary reasons I shoot this way. Perhaps, the more significant reason is that I feel “more at one” with the camera and the subject(s). I shoot a lot of portraiture and even when I’m not shooting conventional portraiture, it’s very important that I’m in sync and “connected” with my subjects. Facial expressions and details are very important to me; these are impossible for me to see if I’m relying on a screen. Shooting with a screen is fine for shapes and loose compositions but it’s not very precise—certainly not precise enough for me.

The reason I’m not interested in a DSLR is size. I don’t like to draw attention to the camera and a DSLR certainly does that. I’m also not interested in lugging one of those suckers around the city on a regular basis. I will occasionally lust after the IQ of DSLR sensors but the trade off is not worth it to me. I’ve spent the day shooting with friends that use DSLRs and after a day walking 10 miles around a city, they are not happy campers. The smaller and lighter the camera, the more likely you are to bring it with you.

OBSERVE
Tom, you use a full-frame DSLR. While the 5D is not huge by DSLR standards, it is huge in terms of what everyone else here uses. Obviously it’s hard to be inconspicuous. How do you work around that? I would assume that the quality and precise framing a DSLR offers is important to the type of pictures you want to create.

Tom Young (TY)
There’s a number of different reasons I shoot with an SLR. For one thing, I don’t only shoot street. I also do weddings, events, the odd corporate photography gig. I even shoot landscapes! Egad! So while the 5D is a big rig, for many of the situations I find myself using my camera its size doesn’t really matter, and its image quality is definitely a plus.

But for my street work it can also be an asset. I shoot in a town that is really dark in the winter. During the darkest months, the sun doesn’t get up until after I get to my day job, and is already down again before I leave. And I dabble a bit with flash, but available light is generally my preference. I love the night, really, the strong contrast, dramatic brightness surrounded by black. The full-frame SLR lets me work in that environment and still get nice clean shots.

OBSERVE
I would imagine the high ISO image quality to be a must in the arctic. But how do you deal with subjects when they see you pointing that big honker at them?

TY
Hey wait a minute, Edmonton may be north, but it’s not the artic!!! I find that the right attitude is the key to remaining inconspicuous. People may be more likely to notice my camera because it’s big, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they will care what I’m doing with it. When I first started shooting street, it seemed that people noticed me more than they do now, probably because I spent a lot of time sweating bullets about what I was doing. I really didn’t want to be noticed. And I assumed people would think it was odd. I hadn’t squared in my own head what my motive was. I knew what types of images I wanted to produce, but I didn’t have a clear sense of purpose. Best way to stand out in a crowd? Look embarrassed or uncomfortable while wielding a big camera, or worse, a small camera.

OBSERVE
That is excellent advice Tom.

TY
With experience, that fear has dropped way off for me. Now, when I pull out my camera, I’m pretty confident about what I’m doing. And while the odd person may raise an eyebrow, most people don’t seem to think anything is unusual about what I’m up to. I can only assume that means that I look like I belong in the landscape now. Hidden in plain sight, in a sense, despite the fact that I don’t really try to hide my activities any more. So I think the knock against SLRs being too big for street work is a little overblown.

Mind you, it probably helps that I’m not a terribly in-your-face shooter. If I was shooting Gilden-style, the big camera might tip people off before I could get close enough…

Click for a gallery of images by Tom Young

OBSERVE
A lot of photographers feel that anything longer than 50mm equiv, or even 35mm, is “against the rules” for street photography. How do any of you feel about that David? You sometimes use the Olympus 45mm f1.8 (90mm equivalent).

DH
I think many “rules” of street photography are pretty ridiculous. I try not to pay a lot of attention to the rules. I believe all that really matters is the success of the shot. Yes, there is an energy and authenticity that comes from a wider lens that is very appropriate for the street—there’s good reason most of us use them most of the time. But limiting yourself to that perspective exclusively is a bit short-sighted (sorry, couldn’t help myself). A lot of magic can happen when compressing images. It can be a very painterly way of seeing, especially with a large aperture. You paint with colors and shapes rather than objects or subjects. It’s a slower, more studied way of seeing. Saul Leiter is a perfect example of this. It all depends on the mood you’re trying to achieve, the story you’re trying to tell.

OBSERVE
You shoot with a Fuji x100, Hector. Am I correct in understanding this is your first camera? You don’t have previous experience with film? The x100 is a popular camera with street photographers. You mentioned that it took awhile for you to feel comfortable with it. I have heard other reports that there was a steep learning curve with this camera. How does the hybrid viewfinder help or limit your shooting style? Is a fixed focal length limiting… do you ever wish it was a little wider, or longer?

Hector Issac (HI)
You are correct, Greg, I had no previous experience with film or any other medium and the Fujifilm x100 was my first camera. Recently, I was asked by a friend… Why that camera? I didn’t have an answer. I still don’t, but I’m glad I got it.

For most of those coming with a broader photographic background, the x100 was a struggle, for me it was a love/hate situation that still exists. After my first try, I almost sold it, then it was left on the shelf for one or two months. It took me about another three to four months to get comfortable enough to get what I wanted. The main issue back then (cough cough) was the autofocus, well … it sucked, so I decided to learn to work manually and zone focus, rather than sell the camera and buy another… Best decision I ever made.

I’m a bit obsessive when I’m interesting in learning something, so my learning curve was rather steep given the amount of time I spent to learn my camera and about photography in general. The hybrid viewfinder helped me learn the camera’s frame lines, even if the lag was a problem.

OBSERVE
Thanks Hector. I have heard from others that the x100 has a steep learning curve. But those who master it love it to the point of becoming evangelists. Interesting choice as a first camera but it seems that diving in on the deep end and making the commitment has served you well!

There are many ways a photographer’s equipment choices shape the pictures they produce. Even though the street photography genre has been slow to embrace anything other than straight, unmanipulated images, today we have so many more choices in equipment and post processing than we did on the pre-digital era. While it should be easy to create a signature look, remarkably much of today’s street photography is fairly homogenous.

 

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The Leica Camera: A Tool, or a Luxury Item?

Feiniger 1952

Leica started out as maker of small, simple cameras. If you needed a small, exceptionally well designed and made 35mm film camera, they offered you the tool. Any elitism that accompanied the Leica camera was a result of its status as the best built, most robust, and simplest photographic solution. You paid for the quality Leica embodied.

Over time, as technology trends accelerated and Japanese manufacturers like Nikon and Canon grabbed the professional market, Leica shifted gears, no longer competing on whether or not their rangefinder cameras were the most useful or most efficient tools for a given purpose, although, for certain limited purposes – simplicity, quietness, discreteness, build quality – they remained exceptional as tools. Starting with the digital age, Leica now competed primarily on luxury, which is a fundamentally different promise than the optimal design of a tool.

Leica is now a luxury tools company. The cameras they sell cost more, but some photographers still choose them, some for the identity that comes along with the use of a luxury good and some for the placebo effect of thinking one’s photographs will improve by virtue of some special quality it is assumed Leica possess. But there remain some of us who still use Leicas because a Leica rangefinder is still the most functional tool for us in the limited ways they always were. We still identify with Leica not a a luxury good but primarily as a maker of exceptional tools, and this creates the ambivalence many of use feel towards the brand as currently incarnated. The ambivalence is a result of the tension of a Leica as a tool versus a luxury item.

Its a tension that Leica is having a difficult time navigating too. As a luxury item producer, Leica probably doesn’t care that its cameras aren’t cutting edge. On the other hand, Leica knows it will not survive if its product is not seen as a preferred choice of the status conscious. At some point in the evolution of every luxury branded tool, users who care more about tools than about luxury shift away to more functional options. You see this today in Leica purchasers’ demographics; the brand is perpetuated largely by those who identify a Leica as a status marker, whether that Leica be a used M purchased on Ebay by someone come of age in the digital era who wants to The Leica Experience, or a new digital M purchased largely by an affluent amateur. Professionals and serious amateurs who need the services of a small, discreet camera system have largely migrated to more sophisticated, less expensive options like the cameras Fuji is currently offering.

I suspect that the era of Leica as a working tool is gone, but the silver lining is that there remains a small but dedicated following who values mechanical Leica film cameras still as a functioning tool, and hopefully there will remain those who cater to them and service them. It would be a shame if that portion of Leica’s heritage were to be lost.

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The End of Photography As We Know It

smartphones-at-concert

“Nothing Regresses Like Progress” – e.e. cummings

Milan Kundara, in his novel Slowness, notes the bond between slowness and memory, speed and forgetting.  Making the same point in a different way, Woody Allen tells about his experience of enrolling in a speed reading course. He read War and Peace in 20 minutes. The book, he says, “is about Russia.” For some reason, this makes me think of current photographic culture.

Digital technology has transformed photography, both in its practice and its cultural role. 1.8 billion images will be put online in 2014, and the increase is exponential: this is a 50% increase over 2013. The average person consumes around 5,000 images daily. In 1900, the total number of photographs in the entire world was around 2 million; in 2000 it was 85 billion and in 2015 it will be 3.8 trillion. In 2013, 25% of all of these images made were taken with smartphones, presumably by folks who don’t think of themselves as “photographers.”  As a result of this image explosion and the technological advances making it possible, photography is no longer a specialist language. it is now a universal language, spoken via social media, most of it inconsequential chatter. We have entered the fast food era of photography. Photography has become one more experience of people whose lives are full of frenetic activity, the means for a speedy delivery of cheap sensations — individuals as nerve endings in an endless social network.

………………………

But there has also been a change in the pace of photography as a practice – the photograph instantly produced and transmitted,  and then just as quickly forgotten.

Digital partisans often think that nothing useful can be learned from the indigenous craft of traditional silver based photography. Most claim that it has been superceded by the ease, speed and potential of digital. Analogue photography is widely seen as a dead technology. But Film affords a return to the ruminative, something that has gotten lost with the ease and speed of digital. Slowing down via the processes of traditional photography can be a potent cure for the motion sickness of modern digital technology. Film photography is gourmet cooking in a fast food culture.

In today’s age of instant results, the protracted processes of film – taking, developing, proofing, reviewing, printing –  seem an obvious drawback, but in reality it is one of film photography’s strengths.  With traditional photography we are subject to the time between the shutter press and the final result. It allowed time to pass so you could clear your mind of the moment and have a more objective view of what you’d produced. It allowed a space for reflection divorced from the immediacy of the moment, gave a value, a weight to the significance of what you’d produced by virtue of the enlarged contextual frame time afforded. A printed silver halide photography became its own thing, a few steps removed from the immediacy of the moment. I’m convinced that the instantaneous nature of current technology has made us worse as photographers, more impoverished as visual artists. We’ve gained speed at the expense of reflection.

Creative products summoned at speed are not likely to be the best but simply the first, the automatic or habitual response as opposed to the reflective or idiomatic. Subtlety and nuance are lost at speed. Its the difference between traveling at 80 mph on the Interstate, where everything basically looks the same, and traveling a back road by bicycle. You simply see more when you slow down, and photography is dependent on refined seeing.

………………………

There is always the danger, in these kinds of discussions, of indulgence in nostalgia, that to question the momentum of new technologies is to declare yourself willfully ignorant, a present day Ned Ludd. I think us who cut our teeth photographically in the analogue age should remain unapologetic, speaking for what might be thought of as a proper understanding of the proportions and values of photography as a practice. Yes, digital imaging offers us new forms of stimulus and engagement and can be captured without fuss and instantly disseminated worldwide at a touch. While I’m not competent to weigh the competing claims, one thing is absolutely clear to me:  today’s immediate images are fundamentally different from a traditional printed photograph, a function of their instantaneous nature but also of the lack of the tangible and a more questionable indexical relationship of the digital image to reality. Whatever, it is indisputable that digital imaging will bring with it new forms of seeing, memory and even consciousness. But what is also clear is something important embedded in our traditional notion of photography as a practice is susceptible to being lost unless we acknowledge its value and take active steps to preserve it.

A little Luddism might go a long way; but so, too, would a photographic culture obsessed less with innovation and more with deceleration and the time needed for contemplation. Traditionally, Photography as a craft was above all a vehicle of contemplation and meditation, a way to achieve deep levels of absorption in a creative activity. The flexibility and autonomy of digital photography is now ours — but ironically, for many of us the constraints inherent in traditional processes now seem like freedom. Digital technologies outsource our creative tasks to automated technology, essentially stripping the process of its primary purpose. Today, the primary value of slow photography is as a means for deceleration, for therapeutic rather than the mundane  purposes of daily life.

Formerly we lived moving back and forth between two poles, the solitude of making and the connectedness of communion, privacy and public interaction. The new imaging reality puts us somewhere in between, removing the requirement of technical competence  while constricting the role of photography to mundane communication.

I suspect, when everything shakes out, that the photography/imaging divide will walk the line of communication versus creative expression, the immediacy of digital communication versus the handicraft of individual expression embodied by traditional analogue photographic processes. The dedicated “photographer” will have to tolerate being irredeemably at odds with a world of ever “smarter” photographic instruments operated by ever less capable “Imagists.”

So, film photography is dead to the extent that it might compete with digital imaging on equal footing, deigning to do what digital does but just differently. Rather, film photography is becoming an emergent countering medium, valuing slowness and re-engagement with material process. It signals a desire to return photography to a handcrafted and artisinal skill. Hopefully, a new generation will learn the same lessons film users were taught by photography. I hate to think of what the consequences will be if we continue on our track of relentless digital mediation. Will we see our hard won skills eroded, our intelligence debased, and our work devalued, if we sacrifice human responsibility to black boxes full of microchips and organic sensors?

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I see the re-emergence of film photography as the tip of a cultural iceberg, a gathering opposition to the flourishing digital ethos in a visual culture gone rudderless on a sea of digitized Ones and Zeroes. It is the renewed recognition of a value placed upon the sense of connection to one’s creative tools, at least in the visual realm. It will be made difficult by the unrelenting corporate greed constantly pushing newer imaging technology upon us.  What we need is faith in the essential simplicity of photography, its possibilities. This will not be easily offered. It will have to be fought for, and fighting will require us to find one another in common cause. Photography depends for its existence on photographers, and in the future we will be in very short supply.

Hits: 1969

Educating The Digital Generation

 
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Young photographer: “I had the pleasure to use a Leica M3 once. That’s a cool old camera. I can see why people still use them, the “retro” thing and all.”

Older Photographer: “It is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? Weren’t you surprised at its mass? Heavy as a brick, isn’t it? Built to last a few lifetimes. They certainly don’t make em like that anymore.”

 Young photographer: “Yeah, a friend had recently bought it after reading about it on the net. He’s really into film these days. Sold all his digital gear and now looks down his nose at digital photography. Says its for “chimps.” Pretty condescending, but he’s a decent guy, and he did let me use it to take a few photos, even though he seemed reluctant to let me handle it.”

Older Photographer: “A true friend.  I would only ever lend mine to a person who understands the value of the instrument.  Sounds like your friend knew you would appreciate it.”

Young photographer: “Yeah, its build felt so solid. You can tell immediately that its a precision instrument.”

Older Photographer: “Like a microscope or other lab instrument from the house of Leitz or Zeiss.  That culture inspired the high quality instruments of the 50’s and 60’s, cameras that could be used for life and inherited … before plastic and silicon.  Think about this:  The plastic, automatic, battery-driven camera has been around since 1980 or there abouts… 35 years.  How many plastic cameras from that time are collectible and working today?”

Young photographer: “Good point. Although my friend’s Leica camera seemed hopelessly simple. It confused me. I mean, in this day and age of computers and smart technology, it just seemed so low tech. Like driving a 1956 Cadillac across country when you could be driving the latest Lexus. It sounds romantic and all until the car overheats and leaves you on the side of the road in some god-forsaken hell-hole in Arkansas. For example, I put the camera to my eye and tried to half click the shutter to lock focus and exposure……”

Older Photographer: “Half?!  There’s nothing half about a Leica M.”

Young photographer: “….and then I realized that there was no half click option and I had already released the shutter and taken a picture!”

Older Photographer: “Yeah, but did you feel how buttery smooth the shutter release was and how quiet it was? Beautiful, huh? It just feels so right, and it’s also very functional for slow shutter speed use in low light because its very easy to release the shutter without shaking the camera.”

Young photographer: “Then, of course, I reflexively turned to the back of the camera where the LCD should have been and realized there was no screen to view the image, only a blank piece of plastic. Duh! It’s a film camera!”

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Older Photographer: “That blank looking door on the back only looks like plastic.  That’s a little frame that flips out to help with film loading.  Next time you see your friend, check and see if he’s gotten into the digital Leicas yet.  If so, it’ll have an LCD on the back but it will feel in a lot of ways like the older M film cameras. That’s why a lot of us older guys buy the digital versions; not because they’re intrinsically better (only rich dentists or dilettantes you find obsessively posting on gearhead websites think that) but because they feel comfortable, like an old shoe. It’s what we know.”

Young photographer: “Yeah, I get that, but man, I understand the Leica glass is amazing. Corner to corner sharpness. Great bokeh. Apparently they make it with some rare glass that costs a ton of money. Anyway, so after I realize I can’t see my exposure on an LCD, my friend came over and asked me what exposure and aperture combination I had chosen. I assumed it had been on Auto so I told him I really didn’t know. Apparently, there is no Auto setting on the camera. Honest mistake. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a camera before that didn’t have an Auto setting. Teutonic simplicity is what my friend says. He seems to think you’re “not really a photographer” if you use Auto modes. He even mentioned the Leica M7 somewhat dismissively. I think this whole business, what he calls “purity of vision,” is pretty pretentious. But the cameras do look and feel cool; there really is a beauty about them as instruments.”

Older Photographer: “Speaking of automation, there actually are a number of automatic features on the Leica M, but not the ones that come to mind in the present era. For example,
1. When one removes the bottom to change film, the film counter automatically resets to zero.
2. When one advances the film the camera automatically charges the shutter and automatically increments the frame counter.
3. When the yellow image in the viewfinder is superimposed on the main image, the lens is automatically set to perfect focus an any light.
4. When one then looks at the scale on the lens, it automatically displays the depth of field for that focus setting.
5. When one changes from one lens to another, it automatically displays the correct frame lines for that lens.
6. When one sets shutter speed, aperture, or focus, the camera automatically and faithfully does exactly whatever it was commanded, no more and no less, and no guessing on its part.
7. When one overexposes or underexposes a record of the fact is automatically recorded on a piece of film for further evaluation. Learning happens, automatically.
8. When one uses this (or any) camera for an extended period of time, required actions become second nature.  This is a kind of automation too, like riding a bike, swimming, or shifting gears.
9. The M7, M8, and M9 do have aperture priority AE. This was a major departure from all-manual by Leica. Purists like your friend call this “Dentist Mode.”
Incidentally, one will see “AUTO” engraved on a lot of old SLR primes, confusing new image makers. The lenses automatically open wide for focusing, then automatically stop down to the selected taking aperture for exposure, then automatically re-open again for bright viewing.”

Young photographer: “Yeah, my friend explained to me that I had to manually set the shutter speed and aperture. When I asked him what the proper settings were, he said I’d need to learn to accurately judge various lighting conditions because the M3 had no exposure meter. I was like, WTF?”

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Older Photographer: “Well, it certainly can be confusing if you’ve grown up with a digital camera, that’s for sure. Most of us old guys use hand meters, and there are also clip-on meters that slot into the hotshoe on the top of the camera that you can use, but your friend was right; back in the day we used our best estimate of exposure. You’d be surprised how good you can get with a little practice. It becomes second nature.  Some people, sounds like your friend too, argue that you really don’t understand the craft of photography until you truly comprehend exposure; you know, aperture, shutter speeds, how and when to vary them to achieve the effect you want, what exposure values to use in different lighting conditions and at different ASA – I mean ISO – ratings, things like that. But now that everything is automated, you probably don’t need to know that stuff anymore. Your camera does it for you. I wouldn’t worry about it, unless, of course, you catch the film camera bug like your friend.”

Young photographer: “Yeah, and its not just exposure, its focus as well. My friend asked me if my focus was good, which also confused me. The camera sets focus, right? So I was like, yes,  it certainly looked like everything was in focus in the viewfinder. …. He asked “Did you align the two images ?” And, embarrassingly enough, I was like “align what?” Not my best moment I agree.”

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Older Photographer: “Well, the rangefinder camera certainly is a different beast, and its not your fault you didn’t realize the camera had no autofocus. Speaking of which, its fascinating how the rangefinder came about; it had its beginning with artillery.  Some of the early ones for cameras were accessories, miniature hand-held versions of what goes on ships to direct cannon fire.  It was a pretty clever thing to put a cam on the lens of a camera to operate a rangefinder device.  The one on the M3 is an amazing feat of mechanical engineering, although for my money the rangefinder in the Contax II is probably the best one ever put into a 35mm camera. Old Contax don’t have the hipster cache apparently, though.

Young Photographer: “Well that was my first and unfortunately last experience with a Leica camera. He never did offer it to me again and I suspect its because he’s become really picky about that camera, like its too valuable to use. I go over to his house and he sits in his chair and practices using the camera without any film in it. Says he’s “exercising the shutter” to keep the low speeds from sticking.

But, you know, in spite of all that there’s just something really cool about an old Leica. It’s exclusive. It projects an image of refinement. And from everything I’ve heard, the glass is so good you can pick out Leica photos pretty easy. I’ve got half a mind to buy one to use shooting weddings. Black and white film wedding photography; expanding market for that retro look. I was thinking an M4 with a good zoom, maybe a Sigma until I can find the money for a Noctilux or Summicron; I’ve heard the M4 has the best viewfinder of all the M’s. How cool would that be, doing a wedding with something like that!?!??”

Older Photographer: “Well, best of luck with your new business.  Work hard, learn your craft and most importantly, pick the right tools for the job and know how to use them. And if you ever travel my way, let’s meet up.  You can use one of my Leicas for the day, get to know it a little better before you jump in feet first. I’ll even thaw some film for the occasion.  And, if you let me use your 5D, I’ll be happy to take your picture holding my Leica. You can use it on you website.”
 

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It’s Good to be King

Sheik M6

Auction house Bonhams is hosting the Fine Leica Centenary Sale in Hong Kong this Saturday, November 29. The auction spans most of the brand’s history, including cameras from the early 1930s through 2014. There are 84 lots total. Two of these are Leica ephemera (an advertisement and a display sign), seven are lenses, and the remaining 75 are camera bodies, bodies with lenses, or self-contained cameras.

Included in the auction is one of a collection of 16 Leica M6 TTLs, (shown above), made for  Sheikh Saud Bin Mohammed Bin Ali Al-Thani, the one-time owner of the world’s most expensive watch.  Sixteen Leica M6 Al-Thani cameras were made to be used as prizes for the winners of the annual Sheikh Saud Bin Mohammed Bin Ali Al-Thani Photography Competition held in Qatar. This camera was won by Robert Fulton of Scotland for his image “Winter Trees,” which was the overall winner of the Al-Thani Grand Prix 2013. This camera is believed to be only the second example to have been offered at auction.

It is expected to fetch $40,000 to $57,000.

Sheik

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In addition, Bonhams is also auctioning a Luxus Leica, with gilt top and base plates and fittings, red faux snakeskin body covering and matching Elmar f/3.5 50mm lens, the camera that started the over-the-top Leica luxury edition craze some 90 years ago, proving that arguably tasteless collector editions have been part of Leica’s DNA since the beginning. It’s expected to fetch between $480,000 and $640,000, exclusive of Bonham’s 25% commission.

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Are Leicas Still Relevant? Two Gearheads Debate

Sothebys

 

 I see the merit in both positions. Of course, any debate about the continued relevance of Leica M must start with the introduction of the Nikon F…...

A…Then came Nikons, and they took over quickly because they were the first camera system in a long time that was significantly better than or equal to Leicas in almost every way that counted to working photographers.

B. It’s a point. The Nikon F was indeed a better system solution than even the world’s best rangefinder, well matched to the requirements of most journalists of the time.  However, for the more deliberate shooter who prefers a quiet, small, stable, unobtrusive photographic instrument with superb optics, excelling in low light, the M continued to have an important place to play. Many documentary, newspaper and magazine photographers used Leica M’s until recent times. I doubt that their subjects even knew what a Leica was. They used those cameras for good business reasons, IMO, not for status, and especially not so if status would have gotten in the way of their work.

A. All that was left for Leica was the legendary status, and, less so, the fact that, although outmatched in almost every way, they were still well-made cameras. When your product is not even close to being able to take on the competition (i.e. Nikon in this case), you can no longer rely on the product itself to keep you in business.

B. Well, they have had their troubles, haven’t they? Somehow they persist. An old photographer told me back in the sixties “Cameras come, and cameras go, but the Leica remains.” I laughed at him. I’m not laughing anymore. With all due respect, one limitation in your logic, IMO, is the notion that a camera wins by doing more things better, even if in the process it does a few important things worse.

A. The Leica mystique was always perpetuated to some degree by the company, and when the cameras gradually phased out in the wake of Nikons, I think Leitz came to rely on their legendary status to keep themselves in business.

B. They were phased out? The M is the only 35mm camera I know of that has persisted from 1953 to the present day with a single common mount and unbroken product continuity. If I am not mistaken, its latest iteration is one of the smallest full-frame digitals in the market space, and is selling well. I wonder if any of the photographers who once used the film M’s will be using digital Ms for their work. I would bet that there will be some who do. SLRs cannot do everything best. It’s a fact. My 1950’s M3 and Summicron can still be serviced by numerous skilled technicians. My Nikon F has poorer support. Thankfully, it does not need much of it. The Nikon just keeps on going, like that Energizer Bunny. But the Leica M3 is definitely superior in fit, finish, and operation.

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A. The sentimentality of those who had grown up with and made their livings on the legendary Leicas of yore was stoked by the company and passed down from generation to generation.

B. Probably so. One sells however he can. As we all know, many of the most memorable images in history were recorded by great photographers using Leica rangefinders. And those images did not cease in 1959, with the appearance of the F.

A. Now we have exorbitantly priced Leica cameras that are no better than what the company made when Nikon first blew them out of the water. Think about it.

B. Yes, the early M’s really were that good. May they always be as well made. Rock solid, heavy and stable, smooth as butter, quiet as a mouse, unobtrusive, wonderful in available darkness, terrific for candid imaging. A tool that in some few ways cannot be matched by an SLR or a dSLR.

A. How the heck else is a company supposed to stay in business with a product that was handily outmatched fifty years ago?

B. It wasn’t categorically outmatched, and it hasn’t been. It became a less suitable match than an SLR for a majority of users. It remained popular for some others for a few very good reasons. How do you compare a wrench to pliers? These are completely different tools. As to how Leica survives, they will have to figure that out for themselves. The M9 and S2 seem to have some promise. I wish them luck, as that is all I have to offer them.

A. When your product is no longer competitive, you don’t sell the product. You sell something more than the product. The product simply becomes a vehicle for the purchase of status.

B. As I said, one must pitch it however it will sell, always putting it in its best light. Thankfully, the fact that some people buy it for status is wholly unknown to the Leica. It just does what it does. And that’s what matters for those who actually use Leica M’s regularly. Anytime I don’t need the special capabilities of an SLR, I shoot with the Leica. I just like it. And as for the status, most folks seeing an old guy like me with an obviously ancient metal camera are more likely to have pity than envy. They don’t even know what it is, nor do they take it seriously. That’s a good thing in candid imaging, actually. Quite easy to mix in with folks.

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A. Make no mistake. Leicas are primarily luxury/leisure items, and have been for decades.

B. Matters not to me. Mine has no red dot. I paid $600 for the camera in the 90s and another $250 to clean, lubricate and adjust. I have no doubt that if I sold it today, I could recover about that. Now think about this: The cost of ownership would be nearly ZERO. What other camera matches that? The cost of ownership is so attractively low that its hard to say no. And if you don’t like the Leica, someone else will. Hardly any other camera has so little risk to the owner as an M. Maybe Hasselblad 500c or a classic Rollei.

A. The way I see it, the trick to getting around this overpriced idiocy, and to simply get your hands on an excellent rangefinder camera, is to realize that the company has made no significant upgrades for 90% of truly serious shooters since the M2. If you want a quality rangefinder that simply gets the job done in an old-fashioned manner, don’t buy anything past the M2, and do not fall for any of the collector garbage.

B. On this we agree mostly. If somebody is dumb enough to buy a gold plated Leica with ostrich skin for a million dollars, then good for them and Leica. It’s nothing to me. If it helps Leica survive, then maybe parts for the M’s will continue in manufacture longer.

A. Realize that no matter how good everyone proclaims Leica optics and mechanics of the cameras to be, they are over all an outdated and inferior tool to SLRs.

C. Apples vs Bananas I say. Each tool to its own user and purpose. “Outdated” is an irrelevant term if a tool is judged by the photographer to be best for any particular application.

A. Ultimately, if there’s a justification for still shooting a Leica M, it’s the same reason you drive a ’61 Cadillac: because they’re cool, and fun, not because they are the best in the world in a technical sense (though they may have been at the time they were made).

B. The public knows what a ’61 Cadillac is. They don’t know a Leica M from Adam’s house cat. For the few areas where a rangefinder (Leica or otherwise) has an advantage, no SLR is its equal. Did anyone ever replace a well appointed tool box with an all-knives.org Knife? The purpose made tools are always better for some specific applications. So it is with the rangefinder.

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A. Everyone is so convinced that having a Leica makes them a serious photographer. Everyone is convinced that they are vastly superior in quality to any other camera. Balls to that.

B. Not me, and not everyone. Some say my people pictures are better when I use the M3 instead of my F or F2. Maybe so. However, I agree with you that the machine does not make the image. That’s the photographer’s job! Anyone who thinks a camera makes them a photographer probably believes that cookware would make them a chef, or that a Ferrari would make them a world class driver at Le Mans.

A. The proof in pictures says otherwise. People shoot the same crap with Leicas that they do with any camera, and often it is even crappier because rangefinders are such a pain in the ass to use compared to SLRs.

B. You are right in that technology does not make one a photographer. I goof just as often with an F, an F2, an M3, or with any of my other cameras. Anyone who feels that an M is a pain to use should just get something else. It is no pain for me. Most folks don’t like rangefinders. Okay by me, as long as I can enjoy mine.

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A. Leicas are cool because they are fun and old fashioned. Embrace that, and don’t take them so damned seriously. You’ll get out cheap, and have a million times more fun and get a million times better pictures than all the bozos paying big bucks for them so that they can think of themselves as serious photographers. Get an old thread mount camera or an early M and you’ve got everything that was ever good about using a Leica in the first place. You usually escape for well under a thousand bucks too.

B.They are good for more reasons than that. As for the bozos, they can simmer in their own mental stew. I like the M because I like using the M and I like the images. That’s all that matters to me.

A. The Leica mystique is due to the fact that people do not know how to objectively judge something, take it for what it is, and just enjoy it for the hell of it. They’ve always got to attach some sort of twisted value to it beyond what it actually is: a cool old camera that used to rule the world.

B.You are off the mark in your assessment about objectivity of judgment. I hope for your sake you do not own a Leica M. Fortunately, most folks who dislike them don’t, and some who own them actually do love using them.

 

 

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Deconstructing the ‘Leica Mystique’

Guys with Leicas

You’ve all seen him: the guy with the Leica M with the serious expression on his face, taking pictures of people drinking coffee downtown. The M9 with the Summilux Aspherical and the black gaffer tape…..suburban drone by day, on weekends a dogged photojournalist out on the prowl, looking for a scoop, or at least a “Decisive Moment” of some sort. You’ll find the same guy on camera forums, buying and selling and trading and debating Leicas with a seriousness usually reserved for theological debates. Central to his mythos is The Leica Glow, an undefined yet undeniable characteristic of Leica “glass.” This photographer, almost never a working pro (except for self-proclaimed Leica “expert” Thorsteen Overgaard), often as not a dentist in the throes of mid-life mania, is suffering  a communal photographic delusion referred to as The Leica Mystique.

I suppose that some of the so-called Leica Mystique rests on Leica being the grand-daddy of 35mm photography (somebody had to be first), and a leader in the quality end of the market for several decades. And, while Leicas aren’t possessed of magical qualities, they are, at least to the extent we’re talking about Leica Film cameras, very finely made cameras. After using a Nikon F to cut my photographic teeth, I purchased a new M5 in the late 70’s, specifically because I wanted my photographic experience to be “better.” Alas, there were no heavenly choirs, and my photographs didn’t suddenly become any more compelling by virtue of the Leica Glow.  What it did offer me was a rather nuanced experience- a bit quirky and different to modern equipment, but an excellent tactile experience due to the fit, finish, and superb build quality. It was the Nikon F without the rough edges and the “clunk.” It pleased me that something so simple could feel so good in the hand and could be so smooth and unobtrusive. It didn’t hurt that I felt  like I was using something rare and valuable that had its place in photographic history. Over the next 30 years I kept the M5 and added an M2, M4, M6 and M7, my experience each time matching that of the M5.

So, it was in looking for that same experience that I bought a Nikon S3 Millennial a while back. Its a beautiful camera, reputed to have cost Nikon much more to produce than the $6000 price tag. Nikon as a corporation is to be commended for taking the time and effort to resurrect such a beautiful piece of 35mm history. But its no Leica. The S3 finder is cluttered, the rangefinder patch is dull and fuzzy, the restriction to a 50mm field of view is inconvenient, lens changes are slow. It does, however, come with a killer lens, the Nikkor 50 1.4 which is every bit as good as the $5000 Summilux 50 (ironic, huh?).

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It’s hard not to compare the S3 Millennial to a garden variety Leica M2 of the same vintage (both being manufactured in the late 50s). The M2 sports a great finder with 35 FOV capability, and a rangefinder patch you don’t have to go searching for. Build quality every bit the match to the S3 Millennial, rebuilt just 14 years ago. Classic, supremely functional design, and much easier to use given the bright viewfinder/rangefinder, the  rounded corners and perfectly placed shutter release. Aside from being easier to use, what I like about the M2 is it still feels relevant, new almost, in spite of the fact that its pushing 50 years old. Unlike the S3, the M2 doesn’t have that feel of using a piece of history. Of the dozen or so cameras that I own (film and digital), I use the M2 probably as much or more than any other. It lives with a Voigtlander 35 2.5 attached to it, which to me is the ultimate expression of a simplified 35mm film camera.

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So, if there is any validity to The Leica Mystique, it’s a simple fact born of use, not some abstract concept derived from magical thinking and wish fulfillment . Between the S3 and the M2, it’s the Leica that puts a smile on my face – it’s the form factor and ease of use. The M2 is what I would call the more serious picture taking machine – very fast and intuitive, and more transparent as a tool. The S3 is a beautiful mechanical device, but in relation to the M2 it lacks the true ‘form follows function’ tradition embodied by the M2.

Most of the so-called Leica Mystique is a result of a certain admiration for the work of famous Leica users over the years and a not so subtle desire to justify the price tag. But some of it surely stems from its quality as an instrument – anyone who uses hand tools, of any sort, can appreciate tools that are very well made. There is also a certain pleasure in using tools that embody the simplest, most functional technology – and in knowing that there is no upgrade path. In the digital age, where manufacturers try to convince us to chase our tails in an elusive search for the newest and best, this is a wonderfully liberating feeling. In this sense, the Nikon (or the Canon or the Hexar or the Contax) is simply not in the same league as the M2. Of course, Leica’s photographic history certainly doesn’t hurt.  Somebody had to be first, somebody had to be better than anyone else, and that just happened to be Leica.

 

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Goodbye Leica

By Adrian Boot. Originally published by Urbanimage.tv.  All photos by Adrian Boot

It was 1974 when I first began using a Leica, a second hand M3 with a 35mm f1.4 lens. It was a dream come true, a classic stealth camera that was fast, almost silent, small and brilliant in low light. You could take pictures without a tripod at shutter speeds as low as 1/15 of a second, and as long as the subject didn’t move even 1/8 of a second. Unlike its bulky SLR relatives Canon, Pentax, Nikon etc. all of which are disadvantaged with mirror vibration, poor focus systems and bulkiness, the Leica was fast, precise and small. Try holding a large Nikon SLR in one hand while shooting at slow shutter speeds, the results will be often be a blur. These days this is not entirely true given that most modern digital SLR cameras have some sort of image stabilization.

The Leica was designed around a roll of 35mm film. Designed by photographers for photographers. With near perfect ergonomics it was a camera that rested in the hand like a glove, allowing the photographer to remain unobtrusive, a true fly on the wall.  Leica became the gold standard of camera technology and although it had lots of imitators nothing else came close.

The Pretenders Chrissie Hynde live

BY the early 1980’s I could afford to upgrade to the latest Leica M4 with an enviable selection of lenses including that king of lenses, the Summilux 35mm f1.4. This was quickly followed by a second / spare body the M4-P. The P meaning professional. These sleek matt black bodies became my much loved workhorse cameras, over time becoming battered, scratched and dented, carrying the scars of many a great photo opportunity. Although well worn they never failed. These mechanical masterpieces were built like tanks, tough as old boots, like Volkswagen cars, a symbol of German engineering with accuracy of a fine Swiss watch.

Grace Jones New York Roof Session

Of course nothing is that perfect, and the Leica M cameras had limitations. They we’re useless with telephoto lenses. Anything over a 90mm lens was impossible especially in low light conditions. For concert and action work, I , like most of my colleagues, used Nikon SLR cameras with 200 and 300mm telephoto lenses and later huge telephoto zoom lenses. The downside was the weight and size of these cameras. Hang a couple of Nikon motorized bodies together with big telephoto lenses around your neck and not only do you stick out like a photographic sore thumb, but you would often end the days shoot with serious neck ache.

Why two cameras? Well one was for colour film and one was for black and white film. Sometimes one camera would contain fast film ASA 400+ and the other a slower but finer ASA 100 film. Making matters worse,  if I was on a trip that required live concert work along side candid back stage, fly on the wall photography, I had to carry 3 if not 4 camera bodies, all clanking around my aching neck. I would use the unobtrusive Leica M cameras for the backstage work. Hiding in corners or behind doors, popping off pics of Rock stars tuning guitars, arguing amongst them selves, chatting up groupies, or falling out with wives. It was all possible on a Leica, less possible on the bulky Nikons.

Tune up backstage at the Apollo

As we came through into the 90′s the technology gave us hard pressed photographers things like autofocus, image stabilization and more sophisticated through the lens light metering. Highly automatic cameras from Nikon and Canon became the choice of most professionals. Even thought the Leica had the best manual focus via its rangefinder focusing, it was unable to compete with these new technological breakthroughs. Autofocus was a relief for my ageing eyesight. But still the Leica remained a treasured part of my photographic life, although no longer as vital. My attachment to Leica was fast becoming more emotional than a practical solution.

Then as we came into the new millennium DIGITAL photography really began to overtake film. I resisted for a while, not entirely convinced that a digital image could be as good as a film image. So .. dipping my toe in the water with a Nikon D300 body I converted, and the results were astonishing. Combined with fast autofocus and multiple point through the lens metering and an array of other features, the images were pin sharp and perfectly exposed. The camera came into its own with low light, fast action live concert photography. Digital photography was at least as good as film photography, certainly here to stay. No more darkroom, no more poisonous chemicals, no more dust specks or scratch marks to retouch.

Sex Pistols

So when Leica announced the M8, a digital version of the classic Leica body compatible with my collection of battered M series lenses, I rushed out to buy one and although it cost thousands of pounds, It retained the solid metal build of previous Leica cameras, the same control layout and the same classic look and feel. My transition from film to digital was going to be smooth and painless, or so I thought. I had hardly removed the thing from its box when I started to notice problems. The battery and SD card both fitted under the removable base plate, a feature retained to preserve  classic Leica functionality. This feature on the Leica M4 was a fast and efficient way of loading a roll of film, but on the M8 it made changing the SD card as slow as replacing a roll of film.

Trying to use my new M8 to shoot some colour pics, I discovered that the resulting images showed a serious magenta caste that required special correction filters to be added to each and every Leica lens I owned. To be fair Leica did supply 2 of these expensive items for free, but the rest I had to buy, what a hassle. Then I discovered that the viewfinder frame did not match the lens being used, making framing a guess rather than anything accurate. The glass covering the LCD screen was soft and susceptible to scratches so I was forced to use a plastic film of the type used to protect mobile phones. Adding insult to injury Leica announced a camera hardware upgrade fixing these problems, but at a cost of over £1000. I was rapidly becoming disenchanted with Leica cameras.

I also bought a Nikon D3X, a top of the line Nikon digital body and the experience was very different. By contrast this was a dream to use, and has produced some amazing images. Frankly it pissed all over the Leica. Even so the Nikon was still a beast of a camera, heavy and bulky, but it worked. No cures yet for neck ache though.

Led Zeppelin

Now recently companies such as Sony, Epson and Ricoh have all started to make compact cameras that can take traditional Leica M lenses. A Sony NEX 5R or 7 costs under a grand and the innovative Ricoh GXR costs only a few hundred pounds and both have better sensors than the measly 10 megapixel sensor on the M8. Leica, bless them, have recently launched the M9 with a full frame sensor and price tag of around £5000, and I’m sure people will buy it. You don’t even need a good eye for photography, Just hang an M9 around your neck and you will impress people.

My days with a classic Leica camera are over, although the lenses will continue to be used and I am sure will produce impressive results. I have now bought a Ricoh GXR with a Leica mount. It fits in my pocket and with the low price tag I might buy two.

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