Category Archives: Leica Film camera

F11 and Be There! (Exposure for Dummies)

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.

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, 1/15, 1/30, 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, 1/11, 1/16, 1/22, 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.

The Leica M4 System, 1971

The Leica M system 1960 (M2)

Educating The Digital Generation

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!”

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?”

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.”

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.”

The Leica (Leitz Minolta) CL

In 1971 Leica decided to produce a compact Leica (CL) camera that would be a less expensive alternative to their pro model M5. In the late 60s and early 70s, production costs in Germany had risen high enough that it was beginning to price Leitz products out of an increasingly competitive sales environment. Leica looked for ways to cut costs while expanding their market share. To keep production costs to a minimum, they needed the camera to be manufactured by an outside company with hi-tech capabilities and lower labor costs than those in Germany. Leitz approached Minolta, and the Leica CL was born.

The Leica CL and the Leitz Minolta CL are 35 mm compact mechanical rangefinder cameras with interchangeable lenses in the Leica M-mount. They were developed by Leitz/Leica in collaboration with Minolta, and manufactured by Minolta between 1973 and 1976. Leica put their name on the CLs they sold, and they were put through “German quality control,” but that’s really the only difference between the Leica or (Leitz) Minolta CL. In reality, all of the cameras were made on the same assembly line in Minolta’s factory in Japan. In the U.S. and Europe, the CL was sold as the “Leica CL”. In Japan it was sold as the” Leitz Minolta CL” and “Minolta CL”. Sixty-five thousand serial numbers were allotted to the Leica CL, and additionally approximately 20,000 Leitz Minolta CL’s were produced. 3,500 examples of the Leica CL received a special 50 Jahre marking in 1975, for Leica’s 50th anniversary.

The CL came standard with either a 40mm f/2 Summicron-C or 40mm f/2 Rokkor M. When sold with a Leitz Minolta CL, the lenses were called Minolta M-Rokkor 40mm f:2 and 90mm f:4.

Leitz designed and produced the Summicron-C 40mm in Germany. Minolta produced the M-Rokkor 40mm f/2, which was an optical design identical the Leica Summicron-C 40mm and manufactured it in Tokyo with Minolta glass. The Summicron and Rokkor are identical in performance, and many people prefer the M-Rokkor as it uses a standard 40.5mm filter and hood. Minolta also produced a later version of the M-Rokkor for the Minolta CLE, the M-Rokkor 40mm f/2 mark II, which is multicoated and reputed to be slightly better optically than the Summicron and first version M-Rokker, although I suspect that’s down to internet speculation. Suffice it to say that the Summicron-C and the M-Rokkor in whatever version are very compact and incredibly sharp, still as good relatively today as they were 40 years ago.

Leitz designed the Elmar-C 90mm f/4 for the CL and manufactured both it and first production runs of the M-Rokkor 90mm f/4 for the Minolta CL in Wetzlar, changing only the bezel and markings for the Minolta lens. Later, after Leica had discontinued the CL and Minolta continued with the CLE, the same lens design was manufactured by Minolta in Japan. You can tell which was which by the “Made in Germany” and “Made in Japan” markings on the lens barrel. Minolta also subsequently produced an M-Rokkor 28mm f:2.8 lens for the CLE. All these lenses can be mounted on the CL too. M-Rokkor-branded lenses for the CL and CLE take the more easily found 40.5mm filter size.

The CLs are identical. The Minolta is a Leica, and vice versa. There are some differences between the CL and the M series Leicas. The shutter speed dial is positioned on the front of the CL. The shutter speed also appears in the finder display (the M5 shows the shutter speeds in the finder as well while the other M’s do not). Instead of the horizontal cloth focal plane shutter found in the M series, the CL uses a vertical cloth shutter. This allowed the CL body to be very compact, still the smallest M mount camera made by Leica. Much like the Nikon F, the entire bottom plate and back detaches from the CL for film changes. As with the M series, the shutter is entirely mechanical, a battery only needed for the meter.

The CL does not have a rangefinder as precise as that of a the Leica M. The rangefinder base of the CL is 31.5 mm and the viewfinder magnification is 0.60, leading to a small effective rangefinder base of 18.9 mm. This is too short for accurate focusing with lenses longer than 90mm and fast lenses used at full aperture. It has frame lines for 40mm, 50mm, and 90mm lenses, and the viewfinder easily accomdates a 35mm lens (just use the entire viewfinder frame). The 40mm frame is always visible.

If you’re looking to buy a CL, the Leitz Minolta version with 40mm M-Rokkor sells for about 60% of the Leica CL with Summicron. The only differences between to two cameras are the external engravings. I have one and love it. Its diminutive size makes it a perfect camera to take everywhere, and the optical quality of the 40mm M-Rokkor is outstanding. I find myself reaching for it when I’m heading somewhere with no particular photographic ideas in mind.

Beware of Leica Serial Number 1919603

WordPress allows me to see the search terms that lead to hits on the site.

Today, I couldn’t help but notice the following search (which apparently brought up Leicaphilia.com):

what does hell represent on the leica serial number 1919603

Damn if I know what that’s about.

The Leica M System 1960 (M3)

A Fascinating Look At the Leica M System, 1973

Are Leicas Still Relevant? Two Gearheads Debate

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Deconstructing the ‘Leica Mystique’

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?).

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.

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.

Yevgeni Khaldei’s “Reichstag Leica” To Be Auctioned

The camera used to take an iconic image that came to symbolize the Russian victory over Nazi Germany is to go on sale at auction this November in Hong Kong. Photographer Yevgeni Khaldei, who worked for the Soviet news agency TASS, shot the image of Russian soldiers waving the Hammer and Sickle flag from the top of the Reichstag using a Leica III, sometime after the building had been captured. yevgeni-khaldeis-leica Russian Reichstag Dude

The camera, bearing the serial number 257492 is accompanied by an Elmar f/3.5 50mm lens with the serial number 471366 and is set to be auctioned on 30th November. Auctioneers Bonhams has set a guide price of $HK 3,000,000-4.500,000 (equivalent to £230,000-340,000 or $390,000-580,000).

Reichstag Camera

Why a Mechanical Film Camera in a Digital Age?

Which of these cameras is ‘obsolete?’

All things being equal, simplicity is the best solution to any problem. This is the premise of Ockham’s Razor, a philosophical principle devised by William of Ockham (c. 1287–1347). This simple concept has a venerable history, still taught today in many introductory philosophy courses. Leonardo da Vinci called simplicity “the ultimate sophistication.”

We are not talking here about the categorical renunciation of all technological advances. Voluntary simplicity does not mean reflexively renouncing the legitimate advantages of technology; rather, it recognizes that humans have a bond with their tools that transcends the idea of the tool as merely a means. Given this, it is rooted in a skeptical attitude toward the claim that increased technology is always the best means to an end. It involves a thoughtful stance in relation to technology, rejecting what is superfluous to the achievement of a given aim while acknowledging the emotional weight of our relationship with our tools. This is far from being primitive or regressive. It is progressive at its core.

The Notion of Obsolescence

Mechanical film cameras today might seem an anachronism, sort of a technological dodo bird. But the reality, I would submit, stands this assumption on its head. In a very profound sense, it is the opposite. The best mechanical film cameras can be considered the ultimate refinement of a simplified technology, never to be obsolete.

Today the main reason for obsolescence is that supporting technologies may no longer be available to produce or repair a product. Digital technology is extremely susceptible to obsolescence of this type. Integrated circuits, including camera sensors, memory and even relatively simple chips may no longer be produced because the technology has been superseded, their original developer gone out of business ( see Kodak) or a competitor has bought them out and effectively killed off their products to remove competition.

The Leica M8, Leica’s first digital M, rolled out to great fanfare only 8 years ago, is already obsolete. Leica can no longer source its sensor or its LCD screen. If you own an M8 and these stop functioning, you now own a very expensive paperweight. Fixing it, even if you could, would probably cost substantially more than simply buying the latest Leica M. It is rarely worth redeveloping a product to get around these issues since its overall functionality and price/performance ratio has usually been superseded by that time.

Camera manufacturers now deliberately introduce technological obsolescence as a product strategy, with the objective of generating long-term sales volume by reducing the time between repeat purchases. Ever tried using that Nikon D100 sitting in the back of your closet? If it still works, it will give you the same results it did when it was new; the problem is that digital camera technology has moved on to such a degree that it simply is not feasible to use it anymore when much better technology exists. All digitized products are inherently susceptible to obsolescence in this manner; digital cameras routinely become obsolete in favor of newer, faster, better units. Let’s not even begin to speak of rapid obsolescence of data formats along with supporting hardware and software that plagues modern photographers.

Digital cameras also become functionally obsolete when they do not function in the manner they did when they were created. This may be due to natural wear, or when the technology is only designed with a limited lifespan in mind; today’s cameras, ‘professional models’ sometimes excluded, I suspect are intentionally designed to use faster wearing components, what is called planned obsolescence. The intention is not always cynical; rather, it’s a practical recognition of the regular exponential advance that can be expected of computerized products (See Moore’s Law). Why build a unit to last 20 years when it will be functionally obsolete in 3? Such products, which naturally wear out or break down, become obsolete because replacement parts are no longer available, or the cost of repairs or replacement parts is higher than the cost of a new, more technologically advanced item (see Leica M8).

Mechanical cameras – the best, overbuilt like Leica Ms – are not subject to either technological or functional obsolescence. The technology of analog photography is simple: a light tight box capable of housing film; optics that concentrate light; a shutter that opens and closes at repeatable, regulated intervals; and an optical aperture that controls the amount of light passing through the lens. Any ‘improvement’ on these necessary parameters can only be nominal at best. Likewise, almost every fully mechanical Leica M ever built, absent those subjected to destructive forces (e.g. dropped into water, penetrated by a bullet etc) either still functions or can be made to function again with a Clean, Lubricate and Adjust or simple replacement of parts. If the part is no longer available it can be fabricated.

If mechanical devices can be considered obsolete, it is usually an obsolescence of style and not of function. When a product is no longer desirable because it has gone out of the popular fashion, its style is obsolete. It may still be perfectly functional, but it is no longer desirable because style trends have moved on. But this sort of obsolescence is subject to human whims and can be undone. Based on a fashion cycle, stylistically obsolete products may eventually regain popularity and cease to be obsolete. What we are really talking about when we speak of the obsolescence of mechanical film cameras is, at base, that they are not in fashion.

Marilyn Monroe with Nikon F

Tactile Pleasure and the Act of Photographing

We’ve all seen the guy or girl, be it in Brooklyn, Portland, Raleigh or Austin. It’s become a cliché, the hipster with an old film camera, eschewing ‘modern’ mass technology for something more ‘real,’ more authentic. Whatever the motive, it points to something profound about the relationship between humans and their tools. At a very fundamental level, humans are defined and shaped by their use of tools. Tool use is the basis of human culture, and the tactile experience provided by using a tool is profoundly significant for human flourishing. Ironically, now that people spend so much time in a two-dimensional universe there’s a renewed acknowledgment of the pleasure to be found in the aesthetics and use of beautiful three-dimensional objects.The mechanical camera underlines the quirky, humanistic qualities of instruments created by hand. A mechanical camera is only partly a photographic device. It is also a complex and nuanced tactile object. Being without electronic or computerized circuits, there is a simplicity to them that computerized tools lack, a mechanical solidity that makes sense from a human perspective. The link between cause and effect is more transparent. You do something with a mechanical tool, it results in something tangible and coherent. You understand the why.

Having been schooled squarely in the analogue age, I admit my ingrained biases may not make me the most objective of observer of the issue. But there is something, ‘unreal,’ simulated about the tactile experience of digital use. It’s the difference between a computer game that simulates racing a motorcycle on a track and actually riding a motorcycle on a track. The computer recreation is designed to give you the same sensation as being out there actually racing the track, but its a simulation of the reality, not the reality itself. What is missing is a certain solidity of experience. Not to say there isn’t enjoyment in the simulation, maybe, given the absence of danger, even a type of enjoyment that isn’t available to the analogue user, the guy actually out there in the vehicle running the track, but its not the same enjoyment; its, at best, a proscribed psychological enjoyment stripped of much of the tactile pleasure of the act itself. Photographically, there is something satisfying, from a bodily perspective, of winding on the film by hand; of turning a knob that controls the flow of light; of the sound of a mechanical shutter opening and closing. Digital cameras lack this bodily satisfaction, instead providing an experience akin to a conjuring trick, the link between cause and effect subsumed by the computerized nature of the transaction.

The Importance of the Process

Photography is about looking and seeing. It involves deliberation and judgment. It is about having the concentration, focus, required to look closely. Most of us who grew up on film are still ‘contemplative’ and ‘conscientious’ when also using digital because its been bred into our relationship with photography. For us, digital hasn’t made a difference in that respect. But it certainly has for those coming of age photographically in the digital era. All the talk about ‘slowing down’ and ‘understanding light’ or ‘better composition’ that accompanies use of film cameras comes primarily from those who grew up on digital devices and are just now using film. They’re discovering all those things that film users learned as formative consequences of the use of mechanical film cameras.

It’s great that people are discovering film and the processes behind it and are now more thoughtful about what they are doing as a consequence. If it takes using film to be more conscious about our actions, then that might also help make contemporary digital photography a better place, too. The point is this: digital isn’t going away, obviously. But there will always be a place for film photography. Photography shouldn’t be seen as a zero sum equation, where the advent of a newer technology completely displaces mature technologies. Digital photography hasn’t, and never will, replace film photography. Digital has given photographers another option, but film use will always remain an option for those who prefer its methods and results, just as the advent of fine art acrylic paints didn’t kill the use of oil based pigments but simply gave painters another medium with which to work.

The Image Is Everything

If a certain amount of younger photographers are discovering the aesthetics of film and the differences between film capture and electronic capture that’s a huge positive, and a necessary corrective to a disturbing trend propagated by the technical potentials of digital capture. Digital photography has produced an obsession with sharpness and resolution which is causing us to overlook our connection to the image. It is so prevalent today as to be a universal photographic fetish. The perfection of digital is a false standard. Imperfection is beautiful, and a misplaced emphasis on sharpness can make an image lifeless and boring. I love the emotion of motion blur, and grain in film, it gives us something organic that connects us to the images we see. We’re humans, not robots, and much of contemporary photographic imagery could easily have come from the brain of an awesomely-cool-looking-yet-emotionally-barren android photographer.

Leica M5, Neopan 1600

I think this is an issue we need to consider with current digital image making. The fetishism for high resolution is creating an odd desire for something beyond the real, a kind of visual hyper-reality. With film we chose a format for a specific subject matter. Large sheet film was used to get ‘sharpness’ and detail for very large prints. Grand landscapes were best depicted by using fine grained sheet film. Medium format gave us portability while allowing us to print big when needed. 35mm film was used for ‘decisive moments’. The grain and the characteristics of small film were part of the image itself, characteristics of the image that are part of the image’s interpretation. To be sure, photographers have always defined characteristics like high resolution; we used different emulsions and developers, and we sought out good lenses, etc. But sharpness was rarely an end in itself. But the interpretation that comes from the hyper-real digital look is more akin to some sort of cloning perfection. It is beyond the real.

Today there seems to be this odd desire for the hyper-real as if an author’s interpretation of the real no longer exists via the choice of materials; high resolution and sharpness being applied indiscriminately to all subject matter as a standard photographic trope. I find myself missing the unique and interpretive look of traditional film photography. It seems so much richer and so much more capable of being infused with the idiosyncratic which is the base foundation of all creative enterprise. What increasingly dominates is a fetishism of the surface of the image while the content and context of the image too often takes a back seat. And that’s also why some people who grew up on digital are now looking to escape such bewitchment by turning to the simplicity, directness and creative possibilities of film. Call it a return to the interpretive. Others have tired of the never ending introductions of so-called ‘new’ cameras (more like minor tweaks of already existing technology) and the emphasis on the technology, and have found that using a mechanical film camera is not a retrenchment but a reanimation of the photographic impulse.

*****

Why use mechanical film cameras in a digital age? For most people, a mechanical film camera seems an anachronism. But in a very profound sense, it is the opposite: mechanical film cameras are the ultimate refinement of simplified technology with an established history. As such, ironically, they are not “obsolete” and never will be, except maybe from a standpoint of style. Technologically and functionally, mechanical film cameras resist obsolescence in a way newer digital cameras cannot, because they are, at base, simple.

Perhaps someday we will acknowledge that a blind faith in technology can itself be regressive. There is tactile pleasure in the use of a mechanical instrument that is missing in something computerized. At the risk of devolving into the metaphysical, maybe it’s a fuller experience of the real rooted in sense of physical solidity and cause and effect. There is also an elegance to simple things that complicated things lack. It’s the pleasure of riding a bicycle on a Spring day instead of taking the car.

Leica Selfie #53

Graham Nash w/ Leicaflex SL, 50mm Summicron, 1968

Ode to a Legend – The Leica M4

By Tom Grill. This originally appeared on his blog About Photography

For me, the M4 is the camera that reached the pinnacle of analog design. It was the natural sequel to the M2 and M3 designs into one body with a few more bells and whistles added. The one time Leica attempted to diverge from this basic M design with the M5 model in 1971 led to such an uproar that the M4 was reinstated only a few years later and has continued to be the basis for flagship camera design of the company even up to the newest M 240 digital model.

My 1968 black painted M4. I sent it back to Leica for a factory replacement of the viewfinder so it now has six lens frame lines of the M6 instead of the original four. I did this because I use a 28mm lens a lot and usually have the Leica meter on top of the camera taking up the slot where I would normally put an auxiliary optical finder. And look at the beautiful engraving on top. Don’t see that much anymore.

There were several iterations of the M4. The M4-2 was introduced in 1977, followed by the M4-P in 1981. Each new version added a couple of new features — a hot shoe, motor-drive capability, extra finder frames — but modernized the production line and replaced the black enamel with a more durable black chrome. I always had a penchant for cameras with black paint over brass. After a little use some of the paint wears through to the brass and the camera takes on an individual patina that identifies it as yours. Excessive brassing becomes a battle-worn badge of honor, something to be worn proudly, as if to say, “I served”.

The Leica M4 with MR-4 meter mounted on top.

The M4 was introduced in 1967 and produced until 1975 with a little break while the M5 ran its short-lived, orphened course. The M4 had framelines for 35mm, 50mm, 90mm and 135mm lenses in a 0.72 magnification viewfinder. Mine was made in 1968, and had a later, standard factory addition of the M6 viewfinder adding 28mm and 75mm frame lines.

I always liked the look of the Leica meter. Not that it worked all that well — I still carried around a hand held auxiliary meter for more accurate readings — but it slipped conveniently into the accessory shoe, had a high/low range, and synchronized with the shutter speed dial, all pretty advanced stuff for 1968.

The handle-crank rewind knob was one of the late-to-the-party innovations Leitz added to the M. The one on the M4 was angled so it could be operated quickly without constantly scraping your fingers on the side of the camera — something of an anachronism in today’s digital world, but much appreciated at the time by photographers needing to get the spent roll out of the camera quickly and reload it for the next breaking shot.

Adding the angled rapid rewind crank was considered a big deal at the time. I can still recall discussions with veteran photographers who were convinced that Leitz maintained the slow turning rewind knob on the M2 and M3 to avoid rewinding the film too fast and causing static light discharge that might damage a film frame.

The M4 did away with the removable film take up spool, and introduced a faster film loading system that gripped the end of the film automatically to load it onto the spool.

The self-timer lever was an M4 luxury — some say frivolous addition — eliminated from later versions of the M series. After all, pros don’t need self-timers.

The M4 was the last of a breed. It reminds me of souped-up, propeller-driven fighter aircraft at the end of WWII. Each had reached the apex of analog, hand-crafted design on the cusp of fading into oblivion in the face of a newer technology. The planes were replaced by jets, the rangefinder by the SLR. Fortunately, the M-series camera hit a very responsive chord in the human psyche that has made it last even into the digital era. For many, Leica M is the icon of professional camera, and retro styling based on the Leica M design is undergoing a renaissance in cameras like the popular Fuji X-Pro1. And let’s not forget that in keeping with the M analog tradition Leica continues to make the M7 and MP film cameras today.

Jorge Fidel Alvarez: Street Photography With a Leica M Film Camera

Jorge Fidel Alvarez, Wuhan, China, 2014. Leica M6 and Tri-X.

Everybody does “street photography” these days. Go to Tumblr or Flicker and you’ll find reams of it posted day after day. Most of it is not very good, nothing but throwaway looks with no internal dynamic to make you look again. Just.people.on.the.street. Really good street photography somehow rises above the pedestrian view, revealing a greater narrative within a sliver of everyday life. There is always something surprising about it, something unexpected that draws your eye and makes you want to look again. It poses a question, draws you in for a second look, gives you a glimpse of something incongruous, something you don’t expect to see in the way you’re seeing it, inviting a unique interpretation for each idiosyncratic viewer.

Take the above photograph by Jorge Fidel Alvarez: A man, presumably, with a bizarre mask stands facing the camera, something decorative hanging over where he stands; his demeanor unreadable, maybe slightly menacing. The scene radiates something indefinably sinister. An elderly Chinese woman stands in the background, smoking, staring at either the masked man or the western photographer. I wonder: who in her mind is normal, and who is exotic? The photo fascinates me, but I’m not quite sure what I’m looking at, so I look at it again and fashion a narrative to fit what I think I see. The photo suggests various interpretations; its up to me, the viewer, to work it out for myself. (The masked man is actually a welder using a homemade steel mask, which, after the stories we’ve told ourselves, almost seems irrelevant).

*****

Good street photographers shoot a lot. The father of modern street photography, Garry Winogrand, using a Leica M4 film camera, shot over 12,000 rolls of film between 1971 and his death in 1984. When he died at the age of 56 he left over 6500 undeveloped rolls of film. Winogrand’s heirs, today’s street photographers, work in a digital age where photographs are cheap and ubiquitous, easier than ever to take, store and share. With the advent of camera phones, public resistance to strangers with cameras in public places has lessened. Yet exceptional street photographs remain as rare in the digital age as in Winogrand’s day. And almost no one shoots the street with film anymore. The ease of digital capture makes street shooting with film a proposition for only the most dedicated and hardcore film fanatics. So I’m fascinated when I see great street work done on film. Jorge Fidel Alvarez is a great street photographer, and he works with film.

Alvarez is a French photographer living in Paris. He is a 2004 graduate of SPEOS, Paris, where he studied under Georges Fèvre (master printer for Robert Doisneau, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Josef Koudelka, among others). The Institut Culturel Français en Chine (The French Cultural Institute in China) recently invited Alvarez to Wuhan, China to shoot that city’s streets and exhibit the resulting work at the New World International Trade Center in Wuhan. The plan was simple: fly Alvarez to Wuhan for nine days of shooting whatever caught his eye, back to Paris for two weeks to process, select and print his work, and then back to Wuhan to exhibit 20 prints,, opening reception May 29, show to run through June 12. (details)

Jorge Fidel Alvarez, May 29, 2014, New World International Trade Center, Wuhan, China

Alvarez, who uses digital for his paying work as an architectural photographer, chose to use a Leica M4 and M6, with 25mm and 35mm lenses, while in Wuhan. (At least one Chinese reviewer found his choice of “antique cameras” memorable.) He shot 70 rolls of 36 exposure Tri-X over the course of 9 days.

Alvarez, who has been shooting the street since the 80’s when he bought his first Leica, took up professional photography comparatively late, after a first career in IT. He has carefully studied the work of other photographers – his Paris flat’s bookshelves are lined with the work of European masters Cartier-Bresson, Boubat, Koudelka, Lartigue, Doisneau, Frank. In 2003, enrolled in the photography curriculum at SPEOS Paris, he discovered the American Garry Winogrand. Alvarez’s mature work can hint at the European formalism of Cartier-Bresson and Boubat, and one see’s as well the more spontaneous elements of Frank, Daido Moriyama and Winogrand- but his vision is unmistakably his own, a fascinating amalgamation fusing the poise and balance of a studied, mannered aesthetic with the arbitrary and instantaneous.

Leica Selfie #17

Leica Introduces An All New Film Camera, The Leica M-A

Kudos to Leica. They’ve introduced a new film camera – the Leica M-A. The M-A is identical to the still available Leica MP but has no meter, needs no battery, and contains no electronics. Think of it as an ‘updated’ M4. The M-A isn’t completely new: In typical Leica fashion, Wetzlar offered a ridiculously overpriced stainless steel collector’s edition of the Leica M-A, the Leica M Edition 100, this past Spring.

The M-A will be available in black chrome (yes, no retro “black paint” version) or silver chrome from Leica dealers starting October 2014. The price in Germany is 3,850 €, international prices will be announced later.

My only quibble is the knurled rewind, which has always been a PITA. I would have preferred the much more efficient rewind found on the M4, M6 and M7, a small quibble indeed in light of the fact that a camera manufacturer sees the continued viability of analogy photography and is actually committed to producing new cameras to meet the demand.

From Leica:

With the Leica M-System, Leica Camera AG, Wetzlar, is one of the few manufacturers still producing both analogue and digital cameras. In this, the company can draw from decades of experience in the construction of the finest precision-engineered cameras. Now – 60 years after the first Leica M rangefinder camera, the M3, left the factory to significantly change the world of photography – we have chosen the occasion of this anniversary to present a new analogue model: the Leica M-A.

As a purely mechanical rangefinder camera, the Leica M-A stands for a return to photography in its most original form. Without reliance on a monitor, exposure metering or batteries, photographers can explore entirely new creative horizons. Because, with a camera reduced to only essential camera functions, users of the M-A can now concentrate entirely on the essential parameters of subject composition – namely focal length, aperture and shutter speed – and on capturing the decisive moment.

From its shutter-speed dial and the aperture ring on the lens to the characteristic rangefinder focusing principle – the technical specifications of the Leica M-A are essentially based on the currently available analogue Leica MP. All of its precision-engineered components and functions are designed and constructed for absolute robustness and a long working life, and are housed in a painstakingly hand-built metal body. This ensures that the Leica M-A, as a product with particularly enduring value, brushes aside every challenge with absolute dependability.

The visible elements of the Leica M-A are as timeless as the precision-engineered principles employed inside it. For example, the Leica red dot was omitted to emphasise the classical simplicity of its design. Seen from the side, the Leica M-A is significantly slimmer than its digital counterparts.

The camera can be supplied in a choice of two different finishes: the classic appearance of the silver chrome version carries forward the traditions of 60 years of Leica M design. In the black chrome alternative, the M-A is reminiscent of the style of the M Monochrom and sets new standards in unobtrusiveness and discretion. While the silver chrome version of the M-A displays its origins in the engraving on its top plate, only much closer scrutiny of its completely matt black counterpart reveals the discreetly engraved Leica script on its accessory shoe.

Each Leica M-A is supplied complete with Kodak Tri-X 400 black-and-white film, which is also celebrating its 60th anniversary this year. Since its appearance on the market in 1954, its unmistakeable look, exceptional sharpness and tonal gradation, extremely broad exposure latitude and very good shadow detail made this black-and-white film a firm favourite and the classic medium for art and reportage photography.

The Leica M-A will be available from authorized Leica dealers starting October 2014.

Street Shooting With a Leica M Film Camera

This is a reprint of A Guide on How to Shoot Street Photography on a Film Leica (or Rangefinder) written by Eric Kim and originally published September 2, 2014 on his blog Eric Kim Street photography Blog. [Editors Note: I like Eric Kim. I recommend his blog. It’s good that we have a new generation of photographers who’ve discovered film and are enthused about its possibilities. I also like that he “gets” the traditional appeal of Leica rangefinders i.e. not a a signifier of status, but as photographic tools.]

I know a lot of street photographers who have gotten into film recently, and have recently invested in film Leicas (specifically Leica m6’s). I wanted to write this guide to share everything I personally know about shooting on a film Leica based on my 3 years of experience. Disclaimer: I am not a Leica expert, nor do I claim to be. But I will to share some practical tips and insights about film Leicas and how to shoot them on the streets.

Which film Leica to get?

If you’re reading this article, either own a film Leica and shoot street photography, or might be interested in getting one.To get this out of the way, the best bang-for-the-buck film Leica is the Leica M6. It includes a meter, and is relatively modern. I recommend getting one via my good friend Bellamy Hunt from Japan Camera Hunter (or eBay with good sellers, reliable second hand stores, or on Craigslist after you see it in person). Also note: m2, m4 and m4-2 do NOT have 28mm framelines (thanks to Anon):

A quick rundown of all the film Leicas out there:

Leica M2:

I deal for 35mm lens, but doesn’t have a built in meter, and has a “cold shoe” (the hotshot doesn’t fire). Also loading film in it is a a pain in the ass. But you can get good deals on a film Leica M2. If you are good at metering with your eyes, this is a good bargain.

Leica M3

Apparently one of the best Leicas ever made– this is the Leica Henri Cartier-Bresson shot with most of his life. Has a beautiful viewfinder, and is ideal for a 50mm lens. Unfortunately, natively it can’t use a 35mm lens (unless you get attachments for it). Similarly to the m2, doesn’t have a hotshot and loading film in it is annoying. If you are a 50mm guy, it is a good body.

Leica M4

Great film body, the camera that Garry Winogrand used for most of his life. You can find great deals on these. Doesn’t have a built in meter.

Leica M5

A lot of people hate this camera because it looks ugly, but some great work is being made with it (Junku Nishimura uses one). It is bigger, chunkier, but some argue the ergonomics are better.But if you don’t care about aesthetics, I’d go for it (if you can find a good deal on it).

Leica M6

The best bang-for-the-buck film Leica to get. Has a built-in meter, fast rewinder, and is also the camera that Joel Meyerowitz and Bruce Gilden shot for a long time. Also as a note, there is a Leica M6 TTL which has a larger shutter speed dial (same as the Leica M9), and it supports the SF20 flash ttl mode. Also apparently a little bit more rugged than the M6 (as it is a bit newer). This was the first film Leica I owned, it was given to me as a present from my friend Todd Hatakeyama. I recently “paid it forward” by giving it to another talented photographer named Bill Reeves in Austin, as he needed the camera more than I did and needed a film body to create beautiful work.

Leica M7

The most electronic film Leica out there– it is still being made by Leica. It has aperture priority mode, and exposure compensation. Downside of the camera: you can only use two shutter speeds if the battery on the camera dies (all the other film Leicas are fully mechanical, and can shoot without a battery). Also, I have heard from other photographers that if isn’t as reliable as the other film Leicas (provably due to all the electronics). Ideal if you want aperture-priority, and don’t like manually changing your shutter speed.

Leica MP

The newest film Leica, still made by Leica– (mp stands for “mechanical perfection”, pretty cheesy but the most robust of all film Leicas). The Leica mp has the styling of the old M2–3, is made out of solid brass, and is the newest one (thus the most reliable one). This is currently the film Leica I use. I sold my M9, bought a used Leica MP (in mint condition from Japan Camera Hunter) and pocketed the change. The reason I chose the MP was partly aesthetic (I like how the black paint brasses over time) and mostly because it is the most reliable (I can’t have my camera fail on me while traveling).

The body doesn’t matter that much

To be honest, the film Leica body you get doesn’t matter that much. You can’t tell the difference of image quality of a $800 Leica M2 compared to a brand-new $5000 Leica MP. However you should ultimately choose your body based on your personal needs (if you like having a built-in meter, if you shoot with a flash, and what focal length you shoot with). Also note that all film Leicas (except the M3) support frame lines of 28, 35, 50, etc). Any lenses wider than 28, and you need an external finder.

Jorge Fidel Alvarez, Leica M6, 35mm Summicron, Ilford HP5, Wuhan, China 2014

Lens choices for a film Leica

For 99% of street photographers, I’d recommend getting a 35mm lens. 28mm is too wide for most people, and 50mm can be a bit cramped. The best bang-for-the-buck lens for a film Leica is the Voigtlander 35m f/2.5 – as you will probably be shooting at f/8 most of the time, and if is very cheap (less than $400) and very compact. If money is no option and you want the sharpest and most ergonomic lens, I’d recommend the Leica 35mm Summicron ASPH f/2 (great ergonomics, build quality, and incredibly sharp).

Some other great Leica lenses (if you don’t like 35mm) and can afford it:

Other good bang for the buck options are:

–50mm Zeiss f2 (or voigtlander equivalent)

–28mm Voigtlander f/2

However at the end of the day, your focal length is your personal decision.

My suggestion: try experimenting with different focal lengths and see which one you like the most. Then once you find your ideal focal length, just stick with it. Also disregard all these bokeh, sharpness tests online for lenses. I think it is better to have a light and compact lens, you honestly don’t need a lens faster than f/2.8 if you’re shooting street photography from f/8–16.

Zone focusing

Leica’s aren’t meant to be shot wide open in street photography. You can’t constantly nail f1.4 shots of people moving. Furthermore bokeh shots in street photography tend to be cliche, and you lose context of the background and environment. To be frank, very few great photos in history were shot wide open. Most were shot with a relatively deep depth of field (f/8–16) to get a context of the subject and the background. When you shoot with your film Leica, I recommend you keep your aperture at f/8 by default (remember the saying, f8 and be there). This gives you a deep depth-of-field (everything is in focus) and lets enough light into your lens (sometimes f/16 causes your shutter speed to be too slow). I generally keep my lens pre-focused to 1.2 meters (the focusing tab is smack dab center) when I’m out on the streets. 1.2 meters is roughly two-arm lengths away.

When I see a subject around 3–5 meters away, I just turn my focusing tab 45 degrees to the right. When the subject is very close to me, I turn my focusing tab 45 degrees to the left (.7–1 meter). Over time, you should learn how to judge your distances well. For example, start to learn how far away .7 meters (around one arm-length), 1.2 meters (2 arm lengths away), and 5 meters (the average distance of a street from the curb to the storefront). Over time, your finger will intuitively focus with the focusing tab based on how far your subject is away from the subject.

Some lenses unfortunately don’t have focusing tabs on them. In those cases, either glue on a focusing tab (you can find them on eBay), or know how much you have to turn your wrist to the left or right when focusing.

What you don’t want to do when shooting street photography is this: bring up your Leica to your eye, put your focusing patch on your subject, and fool around for 5–10 seconds trying to nail your focus.

What you should do is this: see how far your subject is, pre-focus to that distance (without looking through your viewfinder), bringing up your camera to your eye and quickly shooting.

Essentially a Leica in street photography should be used like a point and shoot camera.

Jorge Fidel Alvarez, Leica M6, 35mm Summicron, Ilford HP5, Wuhan, China 2014

The benefits of shooting with a film Leica

Personally I don’t think I’ll ever purchase another digital Leica. I once owned the Leica M9 (it was a solid camera)– but now it has lost so much value in a short period of time. This is my reasoning: all digital cameras are essentially computers. How long do you keep your computer for– probably not longer than 4–5 years. Which means you have to keep upgrading them. A digital Leica re-sale value is quite low. After a year or two of owning a digital Leica, you lose around $1000–2000 in value. And they will probably get updated every 2–3 years. So if you shoot digital and love it (and are rich), I’d say go for the digital Leicas. After all, there is no other better digital rangefinder in the market.

But for me, I like the idea of buying a film Leica and owning it for the rest of my life. A film rangefinder will never go out of style. In 50 years my grand children can still use the camera, and it will still be “functional”. But I doubt a digital camera will still be relevant in 59 years. Because once the lithium battery runs out of charge, it will be useless.

Also with a film Leica, I fall less victim to “GAS” (gear acquisition syndrome). I’m not in a rush to upgrade my cameras, because there is nothing more updated than a film Leica. There will never be a Leica mp version 2 with video. This allows me to make no excuses about my photography, as I have the best film rangefinder that money can buy.

To also be honest, Leica film rangefinders aren’t as expensive as they seem. You can get a great condition Leica M6 for around $1500–2000. That’s not cheap, but around the same price as a Fuji x-series camera, or a modern DSLR. You can get a great Voigtlander lens for around $400 (Voigtlander 35mm f/2.5 lens) which is probably 80%+ the performance of a $3000 Leica 35mm f2 Summicron ASPH lens. And in terms of “sharpness”, I can’t tell a difference between voigtlander, Leica, or zeiss lenses.

Nobody is going to care how sharp your photos are at the end of the day– they’re only going to care the emotional impact and composition of your images.

Alternative film rangefinders

Don’t get me wrong, there’s also tons of great affordable film rangefinders. You don’t need a Leica. The Yaschica electro 35mm is solid, as well as the Voigtlander Bessa And Zeiss Ikon cameras. For me, I prefer the film Leicas because they are more robust, have a more “classic” design, and have been around for a longer period of time. I also prefer the ergonomics. But each man to his own.

On shooting film

Film can get a bit pricy depending on where you live. But if you shoot black and white film and process it yourself, it is quite cheap. Also take into account that if you shoot digital, you upgrade constantly (every few years). With a film rangefinder or Leica, you will never really “need” to upgrade. When shooting film, you also shoot less. So I don’t think the whole “…but I can shoot 1000 photos a day on digital and save money in the long run.” Most street photographers I know rarely shoot more than 1 roll of film a day.

When I’m at home and not traveling, I probably only shoot 5–10 photos a day. When I’m traveling, I might shoot half a roll to a full roll depending on how exciting things are. I know some street photographers who only shoot 1–2 rolls a week. My favorite film for color is Kodak Portra 400, and Kodak Tri-X 400 for black and white. But experiment with different films and see what you like.

Some good alternatives:

Ilford HP5 (black and white)
Kodak Gold 400 (affordable color film with good saturation and gritty look)

Scanning your 35mm film

For me nowadays I shoot on Kodak Portra 400 color film, and I get it processed in the states at Costco. It only costs me $5 usd a roll, including develop and scan (3000px wide). The quality looks good to me (all the film photos on my flickr and website are from Costco). They use professional Fuji equipment (for developing and scanning)– and I’m pleased. You can also go to local convenience stores or drugstores if they offer it (for color film). Just test out a few test rolls in different areas, and see if you like the results. Sometimes labs will screw up your negatives (so always experiment different locations).

With black and white film, I hand process it myself (professing black and white is expensive in the states) and scan it myself with an Epson v750 (the Epson v700 orPlustek 8200i are better affordable options). I process just with a changing bag, and use hc–110 developer from Kodak which is quite good. I have heard my friends having great results with “rodinal” developer (for a nice gritty look). Ultimately the chemicals you use is personal preference.

For scanning, I just recommend using the default silverfast software. You can get a solid job with it.Flatbed scanners aren’t as high quality as dedicated 35mm scanners (like the plustek) but honestly– for the web, they are good enough. If you want museum quality scans, get it professionally drum-scanned.

Printing your photos in the darkroom

If you shoot black and white, I highly recommend making darkroom prints. The experience is absolutely incredible, and really gets your hands dirty.

I heard printing color is much more difficult (I’m going to learn how to do this soon), but the results are stunning. My friend Sean Lotman from Kyoto does all his prints himself in his color darkroom, and scans his prints onto flickr. I’ve seen his prints first-hand, and they absolutely blow me away.

So if you shoot film, I recommend both printing and scanning the negatives. Do whatever you enjoy and have fun doing.

Will shooting with a film rangefinder make you a better photographer?

For me, I think shooting with a film rangefinder hasn’t necessarily made me a better photographer– but it has made me a lot more patient, brutal when it comes to editing my photos, and has given me a lot less excuses about my gear. So in a sense, my photography has improved shooting with a film rangefinder.

Rangefinders aren’t for everybody. They suck for a lot of stuff, such as:

Framing isn’t as accurate as SLR
Parallax error is annoying (when you frame your subjects closer than 1.2 meters)
They don’t have a close minimum focusing distance (most rangefinder lenses only focus up to .7 meters)

But all in all, I don’t mind the restrictions of shooting with a film rangefinder much. Sometimes I feel the constraints help me be more creative with my framing.

Here are some pros of shooting with a film rangefinder:

You can see outside of the frame lines, which allows you to see more of the scene in the street. (But if you wear glasses, you’re limited at 35mm. You can’t see all of the 28mm frame lines if you wear glasses)
You don’t get viewfinder blockage when shooting (your viewfinder isn’t through the lens like a DSLR, so you don’t get viewfinder black-out when shooting)
Small and compact (easy to always carry around with you in your bag, or around your neck, or in your hand)
Dials are easy to change for shutter speed, aperture, and focusing distances.

So for me, a film Leica rangefinder is currently my ideal tool for street photography. This isn’t for everybody– I know some guys who take far better photos than I do just on an iPhone.

There is no “best” camera for street photography. Just find the “best” a camera for street photography for your personal preferences.

I do encourage experimentation for different camera systems (DSLR, micro 4/3rds, Fuji x-series, iPhone, compact cameras, rangefinder). Ultimately the camera system you like for street photography will depend on your preferences. Some of us like to eat vanilla ice cream, and some of us like chocolate ice cream. There isn’t one “better” flavor.

Editor’s Note: lots of good advice here, although I disagree with the author’s advice that the M6 is the best Leica rangefinder for street photography. In my mind, they’ll all, with the exception of the M3, as good as the other, and if I were to choose, I’d pick up the cheapest M2 I could find. Every M2 I’ve ever had has been super smooth in operation. Yes, it doesn’t have a meter – but you don’t need a meter when street shooting, just like you don’t need autofocus. A good rule: “F8 and be there!” which in practice means F8 and a shutter speed aproximating your film’s ISO, and go out and shoot. Film has latitude, a little over expose, a little under exposed, no big deal. The point is, stop fiddling with you camera and get the shot.

For Just $40,000 You Can Photograph Your Cat With a Titanium MP

Above is a used Leica MP. It’s made of titanium. It’s currently for sale at the Miami Leica store for $39,995. First come, first served.

The Leica MP Titanium (0.72) camera was introduced in April 2007 to commemorate the 1st anniversary of the opening of Leica Store Ginza in Tokyo, Japan. It was produced exclusively for the Japanese market and was available only at the Ginza store in Japan. All exterior metal parts and fittings are made of titanium, similar to the Leica M7 Titanium and the Leica M9 Titan. The camera weighs approximately 90 grams less than a regular MP. A signed (by then-CEO of Leica Steven Lee) certificate of authenticity is included.

Which gets me thinking: if I had $40,000 burning a hole in my pocket and I wanted a titanium 35mm film camera of exceptional quality, I could always go to Ebay and pick up a nice titanium Contax G1 for less than $125. And I’d still have $39,875 left for film. Of course, it’s not a Leica, but it’s a damn fine camera with a host of truly exceptional dedicated Zeiss lenses, each the equal of the latest stratospherically priced Leica offerings. And it has ‘modern’ features that the Leica lacks, like Auto Focus and Auto Exposure and a built in motor drive, all housed in a beautiful titanium body, just like the $40k MP. But that’s not the point, is it?

“Collectors,” the sort of people who would buy a titanium MP, aren’t buying one so they can use it to take pictures. You’re not going to see a stubbled photojournalist pulling one from a beat up rucksack in some third world hot spot. I get that. And, given the crazy prices collectible Leicas go for, you can easily make the argument that a titanium MP might be a pretty safe investment. But….

Being old enough to remember when beat up Leicas were routinely pulled out of rucksacks in third world hot spots, I’m still emotionally married to the idea of the Leica as a functioning photographic tool. Call me a relic, but that’s why they’ve always appealed to me: traditional Leicas – the M2, M3, M4, and to a lesser extent the M5 and M6 – were the simplest of photographic tools. Nothing more than the strictly necessary features, nothing that presumed to do the thinking for you. Of course, that minimalist ethic is long dead photographically. Pick up the latest issue of PDN and every young up and coming hotshot has a big plasticky Nikon or Canon with a lens the size of an RPG launcher draped around his or her neck, extolling the necessity of its’ 100 Point Matrix Auto Focus. Or, even more depressing, go over to Rangefinder Forum or your favorite photo forum and join the discussion about which bag goes best with your M240 and attached Noctilux; while there, you can post pictures of your cat taken at full aperture.

Maybe its this obscene denigration of Leica’s real history that has caused throw back Leicas like the titanium MP to have become fetish objects commanding insane prices, collectors attempting to hearken back to an era where cameras were not computers but simple, reliable mechanical instruments. In my mind, however, a better way to scratch that itch is a buy a “real” Leica, a beat up M4, say, on Ebay. You can find beautiful examples for under $1000, cameras you’ll actually use to photograph things. With the money you’ve saved, you can travel the world for a few years all the while documenting your travels with your beloved M4. Or you can just stay home and photograph your cat with your Noctilux wide open. Either way, you win. And you’ll have plenty of money left for that fancy Filson bag.

Why I’ve Gone Back To Shooting Film…And Why You Should Too

Written by David Geffin, Reprinted from F-Stoppers, August 13,2014

Our DSLRs have confused us. We obsess over the wrong things. Sharpness at 400%; bokeh characteristics of lenses produced from what-must-surely-be prancing magical unicorns; high speed burst frame rates that make cameras sound like Gatling guns; 4k resolution to shoot better cat videos; 100 auto focus points that still won’t focus on what we need them to; and noise performance at 400,000 ISO. Absolutely none of these will make your photographs better. Shooting film will though, here’s why.

Last month, I bought my first film camera in a decade. A Leica M6. Yep say all you want to say about Leica users (it’s probably all true), this camera has changed the way I shoot, and been the single best investment in any piece of gear in years.

I grew up shooting film as a kid and we actually had an attic darkroom, thanks to my dad’s hobbyist photographer leanings. Shooting on film again isn’t some indulgent trip down a nostalgic lane though. It has snapped me out of the digital malaise and reminded me what it means to actually make a photograph.

What on earth am I actually talking about here? Well, our DSLRs turned us into the equivalent of photographic sloths. We wander about with too much gear, sluggish pulling the camera up, staring at our LCDs and wondering where all the love and emotion went.

Ok I’m being somewhat ridiculous, but I’m sure some of you out there in the back row are nodding in solidarity and agreement.

It’s not just me that feels this way. Last month I shot some video for Emily Soto for her NYC fashion photography workshop. As you can see from the video I shot, what is amazing to see is how much film features throughout the learning experience. The Polaroids, the Impossible Project film, and even the medium format and large format systems the attendees had brought along themselves – it all added to the overall aesthetic of the style of fashion photography that was being taught. Sure digital was being shot too – everyone had their DSLR, even a digital medium format camera was in attendance – but there was a definite sense of excitement when people shot Polaroid and revealed what had been captured.

The ability to shoot thousands of RAW images to a single card, to take a dozen images in a single second and to basically shoot as much as we want with almost no direct costs involved is turning us into brain dead zombies. So what can we do about it?

Is Film The Answer?

Film is just the medium. I don’t care so much about the medium (although I do love the look of film) – it’s the process that interests me.

Film forces you to work different “photographic muscles” much harder than when shooting digital. Here’s the ten things I’m now doing differently through the process of shooting film:

1.) I’m making selects in-camera, not in Lightroom

Film forces you to think about each shot, because each shot costs money. Film and developer costs are about 30 cents each time I click the shutter. That finite value of a limited number of shots on a roll, and developer expense makes me assess if it’s worth it before the shot, not try to weight it up after the fact in Lightroom. Less time in front of the computer, more time shooting makes me happy.

2.) I feel “the moment” more, and get a true sense of achievement

“What on earth is he smoking?”, you’re probably wondering? Well hippy’isms aside, you have no idea what you’ve got. No way to check an LCD. Each shot must be made to count (even if it doesn’t, there is a sense it should). Your confidence about “the shot” increases as you get more shots that work. When you get the developed film back and see you nailed it, there is no better feeling. Digital doesn’t come close to this sense of achievement. This isn’t about being elitist and shouting from your mountains “Look at me, I am the greatest photographer in the city because I understand how to shoot film!”. It’s about better understanding exposure, motion and light – and how that can help you in the digital world.

3.) You become more aware (particularly of backgrounds, light and composition)

This is easily one of the best skills I’ve become attuned to, and it’s translating into my digital stills and video work. Shooting black and white only has got me thinking much more about background and composition, and how light is falling on my subject. It’s adding greater depth to the images I take.

4.) I am being forced to better understand light

Although my camera has a built in light meter, I’ve become accustomed to different shutter and aperture settings in different lighting conditions. At first it’s a little tricky, even if you shoot manual in your DSLR. I also have a greater understanding of my reciprocals and have become much more adept at quickly adjusting shutter and aperture simultaneously, all of which translates into the digital world very readily. This is about being ready to capture moments while others are still fumbling with dials and settings.

5.) I can anticipate the moment better

My lens is manual focus, the camera is a rangefinder. I shoot at a snails pace now. This is a good thing. This is a great benefit of shooting with film, because it forces you to try and pre-visualize what you want to happen. If you are shooting sports, weddings, people or anything that is not still life, this is an essential skill to hone. The best photographs tend to be the in-between moments, those unexpected instances. Being quicker to anticipate these is a great skill

6.) I’m much more patient

I live in New York – any time I get a chance to practice patience, I take it. The more time I spend doing any type of photography, the more I realize it’s about shooting less, slowing down and observing more. Sure, there might be times you want to shoot off a huge number of frames each second, but if you’re trying to convey an emotion or evoke a mood, I think it’s far more worthwhile to wait, watch, direct a little and have a clear vision in your head AHEAD of what you shoot, rather than shooting and looking at images, trying to work out what you were trying to say. Shooting film is a cure for the over-shoot-because-we-can digital sickness I often find infected with.

7.) I’m no longer weighed down with gear

I cannot tell you how transcendentally magical it is to carry one lightweight film camera and one lens, a 35mm. I’m not only lighter, but I can see and frame an image with my eyes before I even pull the camera up. Shooting one camera and one lens allows you to pre-compose with practice, and is a great way to practice photography without shooting a single photograph. “Know thy tools so they get out of thy way” was some famous saying someone once probably said, and it’s definitely true.

8.) Between sharpness and a better photograph, sharpness loses everytime.

I love sharp digital images, don’t get me wrong, but I firmly believe our ongoing obsession with it is causing us to overlook our connection to the image. I mean, who doesn’t love poring over lens charts? Over sharpened, perfect images are like digital razors to my eyeballs. Imperfection is beautiful. Sharpness doesn’t make a good image, it can make a good image better (if used tactfully) but focusing on just getting something sharp can make an image lifeless and boring. I love the emotion of motion blur, and grain in film, it gives us something organic that connects us to the images we see. We’re humans, not robots, and some of the images I see could easily have come from the brain of an awesomely-cool-looking-yet-emotionally-barren android photographer.

9.) Post processing an image takes 30 seconds, not 30 minutes

Because I love the natural look of film, I’m rarely spending more than 30 seconds on each image when I am messing with them in Lightroom. I’m not spending as much time in front of a computer, I’m just shooting more and that’s what makes me happiest.

10.) Film is timeless

Whichever way you cut it, you cannot beat the look of film or it’s archival properties. It’s why Scorsese, Abrams, Tarantino, Nolan and other Hollywood directors pulled together last month, to try to save Kodak stock. Sure, it’s dying – Kodak film stock sales have fallen 96% over the last ten years, but the fact it’s still around, and still in demand by many top directors says a lot about the special place film has in many of our hearts

Final Thoughts

So am I done with digital? Of course not. In the space of a few days last week, I shot a Polaroid land camera and a Phase medium format camera. Different tools, different jobs.

Will my film camera replace my digital camera? Not on your nelly. That’s not the point of the article. Digital is great, but with all the cheap advancement in technology and limitless opportunity it brings, it can turn us into stumbling, photographic zombies if we’re not careful.

I am thoroughly enjoying the process of film again because I feel like I’ve been snapped out of the digital daze. It’s not so much a trip down memory lane but rather, a useful sharpener for my photographic skillset. You don’t need a Leica. A few hundred dollars gets you a cheap 35mm film camera, a lens, a basic-but-effective film scanner and some rolls of Tri-X to get you started. It’s hardly a serious financial risk and I’m wholly confident you’ll get a sense of at least some of my experiences. At the price of a cheap second hand piece of glass, what have you got to lose?