From a recent roll, here's my dad sitting in a chair listening to my mom and sister talking. Developing with Diafine is so easy and being able to shoot at 1200+ ISO indoors is so handy that I've convinced myself that the contrasty, grainy look is what I was going for in the first place.
In my previous post about the X-Pro2 and 56mm I wrote, “I feel like I could actually make some decent images with this combination.” That sounds suspiciously like a belief that specific gear is required to make a “decent image” and could start a whole thing about it’s-the-photographer-not-the-camera or the best-camera-is-the-one-you-have-with-you trope.
To be clear, I of course believe that a good photographer can make good photos with any camera. But other than to prove a point, who would would want to?
On the other hand, I’m not a terribly good photographer. I just don’t have the creative vision for it. I enjoy making photos so this is fine with me. Much of the joy I derive from photography is in playing with various cameras and processes. I can make shitty photos with any old camera, and often do, but I prefer to use good cameras whenever possible.
I love cameras, but what do I mean by a “good” camera? For me, a good camera is about how it looks, feels, and functions. By “feel” I don’t only mean touch. I also mean how the camera makes me feel when I’m using it.
Leica film cameras are my idea of the perfect camera. Picking up a vintage Leica M is a tactile experience that no other camera can replicate. The feel of an M is perfect. The size, shape, texture, and weight are all ideal. Beyond that, there’s the emotional “feel” of a Leica. It’s impossible for me to separate Leica from its storied history. I’m sentimental that way, so using a Leica feels good in every way that a camera can.
My old, beat up Olympus OM-1n is a good camera. It had fallen down the side of volcano, so the previous owner gave it to me. It was a mess. The bottom plate literally required a hammer to get it back into shape. It’s tiny and barely works but I always remember where it’s been and I love it.
And yes, sometimes, a good camera is the one you have with you. I’ve been carrying a little Stylus Epic, on and off, for years. I paid $10 for the one in the photo. It’s plastic and cheap, but I love how it works. I can reach into my pocket, open the camera, and take a photo with one quick, smooth movement. And I don’t worry about dropping it. It’s a very good camera.
And then there’s the camera that got me thinking about all this again. The Fuji X-Pro2. It handles similarly to a Leica M. It feels good in the hand. The controls are designed and arranged the way I like them. Finally, the images are technically very very good.
When I wrote “I feel like I could actually make some decent images with this combination” what I meant was that using the X-Pro2 feels good, works well, and helps me create the kind of photos I enjoy making. Therefore, like the others, it’s a good camera.
I don’t mind grain so much but HP5+ @1200 in Diafine is pretty darn grainy.
Leica M6. 50mm Summicron. HP5+ @1200 in Diafine. Pakon scan.
This is one of my favorite photos of Jessica. I took it using my newly-bought first Leica (an M6 TTL). That camera made me want to take pictures.
I also love that Jess is using the rangefinder I replaced with the Leica, a Canonet QL17.
My first Leica was an M6 TTL. I sold it in the mid-2000s and have since gone through a number of Leica bodies, from an M3 to an M8. For the past several years I’ve used an M3 and M4. I love them, but I sometimes missed having a meter in the camera rather than on the camera.
So I bought an M6
It’s the perfect M6 for me. It is one of the last 10 “Classic” M6 bodies ever produced (1998). It has had the finder optics upgraded to the flare-free “MP” version. The only framelines displayed are 28, 35, and 50mm. This makes for a bright, beautiful, clutter-free viewfinder.
I chose the M6 “Classic” version because they are generally less expensive than the newer TTL models, with no real disadvantage. I prefer the direction of the shutter dial to be the same as my older bodies.
I’ve put one roll through it, and it’s just as smooth and solid as the M3 and M4. Don’t let the forum trolls convince you otherwise.
As handy as having a built-in meter is, I found that I spent more time obsessing over the meter’s lights than I did looking at the subject. I didn’t expect that. I also ended up with a few badly-exposed shots due to a backlit subject. I would normally have just guessed the exposure. Instead I listened to the meter. I’ll have to re-learn when to stop trusting it!
Here are a few shots from the first roll. It’s Tri-X, shot at 1250 ISO and developed in Diafine, then scanned on the Pakon.
This is the back of a Leica M3. Just look at it! Could there be anything simpler? There are no controls; just an ASA indicator and a (world-beating) viewfinder. (There’s also a couple of flash ports but those can be safely ignored since no one uses them.)
I find the whole thing to be a work of art. The only thing better than looking at the back of a Leica M3 is looking through one.
I bought a little Leica IIIf on a whim a year ago and have become rather attached to it. It’s tiny, beautiful, and I like how it handles.
I went for a walk with it this morning and after developing the roll I discovered that its shutter has begun “capping”, which means the second curtain isn’t behaving correctly. You can see the results in the examples below. Notice how the right side of the images are darker than the left.
Normally, I would just send the camera out for a nice CLA and keep it alive. The problem this time is that I want a “real” IIIf. You see, mine is actually a IIIc converted to a IIIf. That’s not a big deal but this one isn’t quite as “tight” as it should be. It’s also been re-covered and I don’t love the way the replacement covering feels. I may just decide to replace the whole thing instead. Dilemma.
I’ve always wanted a “Barnack” Leica, if for no reason other than the nostalgia of using a piece of photographic history dating back to the mid-1930s. I’m not a (deliberate) collector, so condition and rarity weren’t important to me. I ended up with a “user” IIIf.
The camera is not really a IIIf but rather a IIIc built in 1946 then later converted by Leica into a IIIf. It came with a lovely chrome Canon 50mm 1.8 LTM lens, which was a nice bonus, since prices on the Canon LTM lenses keep going up. When this photo was taken, I was trying the 28mm Voigtlander Color-Skopar and 28mm accessory viewfinder. The Leica IIIs were made with a 50mm lens in mind, so I’ll probably keep the Canon on it most of the time. I’m also looking for a nice post-war 50mm collapsible Summicron, since that would be a great fit.
After two or three rolls of film I can say that it’s a delight to use. By “delight” I don’t mean that it’s easy or convenient. It’s neither of those.
To visualize the photo, you look through the left viewfinder for focusing, then you need to switch to the right window for framing. Both are quite tiny and not nearly as bright as the later M cameras that I’m used to. The film is advanced by turning a knob and it is rewound using another knob. No sir, none of those newfangled levers on this camera. None of this can be done quickly.
Loading the film is even more awkward. The leader must first be trimmed manually with scissors so that it doesn’t get jammed between the shutter curtain and plate. The trimmed leader is then connected to a separate take-up spool. The final assembly is then carefully pushed up into the bottom of the camera, making sure the sprockets on the take-up spool are engaged with the film leader. (I missed that last part with the first roll and ended up shooting the entire roll without the film advancing. Not good.)
There’s of course no meter, so exposure must be set manually. I don’t mind that, since I shoot other meterless cameras.
All of this sounds rather cumbersome, and it is – a little. But the camera feels wonderful in my hand. It’s a precision-engineered mechanical marvel capable of making fantastic images. It just won’t do it quickly. I read somewhere that each camera took 40 man hours to build. A little patience is a good thing.
I had a long talk with myself after somehow acquiring no fewer than 4 Leica M bodies. That’s beyond what even I can rationalize. During the talk, I asked myself, “What if you could keep two of them?” The answer was that I would need to buy an M7 in order to keep just two. See how that works? I can explain.
The M3 I bought recently is perfect. I love it. It’s beautiful, legendary, and built better than any camera I’ve ever seen. It has an amazing viewfinder and is generally awesome. Put a 50mm lens on it and I’m good to go. Good to go until I’m feeling lazy, that is. Sometimes, using a completely manual camera with no built-in meter is discouraging. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does I start thinking about digital, and I don’t like when I start thinking about digital.
How might I solve the lazy problem? I solved it by buying an M7. The M7 has aperture-priority auto exposure, quicker loading, and a built-in meter. It makes everything easy.
So, I’ve put the “extra” M3, the M4, and the M6 up for sale, and picked up a beautiful M7 to compliment the remaining M3. You’ve heard it before, but if I’m right, this should take care of the camera problem for quite some time.
A few months ago I picked up a bag full of beat up Olympus cameras and lenses from a guy on Craigslist. (See http://jackbaty.com/2009/08/olympus-om-1n/”>this post.) I was told that the OM-2n was not repairable, but I continued to use the OM-1n and have become very fond of it. I like it so much I bought a working OM-2n to go with it – and it’s beautiful. I chose the 2n for its automatic exposure option and the ability, to use its off-the-film metered TTL flash.
The above photo shows the OM-2n (with an 85mm f2) next to my black Leica M7. The Olympus looks smaller, because it is. That surprised me too. It also costs about 10 times less. It may be just the novelty, but I’ve been grabbing the OMs on the way out the door more often than the Leicas. This little discovery could end up saving me a lot of money.
To see what an OM can do in capable hands, take a look at http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/jane-bown“>Jane Bown’s work. Good stuff.