Drag racing

I tried something new, and it wasn’t wearing different clothes. I learned that there is a drag-racing racecourse reasonably close to where I live. A local sports photographer was going to an event and offered to advise and support a small group of snappers. So I signed up.

Having been a nerdy wannabe (and then be) motorcyclist as a youth, I’d had some familiarity with the sport as it was back then. I think George Brown was still racing one of his Nero variants, or was at least recent enough that we knew his name. Oh, and it was known as sprinting, not drag, which is a better description of what it is all about. This of course sparked another memory of going to a tractor-pull competition. This was all about pulling a weighted trailer as far as possible up an earth strip. The trick was that the trailer had a large weight on it, and the front of the trailer was not wheels but a plain metal sled plate. As the trailer moved forward, the weight also moved forward, loading-up the sled and making the trailer harder to pull. This event also required ridiculous amounts of engine power and produced loads of noise and spectacle. What can I say? I loved it all. Anyway, back to the story.

First question is what lenses to take? A few years back when I went to Silverstone I took all of them and nearly came home with a hernia. But let’s say I want my field of view or frame to be 3m wide and let’s assume I will be 30m away from the racers. The magic formula tells me I want an angle of view of 100 mils, so I’ll need the equivalent of a 300 to 400mm lens on 35mm or full-frame. Easy. I have a 70-300 zoom and a fixed 400mm. If we do get near the paddock area I can swap for a 35-70 zoom. This is bold (for me): I usually take two lenses to go to the newsagent. The 400mm doesn’t have a decent lens hood and it could be sunny, but it’s easy enough to make one: it has a 5 degree angle of view so it’s just a bit of work with a protractor and some scissors.

I’m also taking my monopod. This is a Benbo one that must have turned up cheap somewhere in the past. It has a plastic V on top instead of a tripod thread. This makes it easy to support the lens, then set it aside instantly if I need to do something else.

So kitted-out, off I jolly well set. I also found out how the racing thing worked. The course is one eighth of a mile – a furlong, 220 yards or 201 meters. There are two lanes on the track. The racing is controlled by a small tower of lights, known as the christmas tree. The racer pulls forward to a marked line and the top light goes white when the front wheel is on the line. Then a set of orange lights go on, followed by a green. At the green light the racers depart. They are timed over the course distance and their speed measured at the end. It sounds sedate. Then consider that the fastest cars can complete the distance in under six seconds and be doing 130mph as they cross the finishing line. I was told that some courses are a quarter of a mile, and the cars can reach 250mph. That’s pretty extreme. So they use every method invented to accelerate as hard as they can – huge engines, superchargers, weird fuels, nitrous oxide, sticky tyres and probably pagan sacrifice. As a result, they can be loud. No, make that LOUD. I was warned to bring ear defenders, but didn’t expect to feel the pulsing sound in my chest.

The chequered yellow panels are the finishing line. The dots in the smoke are stones that were stuck to the tyres.

On the course I was at, the 300mm was just about ideal at the long end. I did use the 400mm to pick out single cars and details, but it’s slow to focus so not as handy as the the 300. If I go to another event I’ll probably take the same pair again. The 35-70 was perfect in the pit area. Oh, and that’s another thing – this is not Formula One: you can talk to the racers and team, look at the cars and generally get a close look at some extreme engineering. And what’s even further from F1 is that some of the cars and bikes are old. One of the racers was an old Commer van that still had the faded newspaper delivery sign on the side. Oh, and a large V8 engine hidden in the middle of the body. There was a Ford Anglia with a much bigger engine than the one in my grandad’s. And a rough looking MG which squirmed down the track as the rear tyres tried to overtake the front.

A fast shutter speed reveals what the eye cannot see – that the sidewalls of a car’s rear tyres are twisted into ripples by the extreme torque of the engine. And that the rotation of that engine causes one of the front wheels to lift off the road. If these things can reach 250mph I have no idea how they stay on the track.

Look at the rear tyre

One thing that worked very well was my new camera. It allowed me to raise the ISO as needed to get the shutter speed and aperture combinations I wanted. It also has good image stabilisation so it helped me work with long lenses in a buffeting wind.

Both front wheels are trying to lift, but the right one is held down by the torque reaction of fhe engine.

Did I enjoy the racing? Yes, I did. Lots of things going very fast and making loud noises. Did I enjoy the photography? Yes, I did. I love shooting action and people doing things. It was all about fast focusing, panning and framing. About as far from landscape or still life as you can get. Will I go again? Yes, given the chance.

Lady Diana

How Lomo can you go? I’m afraid I succumbed. Meet Lady Di. She’s a 60’s original, so not even the newer Diana F.

Lady Di (the camera) is made of a small amount of thin plastic and very few moving parts, so it weighs very little. Heft is one of the many things it doesn’t have. Saying that, it has more controls than a Holga, which isn’t saying much. It’s like saying a Citroen Dyane is faster than a 2CV. The Wikipedia entry is not complimentary about the build quality – “It is constructed primarily of low-quality phenolic plastics of the type commonly found in toys imported from Asia during the 1960s.”

The shutter release has a long travel and, with the camera being so light, can probably shake the whole thing as it releases. I have found it works better to pull down on the release with my left forefinger, with my hand under the lens. The squeezing motion shakes the camera less and supports it more.

The shutter speed seems to be pot luck and could be around 1/50 to 1/100. Mine also has a B setting, but there is no cable release so you would need to keep your finger on the shutter lever or build a gadget to do it for you. The lens has three apertures. There is a wide open setting of f11 or two different holes that swing across to provide f13 or f19. Given the variation in the shutter, you may as well ignore the number values and just go by the weather symbols. The main control then becomes the speed of the film you load. Bright day? FP4. Dullish day? HP5.

Unlike the Holga it shoots a smaller frame, 4 by 4 cm, but this means it gets 16 shots on a roll rather than 12. My ex father-in-law’s old Balda camera covers the full 6×4.5 frame, but it has a better lens. The Diana’s wind-on is awful. It’s a noisy ratcheting dial that occasionally locks. Don’t force it, just wiggle it, and it frees and keeps working.

The push-fit lens cap is easily knocked off but you only really need it when the camera is packed in a bag. For walking around you can leave it off. Unlike a rangefinder camera you are not going to burn holes in your shutter curtains.

Because of its age the labels are falling off due to the glue under them drying out. The first was the focusing scale around the lens. This just needed a bit of alignment and a spot of superglue. Then the label on the winding knob departed. Luckily I found it in the bottom of my bag, which saved me using a bit of tape with an arrow drawn on it.

So, all that aside, does it live up to the hype? Is the Diana a better Holga? Why am I bothering when I already have a Golden Hammer?

Well, the first roll through the camera showed that, contrary to folklore, the camera had no light leaks. The roll of film did though – it obviously winds a slack roll so some light got through at the sides. I’ll just be careful in future to unload it in the shade and keep the used film roll covered.

The film could also have done with a bit more exposure. Perhaps the shutter speed is closer to 1/100 than I was expecting? The lesson is though that I can give it a bit more. So this will mean using a faster film or leaning more towards the cloudy aperture setting.

So how did the mythical soft lens turn out? Pretty soft, as it happens, with perhaps a touch of that Lomo vignetting. But does it have that magical quality that these toy cameras are known for? Maybe. Further experiments needed. Oddly, some frames seemed softer on one side than the other, and the soft side changed during the roll of film. There is a plate that holds the film against the gate, but perhaps this is a result of the loose take-up roll? I need to get this thing out again in brighter light, so that I can stop the lens down a bit.

Did I enjoy using it? Yes, as it happens. I’ve moaned before about carrying heavy cameras about but this one is featherweight. Set the aperture for the conditions, tweak the lens to the zone you will be shooting in and just go for it. This may be the perfect post-apocalyptic camera.

Fed vs Zorki

I wrote previously that I had both a Fed 2 and a Zorki. But which one is best? Do I keep one and sell the other, and which one? Does anyone really need two rangefinder cameras?

So first, the basics. The Fed dates from around 1959 and the Zorki from 1969. The Fed has a long rangefinder base of around 68mm and the Zorki a shorter one of around 38mm. So the Fed ought to focus more accurately, yes?

The rangefinder window is on the left
The rangefinder window is in the middle. The thing on the left is the PC socket.

Between the two cameras I have three lenses. The Zorki came with its usual Jupiter 8 lens. This has a serial number starting 08, so could be much newer than the camera body. This lens is a 50mm f2 with a Sonnar design. The Fed came with an Industar 26m that is probably coated, as it has a red P on the front, although I found it fairly low contrast in use. This has a serial number starting 017 and is probably the same age as the camera body. I’ve also got a more modern Industar 61ld. This has lanthanum in the glass and is coated. This should be the sharpest and most contrasty of the bunch. Both of the Industars are based on a Tessar design. The main difference in use is that the ’61 has click-stop apertures while the other two do not. The clickless apertures may be favoured by film-makers, but they are a pain to photographers as it is too easy to nudge them and change the setting. So the best lens for general use should be the ’61, although the Jupiter is an extra stop wider.

Neither camera has frame lines in the viewfinder. Both are supposed to show the field of a 50mm lens and there were external viewfinders available for other lenses. The magnification of the Zorki viewfinder seems to be larger than the Fed. So the view through the Zorki looks the same as the actual scene (or as seen through the other eye) while the Fed appears smaller. I suppose it only really makes a difference if you want to keep both eyes open.

Fed shutter speeds

The Fed has a smaller range of shutter speeds and a lower top speed of 1/500. On my Zorki however, the slower speeds were printed in red ink and have faded away. Not that I am going to be using speeds slower than 1/30 anyway, or that I’d trust the old shutter clockwork to still time them accurately. So the main difference is the top speed of 1/1000.

Zorki shutter speeds

The rangefinder patch of the Zorki is rectangular but not well defined, while the Fed one is circular and a distinct yellow colour.

The shutter releases are different, but that may be their age or how well they were assembled. The Zorki needs a firm push while the Fed is smooth and light. Both shutters are quiet. Perhaps not Leica quiet, but they didn’t cost Leica money. And the Fed seems to have managed 60+ years with probably little care or cossetting.

Carrying them around is similar, except the Zorki has no strap lugs so needs the bottom part of its case to provide them.

So which one do I prefer? The Fed. It’s a bit smoother in action and the rangefinder patch is a bit brighter. Rewinding the film is a bit of a pain, but one doesn’t do it that often. Besides, if I wanted a camera that’s faster and easier to use it would be an SLR. But I want to keep all three lenses, so I may be looking to see what a Zorki body would sell for. <brief pause> About £20, which is just a few quid more than it cost. I will probably hang onto them both. One thing I could check is that all three lenses register correctly on both bodies for the rangefinder. These cameras are more fiddly than SLRs and do sometimes need to be adjusted. Maybe when I’ve got some spare time. In the meantime I’m treating them like a free Leica and I will try to wear them out. But the Fed is my favourite.

Culling the herd

The time has come (the walrus said) to reduce the quantity of photographic equipment I own. I have realised that I really don’t need several versions of the same thing. If there is a best or better in the set, then why do I need the others? Besides, I don’t have the time to shoot them all. And (trying to keep a straight face) the whole point is the pictures, not the cameras that take them. I can justify having one spare camera to replace an old relic that could fail, but not four. I have recognised and now need to get over my addiction.

What made the decision for me was moving house. If you stay in one place it’s easy to store things. It’s when you have to pack them up and move them that you realise how much stuff you have accumulated. Books are worse. I confess that we had close to 800 in the house. Drastically reduced now, but still enough that I could make a good Zoom background if I wanted to. Or a play fort.

So this is the opposite of GAS. Let’s call it SOLID – selling off lots of idle dogs.

The lenses it makes sense to keep though, more so than cameras. These are the important bit, after all. For all the talk about how wonderful some cameras are, they really only provide a shutter and a method for holding the sensor or film. One camera and three lenses is a lot more useful than the other way round. On the other hand there are some cameras with special functionality. Stuff that is waterproof or panoramic is unique, but M42 SLRs are all much the same. So specials can stay but the generic can go.

lenses
A subset of the saved.

I did a bit of an exercise, building a table of camera types against the things I wanted them to do. The reason was to make it obvious to me where I had too many of the same thing.

So what is going? Everything I have multiples of or don’t actively use. I will keep anything I have been given, as these are special because of the person who gave them to me. Not that I’m showered with gifts (send more pies!), but these are staying.

By the time I post this I will probably have sold them, so this is the list of the dear departed:

  • Pentax MV body. Auto-only body that came with a useful lens. The lens stays, the camera goes.
  • Zeiss Contessa. Generic 60s fixed lens rangefinder camera.
  • Nikonos III.
  • Pentax A3 body.
  • Pentax MZ5-n body.
  • Fed 50 compact.
  • Fujica STX-1 with 55mm lens.
  • Olympus 35 RC.
  • Zeiss Contina.
  • Leidox 127 format camera with a 35mm adaptation.
  • Canon Canonette 2b.
  • Agfa Super Silette.
  • Lomo Cosmic Symbol.
  • Kodak Retinette 1a.
  • Diana.
  • Olympus Pen EE-2.
  • Canon Ixus 750 with underwater housing. Very capable but superseded.
  • An Ozeck 80-205mm zoom.
  • Canon Powershot A590. Excellent camera, but also superseded.
  • A Pentax Takumar 70-200mm zoom.
  • A Chinon 35-200mm zoom.

Will I miss them? I doubt it – I hardly used them. I can use the little money they bring in to go towards something better that I will use much more. Their departue has freed space and removed a source of anxiety.

I also have a bunch of dead camera bodies that I need to find a way to give someone as a source of parts (or as a boat anchor).

This may not be the end of it. I am now evaluating my cameras agaist new criteria such as ‘do they have a special funtion that I need?’ and ‘are they tools or toys?’. Besides, analogue photographers are complaining about the rising price of old cameras, but continue to hoard them in bulk and stalk them on eBay. Time to release into the wild the cameras I am not using.

case
The Good, the Bad and the Fugly.

Fly free, my pretties! And the other ones.

Zeiss Ikon Contessa LKE

A chunky monkey from the mid-60s, but quite well-featured.

This variant of the Contessa line was made from 1963 to 1965. From various clues I think mine was late in the series, so let’s say 1965. What you get is a substantial-feeling fixed lens rangefinder. It’s quite deep in the body and weighs-in at 630g. Ideally you would find one with a case, as the body has no strap lugs of its own. What it does have is a sharp Tessar lens, a decent range of shutter speeds, a rangefinder and a lightmeter. The lightmeter is a treat – there is a display on the top plate so that you can set the camera up while it’s still hanging on a strap. When you raise the camera to your eye, there is another meter needle in the viewfinder.

The cover on the left rotates to reveal the PC socket.

The rangefinder patch on this one is a bit faint, but helped by a spot of marker pen in the middle of the viewfinder window.

The shutter runs from 1/500 down to 1/15 and B, while the meter goes from 10 to 800 ISO. Not bad for ’65.

The rangefinder needed calibrating when I first got the camera, but it’s not hard. The top plate comes off with two screws (but not completely – there is a wire that runs to the flash PC socket but it has some slack in it). The adjustment screws are on the sloping rear wall of the viewfinder block. The bottom screw is obscured by the winding lever, which needs a third hand or a bit of tape to hold it back. Luckily it’s the top screw that adjusts the sideways movement of the split image. So a few minutes with a small screwdriver and a distant view through the window got everything lined-up again.

In use it’s easier than most cameras of this type. The aperture control ring has tabs to make it easy to locate and turn. The shutter ring has a decent bit of tooth to it, so it too is easy to find and set. You just have to remember to feel past it to get the the narrower lens.

The film rewind is a Zeiss quirk. It’s on the bottom of the camera. When you press the film release button the rewind arm pops-out far enough to get hold of it and fold it open to its operating position. Putting it on the bottom leaves space under the top plate of the camera for the light meter, so it’s a clever design.

In use it’s a good lens in a usable package. You could load a film, take this out and use it with results and handling as good as any more modern film camera. Nowhere near as small as an Olympus XA, but still practical.

Stretching my exposure triangle

Not the same as stretching Benner’s Box, but my boundaries are now wider. I just bought a more capable camera. And by capable I mean it has a bigger exposure triangle.

What I’m used to is what I grew up with: the common range of shutter speeds, apertures and ISO. Looking at even the best of my kit the shutter speeds might run from 8s to 1/2000 and the apertures from f1.4 to (usually) f22. My ISO options run from say 6 for a very slow film to 3200 for my fastest film or sensor. So let’s say the sides of my available exposure triangle are 13 stops on shutter speed, 11 for sensitivity and 9 stops for aperture.

Then along came digital. So now, with a modern camera, I have more to play with. My shutter speeds now span 19 stops and my sensitivity 14 stops. The aperture range is the same, as the limit at the large number/ small hole end of the scale is the diffraction of light. Perhaps we could stretch to a range of 10 stops if I bought some of these new lenses coming in at f1. Even so, I have a lot more capability to use with this new camera. And even better, it’s in the places I need it. My film cameras get their 11 stops of sensitivity at the low end: they can shoot 6 or 3 ISO film. The digital camera gets its range at the top end with an ISO that goes up to 819,200. That’s far more useful, especially as the shutter will go up to 1/8000 so I can still shoot wide open in bright light, even if the ISO doesn’t go lower than 100.

Of course, being of an inquisitive nature, I had to work out what my old and new exposure triangles looked like. So the older cameras could range within a triangular volume with sides of 13, 11 and 9. The new one has sides of 19, 14 and 9. Similar to a colour space: it’s volume of the shape that gives you the space you can explore. So, using Heron’s formula and a bit of Pythagoras I make the old camera’s volume 644 and the new one’s 1197; nearly double. So we should actually talk about the exposure prism rather than triangle <\pedant>. But here’s a fun game for the family on a rainy day – plot the exposure space of your cameras. The practical side of this is that a film camera only gets a horizontal slice of the prism in use, as you set the ISO by the choice of film and there is not much opportunity to change the ISO on the fly. Sorry – geek diversion ends here – back to the plot.

The three axes at the origin should be at right angles. I bent them to fit better on the paper.

The shake reduction that comes with digital also gives me nearly seven stops of extra exposure space at the slow shutter speed end. No more than that because the world is a rotating sphere, but we knew that.

Why do I need this cleverness? Because I find myself pushing the limits of what my current kit will do. For example, a local band was playing in a pub garden during the early evening. The best camera I have for higher ISO work can do 800 and be pushed to 1600, but the quality suffers.  I was using a convenient post to steady the shot and still getting only 1/30 on shutter speed.

Yes, there is a story behind the band’s name…

I had a go at star photography with my ‘best’ camera and the results were awful. Not that I regularly do the lit-up tent and Milky Way thing, but it would be good if it did work when I was out in the hills and darkness.

Looks like Kendal is on fire

There is also the crop factor. My old camera has an APS-C sensor, so it effectively multiplies the focal length of my old 35mm lenses by 1.5. Very useful for sports and action, less so for wide angle. The old camera also has pretty poor noise at higher ISO, so things used to get a bit tight in dimmer light, with a long lens and a moving subject. The new camera is full frame, or the same size as an old 35mm film frame. So now all my wider lenses will work as they were meant to. The camera also has an option of using just the central part of the sensor to act as though it was APS-C, so I get the equivalent of a 1.5x teleconverter without losing one stop in exposure. (Or I could just crop the picture). What it does mean though is that I can still use my APS-C lenses. I do like a bit of backwards compatibility (and this is not a euphemism). And on that subject, I was delighted to find my 15 year old dedicated flash also works on the new camera.

So, having justified this extravagant purchase to myself, what am I going to use all this expensive cleverness for? After all, I could have bought a Famous Rangefinder for the same money.  Extending my options is the plan. My tilt and shift lenses go back to being mildly wide angle rather than telephoto. My wide angles do what their name suggests. I can start scanning all my medium format negatives (since my flatbed scanner died) at a reasonable level of quality. And I’m off to shoot more pictures of things that go fast in fading light.

Ricoh KR-10 Super

I was given this with some other bits by a very nice person, in response to a talk I had given about shooting film. I was particularly delighted as my first proper camera, my Ricoh XR-2, appears to have died. The XR-2 was introduced in 1977 and the KR-10 Super in 1983, so what happened in those six years?

The KR (for short) still has a metal chassis under the plastic but has made more use of electronics. The slowest shutter speed is now 16 seconds. In comparison the XR goes to 4 seconds on manual and 8 on auto. The ISO range is the same at 12 to 3200. The meter on the KR may be a tad better, as it covers EV0 to 18 while the XR only goes to 17. What is notable though is the indication in the viewfinder. The older XR has a moving needle that either shows you what shutter speed you will get in auto or provides a match-needle for manual metering. The KR has a needle, but it uses an LCD and not an actual moving needle. Where the XR had a visually simple matching of needles, the KR has arrows that appear at the top or bottom of the scale to tell you if the exposure will be over or under. I’m not sure I will find it as quick in use, but I can always leave it in automatic mode. It’s odd though, that they chose to copy an analogue meter display rather than do something better. Pentax used just a few coloured LEDs on the MX and it works very well. But, to be fair, Ricoh went on to produce the Mirai, so we have to thankful that the quirks on the KR-10 were few and small.

The camera came with the original sales brochure, and this is interesting in itself. The range of lenses available was a surprise, and there are a few I’d fancy even now. There’s a 16mm fisheye, a 300 f4.5 and a 600 f8, for example. There is even a 50mm autofocus lens, with a bulky mechanism built into and around a modest f2 bit of glass. The camera has a clever feature that is not obvious, but is mentioned in the brochure, and that’s the mirror. Rather than just hinge up, the reflex mirror swings up and back in an arc. This lets them use a bigger mirror that still clears the back of the lens.

The arm you can see at the left swings the mirror back as it rises

One thing that might be telling is that there is a switch on the front of the camera for the metering. The meter will turn-on with the usual half-press of the shutter button, but the brochure makes a point of the sensitive electronic release. I wonder if the shutter button is a bit too sensitive for an easy half-press, so they gave you a safer dedicated meter switch as well?

It’s worth mentioning this shutter release in more detail. The release button is in the centre of the speed selector, which is easy to do when you are using electronics rather than mechanical connections. It has a lock position. One click away from lock is auto, so it is easy to flick from safe to shooting mode. But the next click round is B, followed by the slowest shutter speeds. To get to the normal-range speeds you need to turn the dial back past lock to get to 1/1000, and then work your way down. To me this is another odd little ergonomic choice: the camera is intended to be used in auto mode, with less thought given to manual. There is no way to set the camera at say 1/125 and f8 ready to shoot and also lock the release against accidental triggering. It just says to me that this was a capable consumer camera meant to be used in automatic mode.

Anyway, what’s it like to shoot a 45 year old SLR? Well, before you can, you may need to replace the light seals. But because the camera had an optional data back, the standard back can be taken completely off the camera very easily. This makes the scrape-and-clean job much easier. With that job done, I can load it and take it for a walk. Nobody is going to care what sort of pictures it takes – the results are too dependant on other factors – but the general handling of the camera is of interest, and this can only really be determined by using it. The camera came with Ricoh’s 50mm f2 lens. It feels a bit plasticy, unlike the 50mm f1.7 from my older XR, which is definitely metal. It has nice clean glass though and a snappy aperture, so it was looked after and has aged well. The camera body is the same: clean and scratch free. The previous owner had even taken the batteries out before storing it. I’m a little ashamed at how much I hammer my own kit, but I still think cameras are tools, not jewels.

In use, it was much as I expected. The shutter button is quite hard to find, resulting in me taking one accidental shot and then looking first to make sure my finger was in the right position. Not a camera I would choose to shoot wearing gloves. The meter needle is also hard to see against a dark background. I wouldn’t seek out this camera myself because the ergonomics would annoy me, but if it was what I had I would happily use it.; But, saying that, it is a competent SLR with a good specification and they are not expensive. Worth a look if you have some K mount lenses that you want to use.

SLR – the perfect camera

There is an idea in computing of the Turing Machine. This is a general-purpose computer that can do any computational task by changing its program. I have mentioned this before in the same sense, of being able to make a digital camera emulate other sensors or effects. My premise here though, is that there is also a general-purpose type of camera, and it’s the SLR.

The SLR can do any photographic task, because it can be adapted and has few constraints.

The key feature is that the viewing lens and the taking lens are the same: you look through the actual lens in use to frame and focus the image. This means that what you see is what you get. The only other camera that does this is the large format type, where you compose and focus on a sheet of ground glass that gets replaced by film to make the exposure. The benefit of the SLR is that the ground glass and the film are in the same box at the same time: when you have composed and focused the mirror flips up and the shutter opens to send the incoming light to the film (or sensor). There are no delays while you swap the focusing screen for the film.

The clever hinged mirror

The other clever trick that the SLR has is the pentaprism. This reverses and inverts the image from the lens so that you see the scene the right way up and the right way round. Compare this with the large format camera above, where the image you see is upside-down. Or a TLR, where the image is the right way up but reversed left-to-right. So the SLR shows the world in the same way that it looks without the camera. There is no struggle to follow action or level a horizon, because the camera moves in the way you expect.

The inside of a pentaprism

Because you look through the lens, so can the lightmeter. Rather than the meter having a different view of the scene, you know exactly what it is measuring. This means that the meter automatically adjusts for filters, close-up work, odd apertures and strange lenses. By strange, think of using projector lenses, or even zoom lenses that have a variable aperture.  As an aside, this is why cine lenses have T markings rather than F stops. T is the actual transmission of the lens and is true for all lenses at the same setting. A marked F stop may not be the actual value of the light that gets through though, due to the realities of multiple elements etc. This is why it is useful to be able to meter through the lens to measure the actual light rather than the marketing department’s number. It also means that with a long lens, for example, you are measuring the distant scene rather than the general light you are standing in.

The benefit of rangefinder cameras, we are told, is that you can see outside the frame. This means you can see things that are about to come into the frame. This is supposed to be a benefit in street photography. The disadvantage is that the frame you see is not quite the same as what the lens sees, and this gets worse as you get closer. You also need the camera to have the necessary viewfinder frames for your lenses, or you need to use a supplementary viewfinder, introducing another source of error and turning the focusing and framing into separate actions. An SLR, on the other hand, will focus and frame any lens you can fit to it. Rangefinders also struggle with very long or very wide lenses, as the viewfinder and focus patch become less useful. Just think of the difficulties of focusing a 500mm lens (4 degrees) or a 180 degree wide angle. With the 500 the actual field of view may be smaller than the focusing patch. With the wide angle you have no idea if your feet are in shot or not. An SLR will happily handle both.

Swap the focusing screen for a different one

Rangefinders do have one advantage over the SLR though, in that they are often quieter to use. There is no sound or vibration from the SLR’s mirror flipping up and down. They can also be physically smaller, as the camera body doesn’t have to hold a tilting mirror.

The big development has been in mirrorless cameras, which combine the smaller size of the rangefinder with the through-the-lens utility of the SLR. I think that mirrorless cameras took off due to mobile phone cameras. We got used to the idea of holding a camera out in front of us and looking at the screen on the back, rather than holding the camera to our eye. So the mirrorless camera gains the smaller body of the rangefinder and drops the complex mechanism to raise and lower the mirror. It does rely entirely on electronics to display the viewfinder image though, so you need bigger batteries and get through them quicker. So there is a trade-off between the bigger and heavier SLR and the smaller and lighter mirrorless that may require you to carry an extra battery. There is also no equivalent to the manual SLR. I can use my Pentax MX with or without batteries and it works just fine. On the other hand, everyone seems to be swapping to mirrorless cameras, so perhaps I am wrong about SLRs? For digital, I probably am.

The epitome of the SLR is the professional system camera. These took full advantage of the adaptability of the configuration to allow you to swap viewing/ focusing screens, viewfinders, film capacity, motor drives, macro gadgets etc. You started with the basic film holder and shutter and added other bits as needed. The need for this has gone away with digital, as you can add picture capacity by using a larger storage card and do most of the other tricks in software. So what you are left with is the viewing mechanism – the facility to see through the lens and focus the image produced by that lens.

The downside of the SLR is that they are more complex than other types of camera. There is some clever orchestration to close-down the lens aperture, lift the mirror, trigger the shutter and then reverse it all. It also means that lenses for an SLR have to be designed to have a large enough distance between the back of the lens and the sensor to allow room for the mirror and shutter. This flange distance was fixed by the camera manufacturer for their cameras and lenses and is the main reason why not all lenses work on all cameras. The precise mechanical engineering of the mirror and shutter are probably why SLRs are declining: it’s a lot easier to use electronics to display what the lens is seeing than to use mirrors and prisms to do the job. It certainly makes manufacturing easier. For what is basically a niche product in a small market, this is important. The lack of a reasonably priced shutter mechanism is probably what is preventing any new SLR being developed (although we may be in luck).

So basically, there you have it: the SLR was the pinnacle of practical usability, replaced by alternatives that were cheaper to make or more flexible (mirrorless cameras and mobile phones). RIP the SLR.

Ricercare

I’m puzzled. I worked in IT (that’s reason enough, right there). Not the brainy side where they do development, but the messy side where we fix stuff. So we do a lot of systematic problem-solving, very often under pressure. If you can’t run the payroll on time, people get excited.

Now, I know that nobody ever came to work to use a computer. Well, maybe the code developers did, but they’re special. The rest of us have a job to do. A computer is one of the tools and, like a tool, I don’t have to understand how it works. As a colleague used to say – people don’t want drills, they want holes. But you can’t buy a bag of holes, so you have to use a drill.

This is where the puzzlement comes in. Why do so few people learn how to use the tools? I used to think I knew the answer, but I swapped sides and now I’m not so sure. Let me explain. And I promise I will get around to photography.

First, a small aside. The people in IT who provide support may often know less about what a computer can do than the people asking for help. The reason is that the IT people don’t use their computer to do your job. They know the basics and can fix most problems, but asking the IT guys how to set up running headers that repeat the section title or how to best-fit a curve to data, and they will do exactly what you could: read the Help file.

So this is what I did. Every time I wanted to do something difficult, I copied and adapted examples from Help until it worked. The (previous) scientist in me would use test data so I could check that the results worked. The geek in me wondered why nobody else did this. I also wondered why our organisation would throw people at technology with no training. Or rather they did train, but sporadically and with precise focus on how to do specific tasks.

What broadened my view was changing places. In my (early) retirement I took a part time call-centre job. We have multiple systems in use – many more than when I was a techie. I can use them, but I have no spare time to learn anything more about them. I also have no reason or incentive to do anything more than my assigned task. When something doesn’t work I don’t have the time to dawdle through the (non-existent) help facility. I want it fixed, right now. I also don’t want it changed. The systems are a minor component of what I do, but a major obstacle if they don’t work the way I expect. So now I understand why people hated IT when we rolled-out a change.

So what has this got to do with photography? So how well do you understand your camera? What about your editing software? Or your scanner? Just as we used to get people telling the IT help desk that they wished they knew more about computers (by which they meant how to use computer applications), so I hear people saying they wished they knew how to use their camera/ Lightroom/ scanner etc.

A while back I wrote an article about some aspects of learning. This was about the stages of moving from novice to expert and the false reassurance of feeling competent. While it set out what I had learned from the experts on the shape of the path, it didn’t explain how to make progress along it.

Hence the title of this post.

I have found that reading a manual or delving through menu options are not good ways for me to learn. Like I said, I could learn everything about the drill but what I want is the hole.

What I have found works for me is to try to do one thing, often imitating something I have seen or heard of. So with PhotoShop, for example, I started by removing hairs and scratches from scanned film images. I tried using cloning, but the results were horrible. Then I read about using layers. Then a bit more investigation led me to the healing brush tool. Combining that with a layer gave me a reversible and controllable spotting technique. Hurrah!

Comic
Trying a comic-book effect

I did the same with other effects that took my interest: toning; split toning; dodging and burning and so on. In each case the focus was on learning how to obtain a specific effect rather than memorising the entire manual. Each time I was happy with a process I made notes of the settings and layers I had used in a cookbook of techniques. This way I didn’t need to remember everything – I could look at the contents list for things like smoothing skin or sharpening to find the starting position. And each time I had a go at achieving an effect I could add it to the cookbook. A recent example is the use of texture layers. I went to a talk by the talented EJ Lazenby and saw how she uses texture layers and blending modes to achieve effects. Not a technique I will use every day, but useful to know and handy when needed. Very useful for dropping bad backgrounds in portraits (better would be to see and change the background at the time, but hey…). So I had a go, and fiddled until I got a result I liked. Then added it to the cookbook as a useful tool. I’m basically building myself the mythical bag of holes.

Texture
Trying the use of a texture overlay

What I am also doing (I realised, eventually) is breaking down the learning of a large area of knowledge into small steps that I am motivated to investigate and that reward me with results at each stage. To mangle another metaphor, I’m not trying to eat the whole elephant in one go. Instead I am serving an elephant-based buffet comprising elephant three ways, joues d’éléphant and a surprise pudding (of elephant). I still have no idea what PhotoShop is fully capable of, but if I see an interesting result I will learn how to obtain it. It also reduces stress. I am not fretting that I don’t know the whole of PhotoShop as I have a set of things I can do and a method for adding to the set based on interest or need.

It’s the same information-bloat with cameras. They are now so capable and feature-rich that I don’t imagine anyone knows or uses their full functionality. There is an example here of the full set of menu options on a modern camera. You can’t memorise this stuff. What you have to do is try one thing, say HDR, and see what works and what you like. Most digital cameras have one or more user or custom settings that remember a set of options. My Canon has one user mode saved that lets me shoot in mono (like a real camera) and a second mode for underwater. And I can always flick it back to program or manual if needed.

So rather than try to map the entire territory, I have explored paths that looked interesting and then left breadcrumbs so that I can find them again. Perhaps you have seen the film Jumper? The cool kids can travel instantly, but only to places they have seen in real life. I too have found my way to some useful results so I can jump to them any time I need them. The gaps between the end points remain undiscovered, unless I need something new.

Scott Redding, Marc VDS Team, Silverstone, June 2011
This was a more subtle use of several methods to improve the shadow detail

So, my sincere apologies to anyone trying to just get a job done. I am now in the same position at work and I just want stuff to work without effort. But for things that are optional, done for fun or to get a specific outcome, may I recommend trying small steps, with each one focused on getting a specific result? Don’t try to learn PhotoShop, learn how to darken a sky or level a horizon and then go from there.

And, as they used to say on Blue Peter, here’s one I made earlier:

Learning like this works for me. I hope you find it useful.

PS – why Ricercare? Because GEB.

The Lomo Spinner

If I thought the Horizon was a weird wide-angle camera, then this is taking it all too far. Where the Horizon rotates the lens to scan the image across a curved film plane, the Spinner rotates the whole camera while pulling the film past a slot behind the lens. It’s the same basic idea: scan the image across the film through a narrow slot. But where the Horizon shoots a 120 degree field of view, the Spinner can do 360 (and often a bit more). There is no standing behind this camera – you are usually in shot.

The metal ring is the pull-string that operates the spinning.

The camera is driven by a spring motor in the handle. You pull out a length of string to wind the motor and when you let go, the whole camera spins around on the handle. Your two composition choices are how level you want the camera to be, and where the rotation starts. Where the Horizon holds the film around a curve to match the rotation of its lens, the Spinner pulls the film past a slot as the camera rotates. This means it also exposes the sprockets.

The bubble level would be more useful on the underside. The switch for apertures and rewind is visible below the name badge.

The shutter speed is between 1/125 and 1/250 and there are two apertures available at f8 and f16. So you will also need to use the film sensitivity as one of the controls. Sunny days will use 100 ISO and darker days 400. It’s probably best to use colour negative film and go for over rather than underexpose and use the film’s latitude to cope.

Flat film gate with a slot. The film is held against it by the roller on the rear door. The drive belt at the bottom pulls the film through as the camera rotates.

Like the Horizon, the lens gets the extreme angle of view by rotating rather than being inherently very wide. But while the Horizon has a 28mm lens, the Spinner seems to be 25mm. Probably just as well, as the photographer usually in ends up in the shot and is pretty close to the camera, so that extra bit of wide-angle keeps the shooter in focus.

360 degree field of view

Shooting it is an experience – you hold the ‘stick’ at the bottom of the camera, try to get it level, then pull and release a string. Pulling out the full length of the string gets you a shot of a bit more than a full rotation. You can also pull out less string and get a smaller scan. This may be the only way to stay out of your own picture, other than holding the Spinner up over your head. This is why it really needs the bubble level on the bottom of the camera – so that you can hold it up and get it level and not be in your own shot. On the other hand it’s great for group shots, as the photographer is usually always missing. There is a tripod socket on the bottom of the handle, so it is also possible to set it up on a tripod, duck down and get a 360 panorama in one shot.

Croix de Van, Switzerland

The Spinner gets around eight shots on a 36 exposure roll, depending on whether you do full or partial spins. Scanning them can be a problem – I scan each frame in sections and combine them. The frame size can be up to 23cm – that’s 230mm, so six times wider than a normal 35mm frame. If you send the film away to be processed remember to ask for it not to be cut.

So it’s a rather specialised little beast, but good at what it does.

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