The Online Photographer

Blog Note: I will catch up with Comments today. [UPDATE: I didn't, quite. But I am making progress. —MJ, 11:25 p.m.] I am going to have to make other arrangements; this is happening too often, me getting behind on the Comments. Woeful. Deplorable. Unforgivable. It's my job.

But first...in one of those comments, David Bennett asked:

"A couple of months with an Olympus XA2 and I am enjoying shooting a film camera for which I have no or few expectations. But if I was going to get something a little spiffier, I wonder what it would be? I have a Nikon FE that I haven't touched for years, and a Super Silette—and I yearn (a little bit) for a camera with a small format and a knockout lens. And of course I think about Leica (heavy though, aren't they) and I wonder what you or your readers think might be a good choice?"

Oh, that's it—ask me for recommendations. You know I can't resist. I will answer.

[UPDATE: D'oh! Kevin Willoughby found the best suggestion, in the Featured Comments. I'm a dope for not thinking of that for David. For a good book with many shots taken with that camera, I recommend Ground Time by the photo enthusiast (and airline pilot) Kent Reno.]

But before I do: the Super Silette, for those who don't know, refers to the coupled-rangefinder versions of a line of less expensive Agfa/Ansco fixed-lens Silette cameras that originally had scale focusing. Offhand, I can't find reliable dates for the Super Silette, but it may have been as early as 1955, continuing into the 1960s. Agfa used the word "Super" for the top-spec cameras of various lines, for example the Super Isolette.

I personally made quite a few forays into old fixed-lens cameras, including many little '70s rangefinders, back when I lived in Woodstock, Illinois (where the movie "Groundhog Day" was filmed), spurred on by Stephen Gandy and his fantasic Camera Profiles page on Cameraquest, which he still maintains. (Stephen has morphed into being a significant dealer of Voigtländer products. The right hobbyist could have great fun just exploring the fantasyland of Voigtländer products. Hirofumi Kobayashi [小林博文] is a true enthusiast as dyed-in-the-wool as any of us.) That lasted until I took one good picture with the Zeiss Contessa that I inherited from my Aunt, which is when I realized that there was more to life than eking photographs painstakingly out of an old Zeiss. The whole interlude was fun, but my problem was that I was really more interested in pictures than in cameras. In fact I was more interested in printing—darkroom craftsmanship—than in the exploration of old, difficult-to-use film cameras. So, pictures first, then printmaking, then cameras. But collecting and trying old cameras in the grand tradition of that wonderful gentleman Ivor Matanle is a noble hobby, and I wouldn't for 1/1000th of a second scorn anyone for diving into it.

As far as the choice of a film Leica is concerned, my nod would go to the M4 (1966–75). The M4 was historically rather scorned; it was neither as aristocratic as the fabled and worshiped M3 (1953), nor was it as practical and refined as the M6 (1984). But it was built like a Tiger tank. No less a personage than Sherry Krauter—who, by the way, still lives on Purgatory Road, which I covet as an address—once told me that all film Leicas had an arc of quality, either upward or downward, with the sole exception of the M4, which was built to the highest standard from first to last. (I think the current M6 is also built to the highest standard, at least from what I can glean from here and there and hither and yon. But better ask Sherry or one or two of her fellow Leica specialist repairpersons.)

One of rock photographer Jim Marshall's M4's. That
thing on the bottom is a Leicavit rapid-winder.

The M4 was also the tool of my "Leica year," a personal OC/OL/OY, which took place in 1997–8 or so. My friend Nick Hartmann (son of the late Erich Hartmann of Magnum) had bought a bargain M4 that cost less than the going rate because of a small, completely inoffensive dent in the back of the top plate; I believe he paid $600, give or take a hundred. He generously loaned it to me for a year, and I used it with the formidable Dual-Range (DR) 50mm Summicron, which is the best-built lens that Leica, and probably anyone, ever made. That thing is...I don't even know what to compare it to. Just imagine the most solid and well-built single object Germans ever made and you've got the gist. (I used to joke that it was heavier than it would be if it were solid metal.) I got mine for cheap because mine was missing the close-focusing "eyes," which was okay because I just wanted to use it as a normal lens for general photography.

(Hint if you're going to go looking for one: make sure the numbers on the body of the lens and the optical head match. Apparently it was known, back when the seven-element Summicrons were current, that the highest-tolerance examples were reserved for the DR, so people who didn't care to have the heavier construction of the DR and didn't have any need for the close-focusing capability would trade the DR optical head for one in a regular 50mm Summicron. Evidently DR Summicrons with mismatching serial numbers between the two parts are common, although I have no idea how common.)

The M4 goes up and down in price as the planet wends its eternal course 'round and 'round the Sun. Currently the prices aren't crazy, unless you insist on competing with the collectors, who demand perfect, pristine examples. As you might guess, I wouldn't; I like M4's with a little, let's say, personality on them. They are rugged devices, and a few scars are mere badges of honor. Anything good enough for Jim Marshall ought to be good enough for me. (By the way, I'm sure many of the original prints reproduced in that book were made by Ctein. He was Jim Marshall's printer.)

If there's no requirement that your "camera with a small format and a knockout lens" be a Leica, David, and you'd rather have an SLR instead (I've always preferred SLRs to rangefinders, the lore of Leica notwithstanding), then you have lots of choices, including your FE, which was refined into the later FM3. There was never actually a "perfect" MMM (metal, manual, mechanical) film SLR, for reasons I'd have to write another post about. But the imperfect one that came the closest of all for me was the Olympus OM-2N, brainchild of the great Japanese camera designer Yoshihisu Maitani (米谷美久). A small lens with a lot of character is the Zuiko 40mm ƒ/2, lately made very expensive because of interest from cinematographers looking for characterful lenses, or, if you want pure performance, the Zuiko 50mm ƒ/2 Macro, which is optically even better than the great Leica Dual-Range overall (although not, perhaps, at the latter's optimum aperture).

It would be a fun quest, if you decide to go that way.

Now, off to work on Comments.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2023 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. (To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below or on the title of this post.)

Featured Comments from:

Howard Sandler: "I have a Super Silette, with the top of the line Solagon ƒ/2 lens. It doesn’t get much spiffier than that. I also have an Ambi-Silette, which is a similar rangefinder, but with interchangeable lenses. This photo (here's the large version) shows it with the 35mm lens. There was even a fancier Type 2 Ambi-Silette with some improvements such as a wider rangefinder baseline. They are great cameras and not very big or heavy. The only thing not so spiffy is the tendency of the aluminum finish to pit."

Keith B: "I had three Leica M cams: 1981: new M4-P; 1984: very used M4; 2004: slightly used M6. The well-used M4 was by far the smoothest operating, best-feeling of the three."

Richard Tugwell: "I feel the need to leap to the defense of the M3. Sure the rewind knob and film loading are a bit fiddly, but how often does that interfere with your use of the camera? I love the viewfinder and I love the silky feel of the film advance lever (mine is single stroke)."

Kevin Willoughby: "Not just small image format, but physically one of the smallest 35mm cameras ever, with lovely Zeiss lenses, would be the Rollei 35. A true gem with a few quirks to give it character."

Mike replies: See my UPDATE, above. And thanks.