The Online Photographer

Unlike most people, I kinda like rangefinder cameras, and here are the three that were my favorites.

In reverse order:

3. Mamiya 6: A beautiful camera supposedly designed and made for the then-President (owner?) of Mamiya, who was a Leica fan. (I don't know if this was true.) It had a clever system of interlocks that allowed for protecting the film from exposure when changing lenses mid-roll and not making mistakes, and the lensmount collapsed for a certain increase in compactness. It was a very pleasant camera to use, and of course the 2 1/4-inch (6x6 cm) square negatives gave excellent image quality. There were only two problems. One is that direct sun on the metering window could cause exposure problems. Wearing a hat with a brim or a bill would shade the window when the camera was held to your eye, so that solved that. The other problem for me was that the normal lens, which was the fastest lens for the system, was only ƒ/3.5, a stop and two-thirds slower than the ƒ/2 lenses I was used to using in 35mm. In general I think slow lenses are the Achilles' heel of medium-format rangefinders, since it's a limitation that tends to fight against the ready-for-anything-quickly raison d'etre of the rangefinder in the first place.

2. Leica M6. I bought one new and kept it for about two and a half years. My hit-rate went down when using a rangefinder; I didn't visualize as well with it as I did with an SLR. But it taught me a lot of lessons, primarily a.) to not worry too much about depth-of-field (which you tend to do with an SLR because you're always seeing through the lens wide open) and b.) to time the shutter release exactly based on what I was seeing. The metering system was serviceable, although I never completely warmed to it. On the good side, it was such a tactile pleasure to use that I photographed more often, and that period was the only time in my life that I carried a camera with me at all times. I ended up getting distressed with the outfit because the 35mm Summicron (a "pre-ASPH" also bought new) would get small dark flakes collecting on the inside of the elements—flakes of paint or whatever the finish was from the aperture blades. I had the lens cleaned once, but then it started happening again. This was so much at odds with Leica's whole schtick of "premium quality," that I ended up getting rid of the thing. And missed it for a loooong time....

Minolta CLE. Photo by Lordcolus.

1. Minolta CLE. Better metering than the Leica, with a better lens. It was even less conspicuous, and I think it was quieter, too. It didn't have the same feeling of robustness and buttery smooth controls that made the Leica so nice to use, but it was smaller and lighter and attracted even less attention. Curiously, the M-Rokkor 40mm ƒ/2 (a focal length I moderately prefer over 35mm because it banishes the last trace of "wide-angley" feeling a 35mm can have in some shots) was the only lens I ever used in the film era that elicited positive comments about sharpness and subjective clarity from non-photographers. I can't remember why I sold it, but it was likely because SLR viewing felt more natural for me (my next camera after it was an Olympus OM-4T and OM-Zuiko 40mm ƒ/2). The CLE was very expensive on the used market for years after it was discontinued, testifying to demand.

I owned or used many other rangefinders, including a Fuji "Texas Leica" and several other Fujis, a Mamiya 7II, an M3 and M4, and of course the Bronica RF645. Oh yeah, and a Zeiss Contessa! And an Agfa Super Isolette (a gorgeous camera that I'm still half in love with if I'm honest, just as a beautiful mechanical device). I should mention that I also owned, at one time or another, just about every good fixed-lens compact rangefinder there was...Canonet, Yashica Electro 35, Olympus 35 RC and 35 SP (and an XA), Konica S3, Minolta Hi-Matic 7SII. Maybe a few more I've forgotten....

But that was then
Of course, these days, a capable "rangefinder-style" digital interchangeable-lens camera—an Olympus Pen-F, Panasonic Gx9, or Fuji X-E3, for example—has it all over any of the three cameras above in multiple ways: they're quieter, have more accurate viewfinders, focus more quickly, meter more easily, and offer much faster "film speeds" on demand. All three (well, assuming you don't choose the silver Pen-F, but then how could you resist it?) can be as portable, inconspicuous and unassuming as the CLE, cost less than the M6, and probably have higher subjective image quality than the Mamiya 6!

Mike

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db: "I am surprised by the omission of the Plaubel Makina. Fast lens, albeit fixed, and folds to the size of a small paperback book. I second the greatness of the Mamiya 6 however."

Mike replies: I did try one of those—I did a portrait with it of a guy named John McLaughlin, who had a political TV show called "The McLaughlin Group"—but I don't exactly remember the circumstances. Pretty sure I did not own the one I was using. Those were seductive cameras to several of my friends, but several of them also had serious reliability problems with them. I believe the lens on that cameras was a Nikkor.

Peter: "I bought an X-E3 as my take-it-anywhere camera, and absolutely love it. Pairs very well with the 23mm ƒ/2. It's the first non-SLR I've usd consistently, and it makes me realize how much fun a rangefinder-style camera can be to use."

Ernest Zarate: "I had two of your favorite rangefinders as well—the Mamiya 6 and the Leica M6.

"I've been mulling over the questions, provocations, reactions, etc...re: rangefinders in general and the Mamiya 6 in particular. That camera was the first and only camera I ever fell head over heels for. I still get goosebumps thinking about that camera matched with the 50mm ƒ/4 lens. Slap some XP2 in there, take it out into the world, and.... Some gorgeous photos from some very memorable experiences.

"But the other day you asked about would I (I almost said 'you guys') prefer a rangefinder or a SLR. My immediate gut reaction was, well, duh...I'd LOVE to have the Mamiya 6 back in my stable! And as I sat here at my computer contemplating the camera and a response to your query, I came to realize something I hadn't before: I don't shoot that way anymore.

"A rangefinder, as marvelous a tool as they were for me back in the 1990s and 2000s, would not be usable for me and the way I shoot now. Not taking into account the fact that those two cameras are film based, and instead just looking at the features, the limitations, the options those two cameras had, they would not work well with how (and what) I shoot now.

"That was both an epiphany and a letdown. I had always thought of getting the Mamiya 6 again as a 'one of these days...' promise to myself. I can let go of that now. It's not a viable choice.

"Thank you for the posts over the last few days regarding cameras, camera choices, and all the other aspects of what we use. While I feel a bit sad to know that rangefinders would not be functional choice for me, I also feel released from clinging to the nostalgia of the past. Letting go can be both difficult and cathartic."

Eric Peterson: "Raising my hand for Texas Leica, Fuji GSW690III with 65mm lens (28mm equiv.). Does require out-of-body experience to evaluate lower right quadrant because lens blocks view in viewfinder. But just ran four rolls of Tri-X through it last week!"

Steve Rosenblum: "The Minolta CLE is still my favorite 35mm film rangefinder camera, and the 40mm M Rokkor lens is a wonderful bargain. CLE's with 40mm lenses are pretty reasonably priced these days. The main issue is problems with the electronics which are now fairly old. However, my camera repairman has had no trouble fixing or adjusting mine when it was needed, and it shares a number of parts with the Minolta SLRs of the era, so that helps."

Dan Khong: "My three favourite rangefinders are: 1. Leica M6; 2. Kodak Retina IIc (Type 020); 3. Konica Hexar RF. The Konica came in a kit. I regret selling the lens."

psu: "I have one RF camera that I bonded with: the old Konica Hexar. Based on that experience I dabbled in Mamiya 6's and the Hexar RF but ultimately didn't find the RF experience to extend well to lenses that were not 35mm ƒ/2 or equivalent. I kept trying to take pictures that did not fit how you see things in those cameras, for lack of a better way to put it. So for general use I went back to SLR film cameras or SLR/EVF digital cameras."

Mike replies: I knew someone would bring up the Hexar of sainted memory. I actually started a Konica Hexar club on the old CompuServe...but as I'm sure you know, it wasn't a rangefinder-focus camera, it was an autofocus camera. It came out at a time when everyone was breathless over whether Leica would make an autofocus version of the M. In size and shape (though not weight) it did closely resemble an M6 with a 35mm Summicron, and its lens was very nice, but the resemblance ended there. Poor Konica...it attempted to give Leica fans everything they said they wanted, but it only got hated in return! (Because, again, people like Leicas.)

John Krumm: "My most beautiful, luxurious camera was an autofocus rangefinder, the Contax G2. I was always amazed at how silently and quickly it could take the shot and be ready for the next frame. Sold it to buy a lens for my K1. Only camera I ever sold for as much, or maybe even a little more, than I purchased it for. The little Pentax ZX with my limited primes is as good, and lighter, but I don't use that much either. Since the Contax was autofocus, it didn't quite get the rangefinder bug out of my system. I still need to try a classic manual focus one for a few frustrating months...."

Mike replies: I got one of the very first review G2's in North America, when I was Editor at PT. An exciting intro for me! But it was another "pretender" that many Leicaphiles went out of their way to denigrate, because...well, do I need to say it again?  :-) 

Seriously, though, it should be remembered that Leica was in a very fragile state in the '90s and there were many indications that it might not survive. (And it probably would not have, save for its eventual "angel," Dr. Kaufmann, in 2004.) Some Leica fans, justifiably or not, were extremely anxious at the time that products from healthier and technically much more advanced Japanese companies not pirate needed sales from Leica, thereby, or so they imagined, hastening its demise.

A reader named "Not THAT Ross Cameron"* writes from Australia: "I saw a window-sized poster for Kylie Minogue (onetime Australian soap actress who then made her fame and fortune as a pop/dance singer) selling her latest range of fashion glasses. I had to chuckle at myself, as I didn't look at her or her glasses, but instead wondered to myself "what is the camera she’s posing with?" Can anyone on TOP slake my curiosity?"

1968
...And speaking of old, it occurred to me this morning that it's been 50 years since 1968, one of the most vivid years in recent history in the western world. Fifty years ago this month, among other things, there were riots in Paris, a little car brand called "Subaru" came to North America, and the Beatles were at Abbey Road Studios recording John Lennon's sneering "Revolution" that the left saw as a betrayal (he was right, though—revolution was in the air** but not in the cards). "The Sixties" have been neutered and romanticized ever since; it's necessary for the reigning worldview to do that with subversive realities. In real life, it was a violent, angry, distressing time. One could argue that politics in America since 1980 has been a reaction to it. 

There's a curious little book from back then called Toward the Year 2018: A Dozen Eminent Leaders in Science and Technology Look 50 Years Into the Future. As with most such attempts, in that book the future was mostly only understood in terms of those days—for example, one prediction listed on the jacket is, "The United Nations holds a debate on outlawing the laser disintegrating ray." (Ray guns were big in 1968—I was 11, and up on cartoons, so I can attest to that.) On the other hand, they accurately predicted cellphones ("citizens' pocket computers" with "portable databases"), and texting and photo sharing.

Nowadays, our predictions of the future are a little more dire, and glum: There's a fad right now for "end of democracy" books. Ya hate that. Things looked pretty dire in 1968 too, though. The one I want to read is Jon Meacham's The Soul of America—anybody read that one yet?

The best book on 1968 is (appropriately enough) Mark Kurlansky's 1968: The Year that Rocked the World, but note that there's a picture book too, from TIME.

Mike

UPDATE: Later this month, on the 28th, Kylie Minogue, pictured at the top of the post, will turn 50. She was born in 1968. I didn't know that when I wrote this post.

Thanks to Ray Kinnane for this!

*I had to look up "that" Ross Cameron who our reader is not: Aussie politician. In case you're wondering.

**Okay, that was '69.

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Joe: "Fifty-six years ago yesterday, Marilyn Monroe sang Happy Birthday to JFK, accompanied by pianist Hank Jones, at Madison Square Garden, as part of a Democratic party fundraiser. Jackie was not present."

Mike replies: Hank is one of my two favorite musicians, and I never knew he was the pianist that night!

Bob Johnston [same ilk, no relation —Ed.]: "You were looking at the camera and not Kylie Minogue? I think you might be getting old Mike! It's a Russian Zenit E. They were probably the cheapest SLR you could buy at the time and so many young European photographers started with one. The lens is the M42 screw-fit 58mm ƒ/2 Helios which was reckoned to be quite good. The camera was a heavy lump of metal that you could probably use to knock nails in, but the build quality was somewhat lacking. If I recall correctly the lens diaphragm was not automatic. As you can see there was a selenium light meter but it wasn't coupled in any way. There was a match needle arrangement in a window on the top plate. Kylie has the rewind knob pulled out."

Michael Matthews: "My wife and I paused on the sidewalk to watch Malcolm Bricklin unload his first truckfull of Subaru 360s into a former retail storefront next to Van Sciver Furniture in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania. Our appraisal of the cartoonish little cars—as ton after ton of befinned Detroit iron soared by on Philadelphia's City Line Avenue—was 'not a chance.' Hmmm."

David Boyce: "Mark Kurlansky is a very good and engaging writer. I have read a few of his books. Cod: A Biography of a Fish that Changed the World and Salt: A World History are very interesting and well worth a read, as is The Basque History of the World: The Story of a Nation. Paper: Paging Through History is on my list of want-to-reads."

Dave Van de Mark: 1968 is certainly a special year for me. As a young photographer and activist, I attempted to portray the awesome beauty of the redwoods—not only as incredibly special trees but, more importantly, as a grand forest environment—as part of efforts to establish a Redwood National Park. But probably a more urgent task was to portray what was happening to the last large remaining block of virgin redwoods, namely the brutal clearcutting operations and their devastating impacts on the environment.

"Shooting mostly in B&W with a Hasselblad 500C camera, these efforts began in 1965. My photos appeared in major newspapers across the country and in conservationist publications. Fortunately, the Redwood National Park was established in 1968 and its 50th birthday is being celebrated this year. Unfortunately, Congress did not create a park with great ecological integrity, and I continued to photograph destructive logging practices occurring right up to the original boundary. These efforts, along with so many others, finally led to the park's expansion 10 years later.

"I donated about 5,000 images to the Park Service in 1988. It is not a common occurrence that a significant photographic history regarding establishment of a park is donated by a living photographer. Now 75, I am in discussions with Redwood National Park to take some pictures of what it looks like now, 50 years later. I certainly hope this will be successful!"

Bellamy Hunt, the man behind Japan Camera Hunter (JCH) in Tokyo, is a sort of antique picker who ferrets out old cameras that have history or provenance, on behalf of a worldwide clientele. Recently he was offered a camera by the family of actor Errol Flynn's son Sean. The story is almost incredible in the vividness and significance of its every detail. Bellamy describes locating and re-homing Vietnam war photographer Sean Flynn's Leica camera as "a once-in-a-career event." Tough to argue with that.

A very short version is that Sean Flynn was kidnapped in Cambodia with photojournalist Dana Stone in 1970 and never seen again. "There were reports that both Flynn and Stone were kidnapped by the Vietcong and then handed to the Khmer Rouge before being executed, but remains were never found. Flynn’s mother spent her life and fortune trying to find a trace of her son, but sadly it was to no avail. Sean Flynn was declared legally dead in 1984," writes Hunt.

Photo: JCH

The camera is a Leica M2 with a steel-rim 35mm Summilux and "a strap that was hand fashioned from a parachute cord and a hand grenade pin" left in Flynn's Paris apartment.

It's a terrific story. You can read it in its entirety and see the eloquent illustrations at the JCH website. The camera will go to a new owner in Saigon.

A camera with history indeed.

Mike

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Ken Tanaka: "It is indeed a good story that I, coincidentally, read last week. I knew of Sean Flynn and his disappearance but the story filled some holes in my knowledge. He was sort of a later-day Robert Capa.

"Memorabilia has always puzzled me. Being in the presence of so-and-so’s mitt from the 1938 World Series, the brushes used by so-and-so to paint a renowned 15th-century painting, the camera used by so-and-so to take his/her most renowned photos...can certainly give an admirer a tingle. But what real value are these artifacts beyond future resale to some other poor tingler at a profit? And what happens when time eventually extinguishes these tingles? Someone will be left with some very expensive junk!

"But the bigger question: what ephemera of today’s generation will be treated as a devotional artifacts in the future? I really can’t think of anything!"

Mike replies: I have that same sort of conceptual puzzlement about such objects. A number of years ago I owned Jack Lemmon's Leica M6 (along with a letter of provenance). I never could figure out what it should mean to me, and finally decided it meant nothing, really, so I sold it. (I should add that I'm not particularly a Jack Lemmon fan. Don't dislike him, but he means no more to me than any other good actor.) On the other hand, a friend has a 35mm camera that was decorated by his friend, Keith Haring. He continued to use the camera and eventually rubbed off all but the faintest traces of  of the Haring embellishments...a mistake, in my view, as that camera might have been worth a lower-middle-class salary by now. I'd have taken the money. (Maybe he'll see this and speak up with his own thoughts.)

Also a number of years ago, I had the opportunity to buy the Leica enlarging lens that Lee Friedlander had owned and used for many years to enlarge his 35mm work. I still regret not buying it (it wasn't considered L. Friedlander ephemera at the time, or at least only enough to command a bit of a premium, some fraction more than its value as a lens). But why should I feel that way? It's not like the object contains the light that was beamed through it. I really have no clear idea why I wanted it or what I would have done with it.

hugh crawford adds: "Re: that Keith Haring camera. It would probably be worth something if it was signed or had some sort of provenance. As it is, it's just one of many things that we sat around doodling on when Keith was best known as the busboy at danceteria with the glasses he was always re-painting. I once had a lot of stuff he doodled on including that car that you posted a photo of a while back, and even a few drawings, all lost now along with some Andy Warhol drawings on dollar bills and a bunch of similar stuff.

"The only famous-ish previously-owned camera I have is a Canon 1Ds once owned by Matthieu Ricard, 'the happiest man in the world' if you Google it. It’s a long story…don’t think it’s a big deal, but who knows. I also have the wheel that kept Paul Newman from winning LeMans, also a long story. The rest of the car recently sold for 4.4 million dollars (he came in second after the wheel jammed on the axle during a pit stop and it took a half hour to replace the axle) so maybe there is something worthwhile there."

Dave Kerr: "I'm reminded of the time a Vietnamese student came to class with a somewhat beat-up old Nikon. Her father was there in the late '60s, early '70s. She didn't have much of its history other than it once belonged to a famous news reporter. Crudely etched on the base plate was the name 'T. Koppell '66-69.' I photographed it and sent Mr. Koppell a photo and the story, thinking he might want to have it back. No reply. Like you, for a fleeting moment, I thought I would have liked to own it."

Larry Gebhardt: "I bought renowned Miata writer, and sometimes photographer, Mike Johnston's old Miata. I expect the collectors to be lining up at my door any day now. While waiting I'll continue to drive it on nice days."

Mike replies: Now that has provenance!

Geoff Wittig: "Many amateur artists obsess about the tools used by artists they admire. Any skilled painter giving a presentation or workshop will be bombarded with questions about which specific pigments, linen supports or brushes they use, because aspiring painters hope to learn some secret of tools or materials that will reliably lead to a masterpiece. But of course it's the artist's thought process, the thousand decisions over the course of a painting's creation that contain the magic, not the tools. It's no different with cameras and lenses. I could sleep with Henri Cartier-Bresson's Leica under my pillow, but my street photography would still suck."

Ilkka: "Tim Page has written two books that talk quite a bit about Sean Flynn. Page After Page is an autobiography where he describes their adventures as photojournalists in Vietnam. Another, later book, Derailed in Uncle Ho's Victory Garden, talks about when Page went back to Vietnam after the war and spent some time searching for Sean Flynn. Interesting reads both of them."

Gary B: "I read this article when it first appeared on the Japan Camera Hunter website a couple of weeks ago. I'm currently living in Hanoi, so at the weekend whilst passing the recently opened (last year) Leica boutique store I called in to ask when the exhibition of the camera and related photography would open. The staff knew nothing about it!"

Today only: Remember when I called the Fuji X-T1 Graphite "One Good-Lookin' Camera"? Remember how it cost $300 more than the then-high-priced regular version of the X-T1? I think it was selling for $1,800. That was back in '14. Well, now you can get that very same camera, brand new, for $599. Wow. The X-T1 is no longer the latest thing, and it "only" has 16 MP, etc., etc....but it's still a very nice camera, with excellent capabilities for general shooting and excellent files. (I have one.) A way to get into the Fuji ecosystem on wings. It's cheaper than the black one for the next 11 hours. And at $599, it's possible you might not even lose much money on resale, even.

As a first lens, I'd suggest the 27mm pancake, the 23mm ƒ/2, or the 35mm ƒ/2 (note that that silver versions are a slightly different color of silver).

I'd rather have this beauty than lots of new cameras in the $600 price class, I can tell you that.

Mike

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Dogman: "I bought a used one of these a little while back. I really wasn't looking for the graphite silver model, just a standard black X-T1 would have been fine. But the silver model was available in nearly new condition (but lacking the box) for less than the black ones so I grabbed it. Pretty camera. Functionally identical to the black body. It makes for a nice permanent home for my 14mm Fujinon lens.

"The X-T1 was the camera that really led me to finally accept EVFs. By the way, I've always shopped for recently discontinued camera bodies and new or nearly new lenses. Missing out on a few new camera features is not a big deal for me. But I always try to use the best lenses available."

I've already written way too much about the old Exakta 66, a camera of direct interest to roughly .03% of you. (That number might be optimistic, but then, only optimistic people would shoot an Exakta 66.) However, Oren uncovered some numbers yesterday about what it cost:

"The B&H ad in Popular Photography from Sept 1988 lists a discounted bundle of body, waist-level finder, and 80mm ƒ/2.8 at $749. It doesn't spell out which 80mm, but I'm pretty sure it was the Xenotar MF. Doing it à la carte was much more expensive ($596 + $776 = $1,372), and the lenses other than the 80mm were way more expensive (40mm ƒ/4: $2,382; 55mm ƒ/4.5 Perspective-Control: $5,606; 60mm ƒ/3.5: $1,307.50; 150mm ƒ/4:: $1,427; 250mm ƒ/5.6: $1,660; 75–150mm ƒ/4.5: $3,099; 140–280mm ƒ/5.6: $3,170)—another reason why the system didn't get much traction even as a bargain option.

"And for completeness: plain prism finder $269; TTL prism $710; 2X converter $1,104.90; pro strap $38.

"For comparison, the Hasselblad 500CM / WLF / 80mm ƒ/2.8 promotional bundle at the time was $2,189, less $150 temporary rebate = $2,039; similar Bronica SQ-A bundle was $1,449. Of course, the rest of the Bronica lenses were much less expensive than the corresponding Schneider or Hasselblad lenses."

I'm almost positive I bought that "discounted bundle"—that $749 figure seems very familiar. For days now I've been claiming that the strap was a $90 accessory, and that's clearly wrong—it was $38. On my base salary of ~$1,417 a month before deductions I guess $38 just seemed like $90.

I never did buy any of the other lenses. Given the frequency with which they appear on the used market, not many other people did either.

My '80s Exakta 66 turned out to be well worth $749, though...even with its problems, and even though it took such a significant bite out of my bank account at the time.

I need to get off the nostalgia train now! It's hurtling along the tracks at a breakneck pace and it's rickety as hell!

Mike
(Thanks to Oren)

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Eamon Hickey: "Well, your old nostalgia train provided me with a few hours of diverting entertainment. Despite being a manager in a pretty good camera store in the late '80s/early '90s, I knew basically nothing of the Exakta 66 or its East German progenitor, the Pentacon 6. The site you linked to (for the picture of Herr Mandermann) has page after page of operational and historical information about the Pentacon 6 of the kind that can only be written by a passionate devotee. I mean that as a great compliment. I had to fight the very strong urge to buy one, even though there's no chance I would shoot more than one roll of film before my attention wandered!"

Speaking of the iPhone and the Exakta 66, I thought I might mention that I've always liked vertical-format cameras. There have been very few of them over the years; two I know of are the rare Linhof 220 (right) and the Fujifilm GS645s, a naturally vertically-formatted 645.

I suppose the iPhone isn't naturally vertical format, but that's how I find it easiest to hold and how I often use it.

Almost unconsciously, when I began using the Exakta 66 in the '80s, I began cropping everything—I mean everything—to vertical format, in approximately a 645 proportion. I even marked off the viewfinder that way. I took more horizontally-oriented pictures with the GS645s than I did with the Exakta 66. It's one reason I liked the camera so much. (It also meant I didn't have to guess where the side boundaries would be with the Exakta 66—there would be quite a bit more on the film that was shown in the viewfinder.)

With TTL eyepiece cameras it's not that big a deal to turn the camera vertically, and some cameras have battery packs with vertical releases which is almost as good as a natively vertically-oriented camera.

I don't know why I like vertical cameras, but I do. I guess I see that way pretty readily. Anyway it's why I didn't necessarily prefer 6x7 cameras to square cameras. Otherwise, the Pentax 67II (to name one) is a far, far better film camera than the Exakta 66.

Mike

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Trey: "Ever try the Bronica RF645? I nearly got one years ago but opted for the Mamiya 6 instead. Turns out I dislike the square format and did not really bond with it. Maybe the vertical 645 would have stuck."

Mike replies: Of course, I should have mentioned that one. It was produced after Tamron bought Bronica. I reviewed that camera on The Luminous-Landscape—and later owned it, but had already largely switched to digital by then so I never used it much.

Trey replies to Mike: "Ha! That was you. I lingered long over that article as I was making my purchasing decision back then. Thanks, Mike!"

kirk tuck: "One of the most comprehensive systems conceived of as vertical cameras was the wonderful Olympus Pen F and FT half-frame camera system. The camera used a rotary titanium shutter that sync'd with flash at all speeds (up to 1/500th of a second). The design was the spiritual ancestor of the early Olympus Micro 4/3 cameras such as the EP–EP3 and also the current Pen F. The system included about a dozen lenses, some of them extraordinarily good for their time and some of which are still competitive today on cropped-sensor cameras. If they were good enough for Eugene Smith...."

Eric Rose: "When I was just starting out at the age of six or seven I used my dad's 35mm camera. Almost all my photos were vertical. My dad didn't think this was normal and asked me why so many verticals. So I explained to him that most things you encounter in life, especially when you're a kid, you have to look up at. Hence most things I found interesting lent themselves to a vertical orientation. He thought I would grow out of of this 'fad.' I didn't."

Philippe Debeerst: "Good morning Mike. In 1987 Hasselblad introduced the hard-to-find A12V film back for their 6x6 cameras (1987/88 catalogue #30106). With this, one could shoot 12 frames of 4.5x6 vertically on a 120 roll. This film holder was intended to be used by magazine photographers because the magazine format was mostly vertical.

"This brings me to Linhof: the Linhof 220 was indeed intended for the press and the film frame had the exact dimensions of 56x72 mm that corresponded with the traditional (shorter than the A4) magazine dimensions. The Linhof Press 70 was the Linhof 220's big brother, with exchangeable lenses and exchangeable film holders, of which the Press-Cine-Rolex intended for 53(!) exposures on 70 mm filmstock was very notorious. By the way, all the Linhof Rolex film holders are always a few millimetres 'longer' than the competition's models, don't ask me why. Linhof called the 56x72 mm 'Das Idalformat.' The Japanese '6x7' was actually 56x68 mm. I think that generally speaking, the vertical film frame (medium format) cameras were intended for press/magazine photographers (and portraitists). Salut, Philippe.

"P.S.: As an avid Hasselblad film shooter, I am still looking for a A12V film holder....

"P.P.S.: I sometimes happen to use my Linhof Technorama 6x17 vertically, which is very interesting indeed!"

Mike replies: I suppose the A12V was matched with a focusing screen that marked off the vertical side boundaries? As I recall, my original Exakta 66 had a finder with ~645 rectangles marked off, both horizontal and vertical. The I've been trying to remember, but I don't think I ever shot a horizontal rectangle with that camera. Almost all verticals and a few squares. The current Mod. 2 has a grid screen, but the grid lines are very fine and hard for me to see.

By now you remember my little "unboxing" joke when I got the old Mamiya 7II out of the camera closet one dreary day last February. One thing led to another, and I ended up "trading in" the Mamiya for an old medium-format camera much closer to my heart....

...And look what came! All the way from Japan in a mere three days. This camera is world-traveled—it was born in Germany.

A bit closer...

Be still, my beating heart! (By the way, that phrase was first used in William Mountfort's Zelmane, 1705.)

Almost just like the factory packaging! Well, no.

And there it is, in all its dignity and majesty. Not my old boon friend and companion, but its brother. Excuse me as I dab a bit o' moisture from my eye.

...And here's the reason for paying top dollar: the Xenotar MF. There is also a Xenotar E, but it's not remotely the same lens. The Xenotar E is nothing but an adaptation of the old Carl Zeiss Jena Biometar in Exakta 66 rubber-armored livery.

The 1984 Exakta 66—descended from the Praktisix of 1957, the year I was born, through the Pentacon Six—was in part a vanity/nostalgia/hobby project of the German industrialist Heinrich Mandermann, who also owned Rollei, Schneider, and B+W at the time. The Xenotar MF is optically the same as the one that Schneider made for the Rollei 6000 series in the 1980s—and those were better than the Zeiss 80mms that everyone wanted. In Praktisix/Pentacon Six/Exakta 66/Kiev 60 breechlock mount, the lens is genuinely rare. I know that for sure, as I've searched online for them from time to time over the years.

There are some pictures of Heinrich Mandermann with his baby here. He died in 2002.

The Exakta 66 was the cheapest medium-format camera you could buy new when I got mine, and I had to stretch for it on my photo teacher's salary, which started out in 1985 at $17k and change. This bit, along with the webbed strap, was a $90 accessory back when I bought my Model I in the mid-1980s—it didn't come with the camera (what?). So I never owned one—and thus never had a way to attach a strap to the camera. That right there is a bit of drawback in a camera's design. I carried my camera around in my hand.

The little knob that holds the strap bracket on, in the foreground, serves a double purpose—along with the knob-ends of the film spool wells on either side of the camera body (see below), it forms a tripod that lets the camera sit level when you set it down, so it doesn't rest on the nose of the lens.

Who needs Camerasize.com when you've got TOP? The 1984 Exakta 66 medium-format camera with the 1980 Pentax LX, smallest of the 1980s professional 35mm system cameras. The Exakta is only slightly smaller than the much more popular (and, it must be said, better) Pentax 67.

The Exakta 66 was a flop—and probably, given all the problems it is heir to, it deserved to be. It has lots of problems and weaknesses! I could list every last little one. It was unfortunate, but the '80s update failed fix the major problems of the Praktisix and Pentacon Six—the limited viewfinder coverage, the iffy film flatness because of a poorly designed pressure plate, and—most annoying—the poor and trouble-prone film winding mechanism. In 1985 the production target was 2,400 cameras a year, but by 1990 Herr Mandermann admitted that they had only sold more like 600–700 annually. One thing that meant was that eventually, all the cameras were assembled by a single employee! (That redoubtable fellow's name is not known to me. Maybe the position rotated.)

Speaking of rotation, look at all those shutter speeds that will sync with flash! Helpfully heralded in red. All the speeds anyone could ever need, eh?

Despite its updated appearance, there's nothing '80s about the Exakta 66. There's a lot of the 1950s in it, though.

(I keep writing the "66" because an "Exakta" is mainly a 35mm camera made by a different company. Herr Mandermann's first job was at Ihagee Kamerawerk in Dresden, Germany, where Karl Nüchterlein's Exaktas were made. Herr Mandermann, who was a true photography guy and who I'm quite sure would have been right at home reading TOP, also owned the remnants of the Ihagee Works and the rights to the Exakta name.)

Holding the camera again felt like coming home. It felt very natural, and all the controls fell right to hand. I really bonded with mine back in the day, as they say.

After my time with the Exakta, I spent an extended period reviewing medium-format cameras for Camera & Darkroom magazine (the California-based one), but, oddly enough, I never found one I bonded with like I did with the Exakta 66. I did the most work with a Bronica SQ-Ai, which I liked well enough. I also liked the Mamiya 6 but couldn't afford one until much later—after I had decided to embrace the fact that I was really a 35mm guy.

I rummaged around in the barn and found this old print from the 1980s, back when I was convinced I was going to be an art photographer all my life. (You know the auld Robbie Burns quote, "The best-laid schemes o' Mikes and men....") It was taken with my Model I Extaka 66 on Roosevelt Island in the Potomac River. I sat cross-legged for an hour trying to catch planes on their approach to what was then called National Airport in the heart of Washington D.C. Note the de rigeur mid-'80s silver Neilsen frame and acid-free rag mat. And the careful proportions—I was a good craftsman. The picture was shot on Tri-X 400 film, with a K2 filter, developed in D-76, and printed with a Rodenstock Apo-Rodagon 80mm ƒ/4 in a Saunders/LPL 4500II. A lot of work and time went into the production of such prints—for example, I developed two rolls at a time at the kitchen sink, and it took just under two hours from loading the reels to cleanup. That's two hours work for 24 frames just to get to the negatives. It encouraged you to be careful with your shooting.

So those weren't actually the days, but, in spite of that, permit me to say, "those were the days!"

Mike

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Here's what I bought with the proceeds from the sale of the Mamiya 7II yesterday—it's on its way from Japan:

Ebay seller's photos

I saw it for sale yesterday priced at $1,649, and I figured yeah, I would trade my Mamiya for that. (The camera shows up relatively often but this lens is genuinely rare.) So that's why I asked $1,649 for the Mamiya—straight trade, from my point of view.

I know it's neither as good a camera as the 7II nor as desirable. This acquisition is purely "the armchair narcissism of nostalgia," to use a memorable phrase whose author is lost to my memory.  The Exakta 66 Mod 2 with the 80mm ƒ/2.8 Schneider-Kreuznach Xenotar MF a.) was the first medium-format camera I ever bought, back when I was a nearly penniless high school photography teacher in the 1980s; b.) had the best lens I ever used, ever, although I'm fairly positive that the one I had was a "sweet spot" sample, at the apex of the sample variation—the lens coming from Japan will most likely not quite measure up; c.) was the camera I used to make the photographs in the only public exhibition I was ever in—a group show of six photographers I curated for the National Park Service in Rock Creek Park (which got reviewed in the Washington Post no less) and, finally, d.) is the camera that, over the years, I have most most regretted selling and most wished I had back.

Now I do. Once it's here and I've run a roll or two through it, maybe I'll write a post on the history of the camera. I actually know quite a lot about it.

Not to splash cold water in the faces of film fans and APUG.org denizens and enthusiasts of old cameras, but I doubt I'll ever use this seriously. However, I'm sure I'll be very happy to have it—and other people won't mind, either. When I wrote the post about the Mamiya 7II, several readers took me to task for hoarding it without using it, thus not allowing it to be used as it was intended to be. So now I've set the Mamiya free, so it can be used to fulfill its manifest destiny of making great photographs!

I doubt very many people will feel the same way about the Exakta. It's really not a camera most people would want to use. It has film-flatness problems and a delicate film-advance mechanism and a wonky viewfinder that is offset from what you'll get on the film. And the mirror is not instant-return—you get blackout after taking a shot until you cock the camera again. The lens mount is breechlock. Did I mention it's meterless? That's why I wrote the article "Train Your Brain...To Guess Exposure" for Ed Buziak's Darkroom User magazine back in the '90s. I actually guessed my exposures when I used the Exakta as my only camera. Never used a light meter.

Oh, and no way to attach a strap, at least not built in. The only thing this one has that is not identical to what I owned is that it has the strap bracket for attaching a camera strap—a $90 accessory back in the '80s, and something I could never afford. (It's that semi-circular bracket affixed using the tripod thread.) So I wandered all over D.C. with that camera simply holding it in my hand—I had no way of attaching a strap.

I'm going to take a WAG—wild-assed guess—and speculate that the cosmetic blemish in the word "Exakta" on the waist-level finder of this camera is the reason it's being de-accessioned from some Japanese camera collector's collection. But I don't mind that. It can stand as the one thing that keeps the camera from being perfect.  :-)

Mike

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Douglas Chadwick: "I am glad you mentioned being reviewed in the Washington Post. It reminds me of my one review there a few years before for a show at Henri's Gallery near Dupont Circle. It certainly seemed like a big deal to me to see a review of my work in that paper. Even though the review basically said it was the best of a bad lot, But a nice mention of one of my photographs. It seemed like the start of something, and it did lead to a show at a museum in West Virginia. But my gallery success was on a downhill trend as it turned out—business got in the way perhaps. But the Post was doing nice reviews of photography shows back then, I suppose they gave that up? It was just, I don't know, an interesting trend at the time? You were there for a while, what is your take on it?"

Mike replies: I was actually asked to write photography show reviews for the Post at one time. But the pay was so miserable I had to turn down the opportunity. The decision was wrenching for me—it would have been a high-profile position with a fair amount of respect and influence, but I had been doing lots of hard work for very little pay at the time and just seriously needed to be putting food on the table. It didn't help that my walk to work every day took me past the Georgetown mansion of the then-owner of the Post.

Andrew Lamb: "What a glorious folly! This is one for the romantics, a triumph of hope over experience. Congrats, Mike. I wish you all the best. We both know you're going to need it. Ex-Exakta owner."

StanB.: "That's some seriously serious nostalgia!!! You traded a precision instrument for an overgrown Holga...then again, some of my favorite photographs have been taken with one!"

Michael Roche: "Mike, I don't know whether I want to laugh or cry. I hope you will have lots of enjoyment from your purchase, but I can't convince myself you made a wise decision. However when it comes to hobbies all decisions are only temporary anyway and only serve to take us on to the next phase. Have fun."

Benjamin Marks: "I totally get the 'nostalgic' repurchase of a camera that is/was emotionally significant. Hobby-objects that fall into that category for me: A Pentax Spotmatic, a Pentax LX, a Crown Graphic, a Nikon FM2, and (off-topic, and recently) a Cannondale 53 cm road bike (what was I thinking?). I have often written that it's 'the painter, not the paintbrush,' but if that were really true, why do we painters get so attached to these specific paintbrushes? Well, my explanation is that sometimes things just 'click.' (and, oh yes, pun intended). When you have that relationship to your tools, you can do your best work. I had a Kiev 88 that, despite its many shortcomings, did pretty well for me. Not going to repurchase that one though. So: Mike—I am raising a glass of iced tea—here's to the paintbrush! I hope you take your best photograph with it. Or second best.  ;-)  That would be pretty great, no?"

"Slow photography" is hip, and everybody thinks you need an old Leica or an old Nikon if you want to participate. Not so, I say. If you want a film camera and have never shot with one, the way to go is Pentax.

Old silver Pentaxes are the quintessential 35mm film cameras. Mainstream, but iconic. Well made, but no frills. Stone classic.

There are lots of ways you can go with film. You can shoot color negative film and have it processed for you. You can shoot Ilford XP2 "chromogenic" black-and-white film and have it processed commercially, but then make your own prints with an enlarger. Or you can shoot genuine silver-halide black-and-white film and process it yourself at your kitchen sink—there's slow photography, and then there's slow slow photography.

If you want to go a little more modern, the killer camera would be a beautiful chrome MX. The MX was an MMM (manual, metal, mechanical) camera produced between 1976 and 1985.

But if you really want to go whole-hog into hip retro, no holds barred, no punches pulled, the way to go is to get a Spotmatic.

In either case, here's what you do: instead of spending big money on an old Leica, spend small money on an old Pentax, then spend as much as you can on the best servicing money can buy. Buy the top treatment at any good Pentax camera repair service center such as Abilene Camera Repair in the old Wild West cow-town of Abilene, Texas (401 Neas Road, Abilene, Texas 79601, 325/676-2524, [email protected] or [email protected]). I don't have personal experience with Abilene; use whichever shop you want. (Google is your friend.)

I'm just using Abilene as an example so I can talk about prices. Their top-level "restoration" service costs $245 for either an MX or a Spotmatic. Added to the cost of a good camera, the total is still cheaper than many classic Nikons and all but the most beat-up classic Leicas. And you will have a camera that works as it is supposed to—clean, lubricated and smooth, with new seals and all parts inspected. It will run as well as a fine pocket watch. And will continue to work as it's supposed to for years to come.

The fabled "Spottie" was the legendary mainstream screwmount Pentax that spanned a number of models from 1964 to 1976. (The top choices being the original SP, which had two "budget" alternatives, the SP500 and SP1000; the SPII; and the later Spotmatic F.)

One thing to look out for is sellers screaming "MINT!!!" at you like manic candy salesmen—the Spotmatics featured double chrome plating over brass, and the cameras wear like iron. Many of them still look fresh and clean today, even if they've been abused. This excites sellers, who think they have "survivors" even though what they have might actually be pretty typical.

Having been well trained by our consumer culture, we all have a strong tendency to want to optimize. My advice: don't. If you want to go slow and retro, then go slow and retro! Don't try to get the latest or the sharpest or the one with the most features. 

Another buying hint: both these cameras were much more common in chrome finish. The black ones, therefore, are more prized, rare, and valuable. The thing is, with any camera, the more valuable one will be the one in less supply. Don't think a black one is any better just because people are making a fuss over it. The classic look is chrome. Get that.

And you might be tempted to skip the CLA ("clean, lube, adjust"): well, that would be optimizing! (For minimal investment, in this case.) I just told you not to do that.  :-)

The first lens you want for the Pentax MX is called an SMC Pentax-M 50mm ƒ/1.4. The ƒ/1.7 is a fine lens and a little sharper, but the ƒ/1.4 has perfect bokeh and, optically, just looks a little better overall. 

For the Spotmatic, the screwmount lens you want will be called a Super Takumar, Super-Multi-Coated Takumar, or SMC-Takumar. Get the 50mm ƒ/1.4 first.

Although cheap now, they are legendary lenses: Pentax believed at the time they needed to do better than Zeiss if they wanted to overcome the perception that Japanese cameras were shoddily built (as many Japanese products were in the immediate aftermath of WWII). The company put everything they had into building these fast 50s, producing them, at least at first, at a loss. A famous comparison by Burt Keppler of Modern Photography and later of Popular Photography pitted the Pentax Super Takumar against the equivalent Leica lens. The Super-Tak came out on top.

With a 50mm lens, you will miss the pictures that you could have gotten with a wide-angle or a super-telephoto lens, but here's the way to console yourself: the number of possible great pictures you can take with a fifty is "infinity."

Don't fret. Have fun.

The right camera with the right lens: $159 for both,
leaving money left over for a thorough restoration.

True retro would be a restored and revived Pentax Spotmatic SP with a Super-Takumar 50mm ƒ/1.4, using a handheld light meter, shooting Kodak Tri-X or Ilford HP-5 Plus and developing it yourself, making your own prints on fiber-base paper. My personal choice would be a restored and revived Pentax MX with an SMC Pentax-M 50mm ƒ/1.4, using the camera's meter, shooting Ilford XP2 and getting it developed commercially, possibly making prints yourself on RC paper.

Either one is the perfect retro film-camera experience. You don't even need to bother with spending more money.

Mike
(Thanks to the commenter who mentioned the MX the other day)

UPDATE from Ned Bunnell: "Mike, FYI, the go-to-guy for servicing film Pentax cameras is Eric Hendrickson. He's a former Pentax service manager who moved to Tennessee many years ago. He has all the equipment to work on the early film cameras including the various 6x7 models. He adjusted the 67 I bought from you. His work is superb, and he's honest and very reasonable with his rates. Contact info:

http://pentaxs.com/index.html 

[email protected]

Cheers, Ned."

[Ned is the former President of Pentax USA. —Ed.]

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Dennis (partial comment): "I just took a look at the Spotmatic after reading this—it's a beautiful camera! I noticed that it uses 1.35 volt mercury batteries for the meter and that rang a bell...years ago, when I bought my HiMatic 7sII, I paid for a CLA and to have the meter circuit adjusted to 1.5V batteries. Apparently, that's one of the things that Abilene does as part of their repair service, but just another argument to not skip the CLA step."

Mike replies: Thanks. I should have mentioned that. Yes, the Spotmatic takes long-since-outlawed mercury batteries, so it's necessary to get the circuit converted. Another option is to use the Voigtlaender VC Meter II, which has the added advantage of being transferable to all your other old film-camera bodies. If you get a Spotmatic SP and want to use a VC Meter II, note that you need the clip-on "cold shoe" (the bit above the eyepiece meant to hold the flash), which itself is an add-on with the original Spottie.

Andrew adds: "It is my understanding that Pentax Spotmatics have a bridge circuit in the light meter and can use modern 1.55v silver oxide batteries without re-calibration."

Mike replies: Thanks. I really don't know the ins and outs of the meter circuit. As I implied in the post, I always used a separate meter with my Spotmatic II.

Bill Poole: "Ah, yes. During my brief time working in a retail camera store in the late 1960s, I came to love the Spotmatic, and to recommend it often to customers. (You don't mention to lovely clunk of its shutter—the solid sound of quality.)

"I'm not sure why you didn't mention that commercial development is also available for silver-based black-and-white films. While I continue to develop at home sometimes, I also use Photoworks San Francisco, just down the street, which also has a mail-order service. They charge $8 a roll, cheap enough, and the quality is superb.

"Also, you do not have to print wet to get the unique look of film images. Scanning and printing digitally yields lovely results, while Lightroom and Photoshop provide impressive controls over image contrast, burning, dodging, etc."

Paul B: "My first camera was a Spotmatic II, and saw me through high school and college. Later cameras never pleased me as much as my Pentax, probably not even my Leica M3 (which I love dearly). That Pentax was as rugged as a tank, and took as much abuse as I could dole out. When I was 'done' with it, I gave it to my brother who used it until he went digital in the early '00s. So it served us for almost 40 years with barely a whimper. And the lenses were great. Worked in all kinds of weather, too. I often think that people who want to learn photography ought to start with a Pentax, either a Spotmatic (partly for the screw mount experience), or a K-1000, and use a hand held light meter. But I guess I'm just an old guy now, with old fashioned ideals...."

Richard Alan Fox: "I was a camera repairman at Brooks Camera on Kearny Street in San Francisco during the mid 1970s. Pentax Spotmatics have a spring-loaded lever under the cover used to cock the shutter; a typical problem would be this lever popping and needing to be adjusted (if my memory serves).

"I received this award from my fellow repairmen after a rather unfortunate incident, and now, forty years and a continent away, I would like to share it with the world:

Dennis Mook: "Photographed well over a hundred dead bodies in the '70s and early '80s with a Spotmatic, 50mm ƒ/1.4 Super-Muliti-Coated Takumar, Tri-X, and a huge Honeywell potato-masher flash with a 510-volt battery hanging off my belt. Never let me down, not once. And no, I'm not going to explain anything more...."

[I'll just add that Dennis is not talking about dead camera bodies. —Ed.]

David Raaum: "My first camera was an Argus C-3 while I was in high school. When I got to Vietnam I bought the Spotmatic with the 50mm ƒ/1.8 at the Marine PX for $189.50. I used it through my entire Vietnam tour, even in the dug-in radio relay hole in Khe Sanh, South Vietnam. It worked all through the rest of the '60s, '70s, and the '80s until I switched to Nikon in 1990. I took a lot of great pictures, on Kodachrome slides, with that camera. When I stopped using it the meter had quit working; other than that it was fine. Great memories."

Jeroen: "Another point: I think the MX has a more than decent finder magnification (almost 1x with a 50mm). That makes photographing 'with both eyes open' much easier."

Mike replies: Some of the Olympus OM cameras also have great finder magnification. A luxury that the market never quite understood, unfortunately, but a pleasure to use even today.

Rod S.: "Mike, your post sent a thrill down my spine this morning when I scrolled down to the picture of that handsome Pentax MX in all its delicious chrominess.

"I loved the Pentax MX and used two bodies from 1977 until 1995, when I moved to the medium-format Pentax 6x7. I looked for but never found a better 35mm camera. The MXs accompanied me on many challenging adventures, including trekking expeditions to Everest in 1978 and K2 in 1994, and I was able to publish two magazine articles as a result.

"One special image from 1978, a portrait of two local boys in long-gone traditional dress, under dappled sunlight, will forever be one of my best photographs. The framed 16x20 Cibachrome print is remarkably detailed.

"The MX's controls are simple and intuitive. In particular, the meter display with 1/2 stop LEDs is perfect, easy to read and quite genius in concept, making 1/2 stop underexposure of transparency film—but only in direct sunlight—straightforward for maximising colour saturation. And the placement of the K-mount lens lock makes changing lenses one handed easily done.

"My only regret is that the wonderful design of the MX held me back from changing to medium format by a decade. That eventual change, and the use of a hand held light meter it required, really challenged my understanding and practice of photography.

"My first camera, though, was a new Spotmatic F (F for full aperture metering), a gift from my father in September 1974 for my eighteenth birthday. That camera introduced me to the Pentax tradition of 'elegant simplicity.' By comparison, most other brands of SLRs seemed bloated, heavy or had awkward controls. I am very appreciative of my father's thoughtfulness.

"Still, I came to see that the original Spotmatic has the most elegant line of the pentaprism housing of all, narrow and uncluttered by the hotshoe of subsequent models.  :-)  "