Low-angle shots for La Vuelta al Mundo

In April La Vuelta al Mundo proposed pointing our cameras up. The topic for April has been “low-angle: looking up”.


(Flexaret VI, Kodak Ektachrome E100G, EI 100/21°)


(Hapo 66-E, Fujichrome Provia 400X, EI 400/27°)
The low angle is one of my favorite points of view: in fact, most of my pictures have been taken with a slight upwards slant of the camera. I find that the low angle, combined with a point of view close to the floor, convey a kind of majesty to the subject that I like very much. I guess this is one of the reasons why I like photographing with a TLR so much, because the camera remains at waist-level as the picture is taken.


(Diana Mini, Kodacolor 200, EI 200/22°)


(Flexaret VI, Kodak Ektachrome E100G, EI 100/21°)
For this assignment in La Vuelta al Mundo, though, I have been experimenting with the most extreme version of a low-angle shot: the nadir view, or inverse bird's eye view, which has the camera pointing upwards perpendicular to the floor.


(Flexaret VI, Kodak Ektachrome E100G, EI 100/21°)
The most difficult one was this nadir self portrait, because the framing, the composition and, in some way, the focusing, had to be almost random.

Hyperfocal shots

Photography requires dealing with four variables at the same time. The amount of light (or exposure) is controlled by how long do we let light into the camera (shutter speed) and how wide is the hole used to do it (aperture or f-number). ISO speed (or film speed) controls how sensitive does the photosensitive element (sensor or film) respond to light. Focus (and its cousin depth of field) decide which parts of the picture are rendered sharp and which are not.


(Kodak Retinette IA, Fuji Neopan 400, EI 400/27°)
The photographer lives in this four-dimensional space and must find a point (that means, set values for each one of these variables) in order to make a photograph. Throughout the development of photographic cameras, clever systems have been devised to take care of these decisions automatically: shutter priority, aperture priority or full automatic exposure programs, automatic ISO setting, autofocus, ...

Nevertheless, focus remains a crucial aspect of photography because the photographer still has to decide what distance to focus to. Autofocus systems are only able to turn the focus ring very precisely real fast ^(*).

One way to forget about focus at once is to take advantage of an optical trick. For a given aperture, set focus to a distance that lets the far end of the depth of field on the infinity ^(**). This is the hyperfocal distance H corresponding to that aperture. Everything from H/2 to the infinity is in focus now.


(Kodak Retinette IA, Fuji Neopan 400, EI 400/27°)
The hyperfocal distance is very useful when I do street photography or when I take photographs from the chest, with the camera hanging from its neck strap, because I just need to mind about the near end of my depth of field. I try to estimate the distance to my subjects so that I take their picture when they are farther away.

Letting the hyperfocal trick take care of focus gives the photographer the ability to shoot really quickly, or the freedom to concentrate about other photographic aspects.


(EOS 40D, EF 24mm f/2.8, 1/400, f/11)
(for this shot I knew that everything between 0.8m and infinity was going to be sharp, so I was able to worry exclusively about the composition...)

^(*) At least it should be this way. I know that modern cameras can decide which one of the autofocus points to set focus on as well, but... what decision remains for the photographer, then? :-/

^(**) A depth of field scale on the lens comes in handy for this setting.

From the heart [stranger 6/99]

(Kodak Retinette IA, Fuji Neopan 400, EI 400/27°)
This picture was taken straight from the heart.

I mean, I was walking around the streets, the Retinette on my chest hanging from the neck strap on its ever ready leather case, which is pretty worn-out by the way. I had already set the exposure for the dim light that we had in the morning (EV10, if I remember well, which meant probably 1/250@f/4 for my ISO 400 film). Then this old lady crossed my path and, without thinking, almost as a reflex, I aimed my camera at her without bringing it to the eye and pressed the shutter release with my thumb. I then totally forgot about it.

As I was checking the developed film afterwards I discovered this picture and I liked the angle and the somewhat random and casual feeling that it conveys. Though the lady was badly underexposed, I made a quite radical processing when digitizing the negative.

My sixth stranger had an umbrella because it had started raining just a minute before .

Suspicious look [stranger 5/99]

(EOS 350D, Sigma 70-300mm f/4-5.6 APO DG, 214mm, 1/400, f/6.3)
My fifth stranger had a distrustful look. I got him with a telephoto lens, that I needed some time adapting to, because it had been so long since I last used it.

Twin-lens reflex - Meopta Flexaret VI

Last summer I had the chance to visit the Helmut Newton Foundation in Berlin. I loved the awesome selection of his pictures and those of his life partner Alice Springs. As I was wandering around the exhibition, I was drawn to a showcase displaying some of the cameras that Newton used throughout his life. The most beautiful one, without a doubt, was the Rolleiflex, a twin-lens reflex made in Germany by Franke&Heidecke.

A twin-lens reflex (TLR) camera has two lenses: the viewing lens for focusing, framing and composing the shot, and the taking lens for actually taking the picture. The standard TLR design has the viewing lens on top of the taking lens. The image projected by the viewing lens is reflected on a mirror and projected onto a ground glass that the photographer looks from above. This kind of device is called a waist-level finder because one does not need to bring the camera to eye level to take pictures.


(EOS 40D, EX DG 50mm f/2.8 macro, 0.3s, f/3.5, ISO 100)
The Rolleiflex was kind of the Rolls Royce of photography from its introduction in 1929 well into the 70s. It was, on its heyday, the professional camera par excellence, kind of like today's top-of-the-line Canon or Nikon dSLRs. Rolleiflex cameras are still in production. A second hand Rolleiflex is still relatively expensive, especially the latest f/2.8 models or those sporting the finest lenses. Fortunately for vintage camera enthusiasts on a budget (like me!), lots of different clones of the Rolleiflex TLR design were made, using more or less of the original Rollei elements. Some of these clones aged very well and can be acquired today for much less money than a new plastic toy camera costs.

Ever since Berlin I've been fascinated by Newton's Rolleiflex and I wanted to give a TLR a try, to see if operating one is as sexy as it looks. Browsing through the online catalogue of one of the last second hand photo stores in Salzburg, I found a relatively low-priced camera under the entry "MEOPTA FLEXARET AUTOMAT with MEOPTA BRLST 1:3,5/80mm". A quick google image search confirmed that it was a TLR. The store owner, probably feeling sympathetic to the weird-looking foreigner asking about TLRs in broken German, sold me the Flexaret for still less than he actually asked for in the first place.

My first TLR is a Meopta Flexaret VI, produced between 1961 and 1967 by Meopta in Prerov, then Czechoslovakia. Both lenses are Meopta Belar (there was a funny typo on the online catalogue!) 80mm f/3.5, a four-element, Tessar-like design. The camera takes both medium format 120 film and 35mm, with the help of an adapter. In my case a 35mm take-up spool was missing, but I am more than happy using the camera with medium format film only. The shutter release is on the camera front and film advance is accomplished by turning a winding knob on the right side, which automatically cocks the shutter for the next shot. The Flexaret is reputed to be a very sturdy camera, which was used by many photojournalists in Czechoslovakia and the whole Eastern Block before the new SLRs took over the market.

Maybe the most unique feature about the Flexaret is its focusing lever: standard TLRs use a focusing knob on the side, but the Flexaret uses a double-headed lever below the taking lens that swivels from side to side. Once you've got used to it, it is very quick and very precise, because you can operate it with two fingers of the same hand you use for holding the camera. Another famous TLR, the Minolta Autocord, uses a similar system. In fact, the predecessor of the Autocord, the Minoltacord of 1953 was a nearly exact copy of Meopta's Flexaret III design of the late 1940s.


(EOS 40D, EF 50mm f/1.8, 1/60, f/1.8, ISO 400)
The most striking feature about the Flexaret, and in general about TLRs, is the way in which you take the photographs. To look down into the waist-level finder, with the big bright screen, allows a very conscious framing and composing, and you can achieve dead on focusing precision with the aid of a small pop-up magnifying glass. The image projected onto the screen is reversed left-to-right. Although this is really a disadvantage when trying to track moving objects (you know your target moves to your right, you have to move your camera to the right, but on the screen the target appears to be moving to the left, a real challenge for the brain-muscle coordination!), I realized that a reversed image actually allows for a very contemplative, relaxed and thoughtful photo making and I think it actually makes you a better photographer.


(EOS 40D, EX DG 50mm f/2.8 macro, 10s, f/9, ISO 100)
The reversed image puts some distance between the reality you see and the reflected, reversed reality that you see through the camera, and this distance is enough to avoid the casual snapshot and forces you to really think about how are you going to make this photograph. I've read that a similar effect happens when using a large format view camera, where the image is inverted both upside-down and left-to-right.


(Photo taken by light thru my lens)
I have already taken 9 rolls of film with my Flexie and I am really happy with the results so far. It is a very special feeling when you open the lid, look down onto the reversed image and imagine how it would look like as a photograph. The vintage camera feeling is double with the Flexie, because the non-standard operation and the strange looks of the camera (at least for people under 40!) makes you stand out from the crowd whenever you take it in your hands. I can say that, as of today, the Flexaret VI is, without a doubt, my favorite camera.

Meopta Flexaret VI
My Flexaret VI flickr set

Maker	Meopta
Model	Flexaret Automat VI
Type	Twin-lens Reflex
Lens	Meopta Belar 80mm f/3.5
Shutter	Metax 1 - 1/400 + B
Film type	medium format (120), 6x6
Year	1961-67
Country	Czechoslovakia