Happy 6th analogversary!

On December 11th 2010, six years ago, I posted my first film picture on flickr. I took it with a (then) 50 years old Kodak Retinette IA that my mother-in-law gave to us, the first old film camera that I used after some years of digital photography.

These days I have been thinking a lot about what it is that kept me doing what I do (photographically speaking) these last six years. I concluded that, for me, film photography is just the medium, but not the goal. Although I like pictures on film very much, I realized that it is not just about film. In fact, I am not really interested in using any last generation film SLR camera from the late 90s, which would arguably be the easiest and most practical access to film photography nowadays. What I really do enjoy is to take pictures with old cameras. That is my passion. The fact that such cameras do need film is just a happy coincidence. One that makes my commitment to film grow strong.

How old is "old"? Well, I cannot give a definite answer to that question: it depends on the camera. Generally speaking, a full-mechanical camera (no electronics, no batteries) made sometime between the early 20s and the late 70s of the past century can be interesting to me. But I do have (and use) a couple of cameras that are both older (1912) and younger (1989) than that. And not every camera from that period (there are thousands!) makes my heart skip a beat.

There have been few new cameras in this sixth year. For a couple of months I have been busy elsewhere and, in a sense, my old camera passion did recede a little bit on the first half of the year. Mostly because I have been distracted by bicycles. Especially older ones, as it could not be otherwise!


(Bergheil 9x12, Kodak Ektachrome 200 EPD, expired, ISO 200/24°)
There have been, quite unconsciously and mostly due to good luck, a couple of "redundant improvements" to my photographic stable. With this I mean cameras or lenses that I already had, this time in a new (and, to me, more desirable) fashion. I have long had a 1962 Exakta Varex IIa, the model with the name EXAKTA in block letters over a black background. This year I found another Exakta Varex IIa body, a little older (1957), with the more elegant engraved lettering on the front. Or a 1953 Zeiss Ikon Contessa 533/24, which I already have since 2012, now in a much less battered state and the rare matching leather case. The fact that I have this Contessa as a backup makes me less fearful of tackling with the repairs that my first Contessa needs (frozen slow speed escapement, rangefinder adjustment). Another very lucky strike made me the proud owner of a 1938 Voigtländer Bessa RF, in quite good condition and an intact yellow filter. It sports the most desirable Heliar f/3.5 lens. I already have a Bessa RF with a Skopar lens, which is nice and sharp, but is no Heliar. A couple of Zeiss Ikon Contaflex I, because the lens on them, the coated 45mm f/2.8 Tessar from West German Zeiss, is one of my favorites (it is the one that the Contessa has as well), and I could not resist a camera that allows looking directly through that lens. And finally, a rangefinder 1954 Kodak Retina IIc because it is a kind of bigger sister to our Retinette IA, the one with which everything began.

In this year, too, I managed to get some practical accessories for many of my cameras: leather cases, a 9x12 roll film back much more convenient than the one that I already had, a prism viewfinder for my Exakta Varex IIa and a Leitz VIOOH/Imarect universal external viewfinder for my Leica IIIa, just for the sake of it, because I still have only one lens on Leica screw mount. Ouch, that nasty collector in me... ;)

This year I shot less films than the previous one. There have been 11 rolls in black&white, from which the most shot was Kodak Tri-X 400, then 15 color negative rolls, Kodak Portra 400VC being the one I took most often, and 13 color slide films, from which, surprisingly, the one I shot the most was Kodak Ektachrome 64T in 9x12 sheet film format. A Kodak year, so to speak.


(Rolleiflex 631, Kodak Portra 400VC, expired, ISO 400/27°)
The camera I took most often was my Rolleiflex Automat 631 (8 films), followed one more year by the Contax II (6 films) and, quite worth mentioning, the Bergheil 9x12 plate camera with sheet film (4 sheets).

I am happy that this year I found the strength to keep servicing and repairing my cameras. Even though I took it again after a long pause just a couple of months ago (as I said, I have been busy/distracted servicing and repairing old bicycles), I found again excitement and peace in delving into the depths of a number of cameras and shutters.

My Rolleiflex Old Standard 621 was in need of some attention after having been a little neglected the last years. I carefully cleaned both lenses, which had gotten a little foggy, and dismantled the whole waist-level finder to clean the viewing system as well. I hoped to find the exact fabrication date of my camera hand-scratched behind the mirror, but unfortunately I found nothing. I managed to secure the flaps of the waist-level finder hood, which had always been a little shaky and never closed perfectly. Now the hood closes with a reassuring snap every single time. I managed to fix another of my Rolleiflexes, the Automat 631, as I already explained a couple of weeks ago. I am happy to report that the film transport mechanism operated flawlessly through the first film that I shot after the repair.



My still dormant Zeiss Ikon Contax S got a new set of shutter curtains but, alas, that did not solve the erratic locking of the wind mechanism that happens from time to time. Still a work in progress. As well as the aforementioned Zeiss Ikon Contaflex I, whose diaphragm stops down a little too slowly resulting in overexposed pictures. It needs a bit of lubrication in the aperture ring, or maybe a little more tension, or probably both.

As you see, I have still lots to do in the servicing & repair chapter. I hope I will find the time, inspiration and strength to keep going on.

One of my photographic realizations last year was how nice it felt to be able to create memories, what a warm feeling it is to look at pictures of my family, of my friends. The strongest motivation that I have to grab a camera is, still, to take a picture of my loved ones.

This year started with our family growing, we welcomed our second son in January.


(Contax F, Kodak Tri-X 400, EI 1600/33°)
After a very challenging first month, in which photography was one of the few things that helped me keep my sanity, that brought me peace and solace, the inspiration slowly returned, and I managed to find happiness and enjoyment in creating such memories again.


(Exakta Varex IIa, Fujichrome Velvia 50, expired, ISO 50/18°)

(Contax II, Porst Color-X 200, expired, ISO 200/24°)

(Contessa 533/24, Ilford Delta 100, expired, ISO 100/21°)
And this, for me, is a very important endeavor. I have become very aware of the invisible but yet very real border that a child's memory cannot cross. My older son is able to recall easily, and with a surprising richness of detail, events that happened a year and a half ago. Yet, he cannot remember anything that happened before he turned 2 (he is 4 years old now). Neither single events, nor "bigger" things like how our flat looked back then. In the light of this, I have come to understand my pictures of them as a kind of poor, but still necessary, additional memories for my children, from a time in their lives that they are probably going to forever forget. I am happy to do this for them. I consider myself very fortunate.

As I did with my older son, ever since I knew my second son was going to be born in 2016, I started my search for a camera, an old one, made in 1916, a camera exactly 100 years older than him. Romantic as I still am, I want it to be able to take pictures. I thought that 1916 was not going to be as difficult as 1912, but to this day I have only one single candidate that could have been built 100 years ago: an Ansco Vest Pocket No. 1, which I got in my previous 1912 quest. The camera, though, is still not usable, because the bellows is badly worn and not light-tight. I was able to recover operation in the 100 year old Actus shutter, but unfortunately, I managed to destroy the diaphragm in the process (an aperture blade broke). I still could operate the camera always at full aperture, but there is still the leaky bellows problem.

I guess, thus, that the quest for a camera made in 1916 is still open. Hope dies last, and I am already longing to get a 1916 Voigtländer Alpin. In any case, I will be honored if you keep sharing this exciting journey with me.

Happy 5th analogversary!

Five years ago, on December 11th 2010, I posted my first film picture on flickr. These have been definitely the most exciting years of my (short) photographic adventures.

For me, it all boils down to a fascination with simplicity, to the quest for a minimalistic picture taking setup. Film has been liberating in many aspects. No more coming back from a short excursion with 200+ digital pictures to find out that I have neither the time nor the willingness to process and sort them out. No more forgetting about spare batteries or memory cards. No more search for total picture perfection. I think we humans tend to overdo a bit: we wanted music perfection and along came high fidelity and digital audio to deliver just that. Then we realized that perfection was almost akin to lack of "soul", that what we actually loved was the background scratching noise of the good old vinyls. We asked for picture perfection and along came a herd of engineering and electronic wonders able to deliver just that. Still, we realized perfect pictures did not deliver the emotional response we were used to. On the other hand, film did just that for years, and still does. And here I am.

There have been many new old cameras this year. Each and every one with a certain meaning or purpose. But, in many cases, the collector has won over the photographer. There are certain sequences, certain regularities, certain historically significant milestones, that I now recognize as quite valid reasons to purchase a camera, although from a user point of view it has little or no added value. This year, as I will explain in a minute, the collector in me has been driven almost exclusively by a single word: Contax.

I am very happy after this fifth film year. When I look back at the pictures I took this year, I realize that I definitely grew up. There is a gut feeling about exposure, there is a familiarity with certain films, with certain lenses, with certain cameras, that is new and very reassuring. Of course I make mistakes every now and then, but this year there are a number of pictures that I am quite proud of. Last year I felt the photographer was the weak link in the chain. It still is, but I am happy to realize that I am working on it.


(Contax II, Solution Super VX 200, expired, ISO 200/24°)
The year started with an ongoing fascination for Contax rangefinders. Through active scouting and a couple of good luck strikes, I am now the proud owner of an almost complete lineup of Zeiss Ikon Contax 35mm rangefinders: both prewar Contax II (1938) and Contax III (1938) and postwar Contax IIa (1952) and Contax IIIa (1950-1951). The only one missing would be a Contax I, the first one introduced in 1932. They command prohibitive prices and have a reputation for being mechanically fragile. The collector in me is on the look. The user keeps telling him there is no hurry. These four cameras have been the ones I most used this year: 25 films in total, 10 alone with the Contax II. As a nice counterpoint to the Contax family, in late summer came along their arch-rival, the measure of all things, a wonderful Leica IIIa (1936).


This rangefinder love story has not been just on 35mm film, though. I already owned Super Ikontas for 6x6 and 6x4.5 format on medium format 120 film. A relatively battered but functionally sound Voigtländer Bessa RF (1939) arrived to cover the wonderfully large 6x9 format with the reassurance of a rangefinder to set the focus distance right. With the unforgiving shallow depth of field of the 105mm lenses normal for this format, this is truly a great help. Again the Super Ikonta BX (6 rolls) and this Bessa RF (5 rolls) have been among the medium format cameras that I used the most this year.

Another interesting turn this year has been the (re)discovery of 35mm SLR cameras. Again, it all started with a Contax, but now the East German one, the first camera with a fixed pentaprism, the one that laid out the design that every single SLR camera followed for the next 60+ years (yes, dSLRs are still built after the Contax SLR today). First a Contax F (1956-1959), then a very early and still non working Contax S (1950). In order to learn the skills and tricks needed to return the Contax S to working order, I acquired a number of nonfunctional Contax F/Pentacon F "test objects" for little money, with the idea of repairing them, learn a lot and then sell them away. Two of the Fs, though, are so accurate and fine after getting a new set of shutter curtains that I have trouble parting with them... One of them, probably the Pentacon F, is definitely going to stay, because this way I can use the lens that came with the Contax S, a magnificent Carl Zeiss Jena Biotar 58mm 1:2.0 that seems to transform every single picture into a work of art. An Ihagee Kine-Exakta II (1949-1950) was, again, a nice counterpoint to the Contax family, to enjoy the reversed image on its waist level finder.


Talking about lineups and families, I could not resist an early F&H Rolleiflex Automat 6x6 (1938-1939) that came with a bunch of accessories and has been too (with 6 rolls) among the most used medium format cameras this year. The Rolleiflexes I own now are a Rolleiflex Original 611 (1929), a Rolleiflex Old Standard 621 (1935) and this Rolleiflex Automat 631 (1938-1939). See the sequence there? As I said, I could not resist... :) There is a very interesting story about the repair process of this camera, but as it is still not fully completed, I hope I will find time later on for it. It involves a missing piece that was, in fact, not missing but dormant inside the camera for decades...


And finally, as the year was almost over, a revival of the venerable 9x12 sheet film format came with a Voigtländer Avus 9x12 horizontal (1925). As the online seller did not manage to open up the camera front, I got it without knowing what lens was on it or, for that matter, if it even had a lens! The price was really attractive though, so I got it anyway. As the camera arrived, I did manage to open the front and discovered a lens (Voigtländer Dynar 135mm 1:5.5) about which I did not know much. To my surprise, as I researched a bit, I discovered that the Dynar is no other than a second generation Heliar (one of my strongest longstanding favorite lenses of all time, as you can read here, here and here) that got another name to not mess with the sales and reputation of the first generation Heliar. Pictures taken with it reveal its true pedigree. Again, the story about transferring this lens to a more convenient 9x12 camera body (no other than a Voigtländer Bergheil 9x12) remains to be told soon. As it involves a certain amount of McGyver-esque use of cardboard adapter rings and had a happy ending, I hope it will be an amusing one.

When it comes to the films I used, this year has been a very balanced one (22 black&white, 24 color negative, 21 color slide). The ones I shot the most: Ilford HP5 Plus 400 for black&white, Kodak Portra 160NC for color negative and Agfaphoto CT Precisa 100 for color slide, with 5 rolls each. This year I experienced a reconciliation with long expired film. In fact, I shot much more expired than non-expired film this year. I did it, though, in a much more mindful way. I tried to adapt my shooting to the shortcomings and special needs that I learnt the hard way in the past. It is beginning to work out, I think.


(Rolleiflex Automat 631, Fujicolor HR 100, expired 1986, ISO 100/21°)
Although this year I kept developing my black&white films at home (18 rolls in total), lately I found myself being lazy and bringing b&w film to the lab for development, too. I got myself a color negative development kit, but I did not manage to find the time and the motivation to try it. I guess the need to do my development in the evening or even late at night, when our son is already sleeping, does not help, as it neither does having to store everything in the broom closet afterwards. Alas, I guess there might come a time where I am more inspired to develop.

What I kept doing, though, is fixing and servicing my cameras. This year I am particularly proud of the successful rangefinder adjustment of my Bessa RF, on which I went almost exclusively by feeling, after realizing that the only hints I found online were in fact meant to solve another issue. Another fun repair was the sticky film advance/cocking lever on a Zeiss Ikon Taxona, for which I needed an almost complete strip down to remove the hardened grease that was preventing a smooth operation. I have become relatively proficient at replacing stiff shutter curtains on East German Contaxes, although the whole point of this learning, bringing back the Zeiss Ikon Contax S to life, has not been reached yet. And not to forget the repairs that I mentioned before: first, recovering infinity focus on my Rolleiflex Automat 631 and recovering its automatic stop on film advance (still a work in progress), and second, transferring Compur shutter and Dynar lens from an early Voigtländer Avus 9x12 horizontal to a later Voigtländer Bergheil 9x12 body with Bergheil bayonet. What I still did not have the guts to tackle, though, was the one repair that I told about one year ago: replacing the broken shutter ribbons and the slow speeds on a Zeiss Ikon Contax II. I must admit I cheated a little bit on this one, since the Contax II that has become my favorite this year is in fact another (working) one which I came across. Still, the prewar Contax II is high in my to-do list.


(Contax IIa, Fujichrome Provia 400, expired 2000, ISO 400/27°)

(Super Ikonta BX, Fujichrome Provia 400X, ISO 400/27°)
As I said, I am quite happy with the pictures I took this year. About the shooting, there seems to be a deeper understanding of the naked camera and its four controls (aperture, shutter speed, focus and framing). Sometimes I realize I did not consciously think about any of them, yet the picture was taken. A long time ago, a photographer acquaintance of mine told me that "you have to know your light". Maybe this is what he meant. Like when you are riding your bicycle and you do not think about how you are steering, yet you drive safely through the corner. Of course there are differences between the cameras (focus is not the same with a rangefinder than with a plate camera!), yet I found I did not have to struggle much after taking a different one.


(Contax F, Ilford HP5 Plus 400, expired, ISO 400/27°)

(Baby Ikonta 521/18, Kodak Ektar 100, ISO 100/21°)
For my next year I wish I manage to keep taking as many pictures as I did this last one. Because I realized how nice it is being able to create memories, the ones that reach to your soul, and what a warm feeling it is to look at pictures of my family, of my friends. I realized, too, that my strongest motivation to grab a camera is, simply, to take pictures of my loved ones. I wish, too, not to loose the direction my photography seems to be taking. I guess I am defining my photographic style, and it feels right to me.


(Rolleiflex Automat 631, Kodak Portra 160NC, expired, ISO 160/23°)

(Contax IIa, Ilford HP5 Plus 400, expired, EI 1600/32°)
And, of course, I wish I manage to find more time to write about this journey more often than this last year. I will be honored if you keep sharing it with me! :)

Happy 4th Analogversary! (3/3)

(...continuing from here and here)

Without a doubt, this year's highlight has been the completion of my dearest camera project.

Two years ago, as I was celebrating my second analogversary, I told you about what was to be my most special challenge for the following year: the quest for a camera made in 1912, exactly 100 years before our son was born. Romantic as I am, I wanted to find one that was still able to take photographs.

One year ago, on my third analogversary, I told you about one Vest Pocket Kodak that I found here in Vienna. This camera was a good candidate, since the first production run of the original (non-autographic) model took place from 1912 to 1914. It was in surprisingly good shape, especially for a near 100-year-old camera that has seen two world wars. The camera body, though, was badly deformed and the shutter did not fire at all. I did not really see a way to make it fit for taking pictures. For a couple of months I left the VPK project in standby.


Later this year I found another original Vest Pocket Kodak which turned out to be in much poorer condition, but had a working shutter and an intact camera body. The VPK project was alive again. After some hesitation I contacted Dr. White in the UK, whose website Collecting Vest Pocket Kodak Cameras is one of the best references that I could find about this camera model. I asked him for help in dating both of my VPK cameras. He was kind enough to recognize how meaningful this quest was to me, as he seems to share with me a passion for such endeavors, and promptly helped me with his ample knowledge. After some exciting e-mails he was able to confirm to me that, without a doubt, the first camera that I had, the one with the deformed body, came from the first production run in 1912. Square bellows, no "choke" to limit the maximum aperture and, crucially, no lettering on the front standard and no horizontal bar to help switch the waist level finder from the portrait to the landscape position were the features that pointed it to 1912. Again my deep gratitude to Dr. White for his help and for being such a key part in my 1912 camera quest.

I was very excited by this finding but still was not able to use the camera. I decided to build myself a working camera keeping as many parts of the 1912 one as I could. I exchanged the deformed camera body (in fact it is just the back: everything else, bellows, struts, front standard, shutter and lens completely detach in a block from the camera body) with the healthy one. Then I planned to mount the working shutter and lens onto the 1912 front standard but, in a touch of inspiration (with much trial and error and the minute bending of one crucially actuating lever), I managed to fix the 1912 shutter and to make its leaves open and close again. Which is fortunate, because both 1912 lens and shutter are in an almost pristine condition, contrary to the other one, which clearly shows its age. To sum up, I have now a working 1912 Vest Pocket Kodak with a back that, at the latest, was made in 1913 or 1914. This is not only the oldest but without a doubt the most special and meaningful camera that I own.


(Vest Pocket Kodak, Meniscus Achromat, Efke 100, ISO 100/21°)

It made me especially happy that the first pictures that I took with this camera were those of our son's second birthday, 102 years after the camera was built. After developing the film and looking at the pictures I was truly impressed by the performance of this very simple meniscus lens. The light leaks apparent in both pictures I am posting here are not the camera's fault, but mine: as I took out the exposed roll of film from the camera, the protective paper unrolled a bit and let a little light in. The camera bellows is perfectly light tight.


(Vest Pocket Kodak, Meniscus Achromat, Efke 100, ISO 100/21°)

The 1912 Vest Pocket Kodak is not the most convenient camera to use, but still quite usable and, as its name promises, extremely easy to carry around. I used it again two weeks ago on 2nd Winter 127 Day (127 film was, in fact, introduced in 1912 specifically for this camera model!) and I am taking the 1912 VPK with me again this Christmas.

~ ~ ~ o ~ ~ ~
My plans for the next year are again collect less and shoot more. Well, not only shoot more but shoot better. I want to concentrate on using less cameras, my dearest ones, and try to take the most out of them. In this year I have the feeling I experimented too much: too long expired films, too extreme lighting conditions, too many poorly thought pictures shot hoping that they would come out fine. Most of them didn't. I wish to be able to take a little more time and consciousness in the picture taking act. I know I already have fine cameras and lenses, very capable of delivering quality. The weak link in the chain is now the photographer. I also want to concentrate on less films, the ones that worked best, and try to make the film choice a conscious picture taking decision at the same level as are framing, composition and depth of field.

I want to keep on doing my own repairs. Working on my cameras not only makes me strangely happy but also makes me know them a lot better. I (begin to) deeply understand what happens as I cock the shutter, as I advance film, as I change shutter speeds, inside many of my cameras. And this knowledge is gold for the times when things do not work properly. I really wish I manage to make the shutter in my Contax II work, since I have the gut feeling this camera could be the one to which I will always be returning.

I want to extend my developing skills beyond black and white. I am going to research the feasibility of developing color negative (C-41 process) and/or color slide (E-6 process) film at home, because I keep reading that it is not harder than black and white development. And, yes, I still find this caffenol development thing very exciting... :)

And, of course, I want to find more time to write about my photographic challenges here in my blog. I hope you'll keep on sharing this journey with me! :)

Happy 4th Analogversary! (1/3)

Four years ago, on December 11th 2010, I posted my first film picture on flickr. This fourth year has seen the greatest increase in my vintage camera collection so far, to a point where I am beginning to think for a while when I am asked if I am a collector. In my heart I am not a collector, but an enthusiastic admirer and user of vintage cameras, that happens to enjoy satisfying the curiosity about this one or the other camera by getting them, making them work and taking photographs with them. But I know that the sheer facts tell another story, quite ironic if we consider what I said about the user/collector issue one year ago (collect less, take more pictures). Perhaps every collector started this way. Perhaps I am becoming a collector that enjoys using all his cameras, or at least tries to.

My commitment to the magic of film has not dwindled a bit. On the contrary, it is probably stronger than ever, especially now that I develop all my black and white films myself and I can witness the magic every time I open my daylight developing tank and pictures are revealed as I slowly unroll the film from the reel. In fact, I can hardly remember a single time that I photographed with a digital camera this last year. And not because I am one of those film nuts that see digital as evil: I do think that both are different tools and that each has its place, its strengths and weaknesses. I just happen to not have found neither chance nor the appropriate conditions to photograph with a digital camera.

In this fourth year I added many new old cameras to my stall. Most of them have a special meaning, they have certain historic or sentimental significance for me. In fact I am quite picky with my camera choice, there just happen to be too many interesting cameras out there to be discovered! :)


I got three TLRs made by Franke&Heidecke before WWII: the Rolleiflex Original 611 (1929), which is the grandmother and the cast of every single TLR that was to be produced in the following 60 years; the Rolleicord I Art Deco (1934), with its unusual and beautiful nickel cover, that brings one back to Midtown Manhattan in the late twenties; and the Rolleicord V (1954-1957), which combines convenience of use and remarkable contrast and sharpness from its Schneider Xenar lens.


There has been another bunch of new old cameras that I got out of pure curiosity: the Zeiss Ikon Contaflex (1953-1959), having both the convenience of an SLR and the quirkiness and feel of much older cameras; the subminiature Minox B (1968) with its 8x11 Minox film format that I did not really manage to master yet (but I keep trying!); the Ihagee Parvola 4x6.5 (1933) that is so enjoyable to use on 127 days and is so radically different in design from every other contemporary camera; the Voigtländer Brillant V6 (1937) that I got for next to nothing and which I managed to bring back to working order almost from the trash can and whose pictures, like everything Voigtländer, never ever deceive; and the Voigtländer Inos I (1933?), probably the most battered camera that I own, but worth every pain just for that magical Heliar lens.


The camera family that has been definitely this year's highlight has been the 35mm rangefinders. It all started with a fascination for the history of the Zeiss Ikon Contax camera: the Kiev 4 (1962), which is a Contax in Soviet disguise has been, in fact, the camera that I used the most in this fourth year. Then came the Voigtländer Vitessa L (1956), for me one of the most elegant cameras ever made and one I am very happy to have not only because of its Ultron lens. A little later, thanks to patience and a bunch of good luck, I got a Zeiss Ikon Contax IIa (1952) well under its true value, without a doubt the camera that I enjoy the most. Then a Kodak Retina II (1949) because of the warm and wonderful Schneider Xenon lens and out of curiosity about the grandmother of our Retinette IA, the one with which everything began. The last addition this year, as it couldn't be otherwise, has been a wonderful Zeiss Ikon Contax II (1936-1937), which is still not working but which I hope I manage to bring back to life soon.


Several of my new old cameras have interchangeable optics. That, of course, opens the door to crave for lenses. In Contaflex mount I managed to find the Pro-Tessar interchangeable front lens elements to extend the standard 50mm Tessar to 35mm, 85mm and 115mm. In Contax/Kiev mount I quickly fell in love with Ludwig Bertele's Zeiss Sonnar formula: first through the Jupiter-8M 50mm f/2.0 (1962) on my Kiev 4, then through the postwar Carl Zeiss Sonnar 50mm f/2.0 (1953-1959) that is the West German recalculation of the original prewar formula. A Jupiter-9 85mm f/2.0 (1963) came along to explore the short telephoto range (which I am still learning to deal with), and a Jupiter-12 35mm f/2.8 (1959), a fine Soviet version of the legendary Zeiss Biogon, covers the wide angle. The latest lens addition, and in fact the lens that I see as my analogversary self-present, is a prewar Carl Zeiss Jena Sonnar 50mm f/1.5 (1937), an ultrafast lens that was the envy of every prewar Leica photographer, and that I plan to make the standard lens for my Contax II, if I manage to make it work. In the meantime I enjoy it on my Contax IIa.


(to be continued...)

Series - burggasse

The last year and a half we lived in the Burggasse in Vienna. This summer we moved to a new flat. This weekly series is a very personal recollection of the flat that we just left.


(Super Ikonta BX 533/16, Kodak Ektar 100, ISO 100/21°)


(Kiev 4, Kodak Elite Chrome Extra Color 100, ISO 100/21°)


(Vitessa L, Agfaphoto CT Precisa 100, ISO 100/21°)


(Rollfilm 5x8, Rollei Crossbird 200, ISO 200/24°)


(Contaflex IV, Fujichrome Velvia 50, ISO 50/18°)


(Contaflex IV, Fujichrome Velvia 50, ISO 50/18°)


(Rollei 35, Solution Super VX 200, expired, ISO 200/24°)

The honest collector's dilemma

As I stated before, I do not really see myself as a vintage camera collector but as a vintage camera user.

I enjoy taking pictures with old cameras, marvel at their ingenious designs and elegant shapes and never cease to be amazed by the optical quality they are capable of delivering even though many of them are well past the 80-year-old mark. This enjoyment has a consequence: I research and read a lot about cameras, the history of camera makers and the lives and achievements of the key persons that brought camera and optical design to the point where it is now. And this consequence has a side effect: For many of the cameras I read about (and that I do not own), I develop great curiosity about how they feel like in the hand, how it is to operate them, what kind of pictures they are capable of rendering.

Out of this curiosity, and also for the sheer enjoyment of looking at pictures of vintage cameras, I use to scout vintage camera listings on eBay, online and offline camera dealers and other platforms where people sell stuff. It is usually a void exercise, since I rarely buy anything, but it helps develop a sense for the sale prices of many cameras and related photographic gear. And, every once in a while, a listing pops up where the price asked is only a fraction of the true value of the article.

One of the standard scenarios for such a bargain to be found happens when the seller, typically knowing very little about vintage cameras, finds herself with a camera in her hands, usually left by someone else (typically a parent, grandparent or friend) and does not know what to do with it. Old cameras tend to be regarded as useless paperweight by many people, especially if their condition is not very good. Since the advent of digital photography, even a 35mm camera (for which film is easily available) is seen as something obscure and obsolete, with little chance to be used again.



I have been lucky (or watchful) enough to have scored a number of such bargains. The first one was my Voigtländer Vitomatic IIa. The seller found it in a closet. It belonged to her grandfather and she had no idea how it worked (in fact, the ad described it as a single lens reflex camera). She was sure that it had rested there for the last twenty years. Complete with its leather case, first it did cost 15€. I silently watched the listing for a couple of weeks, after which the seller cut the price down to 10€. This was an offer I could not ignore anymore. I really wanted to have another Vitomatic, even more one with a rangefinder, and this one was being sold for approximately one eighth of the price indicated by reputable sources. Upon camera arrival, sure enough, the slow speeds did not work properly, but this is a repair that I think I will be able to manage. In the meantime I can live quite comfortably shooting over 1/25. And, of course, in case I botched the repair, not much (economically) would have been lost.



In a similar way I got a Voigtländer Bessa 6x9 medium format folder, a Rolleicord I Art Deco 6x6 twin lens reflex, a Kiev 4 35mm rangefinder, a subminiature Minox B and a Zeiss Ikon Contaflex IV leaf-shuttered single lens reflex, all well under one fifth of the collector's price. I already exposed many films with them. The Kiev might, in fact, be the one I'm going to use the most in this 2014, because I really love using it and the way it feels in my hands.





But perhaps the most spectacular camera deal, and the one that made me think about writing this post, has been a 1929 Rolleiflex Original 611, the first mass marketed twin lens reflex camera, the one that started the Rolleiflex legend and the long TLR golden age. Every TLR model that was to be built in the following 60 years, and there were hundreds of them, was basically an Original Rolleiflex in disguise.



I paid 30€ for this Rolleiflex. Collector prices start at around 300€ for a moderately battered exemplar, because of their historical significance and also because not many of them were built. The seller, a soft-spoken elderly gentleman living in the outskirts of Vienna, got it from the estate of a recently deceased acquaintance. He was genuinely fascinated by the fact that I planned to put this camera into use. The camera came with the original leather case, lens caps, lens hood and yellow filter. I could sense the loveliness and care of the original owner in the way how the yellow filter was protected by a cloth wrapped inside the lens hood, all neatly stuffed in a leather pouch attached to the camera case. This camera was used and loved for a long time. Although it is the early model (the detachable non-hinged back reveals it), a focusing knob with distance scale from the later model replaced the original one. The flash synchronization contact (on the upper right of the front standard) was obviously a much later upgrade.

The shutter, as usual, is a little reluctant on the slower speeds, and one of the brackets supporting the viewfinder hood needs minor fixing. All in all, nothing that scares me or makes the camera unusable. Glass and mirror are clean and film transport works smoothly. The seller was very happy to see that I was going to use the camera ("Sie wollen damit wirklich fotografieren!", "You really want to take pictures with it!", he kept saying). He was happy with the money he got, and I was happy with the price I paid. In fact, on my way back home I could not believe my luck.

And yet, on the next days and weeks I started thinking about how the seller could have easily got at least 200-250€ for this camera, had he brought it to any of the specialized vintage camera dealers in Vienna. He obviously did not know that, he did not know the real value of the Rolleiflex, and I did. And somehow, I began to feel bad, I began thinking if it had not been dishonest of me to pay him just the amount he asked out of ignorance. Would it have been better to tell him: "Look, here's 200€, which is much closer to what this camera is really worth"? And yet, he was happy and I was happy. Is it not the definition of a win-win situation?

This thought comes to my mind every time I find such a deal. The honest collector's dilemma. Be honest and teach sellers about the true value of a camera? Or keep the knowledge to yourself and obtain valuable cameras at a fraction of their price? What do you think?

Happy 3rd Analogversary!

Three years ago, on December 11th 2010, I posted my first film picture on flickr. Three years later I continue taking pictures almost exclusively on film and I still enjoy using old cameras for it. Although this third analogic year has seen a strong decline in the number of films that I put through my cameras and to the number of posts in this blog as well, there has been no decline in my commitment. I guess the reduced action has probably more to do with rising our one-year-old son, an enterprise which unfortunately (or maybe gratefully so) does not leave one with many opportunities to take pictures, especially with certain cameras.

I am happy this year because I kept on doing my own camera repair and servicing and, although not always with a happy ending (the film advance in a Contina Ia is still waiting for my fourth attempt), I've managed loosing the fear and feeling almost comfortable around dismantled shutters and the smell of lighter fluid.

In this third analogic year I shot 32 rolls of film (13 black&white, 12 color negative and 7 color slide) using 16 different cameras. The camera that I used most often has been a new acquisition: I shot 6 rolls with an Exakta Varex IIa that I got looking for the origin of those uncountable many SLRs with interchangeable optics that we have today (and that already existed yesterday). The discovery of the Exakta has been probably one of the three highlights in camera collecting this year. I do not see myself as a camera collector but as a camera user, because I really use all my cameras, and acquire them solely with the purpose of using them. Nevertheless, I guess to compensate inconsciously for not being able to photograph as much as I wanted to, this year I ended up acquiring a little more cameras and especially accessories than I used to in the past. Living now in Vienna and having a much easier access to many sources of cameras and gear has for sure been another factor. As I said, my Exakta outfit with four lenses and two viewfinders is proof of that.



The second highlight has been undoubtedly the resurgence of Voigtländer. I have always been a deep admirer of the fine cameras and lenses coming from Brunnswick. In fact, the Heliar f/4.5 lens on my Rollfilm 5x8 was my self-given gift for my first analogversary. Ever since then, I dreamed about owning the second variant, Heliar f/3.5, but unfortunately the price tag on them were just too much for me and my moral. This fall I had the chance to acquire this lens, attached to a most wonderful Bergheil 6.5x9 plate camera, for a very reasonable price. And then I remembered just how much of a jewel these cameras are and why do I love them so much. Later on I was able to secure a Vitomatic IIa 35mm rangefinder camera (I already owned a non-rangefinder Vitomatic Ia and gave it away) and a Bessa 6x9 rollfilm camera (which I always wanted) both for ridiculously low prices, ending up with a nice happily growing Voigtländer family.



The third highlight, though, is the one that makes me the most happy. Last year I already wrote about my quest for a camera made in 1912, a camera that would be 100 years older than our son. There have been a number of candidates and near-hits this year: a Vest Pocket Kodak that ended up being autographic and thus some years younger, an Icarette 6x6 from 1918, a much battered and ugly Ansco Vest Pocket No. 1 which could be it but I suspect it to be from a little later, ... Last month I got a non-autographic Vest Pocket Kodak, the camera that many American soldiers (ilegally) had in the trenches during World War I. The production run of the non-autographic VPK is quite short, 1912-1914.



My camera has a fairly low serial number, around 30000, although serial numbers seem not to be a very reliable dating feature for Kodak cameras. I guess I'll never be completely sure if this camera was indeed built in 1912, but I like to think that chances are good. I will try to make this camera fit to take pictures again. It won't be easy, since the body seems to be bent sideways and the camera does not close properly. The shutter is almost working (still have to figure out how can an actuating lever be a fraction of a millimeter shorter than it should) and the receded meniscus lens looks fine.

For my next analogic year I will try to photograph a little more and collect a little less. We recently got a scanner that can properly handle film up to medium format. Until now I have been digitizing my pictures basically by taking a backlit digital picture of the negative. Not comfortable and definitely not fun, especially when it comes to inverting colors by hand in the computer. This year I let my lab scan many films and many others are still patiently waiting to be digitized. There's going to be some learning about scanning film properly this next year. But the photographic challenge I am most excited about is to do my own film development. For my birthday Mar got me a film development starter kit, with a daylight tank, a thermometer, bottles and everything I need. I plan to start with black&white but I still need to do a little research about chemicals and options. And, yes, there is also this very exciting caffenol development thing... :)

I hope that you keep sharing this photographic journey with me! :)

Happy 2nd Analogversary! :)

Two years ago, on December 10th 2010, I posted my first film picture on flickr. One year ago, I already celebrated my first "analogversary". Today, one year later, here I am, still going strong on my commitment to film photography with vintage cameras.

This second year has been one of more mature camera choice and use, in general a year of more thought of photography. All in all, I exposed 71 films (22 black and white, 32 color negative, 17 color slide) using 14 different cameras. The camera that I most often used was my Rolleiflex Old Standard 621 (18 rolls). The color negative film that I most used was again Kodak Portra 400 (8 rolls), for black & white Kodak Tri-X 400 (3 rolls) and on color slide Fujichrome Velvia 50 remained a favorite (5 rolls).

In this year I got 5 new (old) cameras (Rolleiflex, Contessa, Ikonta, Super Ikonta BX and Rollei 35). In order to balance the energy, I also gave 5 cameras away (Polaroid, Vitomatic, Flexaret, Beltica, Hapo). As it seems, I am taking a more mature stand to vintage camera use, since I only got cameras that have some kind of significance, some meaning.

Another reason I am happy with my second analogue year is that I managed to accomplish one of the challenges that I set myself last year: doing my own camera repairs, which is a natural step when the objects you are trying to work with are (almost) all many years older than your parents. I got tons of patience, some specialized tools, and lots of information and good advice from websites and flickr pals. I managed to recover all speeds of the Compur shutter on my Rollfilm 5x8, to repair the jammed film transport in my Contessa 533/24 and to lubricate the focus system and recalibrate the rangefinder on my Super Ikonta BX 533/16. Oh yes, and there were some fun experiments with junk Compur shutters, too... :)

I will definitely keep photographing on film with vintage cameras next year. My next project, though, has all the meaning of the world for me: 6 weeks ago Mar gave birth to our first born. Long before I could hold him in my arms, I thought I would try to find a camera from 1912, a camera 100 years older than our child.



This camera, a Vest Pocket Kodak, could have been the one, since it was introduced in 1912, like the 127 film that it takes (and it fact, 127 film was especially designed for this camera). Some of its features (lens, body finish, autographic feature, engraved patents), though, point it to a little later (1921-1926).

The quest, thus, is still open. I'll be happy if you keep sharing this journey with me! :)

Herrensalon Wistuba

I am not a superstitious person. I like black cats no less than any other cat, I have no problem walking under a ladder and I do not seem to show any feeling whatsoever about Friday the 13th. What I do have, though, are certain funny little ways, certain everyday "rituals", that I unconsciously link to the success or failure of my daily enterprises. Crossing a certain street at a very concrete point on my way to work, leaving the fork to rest on the plate pointing down at the end of my meal, or hanging my bag to my right in the morning and to my left in the afternoon are a few examples of such rituals.

As taking photographs is an important part of my life, these kind of obsessions have spread throughout my photography as well. In fact, it seems to be not uncommon. I read that photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson had the superstition to test new camera lenses by taking photographs of ducks in urban parks. He never published them, as he considered it a "baptism" of the lens.

Since I am not only attracted to old cameras but also to vintage typefaces as well, the sign of a hairdresser, gone out of business a long time ago, caught my attention on my way to the office very soon. I could not resist the elegance of the bold '70s typeface, the off-center "holes" of the Rs, the well-balanced colors, the two windows, the tree, the cobblestone, ...


(Hapo 66-E, Rollei Retro 400S, ISO 400/27°)
That's why I started taking this picture again and again, at first almost without realizing it, later challenging myself to have a photograph of the Herrensalon Wistuba taken with every single camera and lens that I own. Talk about obsessive-compulsive disorder... ;)


(Flexaret VI, Fujichrome Velvia 50, ISO 50/18°)

(Nikon Coolpix S200, digital shot)

(Rollfilm 5x8, Kodak Farbwelt 200, expired, ISO 200/24°)
Well, sadly I have to admit that I failed the challenge, although it has been not entirely my fault. After at least 8 years of no activity, someone came to the idea of using the old hairdresser salon for a spice shop. Of course, a sign reading "Herrensalon Werner Wistuba", no matter how elegant the typeface, could be a little confusing for customers willing to buy exotic spices. The sign has been recently removed, putting a premature end to my challenge.


(Super Ikonta BX 533/16, Lomography Redscale 100, ISO 100/21°)
Anyhow, I have 23 pictures taken with 17 different cameras and lenses. The ultimate goal of photography is to keep memories. I'll be able to further admire the sign every time I want, in 23 different fashions.

My "Herrensalon Wistuba" set on flickr

Happy Analogversary! :)

One year ago, I published my first film picture on flickr. In fact, I had already posted a couple of shots taken with the Diana Mini, but it was with this picture, taken with the Kodak Retinette IA, that I realized that film photography was truly something worth spending my energy and devoting myself to, that it could replace and multiply the joy that I got from digital photography. Film photography became, thus, a project on its own.


(Retinette IA, Kodacolor 200, ISO 200/24°)
For me, this picture represents the beginning of an amazing year, photographically speaking, rich in surprises and full of fun and learning. In this year I published almost 300 film pictures to my flickr photostream, from them 120 on black and white film, 90 on color negative film and 90 on color slide film.

I exposed 86 films: 38 on 35mm format, 45 medium format, 2 film sheets and 1 instant film pack. The most used black and white film is tied between Kodak Tri-X 400 and Ilford FP4 Plus 125 (both 3 rolls). The most used color negative has been Kodak Portra 400 (4 rolls) and the most used color slide film Fujichrome Velvia 50 (9 rolls).

I used 12 cameras: six 35mm cameras, four medium format cameras, an (almost) large format camera (Ideal 250/3) and an instant film camera. The one that I used the most has been my beloved Flexaret VI, with which I exposed 25 films this year.

How much did I learn this year? Really a lot, but hopefully not half of what I am going to learn next year. Because my head is boiling with new challenges and exciting projects! :) Thanks for sharing this journey with me! :)

Attachment

There is a strange connection between a photographer and his or her camera.

The longer a camera is used, the stronger the fondness the photographer feels for it grows. If you really enjoy using a camera and you take a lot of pictures with her, it ends up being kind of an extension of your arms, your fingers, your mind and your soul. I guess it is because a camera is like a musical instrument: an inanimate object that accomplishes a key part in the expression of a feeling, which opens a new chance for people to communicate.

I believe every photographer transfers a bit of her or his soul to the camera. And I think this is also one of the reasons for the fascination about old second hand cameras. I like to make imaginary journeys to the past and try to know which hands used our cameras before mine. My Flexaret, for example, could have been bought by Pavel, a Czechoslovak journalist living in Prague by the end of the 60s, although he originally came from Bohemia. Our EOS 40D could have belonged to Lukas, a young hobby photographer living in Linz, who sold it when he decided to get a 5D to try and start a new career as a professional wedding photographer. Or my Hapo, that could have been owned by Helga, a Bavarian woman living in a small town close to Nürnberg by 1959, who wanted to have her own camera and got it in the mail from Photo Porst's catalogue. She had to cope with the laughs of her husband, who was a heavy smoker. Helga, though, showed a very insightful eye for photography since the very first moment she started shooting with the Hapo. Its leather case became impregnated with the smell of her husband's cigarettes, which would not vanish for decades.

On our last visit to Munich I took the chance to look around a couple of second hand camera shops. As I entered F&S in the Herzogspitalstraße (which looks like a watchmaker's, only with tons of cameras and lenses from the last hundred years piled on the shelves) there was this elder gentleman in front of me who, as I quickly realized, was not buying anything but trying to sell a camera to the store owner.


(Flexaret VI, Ilford XP2 Super 400, ISO 400/27°)
The camera was a nice looking Rolleiflex TLR sporting f/2.8 lenses. The old man took it carefully from the leather case and, trying to conceal a slight shake of his hands, handed it over to the store owner, who took it roughly and examined it with the look of a professional poker player. He quickly opened the back and, releasing the shutter in B mode, held the 'flex up against a light to examine the lens. He then proceeded to put it down and told the man that the lens had a scratch and that he could only give him 50€ for the camera. The man looked shocked and told him it was a very fine camera, and asked him how much would he sell it for afterwards. The store owner did not answer and gave the 'flex back to the old man and, looking at me and ignoring him, asked me what I wanted. The old man, visibly annoyed, put the camera back in its case and left the store.

I asked the store owner to show me one of the cameras from the shop window but, probably because of the scene I just witnessed, I decided to bring my business elsewhere. I had a strong gut feeling that someone capable of offering 50€ for a camera that he could then easily sell for more than 200€ was not really someone to be trusted.

I walked down a couple of blocks to another shop that I already visited in the morning. As I reached the counter, I asked one of the salesmen for the article I wanted ^(*), which was exposed in a quite hidden showcase. As we returned to the counter, I looked to my left and saw the same gentleman already taking his Rolleiflex out of its leather case. He was showing it to another salesman, who was shaking his head negatively. Then the old man told him that he also had a big collection of Nikon lenses, “just like the ones you have back there!”, and if they would take them.

I felt deeply sorry for the old man. Judging by the extreme care he showed when taking his camera in and out of the leather case, I guessed selling it had been no easy decision for him: the 'flex had clearly been a source of enjoyment in the past. I tried to imagine the happy memories that this camera brings to the old man's mind. This thought made me sad and even angrier at how the other store tried to rip him off.

The man then slowly put his 'flex back into the leather case and the whole thing in a white plastic bag and turned around to leave this store with no success, too. As he walked past me, our eyes met and for an instant a crazy thought crossed my mind, but then I reminded myself I already have a TLR, which, in fact, was hanging from my neck the whole time!

I really wish the old man finds a honest buyer for his Rolleiflex, one that appreciates its true value, both material and sentimental.

^(*) in case you're wondering what did I eventually bring home from Munich, well, you'll still have to be a little patient... ;)