Winter 127 Day 2012

Today, January 27th, is the Winter 127 Day (1/27). To celebrate it, users of cameras taking the 127 film format around the world go out and take pictures on this type of film. This year, 2012, marks also the centenary of the introduction of 127 film (created by Kodak in 1912). Even though 127 film saw a golden age around the 50s, nowadays only a handful of manufacturers (Efke, Maco, ...) still produce it.


(EOS 40D, Sigma EX DG 50mm f/2.8 macro, 5s, f/5.6, ISO 100)
My Voigtländer Rollfilm 5x8 camera was designed to use 129 film, which was also introduced by Kodak in 1912 but discontinued in 1951. 129 film being only slightly wider than 127, my camera was adapted to take 127 film instead: metal spacers were added to account for the narrower spools and a 4x6.5cm mask was added to the original 5x8cm format.

I love the fact that someone cared so much about this camera to have it professionally adapted to 127 film, even though at the time the camera was already more than 20 years old. This alone, without counting that wonderful Heliar lens, makes me love this camera even more.

Happy Winter 127 Day everyone! :)

EDITED: Here is the link to my Winter 127 Day 2012 set on flickr!

Time machine - Important notice

«Also, it is scarcely necessary to point out that, when the camera is loaded, the shutter should be opened only for the purpose of taking a picture; any accidental exposure will spoil a section of film.»

(from the instruction manual of a 1930 Voigtländer Rollfilm camera)

Time machine - Carrying the Vito

«However elegant it may be to carry the camera on a long strap hanging from the shoulder, this position is quite unsuitable for quick action. Many a good shot has been lost in this way. A better method is to carry the Vito on a strap around the neck, so that it lies on the chest. Opening the front and lifting the camera up to the eye is then a matter of a split second.»

(from the instruction manual of a 1940 Voigtländer Vito camera)

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... ;)

Efke 25 - the vintage film experience

When you commit yourself to using vintage cameras you are unsuspectingly plugging into a long-running tradition of ingenious camera makers, clever film designers and, in general, brave pioneers of every type, spanning more than a century to the past.

(Flexaret VI, Efke 25, EI 25/15°)
I live in a city where getting film is unfortunately limited to the biggest brands (Kodak, Fuji, Ilford) and at a price that is not really competitive. Last time we spent a weekend in Vienna, I browsed through Blende7's online film catalog to see which films was I going to buy. One of the exotic film brands that immediately catched my attention was Efke, manufactured by Fotokemika in Samobor, Croatia, featuring a very sober gray and green design. I bought a spool of Efke 25 roll film.

(Flexaret VI, Efke 25, EI 25/15°)
I then learned that I had got quite a special film, because Efke is one of the few manufacturers that produce film using the old ADOX formulas, a legendary film design introduced in the 1950s by the Adox Fotowerke Dr. C. Schleussner GmbH in Germany. The ADOX formula has much higher silver content than modern black and white films, resulting in very high quality reproduction of grays and almost no visible film grain. The film base is very thin and highly transparent, which eases inspection and scanning of the negatives.

(Flexaret VI, Efke 25, EI 25/15°)
Of course ISO 25 was somewhat of a challenge as well, because we are entering a low-sensitivity region that is absolute terra incognita for the digital photographer, where most cameras have ISO 100 as lower end. ISO 25 means a typical scene in direct bright sunlight should be taken at 1/25s with f/16, or 1/100s with f/8. A more challenging photographic subject, like a portrait in a heavy overcast day would require 1/10s with f/5.6. A tripod, a support or a very steady hand are almost indispensable.

(Flexaret VI, Efke 25, EI 25/15°)
Last March we went for a hike with friends. The excursion took us through a very beautiful path that crossed a marsh landscape. As the sun was bright and high in the sky, I loaded my Efke 25 into the Flexaret. A while later some clouds gathered and started covering the sky from the east. At first I feared the light would not be enough for my low-sensitivity film (I did not have a tripod!), but afterwards, when looking at the developed negatives, I was really pleased with the rendition of the tones in the sky. The pictures came out with a difficult to describe and yet very real old-looking atmosphere, as though the pictures had been taken on the 60s. The Belar lens on the Flexaret certainly helps conveying this look, but I guess most of the merit comes from the film.

(Flexaret VI, Efke 25, EI 25/15°)
I will definitely be using more Efke film, and also the ones produced by Fotoimpex near Berlin, a small company that is using the ADOX formulas and the trademark since 2006. I really like the feeling that I get when using it, for me very similar to the reverence with which we would take a very old and very valuable book in our hands.

Pictures taken on Efke 25 in my flickr photostream

Alfi Diarähmchen

(EOS 350D, EX DG 50mm f/2.8 macro, 1/50, f/2.8, ISO 100)
If you use vintage cameras you will probably end up using vintage accessories as well.

With my first medium format slide film I ordered slide frames. I guess my lab got stuck with a considerable stock of medium format slide frames back in the 90s, as digital photography began to take the lead. That's the only reason that I come up with for getting a product "Made in Western Germany", as the bottom of the box reads.