GIANNI GALASSI PhotoGraphia

SIGMA 30mm f2.8 EX DN-Micro 4/3: USER IMPRESSIONS

Olympus OM-D E-M5 - Sigma 30mm (60mm eq.)
1/250" f11 ISO 200

A couple of weeks ago a friend of mine lent me his Sigma 30mm f2.8 Micro 4/3 for a tryout. He was under the impression that this was a more than decent product after a couple of months of use on his Panasonic GF3. Nonetheless he wanted the opinion of somebody who was more deeply into the Micro Four/Thirds system than he is.

Everybody has his own ways to "test" a lens and/or a camera. Unsurprisingly, I use the building in front of my office window. Don't worry: I will not inflict those trivial and dull images on PhotoGraphia readers. All the more so because of their unscientific and totally subjective shooting procedure and comparison method. Suffice it to say that I was quite impressed by the performance of Sigma's unexpensive and unpretentious product. So much so that I immediately wanted to take some real-world photographs with it.

So I mounted the lens on my Olympus OM-D body and went out for a bicycle ride. First stop, the MAXXI Museum. Designed by Iraqi-British architect Zaha Hadid, the Museum of Art of the XXI century in Rome is one of my favorite subjects, with its sensuous curvy raw-concrete surfaces and light although imposing volumes. Moreover it stands only a few minutes from where I live.

The Sigma 30mm doesn't sport the glamorous looks of the Digital Zuiko lineup, nor the rugged feeling of their Panasonic cousins. As I said it's an unexpensive lens, and it looks like one. In a cool and pleasant way though. The oddest thing is its rattle. Yes, when unmounted, or mounted on a switched off camera body, it sounds as if something was broken and loose inside it and, literally, rattles. All this funny noise stops as soon as the camera is switched on. Then one can appreciate what an unusual 60mm equivalent prime can do. Personally, I find it very useful whenever I deal with large details of huge buildings. When I have a zoom lens I set it on focals between 50mm and 80mm equivalent quite often. Therefore I disagree with those who find the Sigma 30mm "too unusual". Of course its Sony NEX version crops to a more standard 45mm equivalent, but with the tradeoff of making the lens less suitable for portrait use, and a little less sharp near the edges, I think.

Back home, after downloading the SD card in my computer, I have been pleasantly surprised by Sigma 30mm's quality. Center is sharp, corners are just a little softer, light falloff is very moderate wide open and disappears with a couple of stops. The only annoying issue is lateral chromatic aberration, which requires a little tweaking in ACR or PTLens (or whatever software you use) in contrasty scenes. Color rendition is in the natural side, and contrast increases the perceived resolution.

At the end of the day, can the Sigma 30mm be compared to, say, the Panasonic Leica Summilux 25mm? Definitely not. This lens does not belong to the Micro 4/3 "holy trinity" (Panny 25mm, Zuiko 45mm and Zuiko 75mm). To my eye it can be put in the same range of Olympus' Zuiko 12mm. Whithout the all-metal construction, of course, and the clever manual-focus ring-switch. But for the price (especially after Sigma's announcement of its cosmetically upgraded version) it's one of the best buys currently available on the Micro 4/3 market place. Moreover it comes with an included bayonet lens hood and a beautifully made lens pouch.

Mmm, I just realized that my system leaks a ～35mm equivalent. And Sigma makes a 19mm too...

Olympus OM-D E-M5 - Sigma 30mm (60mm eq.)
1/250" f11 ISO 200

DESERT ISLAND CAMERA: CANON G15 USER REVIEW

Canon G15 @ 11mm (50mm eq.)
1/800" f6.3 ISO 80
Straight out-of-camera jpg

I have been using Canon's G-series cameras since 2008, when the G10 was introduced. I immediately fell in love with the G10: sumptuously built, rugged, dense, ergonomically clever with those marvellous exposure compensation and ISO metal dials on the top plate, and delivering awesome IQ thanks to its top class 28-140mm eq. zoom lens along with an incredible 14.7 Megapixel CCD sensor. At the time, authoritative site Luminous Landscape found that G10's files could even not-so-unclosely match medium format Phase One 45+'s in terms of overall quality, perceived resolution and color rendition. At last, five years after my switch to digital capture, my dream of a compact "true" camera came, er... true. In a few days, having my G10 always with me became an habit, so much so that many of my best shots were made with that little gem in the following years, while my DSLR rig stood in my studio's closet. Moreover, when shooting in bright light -a customary condition in my photography-, I could comfortably take advantage of its outstanding jpg output, without the hassle of the raw processing. Most of the photographs I exhibited in Venice in 2010 were shot that way with the G10.

Canon G15 @ 8mm (37mm eq.)
1/1250" f4 ISO 80
Straight out-of-camera jpg

This is why when the G11 was introduced in 2009 I didn't care to upgrade... I mean, downgrade. The new camera was equipped with a 10 Megapixel sensor instead of the G10's 14.7, in order to improve low light performance. But I suspect Canon marketing was upset because of the G10 cannibalizing the brand's entry-level DSLRs in terms of sales. Anyway I didn't need better high-ISO noise level and dynamics, and most of all I didn't want the extra bulk and toyish feeling of the G11's swivel LCD screen (which was well built, though, but I loathe them all).
Nor could the 2010 G12 replace the G10 in my vest pocket. As a matter of fact I have used one for limited amount of time, but IMHO it lacked its ancestor's solid feel and IQ. No doubt the customizable front wheel was an improvement, but the presence of the same swivel LCD screen as the G11's really annoyed me. So I stuck to the G10. Until now.
(More than four years: an unprecedented lifespan in the digital photography era. For me, at least.)

My Canon PowerShot G15

Enter the Canon G15.
I only had to hold one and play with it for a couple of minutes to decide it was time to trade-in my beloved G10 and upgrade to something really better. The Canon G15 definitely improves an already nearly-perfect product. 8mm thinner and more than 5mm narrower compared to its predecessor, tough as a gun thanks to its almost all-metal construction and coarse all-black paint finish, equipped with a fixed (thanks God) 922,000 dots 3" TFT LCD screen and, above all, a fast f1.8-2.8 28-140mm eq. lens, the G15 is nothing less than exciting.
Despite the smaller size and a 10% less in terms of weight, the unit handles perfectly, and that's something Canon designers should be praised for. As far as the layout is concerned nothing has changed, except for the upper deck, where all the essentials are now closely gathered around the shutter release. Thanks to this rearrangement, the exposure compensation dial (+/- 3EV) is easily operated by the user's thumb: a godsend. Slightly overlapping it, the mode dial cleverly offers, like the G10's, two custom presets (C1 and C2) along with the usual modes. Lying just below the shutter release, the front wheel is used to change the main parameter according to the selected mode. Briefly, the photographer can hold and operate the camera one-handed. Dials, buttons and wheels are perfectly designed and sized, and their response is solid and positive even wearing gloves. Consequently, getting familiar with the G15 only takes minutes. Once extended, the retractable lens is firm and steady like a fixed one, thus adding to the overall ruggedness feeling. The same can be said for the removable knurled ring surrounding it. A totally different tune, compared to the chunky and clunky G1X.

The G15's upper deck: an ergonomics masterwork

The optical viewfinder has always been one of the G-series' distinctive elements. Predictably there is one in the G15 too. Many reviewers point out that this key-hole device is unworthy of a 500 dollar camera. They are right... theoretically. Because as far as I know no manufacturer offers a camera as small with a built-in EVF. And hot-shoe mounted optical viewfinders (which are undoubtedly better) can't zoom and tend to get entangled in one's pocket. At the end of the day, IMHO having a key-hole finder with almost no extra bulk to pay for is far better than not having any. I know, it only covers about 80% of the real frame and in most units it's far from being properly aligned. But I was lucky enough to catch a well-aligned sample, and it turned out to be useful in most critical situations.

Canon G15 @ 7mm (32mm eq.)
1/1250" f4 ISO 80
Out-of-camera jpg, monochrome converted with Silver Efex Pro

As an imaging device, the G15 delivers far more than expected. The 1/1.7" 12 Megapixel CMOS sensor and Digic 5 processor pipeline produces crisp, clean, well contrasted pictures, with natural colors, rich detail and well-contained highlights. The in-camera processing is simply stunning, so much so that the resulting jpgs are virtually undistinguishable from raw, and the perceived resolution is even better than the G10's, notwithstanding the lesser definition. In my experience, black & white conversion is a good way to evaluate and judge a camera's output. If the converted image can bear heavy tone tweaking without showing artifacts and "broken" transitions -particularly in the blue channel- this means inherent good dynamics and color balance since the capture stage. Well, the G15 files convert reliably and smoothly, giving a rich and creamy grayscale.
Autofocus, although not comparable, for instance, with the Olympus OM-D's, is reactive enough. Manual focus is theoretically available, but the lack of a dedicated around-the-lens ring and TTL view always makes the option a joke in this kind of cameras. There are a tiny retractable flash and a video function in the G15 too, but I can't say anything about both, as I never use them. I'm not even curious to know if or how they work. The same can be said about the so-called creative modes, as well as the many extended-dynamics options that can be found in any camera nowadays, including this one.

Canon G15 @ 16mm (74mm eq.)
1/500 f4 ISO 80
Out-of-camera jpg, monochrome converted with Silver Efex Pro

And now to the title of this post. Am I tired of my Olympus OM-D and its marvellous lenses? Of course not. The Micro Four Thirds system I have put together in the recent years is definitely the best I have ever owned and used in my entire life. But I made a discipline of having a camera with me all the time, day and night, no matter the place. And size matters, in this respect. Size along with versatility, image quality, reliability and ruggedness. So if I had to give up all my cameras except one, I'd have no doubts: as of today, the Canon G15, equipped with a simple wrist-strap, would be my camera on the proverbial desert island.
Provided that there is something interesting for me to take a photograph of on that island. Which I'm not so sure, as a matter of fact. 

MONO E-LAB-ORATED

Canon G1X @ 60mm (105mm eq.) w/polarizer
Square-cropped, lab-unsaturated and slightly level-tweaked out-of-camera jpg
1/640" f5.8 ISO 100

I'm frequently using LAB color method in order to turn my images into monochrome. I first convert the file into LAB, then I dump a, b and alpha 2 channels, just preserving alpha 1 (i.e. luminosity). This way I avoid the hassle of some artifacts appearing, for instance, in blue sky areas when converting into monochrome via the usual Photoshop color mixer.
What amazes me in this process is the increase in overall sharpness of the converted image, especially in the details. My technical knowledge doesn't go far enough to understand why. So I'd be grateful to anyone explaining to PhotoGraphia readers and myself why a LAB-converted image is (or looks) sharper than an RGB unsaturated one.
Thank you in advance. 

A DASH OF TECHNIQUE

Olympus E-M5 - Panasonic Lumix G Vario 14-45mm at 45mm (90mm eq.) w/polarizer - 1/250" f8 ISO 200
in-camera monochrome (red filter) - out-of-camera jpg

PhotoGraphia regulars may notice that I started captioning my photographs using their main exif data. I don't think my previous posts were lacking anything, yet I'm currently in a more "photography-oriented" mood than in the last few years and, consequently, I'm interested in this aspect of the imaging process a little more than usual. Things change.
Therefore you can expect a dash of technique will be added to my next posts every now and then. I'm quite sure this will please most readers, while those who don't care won't be bothered at all.

By the way, my new Olympus OM-D E-M5 is an awesome camera. More on this matter in the next few weeks. In the meantime I'd like to know which manual-focus lenses, in your experience, better match the 16 megapixel Micro 4/3 sensors, both Olympus and Panasonic, in terms of sharpness, resolving power and microcontrast. My current tests deliver unexpected results.

FUJI X-PRO 1 CONCISE HANDS-ON REVIEW

A photograph I shot with the Fuji X-Pro 1

Thanks to my "gear-pusher" friend Riccardo, some weeks ago I had the opportunity to test the long awaited Fuji X-Pro 1 for a weekend. The camera was a standard production unit. Riccardo also provided me with the new Fujinon 35mm f1.4 prime. As I recently recalled in this blog, I have been the happy user of a Fuji X100 (see my review here) for a year now, so much so that great were my expectations when I went to collect the two gorgeous black boxes concealing the new camera and lens.

OLYMPUS OM-D E-M5: FIRST CONTACT

This is a photograph I shot today inside Zaha Hadid's Maxxi Museum in Rome using my brand new Olympus OM-D E-M5 and Panasonic 14-14mm lens at a whoping ISO 1250 sensitivity. The camera really impresses me. Apart from the usual insane Olympus' menu system (which is so poorly translated in Italian that I had to switch it back into English) its operation is flawless. Design and build are close to pefection, and as far as image quality is concerned the kit I used delivers well.
I'll come back to this new gem with an upcoming review. Stay tuned.

CANON G1X REVIEW

One of the first photographs I shot with the Canon G1X

I'm currently preparing my upcoming art fair, which will be held in Milan (Italy) next April. While selecting the photographs to be shown I was struck by the huge percentage of Canon G10's shots among them. This is certainly due to the fact that a Canon G camera is purposely designed as a carry-everywhere tool, so much so that I actually have been carrying it always (I mean, always) with me. Besides, the G10 is the camera I have been the most faithful to since my switch to digital capture, as I bought it as soon as it was released in 2008 and foolishly trade it in just a couple of months ago in order to fund the purchase of a Fuji X10. As PhotoGraphia regulars may recall, I was deeply unsatisfied with the X10 (my Fuji X10 review can be read here) and a couple of days later I gave it back to my photo-gear pusher in exchange of a last generation (I presumed) Canon G-series camera, the G12.

FUJIFILM X10 REVIEW

A photograph I took with the Fujifilm X10 premium compact camera

I wasn't sure I would post my impressions about the new Fujifilm X10 premium compact, as this camera became unusually popular long before anybody could actually run a real test over it. On the other hand this cute artifact is now gaining such a success among reviewers all over the magazines and the web, that I feel I must be loyal to PhotoGraphia readers and frankly tell them my opinion.

I PHONE. AND YOU?

My wife Daniela presented me with an iPhone 4 last winter. No need to say I avoided even trying its built-in camera. I was too snobbish for that. Well, to tell the truth a friend of mine convinced me to install the Hipstamatic and LoMob apps, and in order to see what those apps can do I shot a couple of pictures that I immediately erased, as they had zero interest to me. Until July, when I found myself waiting for somebody to come out of a building one morning, while the sun was drawing an interesting black pattern on the facade in front of me. As usual, I had a camera in my bag, but it was one of those situation that don't allow a man to stop and take a photograph: people simply wouldn't have appreciated that. On the other hand I have a rule of never give up a potentially good shot if I see it, no matter the situation. What was I supposed to do?

I was really embarrassed, when I suddenly realized that I had a second camera in my pocket. One that was disguised as a cell phone, and nobody would pay attention to. So I took out my iPhone and started shooting photographs while pretending that I was reading email messages. Luckily I forgot to launch the Hipstamatic app, and when I got back home I could see what a straight out-of-iPhone jpg file can look like: I got astouned. The above photograph is one out of a dozen shots I took that morning, square-cropped and slightly tweaked in levels and contrast.

Does this mean something special? I don't think so. The good news is that I actually own one camera more than I thought: an ultra compact five megapixel unit, very silent and unobtrusive, equipped with a 30mm equivalent lens and delivering -under ideal lighting conditions- an "usable" image quality. Am I therefore going to ditch my Leica M9 and become a cameraphone geek? Definitely not. To put it simply, I am aware that I have more creative opportunities, and what has already changed is that I sometimes deliberately take a photograph with my iPhone, even in situations where I'm allowed to use a "real" camera. In my computer there is a new folder now, called "iPhone keepers". Day after day, it's filling up.

JOY MACHINE: FUJIFILM X100 REAL-WORLD REVIEW

A photograph i shot with the Fuji X100

PhotoGraphia regulars may recall a post in which I praised Fujifilm for their then newly announced X100 premium almost-compact camera. It was October 2010, the only interesting news at Photokina came from the enhanced-quality/smaller-size segment and the hybrid viewfinder technology sounded like being a winner.

Nine months (and tons of enthusiastic reviews) later, a small parcel coming from Hong Kong was delivered to my studio and the next minute I was unboxing that beautiful little gem.

I have been shooting only with the X100 since then. The last time was today, trying to catch the sunrise light over the sea of the French Riviera during my usual (on holiday) early morning bycicle ride. By the way, I have tons of French sunrises in my hard disks wich are not likely to be ever made public; but I'm sure I'm not the only one.

As usual, I will leave to professional reviewers the task of scientifically measure and rate every single feature of the camera. Which has already be done by many, on the other hand. I don't remember any photo product being described, commented and buzzed as widely as the X100. And for sound reasons.

In putting my hands on the X100 for the first time i got amazed: a camera that looks and feels like... well, like a camera! Seen from above, the unit shows everything a photographer could expect from his tool: analog dials for aperture, shutter speed and exposure compensation (all of which can be read even when power is off), a Fn button which is ideal for ISO setting, along with a threaded release button (allowing the use of any classic $10 universal flexible release, instead of a bulky and clunky $80 dedicated remote) and a moderately protruding pancake lens.

 
The X100 seen from above: 100% pure photography

Build quality is top class. Despite its moderate -but not insubstantial- weight, the body feels sturdy and reassuring. The leatherette covering thoroughly matches the metal top and base plates, which are somptuously painted and engraved. Generally speaking, the X100 could be mistaken for a luxury analog compact from the Seventies, back side apart. Only the poorly designed rear wheel and the flimsy battery/card cover on the bottom deserve a word of reproach.

Though the sore point is yet to come. Because, after a full charge of the battery (the same as previous cameras from the house: well done, Fuji), the poor photographer would want to set his brand new camera up according to his own taste and needs. Well, I fear that the only way to do it without getting completely lost would be by taking the same drug Fuji menu designers are obviously addicted to. Unfortunately it's not mentioned in the user's manual.

Briefly, I have no suggestions about this issue. The only way is that you take your time, concentrate, breathe deeply, write notes and keep your fingers crossed. As a matter of fact Fuji partly addressed the harsh criticisms quickly aroused by the X100's menu system one month ago, when firmware version 1.10 was released. But, apart from some crazy behaviors and bugs which have been duly fixed, the song remains the same. On the other hand this painful procedure has to be performed only once (and whenever the firmware is updated, unfortunately). I mean, this kind of camera only requires to be set up once for all. It's not like when you fiddle with a sophisticated DSLR to choose among a wide range of specialized performances in extreme shooting conditions. Forget all this. Once you have decided if you need the histogram to be displayed or not, or the DOF scale, or the spirit level, or the grid, if you want auto-ISO or whatever being set on, and what function the Fn button should be enabled to, I'm pretty sure you will forget about crappy menus and everything, and will concentrate on composing your photograph and shoot. Because this is a back-to-basics tool: once configured, you get quickly used to it that way, and you are done.

One of the first photographs I shot with the Fuji X100 (out of camera jpg)

The hybrid viewfinder has been considered as the X100's forte months before the camera was actually released. No surprise. When switched to electronic it's as good as the Olympus EPx's add-on unit. Well, not as bright, perhaps. Anyway, although definitely too dim for daylight use, it helpfully gains EVs in low light, allowing an accurate framing even in the darkest shooting conditions. Nonetheless the real treat comes when it's switched to optical. Imagine a current Leica M viewfinder, only a little smaller but definitely clearer and brighter, with a neat and crisp rectangle accurately outlining the actual framed area, and surrounded by additional, fully customizable and easily readable informations. Framing through such a perfectly engineered device is a unique and exciting experience most young photographers can't even imagine. And soon you realize that not only your left eye, but also your right hand is perfectly at ease with the X100, because its insane menu system is lavishly made up for by its stunning ergonomics: everything is simply in the right place, has the right shape and works the right way. The silent release button is the cherry on the cake (provided that the stupid fake shutter sound is set to off, of course). Nothing to do with the clunky and noisy Leica M9's. The X100 can be unnoticeably used during a theater performance or a classic music concert.

A switch on the left side of the body allows the focus to be set to manual (or continuous). Don't delude yourselves, the X100 manual focusses by-wire, which has nothing to do with the experience of a proper, true mechanical focus ring. Therefore I prefer to make do with the autofocus, which is reliable and not too hesitating.

Another photograph I shot the same day with the X100 (out of camera jpg)

Don't worry, I didn't forget that a camera is about taking photographs in the first place. Nor did Fuji engineers, who made a really great job in this respect: the X100 lens-sensor-processor-firmware pipeline is definitely the best performer I have ever tried in my life (as of August 2011). Let me make one thing straight: I have only shot jpg's with the X100 so far, and I won't change. As this blog's regulars know, I'm allergic to raw formats and I expect a good camera to properly do its job, which is to take a photograph and properly process it into a usable file, instead of subcontracting this task to the photographer. Whenever a masochist outburst makes me want the hassle of raw reviewing and processing, I shoot with the Leica M9, which delivers the lousiest out-of-camera jpg in the history of digital photography.

A 100% crop of the above photograph (out of camera jpg, no sharpening)

Whith all the picture parameters of the X100 set to standard you get awesome colors and tonal values, rich details and microcontrast, a sharpness you'd expect from a 16 Mpixel camera at least, no visible noise (at reasonable ISO values), no distortion, no corner fall-off, no chromatic aberration. The lens' better performance is at f5.6 and f8. If you need more depth-of-field f11 is the best compromise. At f16 the effects of diffraction become obvious. I warmly suggest to avoid the film modes, as they dramatically cut down image quality. If you want to play with those effects you better save the expense of a real camera and use the Hipstamatic app with your iPhone. Moreover, by living all picture parameters on standard you will not have to fiddle with the crazy menus of the X100. In-camera black&white is also to be avoided, as it generates visible artifacts in the smooth areas like, for instance, a deep blue summer sky. This is probably due to a weakness often found in the blue channel of digital cameras.

Incidentally, I don't see the point in clumsily trying to imitate film rendition with digital capture, when the best film cameras can be purchased for nothing nowadays and films are still easy enough to find and get processed. It's like buying furniture covered with fake wood. It's a little sad, I think. You like wood? Buy real wood. You want a film look? Make your life easier: use film.

So are we talking about THE perfect camera? I don't think so, but we are very close to it. The X100 is a light and swift tool, but not as fast. On the other hand speed is not the first attribute we'd expect from such a camera (personally, I couldn't care less). Pro DSLR are there for that, and they do an excellent job in that field. Wake-up time could be slightly improved, perhaps, as well as focus reactivity. Somebody could miss an interchangeable lens, but a fixed 35mm equivalent focal length is part of the DNA of this kind of camera. And after so many years of zoom addiction (I confess being an addict too), leaving home with only what is considered as the "golden focal length" can be highly educational: if you only have a hammer with you, you'll only see nails and won't miss one.

To get instructions, and a safe guide through the fanciful menu system above all, forget the user manual and refer to Ken Rockwell's cleverly thought and written Fuji X100 User's Guide: everything you'll ever need to know is there. As for accessories, I got my X100 bundled with the adapter ring and hood as well as the ever-ready case. The latter is a very well built and sturdy classic brown leather case (with matching strap), perfectly tailored around camera's body and fast to open thanks to its magnet system. As a biker, I'm a fan of this kind of camera protection, and my X100 sits inside it since the very first day. As for the adapter and hood kit, despite the top quality build and finishing mine is still unused, as it's not compatible with the case. Too bad.

At the end of the day, if you like the idea of strolling around with a light and compact rig -made even more unobtrusive by its handsomely nerdish appearance (especially with it's brown leather case)-, go back to the essentials and find the pure joy of photography again, the Fuji X100 is your camera. Period.

HOW A LEICA M9 CAN MAKE A DULL DAY YOUR DAY: FOLLOW UP

Concluding his comment to my last post, How a Leica M9 can make a dull day your day, PhotoGraphia regular David Aspinall raises the eternal question: do I want to be bothered with technology or just take photos?
I don't know about painters or sculptors and their relationship with the tools they use to get their art done. What my experience tells me is that a camera is far from being a "neutral" or "passive" instrument. There is a strong and deep relationship between a photographer and his tool. This is due to the inherent complexity of the latter and the influence it has on the way a photograph can -or can not- be taken. Not even the most zen-ish equipment (field camera or pinhole, for instance) is devoid of a well defined tech awareness and attitude. Not to mention the cultural, commercial, fashion or fetish value lying under every single choice.
So I'm afraid the correct answer to David's question is: no answer. We will keep feeling guilty whenever we suspect that we are overseeing photography in favor of technology. In the meantime we will keep peeping new gear in the quest for the "perfect" camera (which will never be launched). This is a syndrome I know very well and I will never recover from. And I think it's part of the exciting and neverending game we call photography.

HOW A LEICA M9 CAN MAKE A DULL DAY YOUR DAY

I took this photograph during a recent visit in Prague. I was in the process of testing the Leica M9 (although this wasn't my journey's purpose - see my Leica M9 review) so the dull sky waiting for me that morning, definitely one of the dullest I found in my entire life, didn't discourage me from leaving the hotel and have a long walk downtown. Which perhaps I wouldn't do, if it wasn't for the excitement of a new camera to play with. I must say I didn't shoot too much that day (I never shoot too much, on the other hand), but I got the chance to try something odd. For me, at least.
I often found myself taking photographs in unusual lighting conditions since then, which is being healthy for my creativity. This is why there is something new coming out from my pipeline recently, and some results are already there.
Of course I'm very far from suggesting the purchase of new gear as a cure for adverse light conditions. No, it's all about keeping curiosity at the highest possible level, and the aptitude to challenge one's own habits, under both aesthetic and technical points of view.
Even though the M9 and the Summicron 35 asph are really awesome...

STROLLING ABOUT WITH THE LEICA M9

A detail of Frank Gehry's "Ginger & Fred" building in Prague I shot with the Leica M9

We had a lousy winter and spring in Southern Europe this year. Lighting conditions were far from being my ideal most of the times, so I got fun toying with cameras I didn't know yet. PhotoGraphia regulars may remember my quick review of the Canon S95, an incredible little gem that I eventually gave up only because, well..., it's too little for my hands and I couldn't help messing up with those tiny buttons. Later on, on the opposite side, I made a couple of journeys dragging on my poor shoulders a Canon 5D MkII equipped with an L 24-105 f/2.8 zoom of the same brand, an outstanding rig that suggested me a couple of musings about format shifting. After which I happily gave it back with no regrets.

But something kept buzzing around in my head. I have been a rangefinder camera fan for a long long time. Since my film years. I like them for their simple layout, their compactness and light weight. For being so unobtrusive that nobody gives a toss if you stroll around his property with it, or even directly point it towards his face (which, honestly, doesn't occur to me very often). For their tiny and flawless lenses, gorgeously machined in solid metal and always bearing a useful (to me, at least) depth-of-field scale. This is why, after my switch to digital capture I longed so much for a good substitute to my beloved Leica M4-P film camera, until the day I found it (almost, but not exactly) in the Epson R-D1. Thanks to which I could use the old M-bayonet lenses I was familiar with (apart from the 1,5 crop factor), along with a couple of short Voigtländer glasses -as for the latter, I quickly learned that their optics don't fit well with sensors, due to the angle of incidence of light rays in the peripheral areas of the frame-.

Then came the most awaited camera of the past decade: the Leica M8. I wouldn't be able to afford it without trading-in my R-D1, so I did. What a mistake! The most insanely expensive camera I had ever bought simply delivered poorer results than any point-and-shoot worth ten times less. I sold my M8 almost immediately (making a little profit though, as it was heavily back-ordered at the time), and since then I have been very angry with Leica, and found it really difficult to consider the German manufacturer as one related to real-life photography. This is why, when it came out a couple of years ago, I didn't bother to test the M8.2, and dismissed it as the next red-dotted swindle.

In the meantime Micro 4/3 had been launched. Again, PhotoGraphia regulars may remember a post where I acknowledged the new-born format as the Third-Millennium Leica. I first bought myself a Panasonic GF1, a reliable and well enough built camera, reasonably priced and blessed by a good quality lens lineup. Then I switched to Olympus EP2, a better jpg performer fitted with a far better (although optional) electronic viewfinder. Not that we are talking about a flawless camera (read here and here), but it was reasonable to expect the launch of a more accomplished and pro-oriented Panasonic or Olympus Micro 4/3 camera within the end of 2010. So I considered an upgrade as forthcoming.

Except that now this prediction turns out to be wrong: as of June 2011 there is no pro-oriented Micro 4/3 camera looming on the horizon. Panasonic has decidedly lowered the target of its GF lineup, whereas Olympus seems to be hesitating about what to do in the future. So Micro 4/3 enthusiasts feel like their favorite (and only) brands are simply dumping them. And perhaps they are right. In the meantime rumors follow one another in the Net -and unfailingly turn out to be untrue- about new EVIL systems to be introduced by Nikon or Canon or you-name-it. Shortly, the Third-Millennium Leica seems to be getting a serious stalemate.

This is why, as soon as I had a chance to test a Leica M9, I didn't miss the opportunity. As usual, this "review" is based on my personal real-world experience of a couple of thousand shots, without the help of any measurement test devices, and lacks any direct comparison with other cameras' performance.

A power plant in downtown Salzburg (Austria) I shot with the Leica M9

One thing must be said in advance: the Leica M9 is a great camera. The images it delivers are simply awesome, rich in detail and microcontrast, incredibly deep and plastic. Color rendition is unusually film-like. Is this enough to recommend the M9 as a reliable photographic tool? Definitely yes. Is this enough to hail the M9 as the perfect camera? Definitely no. Let's see why.

• Design & Ergonomics - The M9 is based on the classic 1954 M layout. Hate it or love it. Personally, it's my favorite: no mirror box, no prism, (almost) no noise (acoustically speaking); few buttons, levers and knobs. For mysterious reasons Leica designers decided to keep the detachable baseplate of the film models, which makes accessing to the battery and to the SD card unbelievably slow and difficult. The lack of a film-advance lever makes the unit a little slippery, especially in one-hand operation. This can be addressed via the add-on Thumbs-Up grip by Match Technical Services, a clever and insanely expensive accessory allowing a good rest to the photographer's thumb. Beware: the black paint wears off the tip of the Thumbs-Up grip in a couple of days of normal use, which makes the thing even more overpriced.
• Build Quality - The Leica M9 (as the M8 and M8.2) is sumptuously built and finished, which is of a great value for me. I simply can't use a poorly built device, be it a camera, a bicycle or a cellphone.
• Viewfinder - Crystal-clear, wide, a luxury. Yet, despite its indisputable qualities, there are severe usability limitations, as it's unfit for focal lengths shorter than 28 mm (already too wide for a comfortable viewing) and longer than 135 mm (already too long for decent framing and precise focussing). After the introduction of the Fuji X100 hybrid viewfinder, the Leica unit suddenly looks outdated and inadequate. And, in a way, it really is. As for 35 to 90 mm focal lengths, it perfectly does the job. And shorter lenses are easily covered via external optical viewfinders. Yes, they make operating the camera even slower, but it must be said that a Leica M does not allow a fast setting up (changing lens involves fiddling with menus too). It's a fast camera only AFTER it has been set up. Manual focussing is quick and easy, thanks to a bright and very accurate rangefinder. And the depth-of-field scale engraved on each lens barrel is the cherry on the cake.
• Exposure Compensation - It's easily operated through the rear wheel, but once it has been set, nothing inside or outside the viewfinder reminds it to the photographer. The only way to know is by rotating the rear wheel again, thus unintentionally changing the exposure compensation value. A couple of LEDs more could have done the job. This is an example of sloppy design. The same could be said about ISO value, although this is a little more excusable, as ISOs are easily accessible through a dedicated button.
• Menus and Buttons - Leica did an excellent job. I wish all camera menus were designed like this. No garbage menus here. You unbox your camera, set it up once and you are done. Frequently used menu items are cleverly grouped in a six-line list accessed through a dedicated "SET" button. Very effective.
• Rear LCD Monitor - It's a crappy 2.5" 230,000 pixel TFT. A display this bad is hard to find even in point&shoot cameras priced 50 times less. It's slow, coarse, inaccurate, totally useless. A reliable playback device was to be considered a standard feature in a 2009 camera. Twice as standard in such an expensive pro outfit. Leica staff, from the top managers to the last janitor, should be corporally punished for such an insult to their paying customers. Unless they only want to deal with worshippers, which I'm not. I require value for my hard-earned cash. Moreover it easily scratches, as Leica geniuses didn't bother to protect their LCD jewel with a sapphire-glass screen. It's plastic, and it only took a two-hour walk to scrape off mine. According to recent rumors, this issue will be addressed in an upcoming M9.2 (or M9-P) model: a good excuse to raise an already crazy price, and dump the second-hand value of all the existing M9 cameras. Pretty unfair.
• RAW, JPG, Noise - I already praised M9's image quality. As everybody knows, the Leica M glass lineup is definitely the best in the marketplace. And the M9 body squeezes this superior quality out of every single lens. Provided that we shoot in RAW (DNG) format, as the JPG delivered by the M9 is unacceptable: color rendition, sharpness, noise reduction, white balance, brightness and contrast are simply wrong. This makes DNG a forced choice, thus requiring the photographer to take the hassle of the RAW processing even at low ISO values. On the other hand the M9 is not about speed. Don't get me wrong: it's far from being a slow camera. If you allow me a daring comparison, it reminds me the amazing 1995 Mamiya 7. Of course Mamiya 7 was a medium format body in the film era, but I'm persuaded that the recent evolution in digital formats has caused a downsizing process, so that now a 24x36mm sensor can be considered as "medium format", whereas Micro 4/3 is the Third Millennium "Leica format" (see my post on this matter). As for noise many manufacturers can do better, even with APS-C bodies. This is no surprise, as Leica proved to be particularly weak as far as software design is involved. In Solms they perfectly know how to beautifully machine a piece of solid metal or to create matchless lenses. Unfortunately, firmware development is a totally different job. Yet, at ISO 1600, an M9 DNG file developed in Adobe Camera Raw shows a noise which can be compared to a nice film grain of the old good days, and I'm happy with it. In the meantime I can't help imagining how could the M9 firmware perform, if only it was designed by the likes of Olympus or Fuji.

The unpretentious snapshot of an unusually colored building I took in Salzburg (Austria)

A 100% detail of the same snapshot (1/750 f6.7 @ ISO 160 - Summicron 35mm ASPH)

THE BOTTOM LINE: I insist, the Leica M9 is a great camera delivering awesome photographs: sharp, deep, detailed, with stunning color rendition and a creamy, silver-like black&white. It's ease of use can be considered at the same class and level of the rangefinder medium format units of the film era. Despite its insane price, the M9 is far from being a flawless product. Which is caused by a mix of poor design, corner-cuttings and lack of digital know-how (due to the "luxury" brand ownership of Leica in the recent past years). Yet the M9 is definitely a photographer's tool, with a great appeal and a strong, unique personality.

SHIFTING FORMATS

Thanks to my photographer friend Tom McLaughlan I've had the opportunity to test one of the most celebrated medium format cameras on the marketplace: the Canon 5D MkII. I know, the specs say it sports a 24x36 mm sensor, a.k.a. "full format". I have two questions, then: full format, compared to what standard? A film standard, ok. But we are talking digital here, aren't we? Getting out of an old habit is not that easy, right? Second question: considering that Hasselblad H3D's or Leica S2's sensors are about 35x50 mm and are called "medium format", how can a 24x36 mm unit be possibly called "full"?

I'm afraid marketing gurus are a little confused. Their anxiety about forging yet the ultimate selling strategy drives them to contradict themselves and, most of all, drives us crazy as to what a real-life photography understanding is concerned. In 1840 the standard focal length used by French photographer Louis Daguerre was 360 mm, i.e. a format about 200x300 mm. Ninety years later, when the first 24x36 mm Leica hit the market in 1932, the standard format was the 120 roll film (56x56 mm) introduced by Kodak for its popular Brownie camera in 1901. Thus the 24x36 mm was immediately called "small format", whereas the 120 roll 56x56 mm (a.k.a. 6x6 in Europe) lost its small format privilege and gained the "medium format" name, which remained the same until now. Sheet film, in all its declensions, already was and still is called "large format".

As you can see, a major tech innovation produced a shift in real-world use of the various film formats, which caused a deep change in manufacturers' design strategies and in their product lineups. Not to mention the profound influence exerted on the photographic language. Without that format shift, photography wouldn't be the same.

PhotoGraphia regulars may recall that i called Micro Four Thirds the "Third-Millennium Leica". The new 18x13 mm sensor is to a 24x36 mm what 24x36 mm was to 56x56 mm in the Thirties. This is simply called evolution.

So how current formats should be considered compared to the old film formats? Here is my chart:

• 1/2.3" sensor (p&s pocket cameras) = Minox 8x11 mm film;
• 1/1.7" sensor (hi-end Compacts like Canon G12) = Olympus Pen 18x24 mm half format film;
• Micro Four Thirds sensor = 24x36 mm Leica film;
• APS sensor = 127 roll compact-medium format film;
• 24x36 mm sensor = 120/220 roll medium format film;
• 35x50 mm sensor (Hasselblad, Leica S2) = large format sheet film;

Large format sheet film (4x5 inch and over) have no digital equivalent, except the Seitz 6x17 cm scan camera.

Now we can go back to my experience with the Canon 5D MkII. I got the camera equipped with the 24-105 L zoom lens. Compared to its predecessor 5D, the unit has better ergonomics and feels a little more rugged (although not as rugged as Nikon semi-pro DSLRs). The overall finish is of a good level. The on/off switch is still in the wrong place and the mode selector tends to inadvertently move (but Canon offers a retrofit safety selector for less than 100 $). Weight apart, the camera feels good in a man's hand and is very fast. The rear control wheel can be easily operated by the thumb and the viewfinder is simply sumptuous. Briefly, it's been like using a classic 1969 Asahi Pentax 6x7 medium format film camera.

Looking at the files, what really strikes me is the very low and extremely pleasant noise, which is only detectable at ISO values over 1000 and definitey looks like a fine film grain. As expected in a Canon camera, raw and jpg deliver almost the same picture quality, especially in bright light. The 24-105 L rendition is slightly soft, and -quite surprisingly for such a big lens- distortion and lateral chromatic aberration are strong.

In short, did I like the camera? Yes, its qualities are unquestionable and its (few) flaws forgivable. Except for its bulk and weight: a total 3.5 lb (more than 1,500 g) that I fully enjoyed during two trips, in London and Lisbon. When you walk eight hours a day with such a load hanging from your neck, the only happy guy is your physiotherapist (no kidding). If you ask me if my kind of photography requires me to strain myself that much, the answer is NO. Not that I dislike the idea of a medium format (ok, um... 24x36 mm) digital camera. When shooting handheld in low light it's a resource, and sometimes I'd like a little bokeh in my photographs. Yet I don't need a DSLR. A rangefinder camera would do the job, but there isn't much choice in the digital era, I'm afraid. We'll see.

The three photographs in this post has been shot last month in London with the Canon 5D MkII. The first and the second one, portraying details of the More London buildings, has been made possible by my friend Tom McLaughlan, who managed to get the More London security allow me to shoot. Thank you again, Tom.

BEING AN OLYMPUS MICRO 4/3 CAMERA

Let me make it clear: this is not a camera review, not even an informal one. I'd only like to share with PhotoGraphia readers my musings about two cameras I'm deeply satisfied with. Which doesn't prevent me from pointing out some issues and objecting to some manufacturer's choices (or shabbinesses).
After trading-in a Canon S95 and a Panasonic LX5 which I owned for a while, I have been shooting with an Olympus E-P2 and an E-PL2 for a couple of months. The main reason of this purchase is the poor definition of my Panasonic GF1 electronic viewfinder. I tend to use bigger focal lengths lately, so I can't risk to get motion-blurred photographs by holding the camera with my arms stretched out -which is a good way to frame with wide angles, on the other hand-. I need a "real" eyepiece so that I can push the unit onto my face and fine-tune my framing with no shake. And, most of all, with the capability to reliably manual-focus, when required.
In the meantime, my winter attempts with low-light and night photography induced me to work with old primes, as focussing-by-wire with modern electronic glasses is a real pain in the ass. Having some Leica lenses still sitting in my closet, it just took an adapter to mate them with my Olympus Micro 4/3 bodies.

Olympus E-P2, electronic viewfinder WF-2
and a 1973 Leitz Elmar-C 90 mm (180 equiv.) f/4 lens: a great combo

I was a little skeptical in the beginning, but finding out that the ergonomics of such an outfit are (almost) the same as my old rangefinder cameras really delighted me. Leica lenses perfectly match those units, under both functional and technical points of view. A lens like the Elmar-C 90 mm f/4 (180 equivalent) can easily focus with the help of the bright and surprisingly crisp Olympus WF-2 electronic viewfinder, even slightly stopped down. On the other hand a shorter focal like the Elmar-M 24 mm f/3.8 (48 equivalent, say the standard 50 mm of the good old days), at f/5.6 delivers a depth-of-field from 1.7 (6 feet) to infinity, allowing an easy and hassle-free framing even when operated through the rear live view screen.
The next lens I'm going to try is the Voigtländer Super Wide Heliar 15 mm f/4.5, which promises to be a good all-around solution, thanks to its 30 mm equivalent focal lenght and a gorgeous 0.8 meter (2.6 feet) to infinity depth-of-field, wide open. Theoretically, at least, since I have been disappointed by Voigtländer-to-digital matings in the past (you get what you pay). But, according to serious reviewers, this one seems to be better than its siblings. We'll see. The 4/3 sensor's reduced size could help.

Since my very first shots I have been struck by Olympus bodies' picture quality: they deliver the best jpg's I have seen in my entire digital life, definitely. At ISO 200 to 800 you could'n tell a jpg from a raw. This proves that, thanks to the new processing engine and algorithms, the in-camera image treatment has really reached the next level. Plus, the thinner-than-competition anti-alias filter helps squeezing the maximum crispness out of any lens. Briefly, a joy. But... There are some buts:

-Why in the hell the live view system of the E-P2 cannot visualize the EV alterations set by the photographer? No matter how I tweak aperture values in manual mode, or exposure compensation in any mode, the displayed image remains the same and, worst of all, even the histogram doesn't show any change (which makes the histogram display totally senseless). This function is implemented in most (and cheaper) compact cameras. Why E-P2 users aren't entitled to it, whereas E-PL2 (fortunately) are?
-Why in the hell the endless E-P2 and E-PL2 menus don't allow users to configure live-view screen according to their needs? For example, I can not have the histogram and the grid shown in the same view, nor I can move the histogram wherever I'd like it to be. No, I'm obliged to toggle between different modes by countlessly pushing the "display" button: it's crazy.
-Why in the hell the E-P2 histogram is so big it hides most of the framed image, whereas the E-PL2 one is so poorly outlined that I have to guess what it says?
-Why in the hell the button layout of the E-PL2 is so totally (and crazily) different from the E-P2? Do those cameras belong to different lineups? Perhaps Olympus designers have fun every time I mistake the "menu" button for the "info" button, or the "playback" button for the "trash can" button. Or maybe Olympus R&D department is outsourced (an euphemism for "subcontracted") to anonymous (and different) external camera makers, with no coordination or briefing coming out of the brand's management?
-Why in the hell the "Fn" button configurability is restricted to such a few options?
-Why in the hell the WF-2 electronic viewfinder, notwithstanding its price, has got to be so flimsy and poorly built?
-Why in the hell the two cameras don't share the same battery (and charger) notwithstanding their identical battery size?

To sum up, why Olympus management makes so unnecessarily difficult being an Olympus Micro 4/3 camera?

THE CAMERAS OF MY LIFE 9

In 1975 I was 21 and earned my life shooting for catalogs, industrial, corporate and interior design firms and magazines. They were mostly large format assignments, and my 4x5" Arca Swiss perfectly made the job. One day my agent (the guy who usually sold my home decoration photographs to women's magazines), who was also a photographer, rang me early in the morning: he had a shooting scheduled the same day with a famous folk singer and his assistant was ill, so he wondered if I could replace him. I said yes, of course, as he was a friend and I was curious to see him at work with a music star. It could be a good chance to learn something new.

The location was a country club in the surroundings of Milan, the folk singer (as expected) was a nice lady and the equipment was totally unfamiliar to me: a couple of Hasselblad bodies with several film backs and three lenses, along with a kit of flash units with umbrellas, diffusers, snoots and reflector panels. Although I had never got the chance to try an Hasselblad before, it only took minutes to become familiar with its intuitive layout and ergonomics. As soon as the shooting started, I could unload, reload and switch film backs, and promptly hand a pepped up camera to my (temporary) boss in the twinkling of an eye. 120 roll films only delivered twelve frames, so i got very busy. So busy that I narrowly missed the moment when the singer's satin dress, which was loosely clipped behind her back, suddenly fell down, leaving the lady half-naked. At the same time the wooden fence I was leaning on snapped off, and I tumbled back in the grass, more worried for the camera I was holding than for myself. The next thing I remember is the singer's laughter, so loud and contagious that everybody laughed along with her. Including myself.

The morning after I started looking for a second hand Hasselblad outfit. Perhaps it was the memory of that funny shooting, or the tactile pleasure I found handling that camera, or some new perspective it could possibly give to my imaging process. Thing is that I rapidly found one in very good conditions (not so cheap, as a matter of fact) and it added to my pro equipment.

Launched in 1957 by the Gotemburg (Sweden) based manufacturer Victor Hasselblad Aktiebolag, the 500C was a modular 6x6 (2 1/4"x2 1/4") system camera based on a cube-shaped body and interchangeable film backs, lenses and viewing devices. Superbly built and crafted, with a leatherette finish and polished edges and knobs, the unit was arguably one of the most gorgeous imaging devices of all times. Michelangelo Antonioni's movie "Blow-Up" had definitively consecrated the Blad in 1966 as THE fashionable photographic fetish (whereas Leica was the "concerned" photo tool). Unlike previous models, the 500C featured a central Compur lens-shutter, with speeds ranging up to a mere 1/500, but given the studio-oriented nature of the camera, shorter exposure times were obtained using strobe lights.
As we learn from Camerapedia, "the Victor Hasselblad AB made the V-series completely modular: not only the lenses, but also the winding crank, the viewfinder and the film magazine are exchangeable during normal operation of the camera. With the introduction of the 500C/M, also the focussing screen became easily exchangeable. Victor Hasselblad AB put great effort to assist correct magazine handling: the presence of a dark slide in the film magazine prevents the shutter from being fired, but allows the removal of the back, whereas the back is locked to the body without the dark slide in place. Further: two small indicator windows opposite one another - one on the back and the other on the body - show the state of the film (exposed vs. unexposed) and shutter (cocked vs. released)."

The only Hasselblad glass I ever had was the standard Carl Zeiss Planar 80mm f/2.8. Wide and telephoto lenses were unaffordable to me, and I must confess that, except a few assignment jobs, I didn't use the camera that much, after all. Square format made me very clumsy, at the time, and I experienced the bulk of 120 roll film more as a constraint than a resource. This is why I happily sold it as soon as I stopped doing commercial shootings. And got almost all my money back.
By the way, some years ago I saw in the window of my favorite camera shop an old Hasselblad 500C body filled with dirt, with a small cactus growing inside it. The shop owner explained to me that after the Hasselblad H1 was launched a couple of years earlier, many photographers tried to trade-in their old film Blads and buy the new digital model. Thus he had frequent disputes with them, as they asked too much money for their used equipment, whose market value was literally collapsing. The flowerpot-camera was there to warn them that they shouldn't expect to get more than a few euros. The unaffordable camera had become unsellable.
After a while, killed by Ebay and by the big electronics franchising networks, my favorite camera shop closed at the end of 2009. Now its retired owner trades vintage photo equipments either by phone or in specialized flea markets. He claims he is a happier man.

A photograph I shot on assignment in 1977 with the Hasselblad 500C.
The job was the invitation card to a little girl's First Communion party.

THE CAMERAS OF MY LIFE 8

Finding excuses is one of the skills of a good (or bad, or average) photographer. Whenever, at the pit of our stomach, we feel the lust for new gear, we can't help making up a more than reasonable list of what's wrong or inadequate in our current equipment and how the purchase of something new could improve our imaging process. I know this twice: as a photographer, of course, and as a biker. This syndrome is not to be mistaken for collecting compulsion. I'm no collector at all. Even when I had several vintage motorcycles (now I only own a modern Harley Davidson), I used to ride them every day. And I do the same with cameras, lenses and accessories: I use every piece of equipment I own on a regular basis. And whenever something sits in my gear closet more than a reasonable lapse of time, I sell it or trade it in. I don't accumulate. I find owning more than I need uncomfortable: it makes me slightly anxious.

In 1974 I was 20, I was a novice pro-photographer and got a Rolleiflex 2.8 TLR along with a Nikkormat FTn with a bunch of Nikkor lenses in my bag. The only way to become an adult photographer would be buying a view camera. Despite their current affordability, such cameras were very expensive at the time. Lenses were expensive too. As was sheet film, and its (color) processing, which was only made by few pro labs. But the idea of composing and focusing my (reversed) image looking at a big squared ground glass under a black cloth, and then closing the shutter, sliding a film holder in my camera back, pull out the film protection slider, releasing the shutter by squeezing a pump remote, counting exposure time with a stop-watch, pushing in the film protection slider, pulling out the chassis and recocking the shutter for the next shot: all this slow and sort of zen-ish process was so tempting!  Briefly, I had to find a good excuse. And I quickly found it, the day a new customer asked me to shoot his brand new machinery tool lineup catalog.

The first commercial large-format photograph I shot with my Arca Swiss in 1974

It would have been impossible to get a decent focus all along the subject at such a narrow distance: a tiltable focal plane was essential. Moreover it was a well paid job (nowadays the same machinery dealer would approach his catalog in a d-i-y perspective, and I'd be jobless: photographers-to-be beware!), which would have helped sinking the purchase of my outfit: an austere and frugal Arca Swiss 4x5" model C.

As we learn from Luminous Landscape, "Arca Swiss, notwithstanding its name and antecedents, is now headquartered in France. Their first products in the technical and view camera market were introduced in the 1950's. Today they are well known for their ball heads as well as M line and F line view cameras, in sizes from 6X9cm roll film to 8X10" sheet film, as well as mounts for digital backs. Arca Swiss lacks a web site, one of the few companies of any size in the photographic industry without one. Remarkable."
Precision Camera Works informs us that "the original line was made until 1984. It consists of the Model A (with axis tilts); Model B (with base tilts); and the Model C (with both axis and base tilts). These cameras use spring backs; the 4x5 is compatible with the Polaroid 545 and 405 holders, plus most “slide-in” roll-film backs." The lens I choose was a Schneider Symmar 150mm f/5.6, mounted on a classic Copal blade shutter.
Thanks to that camera, my business got on steroids. Besides catalogs, industrial and corporate imaging, I had the opportunity to sell my interior decoration and crocheting photographs to most female weekly magazines, which were so generous I covered the cost of my Arca Swiss in a few months. At first, I found out that what I still had to learn before I could properly use a tilt/shift camera exceeded what I already knew. But with time, reciprocity failure, extended bellows exposure compensation and Scheimpflug principle became familiar to me. What I couldn't imagine at the time is that the legacy of my large-format camera experience would have been so helpful today in my workflow, especially as far as vertical lines correction and live-view framing are concerned, along with that taste for slowness that I never lost since then.
Every time I grab a camera and go outside to shoot, I feel happy for the compactness and lightness of my current equipment, and for not being a large-format photographer anymore. But I'm also aware that, without that "heavy" experience, what I know and can do today would be dramatically different.

"Heartily wishes", a corporate greeting card I shot with my 4x5" Arca Swiss in 1975

THE CAMERAS OF MY LIFE 7

At 16, processing black&white 35mm films for the photo store around the corner gave me the opportunity to buy my first (second-hand) Nikkor lenses and to refine my darkroom skills in the meantime. But suddenly, after a few months of smooth business, the store owner gave me an ultimatum: i HAD to start processing roll-films too, or else... I didn't want to loose my first regular customer, so I quickly found and bought a huge fourth-hand Omega condenser-lamp enlarger in order to fulfill his request.

It took a certain amount of time and wasted paper and chemicals to get used to the Omega's harsh lighting, but spending my nights in the darkroom, listening to Frank Zappa's music and getting visits from friends, was great fun. And working on those wide negatives made me want to try medium-format photography myself. It wasn't totally new to me, as my very first camera had been a 2 1/4 x 2 1/4 (6x6) Ferrania Eura, but I was a little boy then, whereas now it looked like an "adult" format to me.
The Hasselblad 500C was THE professional MF-SLR at the time, but it was outrageously expensive. Of course there were alternatives, like Bronicas, but they weren't that cheap either. And Soviet clones like Kievs were mechanically unreliable. The only way to get optical quality and superb mechanics was searching for an used twin-lens-reflex Rollei. TLRs were out-of-fashion in the Seventies, as they lacked interchangeable lenses and TTL metering, but the beautiful Rolleicord hanging from my uncle Franz's neck ten years earlier had been the first reason I got interested in photography as a child, so I carried a sort of imprinting in my mind. Briefly I found a gorgeous Rolleiflex 2.8F in Exc++ conditions and made a deal.

Based on an original concept dating back to 1929 and produced from 1960 to 1981 by the German manufacturer Franke & Heideke, the Rolleiflex 2.8F was part of a camera lineup whose name had become synonymous of medium-format-twin-lens-reflex-camera. It featured a beautiful Carl Zeiss Planar 80mm f2.8 as a taking lens and a Heidosmat 80mm f2.8 as a viewing one; the shutter was a central Synchro-Compur, with speeds ranging from 1/500" to 1" + B; the selenium meter (placed above the viewing lens) was coupled, and had a filter-compensation dial; the waist-level finder was removable and the focusing screen interchangeable.

At first I was expecting to have troubles in framing through the typical horizontally flipped image delivered by the prismless viewing system, but I was wrong: with practice, the process of mentally inverting left and right became familiar to me. What I couldn't manage to learn was composing a well balanced picture within a square frame. And I never learned until recently, when I discovered Flickr, as I described in one of my posts.

The Vltava River near Prague in a photograph I took with the Rolleiflex in 1973

As for the upsides, using the Rollei was an exciting tactile experience, and image quality was stellar. Moreover, in order to sink the investment, I begun offering my services as a portrait photographer. Which lead me to learn two more things: that taking photographs of human beings gets me bored and that the next level I'd have to reach was mastering a view camera. My pro career had started.

THE CAMERAS OF MY LIFE 6

Taking photographs helps getting friends. At the age of 15, with my new Canon FTql proudly and carelessly hanging from my wrist, I started strolling about Milan with Lucio, a boy of my neighborhood I had always known. Lucio used to carry a camera proudly and carelessly hanging from his wrist too, a Topcon RE2, and soon the two of us begun to be a steady pair of young-urban-concerned-hardboiled-high ISO-photographers. Antonioni's "Blowup" had been recently released, and we both felt as if our cameras could get our dreams become true: sex, drugs and rock'n roll were waiting for us out there, we only had to look for them through our viewfinders.
Reality prevailed, of course. Sex had strict limitation in early Seventies Italy and my first joint was a couple of years away. We could make up with rock'n roll: our favorite records were ceaselessly on and loud, at home and in the darkroom as well.
Owning an interchangeable lens camera and a couple of prime lenses (the so-called 50mm "normal" and a 28mm) ignited my desire for more glass, but I couldn't afford it. Whereas my friend Lucio had more generous (or pampering) parents than I had, so he could quickly upgrade to a Nikon F (everyone's dream camera at the time) and buy himself a considerable set of lenses, which he would have been more than happy to let me borrow, any time.
A huge effort became necessary, if I wanted to catch that opportunity: I had to sell my three-years-old Canon (with the two lenses) and invest the proceeds in a Nikkormat FTn body. As for lenses of my own, they would come later. But who cared? For the time being I could use Lucio's.

As Wikipedia explains, "the Nikkormat FTN was manufactured from 1967 to 1975. It simplified the lens mounting procedure of the rabbit ear Nikkor lenses. The meter coupling pin on the camera still had to be aligned with the meter coupling shoe on the lens, but the lens maximum aperture no longer had to be manually preset on the FTN.
Instead, the lens aperture ring had to be turned back and forth to the smallest aperture (largest f-stop number) and then to the largest (smallest number) immediately after mounting to ensure that the lens and the FTN couple properly (Nippon Kogaku called it indexing the maximum aperture of the lens) and meter correctly. This system seems unwieldy to today's photographers, but it was better than before, and became second nature to Nikon and Nikkormat camera using photographers of the 1960s and 1970s.
In addition, the FTN improved the metering system to the now classic Nikon 60/40 percent centerweighted style. The viewfinder also added +/– over/underexposure metering markers and set shutter speed information."
The Nikkormat definitely lacked the iconic value of a Nikon F with its bulky Photomic prism/meter mounted on top, but it deeply felt like a true Nikon anyway. Sturdy as a rock, beautifully designed and finished, it sported a metal Copal vertical shutter with speeds up to 1/1000", controlled by a clever ring surrounding the lens mount, that could be operated using one's left thumb (even wearing thick gloves).

On the top plate, instead of the usual speed dial, a convenient button allowed quick and easy depth-of-field check (even wearing thick gloves). Something new for me, coming from the stop-down metering system of the Canon FTql: with the Nikkormat, checking depth-of-field became an option. As a matter of fact it took some time to get used to its ever-bright finder, but what luxury!
Eventually my friend Lucio kept his word, I could indeed borrow any of his lenses, any time. Therefore, whenever we got out taking photographs together, we always had different focal lengths mounted on our cameras. Which gave our imaging process a healthy shake.
As for a lens of my own, after some months of developing and printing black&white for the photo store around the corner, I could buy it, at last. A gorgeous second hand Nikkor UD 20mm f/3.5, which would have been one of my favorite lenses for many years to come.

 

Speaking of unusual top plates, why on earth most cameras are equipped with the standard and useless PASM mode dial, whereas they could sport a handy speed dial, like old time units or the Epson R-D1 did, or Leica Ms or the screwball X1 or the announced Fuji X100 do? How many photographers change shooting mode more often than shutter speed (or aperture, or exposure compensation, or ISO value) during a shooting? Do camera designers EVER go out taking REAL photographs in the REAL world? What do you think?

A photograph I took in Milan with the Nikkormat FTn
at the City Fruit and Vegetable Market in 1974

WHAT IT TAKES TO BE A LEICA

Christmas is five days away, and perhaps somebody secretly asked Santa for a luxury camera that he can't afford and will never appear under the tree.
In two of my older posts, THE 2.0 DIGITAL CAMERA and PANASONIC GF1 AND CAMERA DESIGN, I had the chance to point out the advantages of the Micro Four Thirds system over bulkier and more expensive kits. The Panasonic GF1 epitomizes the essence of the M43 philosophy: a small and light boxy body, well built, devoid of frills, with a superb LCD screen and the option of a handy tiltable electronic viewfinder. As for the available lenses, counting the so-far-announced 2011 line, eight Panasonic units are available. Plus the Olympus line and some primes from other manufacturers. Plus, of course, via adapter rings, virtually any lens built in the last 80 years. Personally, I'm a little skeptical about this kind of mating, though I'm aware it's a tempting option for photographers feeling an experimental mood. As a matter of fact I must confess that I recently bought a M43 pinhole "lens" myself, even if I'm not sure I will ever get satisfactory results out of it. But the end of an exhibition always finds me in an experimental mood, so why oppose to it?
A sentence of mine, "IMHO Micro 4/3 can really be considered as the Third-Millennium Leica (whereas M8 and M9 can not)" has been quoted by most sites all around the web, igniting an endless debate between pros and cons. One year later I find myself stumbling in a controversial post hosted by Steve Huff in his interesting blog, written by former photo-journalist David Babsky: "Leica M9.5" - The Small But Excellent Panasonic GF1.
I will not summarize Babsky's article here. It's worth reading it, together with the wealth of heated comments it sparked off. Just let me dwell upon a couple of points about whats makes a Leica a "Leica", and see if the GF1 complies:

• compact enough to be pocketed in a jacket - CHECK
• light weight and unobtrusive - CHECK
• smaller photosensitive device's size than most professional current cameras - CHECK
• small high-quality interchangeable lenses - CHECK
• vibration-free mirrorless design - CHECK
• optional viewfinder - CHECK
• heavy limitations in the use of telephoto lens - UNCHECK
• outrageous price - UNCHECK
• poor LCD monitor - UNCHECK
• live-view unavailability - UNCHECK
• fetish value - N.A.

Let Santa have a read on this, and who knows? Perhaps a modern time Leica will appear under most photographers' tree.