Relatively new lens. Very new camera. The Leica SL2 paired up with the Sigma 65mm f2.0. Does that work?

I know you're probably waiting for me to write a gushy review about the brand new Leica SL2 I picked up on Thursday, and to show you amazing photographs that could not be taken by any other camera, but I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. While the camera's color is tweaked in a certain way and the filter pack in front of the sensor is thinner than the one on the S1R I find that there's not a heck of a lot of difference between the two cameras. And I didn't think there really would be. It's pretty obvious that Leica and Panasonic are working hand-in-hand on these big, high res, mirrorless cameras and I actually would have been a bit shocked if there had been a big difference in image quality in either direction.

The Leica is, visually, a much nicer bit of industrial design but none of the spreadsheet jockeys here or on the WWW will take the value of better industrial design too seriously; not when two otherwise very similar performing cameras have a $2,000+ gap in price. 

So, what is the logic in buying such an expensive camera? Especially when it so obviously duplicates the capabilities of a camera I already own (Lumix S1R) and doesn't bring any radically new and different features to the mix? I could mention the clean look that having fewer buttons and knobs confers but, again, it's just industrial design differences which are, themselves, too subjective to measure. 

I think it mostly boils down to how the SL2 feels when you hold it in your hand or bring it up to your eye. 

For me it purchase was a symbolic capper to a long career during which I owned and used all generations of Leica cameras and became fond of most of them. Sentimental. Nostalgic.

I started shooting the interchangeable rangefinder models when all I could afford was a Leica IIIf, red dial screw mount camera, and an old 50mm Elmar f4.0 collapsible lens. You had to trim the leaders of your Tri-X film back then in order to load it into the camera, and the viewing window was tiny. Really, really tiny. But the overall camera package was small and discreet and I liked it so much that one day I put it in a small backpack, drove over to the airport and booked a ticket to Mexico City to shoot for fun for a week and a half. I didn't bring any other camera. I didn't own any other lenses that would work with the camera. But it was fun to shoot, maybe because it took discipline and newly learned skills to do it right. 

Later I "graduated" to a Leica M3 and a 50mm dual range Summicron lens. It was such a revelation. Still probably the best camera I ever shot with. It was the first one I took up in a helicopter. We went up to shoot a shot from the north of the state capitol building looking south into downtown. I was shooting Kodachrome 64 and the shots were done just before sunset. They were amazing. Pure luck but still amazing.

That shoot also generated my first copyright infringement lawsuit. A magazine copied the image from the cover of a glossy, color brochure I'd shot for a commercial client and used on their own magazine cover. The infringing company decided it would be alright because they used the image in black and white. But everyone could see right away that it was the same image. I settled out of court for enough money to buy a few more M lenses and both a Leicaflex SL and Leicaflex SL2. Both "Flexes" were bullet proof, mechanical, SLR film cameras which took the new (at the time) Leica R mount lenses. 

I picked up an original Leicaflex just to have and then went down the line picking up the R3, the R4, the R4sp, the R5 and finally a couple of R8's, as they emerged. In the mid-1990s I started using more M series cameras and ended up with an M6 and an M6.85 (larger view magnification for use with slightly longer lenses). I used those for nearly weekly event work for the better part of 8 years before succumbing to the lure of digital. 

I wrote a long article about the M series Leicas for Photo.net in 2000 which, by the time they decided the article had become passé and took it down, had generated millions and millions of page views and earned me an honorary membership to the Leica Historical Society. It was at an LHSA meeting in San Antonio that I had drinks in the hotel bar with the famous photographer, Jim Marshall. We had some good laughs in between professing our common high regard for the cameras. 

For over a decade I watched Leica struggle and go through multiple ownerships and buyouts. For a while I didn't believe they were going to make it through, financially. Then the M series cameras went to full frame sensors again and a raft of new M lenses appeared followed by both a medium format camera, and the first Leica SL. By the time they fleshed out their SL line of lenses and started the L-mount venture with Sigma and Panasonic I started paying attention again. 

I'm sure it was the three "Leica Certified" Lumix S-Pro lenses I'd bought for the Panasonic S series cameras that started me down the path to owning this new Leica camera because the 24-70mm, the 50mm and the 70-200mm are all superb lenses that lack nothing; as far as I'm concerned. 

The final mercantile "kick to the seat of my pants" that pushed me to go forward and get a new Leica camera was my purchase of the Sigma 65mm f2.8 L-mount lens. It's nothing short of phenomenal. It's sinisterly sharp at f2.0 and then becomes futuristically capable as one stops down. I like the look, the feel and the rendering of it and it convinced me that it wasn't necessary to run out and buy my favorite focal lengths in Leica SL models (at $5K to $10K a pop!!!) in order to put together a fun system around an SL2 body. I could buy the body I enjoyed looking at and handling and still get top quality imaging but at (compared to Leica) a discount price. 

I shot with the camera yesterday, together with the 65mm. It's not going to revolutionize my work or hoist me up into the photographic stratosphere of gifted artists. But it's fun, feels great and handles wonderfully. 

But I'll say it again: I never thought I'd pay $275 per battery for spares. That's just crazy. 

This blog post is peppered with random images from a long walk, both before and after seeing a new show of two artists at the Austin Contemporary Museum. One of the artists did work that was sublime and brilliant while the second gallery hosted a show of photographs that looked every bit like the haphazard portfolio of a clumsy, second year student in the commercial photography program at the local community college. It was a jarring juxtaposition but you go see what you can during a pandemic. The bad artist's manifesto (paraphrased): He eschews the ease of digital imaging with all of its post processing and manipulation and instead works in the "mythical" analog space, using film and chemicals and printing on photographic color paper. 

Making the case once again that some curators are blind. And that many artists are not self-aware.

the images here are 2200 pixels wide or about 1/4 of the camera's actual capabilities. click on them to make them bigger. But they still won't be big enough to make you catch your breath....

 

Brrrrrr. I've got the heater running in the office this morning!

 The weather was so nice yesterday but today I woke up to a bone-chilling 46°. When I arrived here at the office the weak sunlight was only able to raise the temp a couple of degrees so I turned on the heater for a little warmth and kept my working jacket on over a long sleeved shirt. We hope it will crest 60° today but nothing is certain where weather is concerned. 

It's been a fun game lately, trying to track down a vaccine. In Texas we're allowing everyone over 65 to line up and get one. The problem is we don't have good information about where to line up and the supply of vaccines is spotty. Real spotty. Couple that with one of the worst internet sign-up apps imaginable and you've got....a lot of people who would love to get jabbed in the arm but who are side-lined until supply and internet savvy are improved. 

I spent an hour last night hitting the refresh button on the Austin Public Health/Covid website sign-up page. I've already registered an account, been approved and sent to the scheduling page but when I get there the wheels spin for a long time before and error message pops up and kindly tells me "It's not you, it's me!" and advises me to refresh and try again. It's kind of like playing a bad slot machine that never pays off. I can't imagine how people with marginal computer skills are managing. I can imagine how people with very short attention spans are managing...and it's not a pretty thought.

I'm sure I'll eventually get through and get immunized but until I do we're masking and avoiding things like: work. work. or work. It's not that bad. At least, when masked, I can walk outside to my heart's content. 

I hope wherever you are that even if your weather is more treacherous than ours that your state's vaccine plan is worlds better. 

I'm currently reveling in the added space in the office. It's not actually "added" as much as "recaptured." 

I've moved out a ton of gear in the last week and I can see the floor and walls again. In the past I went through past purges like this in preparation to make changes and new additions to the "toy box." Now it feels different. It feels like I'm downsizing in preparation to make more photographs out in the uncontrolled world instead of inside my controlled space. I am also now considering retirement to be on a spectrum. 

At one end is 5% less work and the retention of  almost all the worry while at the other end it's a total abandonment of work and an immersion into free time and personal projects. I'm still closer to the work end of the spectrum. But quickly working my way toward middle ground. 

Tomorrow I take 6 generations of laptops to be recycled or (not by me) re-purposed. It's amazing that I let them stack up for so long. I'm keeping the Blueberry MacBook. It's too cool to be tossed. 

I saw a quote today that I liked: "Pay more attention to what you're are paying attention to." 

Seems like a good idea in these days of information overload. 

Phasers on stun. Kirk out.

Crazy Weather in Austin. But nice for swimming and photography.

 

Jennifer. Triathlete. 

On the Barton Springs Greenbelt.

Camera: Mamiya 6.

Mamiya 150mm 

When I woke up this morning I knew it was going to be a goofy day. I always take a peek at my Apple Watch before I roll out of bed and I was a bit surprised to see that our projected high temperature this afternoon was going to settle in around 80° (f). The morning started out cloudy but the clouds broke near the end of swim practice. I swam with my favorite lane mate today. He's younger (but only by 15 years) and four inches taller than me and he set a pace I'm still recovering from. We plowed through 3300 yards and then at the end (peer pressure) he decided we had enough time to do four or five "shooters." 

What are shooters? At our pool it means you breathe in as much oxygen as you can and then swim underwater the whole way to the other end of the pool. Then you pop up, get a breath and swim leisurely back to the other end. The first one isn't that rough but we tend to do them on a one minute interval per two lengths and by the fourth one of the set it gets a little hairy. It seems like no big deal to hold one's breath for twenty to twenty-five seconds, and it is pretty easy at the beginning of the workout, but after a couple fast miles it ends up being a lot more challenging. I cheated on the last one and came up for a breathe at the backstroke flags. That's at least 15 feet from the end.... I'll try harder next time. 

Next stop was a visit to my favorite camera store. It was my second trip this week. The first time I hauled up a ton of lighting equipment and traded most of it in for store credit. Now the lighting gear shelves at my office are look a lot less overwhelming and chaotic than before. Everything the store didn't want was donated because....if the store doesn't want it then why try to squeeze a rock?

Today's trip was for a specific purpose. I always wanted a Leica SL2 camera. A squeaky clean, new one.  When I finished swimming this morning I had a moment of quasi-clarity in which I decided that this was a small thing that would bring me no small amount of pleasure. I did my research between the SL2-S and the original SL2 and decided in favor of the higher resolution model; the original. The shocker came when I asked to buy a couple extra batteries. I'd read that the camera can, depending on how you use it, be pretty power hungry. I'm still reeling from having to pay $275 each for fairly small, but Leica branded batteries. I wish they were interchangeable with my Panasonic S series batteries but that would be too easy. 

I don't have much to report about the camera today since it's brand new and just out of its box. I need to wait for the first battery to charge and when it does I'll take it out for a "breaking in" stroll and we'll get to the bottom of this "Leica Mystique." Fact or fiction? We'll see. 

Funny thing, though... I'm planning on doing its maiden voyage with the little Sigma 45mm f2.8 L-mount lens on the front. Probably not the most logical approach but consider the source. 

As almost every reviewer has said, "The camera body itself is a beautiful work of art."

Did I need it? No. Did I want it? Ever since it hit the market.

More follow.  

Thanks to all who responded about the intricacies and strategies of moving gear onward from my ownership to someplace else.

 

While it's always fun to move stuff around when you get right down to it what you are looking at is just another work process. Pulling stuff out of inventory, assessing the value, keeping paperwork for tax purposes and then some standing around while others apply their idea of value to the same equipment. If one doesn't really need the cash there's no smart reason for a quick explosion of action. 

I made one stupid mistake last night. I was thinking of selling off some MFT gear but I picked up the Panasonic G9 and the 25mm Summilux to go out for an evening walk. It seemed like no matter what I pointed the camera at the images on the screen were great. And I realized that I had finally gotten the black and white settings on the camera just right (for my taste). Had I just closed my eyes for a moment and picked a different camera for the evening...

While, on paper, there are so many reasons to think that the smaller formats don't hold a candle to the larger formats some emotion intrudes when you use them that lets you know that the overall difference between most formats is small enough to ignore. Especially when it turns out that they are so much fun to use. At least I was able to get rid of a bunch of lights and modifiers today. It's a start.

Panasonic G9 + 25mm Summilux

ISO 3200

Handheld through a window.

Remember when a good light lasted forever? Welcome the age of ever improving LED lights and their rapid obsolescence.

 When I learned photography we all used the same "kind" of light. It was electronic flash. While some were better constructed than others or had features such as faster light burst (shorter overall duration) most of them worked in pretty much the same way, and outputted very similar light. There were differences in studio electronic flash equipment which mostly centered around the way different makers handled excess UV output which could cause some color issues. But once we hit the early 1990's UV coated flash tubes became the rule rather than the exception and a good worker could expect pretty much the same results (in terms of color accuracy) from a wide range of products. The nice thing about consistency across product lines was that there was no logical impetus to rush out and buy a new generation of lights every few years. If the lights did what you needed (mostly giving you the right power and recycle times) you would not see qualitative differences between this year's model and the lights you bought 10 or 20 years ago. You could mix and match with abandon. A change to a new system didn't demand a new working methodology, instead it usually just required changing speed rings for mounting modifiers.

The progression of LED lights has been a bit different. Well, a lot different. 

The first useable (for photography and video) LED lights were panels that didn't have very high output and had some glaring deficiencies in their color output spectrum. Early LED fixtures were designed around the only cost effective LED light units then available which were the small, 1/8th inch diameter "bulbs." In order to get enough power out for a workable lighting fixture the manufacturers had to group hundreds or thousands of the small bulbs together onto panels. The panels were big, heavy and, even with over 1,000 bulbs on them, not really bright enough for a lot of different applications. 

Since the panels were big you couldn't practically use them in soft boxes or mount umbrellas on them so modifying the light coming from them required photographers to adapter lighting methods cinematographers have used since the dawn of movie time. They had big diffusion panels set up in front of the LED light fixtures, and each panel had to have its own light stand and attachment gear. It wasn't until LEDs built around Chips on a Board (COB) were made in a form that was similar to a flash monolight that photographers could directly mount umbrellas and soft boxes on them.

But the big issue, and the thing that fueled a legitimate upgrade enthusiasm is that every few years the actual spectral accuracy of LEDs improved, and continues to improve. Those improvements have a direct impact on the quality of the lights we use to make photographs. And with each generation it became possible to make the LED lights more powerful.

People in general are very sensitive to color accuracy in portraits and this is a field where the improvements in parameters like red response and overall color balance had the most effect.

While CRI is a kludgy measure of non-continuous light color accuracy it is a measurement standard we've had in place for a long time and it's a good, blunt tool for discriminating between generations of fixtures. 

My first LED panels had a CRI rating of 83. They needed to be filtered, and the resulting files needed to be worked over in post processing. They were deficient in the areas that most affected portraiture so, as  you can imagine, each improvement in those measurements has led me, like Pavlov's dog, to trade up to the newest tech. 

Three or so years ago Aputure put out a product line called, "LightStorm." I bought their big panels as their rated CRI was around 93 and the upgrade over my previous lights was pretty amazing. Portraits were easier to finish out and the new fixtures were a much easier match when mixing in daylight. I liked them enough to also buy the half height models, the LS-1/2. Since all of these lights were panel designs I still had to pack twice the number of stands as there were lights in order to use modifiers with everything. But the color issues were mostly resolved. 

Recently Aputure, Godox and a number of higher end makers have turned their attention to making more accurate COB style LED fixtures. These have small (think 1.5 by 1.5 inch) output devices which makes them as convenient as traditional flash monolights to use. Most have a Bowen's mount which means you can mount an endless inventory of soft boxes, octa-boxes and similar modifiers at will. Most have fan cooling to ensure reliability when using on-light modifiers. And the newest versions are now rated with CRIs that are very, very close to daylight. Almost all boast CRI's above 95. The lights do well with other, more stringent light measurement standards as well. 

So, unlike flash gear, upgrading isn't just a result of boredom or the desire to have a different internal triggering system; when doing most upgrades from older LED products you'll likely see big improvements in overall color accuracy and overall spectral balance. 

The best lights currently on the market are also remarkably consistent in the magenta/green output which means they are easier to mix and match across brands. 

My Aputure LightStorm LED lights are exiting the studio today. They've been replaced by a small flock of Godox LED lights, all of which are the non-panel variety. They are the contemporary, continuous light version of the standard monolight configuration flash photography uses. I can use them on locations without having to bring extra frames and light stands for modifiers. They are sturdy and easier to pack. 

The models I've purchased all have the power supply parts internal to the light fixture so I don't have extra control boxes or power converters hanging off stands. I have fewer cables of which to keep track. It's a net improvement in logistics but the big payoff is: higher CRI and TCLI ratings for more accurate color. 

Four light units are leaving today. They've been good, reliable fixtures. I hope they go to a good home. 

It's more interesting to consider upgrading for rational reasons rather than having to justify intangibles. It makes for a more emotionally comfortable transition. Better color is generally always a better choice. 

Back in the days of electronic flash the only compelling reason to upgrade, after a certain technical quality level was reached by strobes, was to make your location package smaller and lighter or, conversely, to make your studio light more powerful in order to better handle the combination of slow films and large format cameras. The old ways; f64 @ ISO 64 and be there. It's totally different now. 

We are almost totally LED here. We have some vestigial flash gear but nothing like we used to keep on hand. That's nice. No more waking up in a strange hotel in the middle of the night anxiously wondering if you had packed the sync cords. Or extra batteries for radio triggers....

A couple more colorful images from yesterday. And a question for my readers.

Sometimes it seems like everything is happening on 2nd Street. 

As part of my current mania for downsizing I am thinking of selling off all but my essential cameras and lenses. These would include a fairly large collection of Panasonic mFT cameras and lenses, the erstwhile but eccentric Sigma fp and its seemingly endless supply of accessories, several full frame lenses and many more lights. I could trade all these things in at Precision Camera but they don't buy gear they accept it for trade. And, as I've said, I'm trying to get rid of stuff, not just rearrange the deck chairs. 

Without judging my acquisitions and disposals could you let me know in the comments the ways you have found best to get sell off gear you are done with? Do you list it on some site like FredMiranda.com? Do you move it through KEH.com? Are you brave enough to try Craig's List? Do you have a secret formula for doing transactions on Ebay? Do you package items together (ex: A GH5 + a PanaLeica 12-60mm)? 

Do you sell each item separately? How do you vet buyers? 

Has anyone ever had any luck at selling lights online?

I'm not anxious to act but I'd like to go totally out of character and actually research this instead of just jumping out of the plane first and checking to see if I have a parachute on after the fact....

Thanks in advance. 

 

Walking over the bridge at night. Standing in a chilly breeze waiting for the LED lights to change colors.

There is a charming aspect to having more free time. When you are out walking with a camera and you see something that exists in changing light you feel as though you have a license to linger, to watch the evolution of what might be an interesting or fun image. You stand in the perfect spot and wait for the magic to unfold. For someone who spent years tightly scheduled having the opportunity to be in one spot, to breathe and to soak up the feeling of the place is a gift.

I've walked over this particular bridge a lot. Whoever designed it knew what they were doing when it came to making something that has its own particular visual quality. During the daylight hours the large spans on either side of the road arch up like butterfly wings. After the sun sets a series of lights project upwards and change color gradually; going from cool blue to warm red over the course of a minute or so. 

During that minutes the colored lights also bathe the structure in yellows, greens, magentas and purples.

Whenever I walk over the bridge when the lights are lit I am transfixed not only by the way my camera renders the differences between sky and span but also by the changes over time. The colors blend into each other slowly and steadily. 

Last night I was back out walking with a different camera. I brought along the Lumix S1R and set it to shoot Jpegs. My original intention was to see how well that camera does black and white. I had it set to a tweaked profile I've been experimenting with in L. Monochrome. But everywhere I looked I saw color yesterday. From the first hints of sunset to the last brush of blue color long after the sun had disappeared. When life gives you color it's perhaps wise to change your course and find a profile that accommodates those little visual gifts the universe seems to hand out; mostly unexpectedly.

I'm still breaking in the 65mm f2.0 Sigma lens. I like it very much. It's sharp but not clinically so. It's color rich but well behaved. It's definitely one to keep. 

 

Trying different stuff. Just experimenting for the fun of it. A feeling of freedom.

This is not a "gallery." These are not meant to be "portfolio pieces." You are not encouraged to be impressed or wowed or motivated to express a "like." These are casual experiments I made yesterday evening because I wanted to see what would happen when I used a certain camera and lens in a certain way. The results tell me things about a process that I knew intellectually but wanted to see for myself. 

I've been experimenting with photographic techniques for 35 years but it was almost always in order to be better prepared for an upcoming commercial job. A client might ask for images that can only be made by using a flash in a soft box against a big, bright sun. I could know the steps that I was supposed to take, from research and reading, to get the image we might have all had in mind but more often than not I'd be uncomfortable until I was able to go out before the day of the shoot and try the actual set-up myself. I wanted to see where the process could break down or become difficult and have enough time elapsing between the test and the shoot to make adjustments. To lock down the process. To make my mistakes in private instead of in front of a client. 

I've never been asked to shoot buildings and street scenes at night. But I've been photographing some late evening and twilight cityscapes recently and wondered how things would look after the last of the sunlight was gone and most of the scenes were lit with the street lights and building lights of downtown. I also wondered how a camera like the Sigma fp would handle these kinds of situations. 

I left the house around 5:15 pm and went to the river that runs through town. I hiked over the bridge and into a very familiar downtown carrying, for the first time on a fun walk, a small tripod and my camera with a relatively new lens on it. The tripod was a featherlight Benro carbon fiber model (TSL08C) which comes with a small bullhead on it. When I say it's "featherlight" I'm not using hyperbole; it weighs in at less than the camera and lens. The trade-off is that the tripod only extends to about my upper chest level.

I walked around with my Sigma fp + Lumix 20mm-60mm lens on top of the tripod and stopped to make photos of stuff just to see how it would look with 2 or 8 or 12 second exposures. I also wanted to see how well the "fill light" control, offered on the camera, actually worked. I wanted to know which color balance was best to match what my eyes see in the canyon of buildings after the sun goes away.

I shot a hundred or so images. Some were abject failures and I can now say that I have a better understanding of the extreme dynamic range between black shadows and a spotlit door. I can also see how important it is to do this work on a tripod. Most of you know these things. Or at least you have read "how to" do them. I read the same stuff. But actually working in the dark and trying to find settings by touch and trying to lock focus on a shadowy building exterior with no convenient edges was a part of the process I often overlooked or discounted in my reading. Having to to it in real life was a quick bit of education. 

Seeing the final images was a lesson in instant humility. I had to come to grips with the fact that I am not a practiced urban landscape photographer. I am not an experienced low light photographer; at least not on this level. But the real satori I had is that after the excitement of darkness and solitude in the streets wears off I had the realization that stuff doesn't get more interesting just because the light goes away. 

In the future I'll try to make better choices of subject matter before I repeat the exercise. I need to find willing human subjects with which to add a spark of life to the images. Better still if the humans have something interesting to do while we photograph. 

One thing about doing these experiments in the winter... I have an hour or two of low-to-no light before I have to be home to join the family for dinner. It's fun to play in the free time. It's interesting to see where an image or a technique breaks down in a given lighting situation. So much depends on light.

Again with the mirrors? Come on...

 

The "Widow's Cart."

I heard an expression last week that I'd never heard before. My salesperson at Precision Camera was chatting with me about the differences in the way people buy photo gear; especially cameras and lenses. I'm so self-focused when it comes to buying stuff I never thought there was much of a difference between camera buyers. I presumed that we all worked the same way; we saw a new shiny object, decided it was "better" than the one currently in our hands and immediately traded in the old one, along with some cash, for the new one. Done. Case closed.

When I decide to move on to a new camera system I look at the system I already own and try to figure out its approximate trade-in value. I text the trade-in manager at the camera store and send him a list. He usually sends me an estimate for the value of the used stuff. I bring it all in, he checks to make sure it's in the condition we described, and that it works, and then issues a credit which I use as partial payment for the new system. Easy as pie. No chance of being totally screwed by some nefarious person on Ebay. Even less chance of being ripped off by a stranger responding to an ad on a forum. It's a clean, straightforward transaction that can happen in the space of minutes. 

I walk out of the store with my new, shiny camera system and the store gets near mint gear to sell in their used equipment department from a trusted "vendor." We've been doing the business this way since the beginning of time. Well, at least since the opening of the store many years ago. I know I'm leaving money on the table with each transaction but I also know that I don't have a retail mindset and would hate having to deal online with strangers, and then have to pack and box up items and send them all over the place. My biggest fear (beyond never being paid) would be to have the gear be damaged in transit and arrive to the seller in a state of non-functionality and then having to deal with returns, refunds and hard feelings; usually in both directions. 

So, when my salesperson talked about how sad it was to see, almost weekly, the "Widow's Carts" I had to ask him to explain. 

Well, apparently there are some folks in the Photography trades or the Hobby that just can't, or won't, let go of gear once they've bought it. Could be a collection of half-functioning film cameras from the 70s,80, and 90s or a melange of budget priced digital cameras from the last few decades. There might be boxes and boxes of lenses that were made for cameras with obscure mounts, as well as lenses that were once really good but which have been stored in hot attics, unprotected from humidity, and now covered with haze. Camera bodies that work only at certain shutter speeds. Cameras that must have batteries long since outlawed by the EU and the EPA. Tripods on which only two legs are functional. And filters. Pounds and pounds of filters. So many filters.

Flashes that only work with an old variant of long since discontinued Minolta cameras. Light stands that were too small and rickety to begin with that have only become worse and worse. And then, enough camera bags and cases to roof a house with. Along with the "prehistoric" gear is a smattering of modern gear, like recent Canons and Nikons or Sonys. And, in every collection of anyone past, say 60, is at least one ancient and unusable Leica, or Leica-variant, screw mount camera along with one or two battered and milky-glassed lenses. 

Like plaque on teeth, all this stuff builds up in the closets of the photo-faithful until one day the owner of the far flung and mostly random collection....expires. 

Likely, the surviving spouse (statistically, in most cases, a wife) has been told countless times by the now gone partner how wonderful and valuable (to him) each piece of gear is and, after a time of grief and then a longer time of sorting and inventorying, she is ready to divest her inheritance of a giant collection of photographic "mixed grill." The spouse remembers a camera store that her loved one frequented and brings the whole trove down to them hoping they'll figure out the value of the gear and cherish it as much as her spouse once did. 

And so, my store clerk explained to me, they walk through the store with the gear piled high on a cart, provided by the used department of the store, to meet with the "expert" who must value the gear, decide what can even be resold, and then deal with the expectations of the still grieving spouse (or designated family member). It's a tough time for the trade-in clerk as he'll usually have to inform the spouse that such and such gear is broken and can't be traded in, or it is of such low value that they can't accept it. They'll gently steer the person to Goodwill Industries with the suggestion that most of it be donated. The let down is palpable. 

I've witnessed some version of this chain of evens over the years when I played the part (convincingly) of the innocent bystander who dropped by to shop for a new fill in the blank or something else. I've seen the fitted leather cases, seen them opened to reveal an ancient Hasselblad and battered lenses. Parts covered with the mildew of neglect. Shutters frozen. Lenses iced over with fungus. And it's rarely a pretty sight. 

Over the years, at least since the end of the film age, I've wanted to clear out old gear when I bring in new gear. With the exception of an old Nikon F or a Leica M3 there is nothing in the studio, camera-wise, that's over three years old. All my stuff right now are current models. Current product. No Sears slide projectors. No Walmart film scanners. Just current cameras. 

I would hate to think of Belinda encumbered by the detritus of a photographic addiction. We've spoken about this. We've agreed that the week after I drop over dead she'll have that stuff off to the tender mercies of which ever close photographic friend has outlived me and task him or her with the disposal of the gear. 

Her practiced mantra to the person tasked: Keep whatever you want and get rid of the rest. 

The sad truth is that the older the gear (unless, of course, you've been buying rare editions of Leica M film cameras in lizard skin and platinum) the less value it has. To just about anyone. 

There is a certain emotional logic in my approach to gear acquisition and disposal. I get to play with the latest, most fun stuff while minimizing the emotional impact its disposition will cause, after I'm gone.

I guess there is a current of emotion among some photographers that their sons or daughters might cherish having one of their parent's favorite cameras and lenses. Some families are like that. In my own family my older brother is always nostalgic and prone to sentiment when it comes to the physical artifacts of my parent's lives. He'll hold onto old letters, battered books, unused ash trays and refrigerator magnets. Clearing out my parent's last large and rambling house in concert will my brother was painful. The quote I remember best from him was: "You just have a different sense of urgency than I do..." We were working to clear out the house pursuant to putting it on the market = that was my task. He was likely to stop, grab a convenient chair and spend a few hours reading through an old magazine he'd found, or a letter from someone to one of my parents.

My little nuclear family is different. We have little attachment to objects and memorabilia. I am married to one of the most Zen-like people I can imagine. She hoards nothing, collects very little and can fit her memorabilia into a small shoebox. I have a son who, as long as he's been alive, has never wanted to buy or own anything more than a small assortment of clothes and shoes and his laptop. I offered to buy him a car once and he told me cars were a waste of money and that I should not buy him a new car because he would just sell it and invest the proceeds into an index fund. That's the mindset. 

To burden them with the disposal of an accrued lifetime of battered photographic gear seems like punishment for undone crimes. My method at least spares them the pain of trying to decide what to dispose of and what to keep. Even today's collection of gear represents very small monetary value, when taken in context. It wouldn't make a difference in the lives of my loved ones. Not in the least. 

Better for me to use stuff and move on than to become a museum curator to the bad purchasing decisions I've made in my hobby and career. 

Staying true to my message I better figure out what to do (now!) with those two Leica slide projectors I have in the closet. It's been 22 year since I projected any slides. Don't want to think about those stacked on the "Widow's Cart" rolling through Precision Camera along with my old filters...

 

Photographing a glorious afternoon and early evening. Eighty degrees and beautiful yesterday. If you weren't outside....

I walked on Friday with a friend but I went right back on Saturday afternoon to take another look. It really is different when you go out by yourself. Yesterday was gorgeous. The temperature got all the way up to 80° which meant everyone was in shorts and t-shirts and just enjoying the heck out of the day.

I grabbed the little Fuji X100V and got to photographing. The images below are in reverse order, chronologically. Don't know why but that's how Blogger presented them to me. So we start at the end of the day and work our way back.

Under the Lamar Blvd. Bridge on Lady Bird Lake.

Wringing everything I can out of the camera's sensor.

ISO 6400. Handheld. Dark enough that I couldn't read 

the top dials of the camera.

Waiting for Godot?

The Pfluger Pedestrian Bridge was packed with people.

Some came to sit quietly and watch the purple sunset 

take over the day. Some were just passing through.

A photographer waiting for the light to get just right.

Ah. Barefooted.