I thought we had it made with digital imaging in 2022. But then I found a scan of a slide taken with a manual everything camera back in the 1990s and I realized that....

 

If you could nail exposure and all the basic settings when shooting color transparency film (slides) and you didn't lose the frame in the chemical processing the results could be quite good. On par for use online with the best of the current digital cameras. It's an awkward realization; for sure.

Photos of a restaurant serving up a ton of pink-ness. And thoughts about the positive role of friction in our modern lives.

On Sixth St., near West Avenue, there used to be a pizza place called, "Frank and Angie's." They served great pizzas for a couple of decades and then closed about two and a half years ago. I noticed a new restaurant in its place on one of my walks but never strayed from the walking route to really take another look. I presumed the location had devolved and become yet another inside/outside bar serving odd cocktails to students and wannabe cool people. 

Today was too nice to waste indoors so after a late breakfast I grabbed a handy camera and headed out the door. I think it hit the low 60°s this afternoon. You could walk without having to drag along gloves, a parka, snow boots and other accessories. I was out to walk off the residue of Christmas indulgence. Too much flan. Too many cheese and jalapeño tamales. Too much bacon wrapped shrimp. Too much driving back and forth.

One of the first places my walk took me was closer to this restaurant. I might not have stopped but I noticed they had a pay telephone on the front corner of the building and this anachronism struck me as delightedly silly so I was immediately drawn in. According to a manager who came out to see what the heck I was doing and then chat for a while, the cuisine is a mix of breakfast dishes and contemporary Tex-Mex. Their stylistic differentiation is that any food that can be made to be pink will be pink. Pink cocktails, pink waffles, pink tortillas, etc. I asked if the enchiladas were also pink but the manager shook his head and related that the actual Mexican food was not pink. At least not yet. 

I think I am intrigued enough to go try it out. Seems like a very laid back and mellow place. At least they've got style. Some kind of style. That pushes them up to a higher level in my mind.

Here's some exterior photos:

I saw an interesting lecture this morning on one of the psychology channels. It was very insightful about what causes depression, anxiety, and sadness in very affluent, modern cultures. To distill it down to its essence, the program's idea was that humans have evolved to work best when they are challenged. Really challenged. Food, shelter, safety and defenses from precarious, life-threatening situations. They did not evolve to be passive and bored. If you have free time and you are unchallenged you start looking for external things to engage with. What we really need are authentic and meaningful challenges.  But for most of us in the most affluent societies we've lost the thread.

Our jobs are mostly routine, our lives safe and our extra time and energy is channeled into pursuits that give us momentary dopamine hits which serve to take the place of authentic challenges. We play video games, watch kinetic, action movies, watch videos, and then, afterwards the dopamine wears off and we need another hit. Again and again. Until we no longer get the same reaction at which point we become anxious, depressed, unsettled, suicidal, distraught and on the prowl for something or anything that will once again give us that dopamine high. 

What we've lost in most of our pursuits is a natural challenge that gives up a healthy dose of real accomplishment. Like a sine wave our modern lives bounce back and forth from apathy to unhealthy experiential addictions from which we inevitably come back down from in a funk. This got me thinking about why some of us use cameras that are more difficult to master; harder to use. We seem to need a certain amount of friction, or push back from life to work against in order to do our best work. Our meaningful work.

When I rail against a camera that can focus at the speed of light on anything, at any velocity I think what my brain is really trying to say is: They made this far too easy and in doing so sucked out the emotional value that is inevitably introduced by the struggle. Some of us need a level of external resistance to an exercise or effort in order to do our best work. If everything falls easily in place for us we don't feel as though we've accomplished much and the value of the work suffers in our own eyes. 

It's almost like the dichotomy of Watching a movie on TV with the remote in one hand and a cold beer in the other versus sitting down and working on a difficult project that requires total engagement. Finish the movie and you feel a bit let down and start looking for the next movie in the hope that it will be the game-changing program you yearn for. Finish writing a novel, printing a photo essay that is meaningful to you or volunteering for Meals on Wheels and you feel a sense of accomplishment that sticks with you and builds real satisfaction instead of a transitory dopamine bump. Sometimes a dopamine hit with an adrenaline chaser. 

It's interesting to see research that shows far fewer mental health issues or issues about life satisfaction in most of the poorer (but not the poorest) countries when compared to the most affluent countries. For a while young adults from Switzerland, one of the most affluent societies in our world, had the highest rates of suicide anywhere. Seems that having everything and lacking real challenge in life is a bit soul sapping. 

It's widely noted that men who retired from jobs they found to be challenging and at which they excelled by making prodigious efforts at mastery tend to die quickly if they retire into lives of leisure. Lives with no defined and authentic challenges attached. 

Some say that youth is wasted on the young which I always took to mean that crotchety old men would love to have the benefits of youth because they would know how best to leverage said benefits. It's becoming more obvious that many wouldn't escape their own youth in good mental health if those formative years weren't at least somewhat filled with the usual challenges and disappointments. Perhaps the assurance of a cushy safety net trades a set of advantages with a bucket full of its own downsides. 

Maybe having everything handed to us doesn't make our lives better but sets us up for an addiction to shallow external rewards that are unhappy exactly because they are basically unearned. No pain, no gain?

Having to make hard choices instead of easy ones might be the secret to personal and artistic growth. 

How often have I heard people I grew up and worked with for decades talk about how, after they retired, they would pursue their photography with gusto only to see that when the opportunity to stop working occurs the inspiration and resolve don't come along for the ride. The law practice or medical practice or entrepreneurship was a way of building financial nest eggs that would eliminate the friction of doing photography. Why? Because my friends could throw money at any part that was hard. They might try to shortcut their learning process by becoming  addicted to workshops and paid, one-on-one mentoring instead of the more painful but effective approach of learning through hands on trial and error. 

The learning seems to stick best if it's glued snuggly into the brain by failures. Try and fail at a technique nine times and two things happen by the tenth (and first successful) trial. One is that whatever thing you finally learn is much better wired into your brain than if you are handed a bulletproof solution at the outset. Second, you traded blood, sweat and tears and got back discipline, skill and purpose instead. None of which need an additional endorphin dose to enjoy. It's good to take the middle way between the pleasure and pain to enjoy a more fulfilling life. 

You probably know someone that bounces from adventure to adventure. From a first wife to a progression of wives. From bungee jumping to sky-diving. Motorcycle racing to mountain climbing. They are constantly on the prowl for excitement but when you really engage them you find they are sad, and the experiences empty. Mostly because they could afford the seamless indulgence of whatever exciting thing they wanted to pursue at the time. There was no friction. No real investment in the process. 

Friction might slow you down. That might be a good thing. 

On the simplest level, and relating this to our photography, the very pursuit of the camera that makes taking photographs the easiest might be the thing that degrades our own satisfaction with the pursuit. If it was more difficult to do the hobby or art or work the friction might just be the thing that warms you up to the task. Diligent discovery time from behind the viewfinder pays off with experience and is the sole component that eventually delivers to the user a personal style.

Pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin. A constant pursuit of pleasure is no less damaging than any other, conventional, addiction. And constant pain is the opposite but equal problem. Working with purpose and diligence seems to be the antidote for our angst. It's seems to be the middle way.

Buying cameras relentlessly is part of the endorphin cycle. So is endlessly watching videos that might teach us something we don't know about photography. You always have to ask yourself: To what end?

An interesting video with some good takeaways. Not everything should be easy. Maybe the pursuit of ease and efficiency is our modern trap. Or maybe we're just living in the matrix and it's the way we're programmed. 

Merry Christmas! Five wonderful things photography provides that don't have anything to do with the "magical powers" of any specific camera or lens.

Stand-offish guy. 

Happy guy with his mom.

rome.

 1. Making photographs of the people you love and the times you enjoy gives you the happy power to revisit those moments and enjoy them all over again. The superpower of photography is being able to stop time. To remember how things were at a specific moment in time. When people go on vacations it's rare that they photograph naked landmarks. They almost always include a loved one in the shot; nearly always front and center, because it's being in that place with that person you care about which, for most people, makes the moment great. 

2. Cameras are momentum machines. If you really, really enjoy taking photographs as a hobby or happy obsession then you usually find yourself looking for excuses to get out into the world to look for and to make the kinds of photographs that make you feel good, competent, skilled, insightful. Without a camera tugging you along you might give in to entropy and stay home checking out the latest "interesting" news on some screen in some warm corner of your house. Your camera seems to provide that extra boost that gets you out of the "floatie" chairs and out into the mix. Thank your camera for helping to ward off agoraphobia. Even if you don't come home with any great images....

3. Tools for augmented socialization. Cameras, and the intention to photograph, can be ice breakers. A reason to photograph someone doing something interesting. For instance, I often come across people painting murals. I love to photograph the people at work on their painting. I don't need to ask permission to make the photos but I ask anyway because I want to know more about the painter. About their motivation. About their message. They, in turn, seem happy that someone is interested and that someone cares. This sparks conversation and that's part of the rich fabric of curiosity and discovery. But it mostly starts for me with having a reason to be there and a reason to ask questions. 

4. Camaraderie. Shared interests are good social glue. When we get together at camera clubs, ASMP meetings, at planned coffees or chance encounters two photographers identify each other because of the camera worn over the shoulder or strapped across a chest. The cameras instantly confer "permission" to break the stranger silence and at least greet each other. Many times, when I am out and about with a camera another photographer will use my camera as a starting point to strike up a conversation, which turns into that person being a familiar sight out on the street, which turns into a fun acquaintance who turns into a friend. 

I met one person who is much younger than me at a coffee shop. She asked me about my camera. I asked her about her interest in photography. We traded Instagram info. We had the chance to see each other's photos. I ended up making portraits of her and we are now cross generational friends. She enjoyed learning about lighting as I was having great fun taking her portrait. 

I gave a lecture once about off camera lighting. It was at a book store. Afterwards I was approached by a person who spontaneously interviewed me. We've been friends ever since. We go out for Tex-Mex lunches and talk about all manner of things beyond just cameras and lenses. It's fun and a good cure for isolation. 

But mostly, the shared experiences of photography work to provide  common ground between people who enjoy the hobby/art/practice. When photographers come through Austin they call and we have lunch. Some people can be a chore but the vast, vast majority of photographers are fun to hang out with and often I learn something new. Maybe not just about photography but about whatever their other interests are. 

Photo connected friends seem to stick around for the long haul. There is a cross connectedness that's hard to explain. But it keeps us coming back and catching up over and over again. 

5. The feeling of mastery is empowering. Once we master something we get two things: A push to keep pushing and keep mastering different aspects of our passion/hobby/profession. And an increasing confidence in everything related. Mastering composition might push us to learn more about art. About painting and sculpture. If we are of a certain mindset of which story telling is important then allegorical photography might push us to read different literature or investigate uses of photographs for narrative projects. For instance, after seeing the work of Duane Michals I became much more interested in multi-image takes. Staying with a scene and making a progression of images that transmit an idea. Now I get into personal projects with the idea of progression, culmination and some sort of reveal. 

By writing a blog about photography, cameras and life I got better ( or at least faster) at my writing. My interest in photography propelled that part of my brain to do better. The payoff has been a wider audience of friends and an ability to lay out in words what I used to be constrained to only showing in pictures. 

Photography adds an extra measure of purpose for me. If I go out for coffee with a friend the addition of a camera often means adding on a walk with the friend which often leads to the discovery of a new thing to photograph. And often, through the friend, I am introduced to new people to either photograph or learn from. 

A camera taken to a boring event is an effective antidote to the boredom. The camera gives me something to do with my hands, my eyes and my head. Like a time machine being engaged in thinking about making images makes the time pass more quickly. And a camera turns one from a bored attendee into a bold sociological anthropologist. With all the curiosity attached. 

I am now endlessly fascinated with light and composition (mastery?). Early on in my life as a photographer my focus was always more about content and context. It's a difference. In the latter mode you "must"  have an interesting subject to feel satisfied about making photographs. In the first mode; having things be about light and composition (or design), everything becomes satisfying to photograph. I find myself progressing from documenting to creating images. It's nice to make those changes.

Finally, my cameras allow me to have access to and interesting conversations with people who I would not meet in the normal progress of life. Across age and education levels. And almost everywhere I go I find people more and more interesting. The camera can be like an engraved invitation to always learn more..

Day notes. Christmas is mellow here. I slept in. We made cinnamon rolls (a ritual from all the previous years of parenthood). Ben came over mid-morning. We all shared scrambled eggs, cinnamon rolls and coffee. We opened gifts. The gifts were thoughtful and happily received (as they should be). At some point, after our walk through the extended neighborhood, we'll get in my car and head off to meet with our relatives and have a loud, fun, kid-filled dinner and ritual opening of gifts. Then back home to prepare for whatever comes next. 

No one gifted me a camera. And I sure didn't need another one. But I have a feeling this will be a wild year (2023) for bold camera introductions and much fun stuff in the lens category. Keeping some powder dry for the unexpected but alluring...

I hope everyone stayed happy and warm through the week. It's sunny and 50° today in Austin. I wish it would stay just like this for a good long while. We'll see what happens...

Did anybody get anything photographic and newsworthy? If so, feel free to share in the comments. I love to live vicariously through other people's good fortune!

Wishing you a very Merry Christmas, Happiest Holidays, and, if non-aligned, a wonderful time with family and friends.

Many years ago we used to do a yearly holiday card to our photography clients. I'd send out printed cards to about 250 people on our mailing list. Of all the cards we ever sent this one (above) was the most popular. Ben was about a year old and his mom (VSL Chairperson = B) created the wings while I took the photos. We used a primitive copy of Photoshop (1.0?) to do a bit of retouching but in 1996 the capture was definitely on film. And we weren't savvy enough at the time to composite anything so most of the heavy lifting was done in the camera.

The card was very well received. In fact, my favorite story about it came over ten years later when I got a call from a person at Dell, Inc. who wanted to hire me for a project. I asked how I came to her attention and she told me I'd sent the card to someone else at Dell, she liked it and asked the person if she could have it at the end of the season. She said it was then pinned to a spot on her work cubicle wall for ten years until she found the "perfect" project to share with me. I was amazed. A ten year shelf life! 

Anyway, you, my VSL readers, seem like family and I wanted to share something for the holidays from 25+ years ago. I also want to thank you.

I appreciate that you show up here, mostly ignore my spelling and grammatical errors, forgive me (mostly) if you think I'm on the wrong side of the political spectrum, disagree with my diatribes, and think my ever changing equipment choices range from insane to diabolically misguided. And I'm amazed that after all that you still take the time to read, comment, agree and disagree. Your attention to my daily writing about photography is the ONLY thing that makes the blog work. That makes writing something every day worthwhile to me. 

I no longer consider you to be a "reader." I've come to think of you as friends I haven't met yet. 

I know it's been a tough year for some and a decent year for others. Photography is the glue that holds us together. And it's been another great year for photography. In that arena I've been having a blast. And it's twice as much fun because I can share the journey with you. 

The holidays are upon us. My goal is to ratchet down the stress for anyone I can. More naps. More walks. More quiet coffees. More time to read. Less arguing. And my tiny present to you is that I'm going to write my way through the next couple of weeks so we have nice continuity. I'll have a reason to sit and think and then write (although sometimes I get that backwards....) and I hope I'll provide you with a little diversion with a fun or interesting read accompanied by a few choice images. Something to enjoy over coffee in the mornings.

May you get everything you wish for. May you wish for stuff that's really cool. We all have enough. So be sure to share.

With my warmest regards to all of you!  - Kirk

A neat trick for driving ardent Leica enthusiasts crazy.....

 Yeah. Just stick a current 35mm Leica Summilux ASPH on the front of an ancient EPL-2 Olympus camera and watch the knit eyebrows of judgement quiver.

It's a fun game to play but it can get expensive pretty quickly: https://www.bhphotovideo.com/c/product/720355-USA/Leica_11663_35mm_f_1_4_Summilux_M_Aspherical.html

I mostly used the 35mm Summilux on M cameras like this one: 

Either way you go it's a nice lens...

Playing around in the studio with an old Panasonic GH3. Jenny; with studio flash...

 I'm not sure if the camera matters that much. Fun to see stuff from 10 years ago...

Strolling in the afternoon. So much to see.

The shoppers are few and far between this year. I think most people have put the brakes on the kind of reckless holiday shopping we've seen in the past. Either that or everyone has moved their shopping online. It's so easy now. A few clicks and then, like magic, a truck pulls up to your house and disgorges all manner of new products, clothes, shoes, TVs and....stuff. 

What I really liked about shopping for cameras back when shopping required getting in the car and going somewhere was the fun of having a sales person present you with the camera you thought you might be interested in and getting to hold it, heft it, cycle through the shutter, look through the finder and browse the menu. You could see if a button fell in the right spot for your unique hands. You could see if the menu made any sense to you at all. But best of all you could get a feel for the camera. Did it feel just right in your hands? 

Did it exude that feeling of precision manufacturing? Did it have a certain comforting density and solid feeling of strength?

Now people order cameras without a real idea of exactly what they'll be getting. The workaround is the assurance that if they are not 100% pleased when the camera arrives in a brown box from UPS, Fedex or Amazon, and they can put their hands on it, they can easily send it back to the online retailer for a refund. With the loss of most bricks and mortar camera stores this process of buy and return, buy and return, has become the new normal. 

I have an acquaintance who seems unaware that every camera he sends back can no longer be sold as new. He's diminished the value of at least a dozen cameras and/or lenses in the last five years. He'll get excited when a new camera is launched. If it's insanely popular he puts his name on as many waiting lists as he can and pounces on the first dealer to offer him a camera. He'll use it for a week or so and find some obscure setting that doesn't function the way he thought it should so he packs everything up, gets a return authorization and sends it all back. I try to tell him that this is not the way buying cameras should work. He lives in Austin. We have retail options on the ground here. But that backfires as well. He sometimes does go to the camera stores to play with a camera which he then decides to order online because it will be a few dollars cheaper. Or he buys the camera from the local dealer knowing that he'll return it for a refund in a week or so, after shooting a job or a project. He thinks it's okay as long as he keeps the packaging and doesn't fill out the warranty cards. 

But the best sales people stop working with him when they realize that most transactions with him are a time suck and ultimately turn out to be unprofitable. He's the person for whom retailers invented the 20% restocking fee....

I hope we somehow break the fever of always shopping online and return to the practice of auditioning gear in person and then supporting the local merchants by buying from them instead of an out of state, online seller. It can be a much more fun way to acquire cameras. And a time saver. Especially if your hands-on experience leads you to a better choice (for you) than the camera you might have decided to order based on some YouTube video done by someone who knows less than you. Especially about you.

Me? Yes. I buy cameras. But I mostly do it through a local dealer. I like to put my hands on stuff. I like to audition the real thing. Sometimes I get superstitious and ask if I can come into the warehouse and pick the exact camera I want because I like the serial number. Silly stuff. But fun. 

I understand that many, most?, people live far from a traditional camera dealer and have no ready access to handle a prospective choice first hand. It's the nature of the changing world. But I would love it if people were a bit less scam-y about their purchases. Every Fuji X100V that someone buys and returns is one less brand new X100V that a truly deserving photographer can buy. 

Just a few more images on the day before the day before Christmas. 

It's the night before the night before Christmas and I'm out casual-shopping with a camera and no real agenda.

 

It's been a strange December. Usually I'm busy and behind all month long but this year I finished early and got my shopping done quick. We were stuck at home last night to vigilantly tend to the precautions surrounding the Arctic Blast. Dripping  interior faucets, meticulously wrapped exterior faucets, conscientious wrapping of plants, moving space heaters into the spots where the central heating is clearly under performing. So today, after a dermatologist performed a quick surgery on my shutter finger (not kidding!) I got back "on the horse" to make sure that finger could still trigger the shutter release on a camera. Of course I couldn't do that at home. I had to have a "real world" test. So I headed back over to S. Congress and pretended to be shopping when I really just wanted colorful stuff to photograph. 

The digit still works. The freezing temperatures are novel but wear on one quickly. One more thing checked off the pre-Christmas list. Quick procedure does not impinge on finger performance. 

I hope all my friends across the vast expanse of the Western Hemisphere are tucked in some place safe and warm tonight. And that they go to sleep dreaming about making incredible photographs with their favorite cameras. It's cold here. I can only imagine the frosty hellscape further north. Be safe. Stay warm. Drink lots of coffee. 

Today's finger therapy camera was the new (to me) Leica Q2. It functioned well in spite of the chilly weather. More tomorrow.

If I could only have one camera which one would it be?

Because of the Arctic front that's barreled into Austin

my "Happy Place", the WHAC pool closed today 

at three in the afternoon and won't open again until

Monday, December 26th. That's okay, it's windy and cold

and I think I'd rather take a nap than try getting from

the pool to the locker rooms with a 40 mph wind

and something like a one degree wind chill/factor.

Instead I'm in the office watching the weather and thinking about cameras...

I'm sure there is some psychological term which means that whatever you just bought is the object within a category that you'd say you like best. By that logic, and with the headline of this post, you might guess that I'm going to go on and on (again) about what a wonderful camera the Leica Q2 is. After all, it's the most recent addition to the ever fluctuating collection of photo gear here at the VSL world headquarters. 

But...no. While I really like shooting with the Q2 and find the files it squirts out to be wonderful examples of current camera art and science the camera doesn't even crack my top five of cameras that I came to adore during my prolonged tenure as a buyer of endless cameras. It's disqualified right from the start by its 28mm lens. That doesn't mean I've suddenly cooled to the Q2; I've always been aware of this sticking point with the camera. The truth is that this is the perfect second or third camera for a serious photographer. An adjunct rather than a final destination. But that's just from my point of view. 

If you personally sync up with the 28mm focal length and it's the way you see the world then I can imagine someone using a Q or Q2 as their only camera. Maybe I'll achieve enlightenment some day and embrace total camera minimalism --- but not today. 

If I were to limit myself to one camera it would have to be a bit more flexible. I'd want to be able to change lenses from something wide to something in the short telephoto range even though I suspect I'd end up sticking to something closer to the 50mm AOV. So, for me, in my current state of mind, the "one" camera would have to be one with interchangeable lenses.

Since my career has spanned both digital and film days (plenty of both!) the next issue would be whether or not my favorite "one" camera would be from one camp or the other. I like many of the digital cameras I've shot with over the years and some really stand out as being wonderful but with the caveat that they were wonderful at a specific point in the timeline and their wonderfulness was only in the context of how much digital had improved over most film solutions. 

I loved the ethos of the digital Kodaks and at one point owned not one but two DCS 760 C cameras (C= for color; they also made a monochrome version which, sadly, I never owned...) and got a lot of use from them. They were quite good for their time but usable only within pretty strict limitations. You really wanted to use them at ISO 80 or, at a stretch, ISO 100 but nothing above that. If you used them in this way, in good light, you could get really wonderful, rich images. Go to that dreaded ISO 400 and you were in Seurat territory. Then there was the battery grief. Figure 80 shots between changes. And figure that if you were cavalier and left the battery in the camera overnight it would go from fully charged to on its last legs by the time you got up for your first cup of coffee. It was also not a camera that lent itself to street photography or vacation photography as it tipped the scales at something like 5 pounds when fully configured. A bit more to port around; especially if you had an equally stout lens on it. 

Finally, I learned at swim meets, you couldn't use them at ambient temperatures exceeding about 102°. If you did you'd get random swaths of noise in the frames. Unpredictable but unpleasant. 

No, from the DCS 760s all the up to present day Leica SL2s each of the digital cameras represents to me some sort of compromise which pushes me to choose my favorite camera of all time from the rich pool of film cameras. I'll never get used to having to charge or change batteries a couple times a day. Maybe that's more a reflection of my gluttonous manner of photographing than anything else... 

If we stumble into the film era I'm betting that most of my family and friends would immediately assume that the Hasselblad 500CM would be the obvious choice for my one and only camera. After all I did make most of my money in the "old" days shooting with a couple of those bodies and three or four lenses. I routinely worked with a 50mm, an 80mm and a 150-180mm lens for just about every project I booked. And did so for well over a decade. I really felt right at home when I finally added a 100mm f3.5 Planar to the mix. That lens was the just right for almost anything lens. 

But nope. It was a great camera for working in the studio or hustling on location with an assistant in tow and time to set up and (try to) perfect every shot. But it was slow and cumbersome to shoot with. I hated using those cameras with 90° prism finders but following action with a reversed image waist level finder was also quite a chore. The weight of the system, along with the bevy of interchangeable backs one needed in order to shoot quickly was daunting. And in the end, if personal work was involved, I generally defaulted to one of the M series rangefinder cameras we always seemed to have hanging around. 35mm film was so much easier.

So then you might assume that something classic like a Leica M4 rangefinder mated with a 50mm Summicron lens would be the absolute sweet spot and, if I had never tasted the dynamic range, detail and squareness of the medium format cameras I probably would have agreed with you but.....there it is. One aspect of the narrowing process is admitting that few systems or their pricey lenses have come close to matching the superb image quality of the best medium format cameras. Especially for anyone in love with classic black and white photography. And most especially for the folks who souped their own film and printed their own double-weight fiber prints in their own thoroughly customized darkroom. So, sadly, in my mind the Leica was a nice adjunct for the MF cameras but not really an "only." 

No, the camera I miss when I look at prints hanging on the walls of my house and my office is, with no equivocation or hesitation, is the Mamiya 6 camera that came onto the market in 1994  or 1995. It was a remarkably perfect camera and the five big prints hanging in our kitchen, dining room and living room all came from images taken with that camera on black and white film. From a Russian model on the Spanish Steps in Rome to a sculpture in a hidden garden, to a couple casually chatting at a café, all of them were printed by me in my own darkroom and we've left them hanging on the walls, professionally framed, for over 25 years because nothing ever surmounted the beauty and technical prowess that camera system and its three lenses offered. 

The black and white photographs are "noise-free" and the dynamic range as shown in the prints is little short of amazing considering that here we are nearly a quarter of a century later trying to get back to parity with the superior aesthetic (B&W) looks we could achieve back then. Nothing burns out. Nothing blocks up. The detail is seemingly endless.... And all done with a camera that was small and light, had a collapsible lens mount that made the camera the perfect tool for travel. And the three lenses that were made for it are all still state of the art. They included a 50mm, a 75mm and a 150mm. 

The camera was a rangefinder focusing camera that shot in a square format and could take 12 images on a roll of 120 film or 24 images on a roll of 220 film. The bright line finder was great although the framelines for the 150mm focal length were small. You got used to them quickly if you used the camera every day. 

I shot mostly with the 75mm lens but the 50mm followed close behind. 

In 1995 my friend Paul and I traveled to Rome to test out two different Mamiya medium format rangefinder systems. Tons of free film supplied, happily, by Kodak's marketing department.  I have always been partial to square images so I took the Mamiya 6. I actually took two bodies and kept the 50mm on one and the 75mm on the other. The 150mm stayed in the camera bag except when its use was obviously required. 

Paul traveled with the Mamiya 7 system which was philosophically the same but took a different set of slightly longer lenses to hit the same angles of view as the 6, but across a bigger 6x7cm frame. The only other difference between the cameras was that the Mamiya 7 did not collapse to quite as small a profile as the 6. 

We banged through about 200 rolls of film a piece in a little over a week, flew back to Austin, printed for a month in our respective darkrooms, and then had a joint show of large prints at our favorite new, modern Italian restaurant. No wicker basketed candles or pasta drowned in tomato sauce there. Bright white walls, high ceilings and a large following amongst the advertising and marketing crowd in the city at the time. It was some the best marketing we ever did. My work was all about the people I saw in Rome and Paul's work was an integration of architecture and design. 

The Mamiya 6 cameras I owned were a casualty of the emergence of digital. We didn't always want to change horses but the writing was clearly smeared all over the walls. The future for commercial photographers was plainly with digital cameras. And that hasn't changed. 

Back in the days of wholesale conversion to digital we'd recently suffered from the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the economy was cratering and clients were loudly demanding digital imaging. I couldn't see a way around using the sale of the Mamiya system to finance my way to the next step. Had I been a wealthy trust fund photographer I probably would have stuck the Mamiya stuff in a closet for a later reunion. Sadly, it wasn't a choice I could make. 

I've had the opportunity to buy the same cameras again more recently but I know myself too well. The era of spending days and weeks at a time in the darkroom is long over for me. So is the process of buying film and paying for it to be developed. Not something I want to mess with. Not something I can wisely commit time to.

But in my mind digital is almost there. Not quite to the level in black and white that I enjoyed with the 6. But it's enough for now and getting better with each successive generation. Or maybe that's just the nostalgia talking. Maybe I was just a better printer back then. Maybe there was someitng magic and inspiring about spending quality time under a sodium vapor safelight. Alone in a darkroom on the other side of town.

Whatever. All I know is that when I wake up in the middle of the night and think about which camera made me the happiest ever I know it was the Mamiya 6, along with all the incredible images it gave me from 1995 all the way out to 2002. Can't believe that was twenty years ago. Man, time got a jet pack.

 

I can't imagine how thrilling it would be if Mamiya resurrected the 6 in a digital format. Full sized 6x6cm sensor. Same fabulous lenses. I'd rather have that than a car....

And that's what I think about as I watch the wind try to tear the covers off the plants. And I watch the temperature drop minute by minute while B. bakes cookies and the sun is still shining....

 

The world can seem blurry until you've had that first, perfect cup of coffee in the morning...

 Coffee prep. The "pour over." Leica SL + 50mm TTArtisan f0.95.  Not sharp until after the first dose.

A rift in the fabric of mannequin reality.

 

New Shoes. Starting out the next year on the right foot. Or the left...

 My favorite shoes for all day walking around are just about anything from Keen. These Targhee iii casual walking shoes were on sale for half price. I couldn't resist. I get about two years of wear out of most hiking shoes. I tend to put on a lot of miles and very few of them on smooth floors or carpeting. The soles eventually wear down. Resoling them isn't very cost effective. I'm not even sure it can be down. But this brand is one of the few with enough arch support and good tread to make me comfortable and happy. 

After wearing this new pair around for a week I could kick myself for not ordering a second pair at that price. It's a good practice to rotate through your hiking shoes to keep them from wearing down too quickly. Also, letting them sit a day or two after a long day's service lets the absorbing materials regain their loft for the next foray. 

I think we have three more days of good swim weather until Thursday afternoon brings the deep freeze to town. I made the most of today's swim. Attendance was sparse for the noon workout but that meant the three of us who showed up had more personalized coaching. Thursday morning's pre-storm workout should be packed. 

And for the those brilliant readers who follow swimming... I was excited to see Brendan Hanson on the pool deck today. He was giving a one on one coaching session to a lucky high school swimmer. I listened carefully between my sets.... 

Brendan Hansen

Personal information
Full name	Brendan Joseph Hansen
National team	United States
Born	August 15, 1981 (age 41) Haverford Township, Pennsylvania, U.S.
Height	6 ft 0 in (183 cm)
Weight	189 lb (86 kg)
Sport
Sport	Swimming
Strokes	Breaststroke
Club	Longhorn Aquatics
College team	University of Texas
show Medal record Brendan Joseph Hansen (born August 15, 1981) is an American former competition swimmer who specialized in breaststroke events. Hansen is a six-time Olympic medalist, and is also a former world record-holder in both the 100-meter and 200-meter breaststroke events (long course). He won a total of twenty-five medals in major international competition, eighteen gold, four silver, and three bronze spanning the Olympics, the World, and the Pan Pacific Championships. He was a member of the 2012 United States Olympic team, and won the bronze medal in the 100-meter breaststroke and a gold medal in the 4×100-meter medley relay at the 2012 Summer Olympics.