This (above) is my ancient Nikon F camera, with a non-metered prism. That's the original 50mm f1.4 Nikkor lens that came along with it. As well as the bottom half of the leather, "ever-ready" case that also was included in the purchase. The camera is something like 56 years old. It still works. It works as well as it did on day one. Its favorite film is Tri-X. It has gobbled up a prodigious amount of that black and white film over the years. The lens was so well done at the time the camera and lens were available that I still use it, with an adapter, on the front of various mirrorless cameras. If you didn't know it and just looked at big, black and white prints I doubt you could see a difference between this lens and my latest APO acquisition. I can't. Usually.
I have no axe to grind today. I don't think we should roll back the calendars, toss out the current cameras and retrograde to the old film stuff. I'm just happy that this one came along for the ride with me. And it doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave the studio.
Whenever I promise to do a studio portrait of a friend, colleague or beautiful stranger I make sure the guest bathroom is clean and shiny, that there's ample coffee fixings in the house, and that the studio is tidied up and the floors are swept. But by the time I get to the part where I straighten up the studio I keep finding items like the old Nikon or the almost as old Canon QL17iii and the memories of my adventures with them flood back. And it's mostly fun to remember.
Right now I should be changing out the background from the white seamless paper I was using to a warm, mid-gray for the portrait I have scheduled for right after swim practice tomorrow morning but instead, here we are. Writing about 50 year old cameras... Sigh.
You never forget your first. Now, where's that broom? And why don't I have people for this?
9 comments:
I still kick myself that I sold my FE2 17 years ago. It was a great camera I used for 22 years and it was still going strong but digital was calling. I’m still using that camera (D7000), though so at least it’s been a worthy successor.
I bought mine in 1970 in Bermuda while on my honeymoon. It was with the Ftn prism and the 50 1.4 lens. It still works but the old mercury batteries are tough to find so I also bought a standard non -metered prism. I occasionally run a roll of film through it for fun. I have used the lens with an L-mount adapter on my Leica CL. Makes a nice 75 for shooting my wife’s flowers with great background separation.
There's an old bricks and mortar camera shop here in Ottawa whose main business these days seems to be selling film. They are only open afternoons 4 or 5 days per week. I've been in there 3 times in the last couple of years and everyone in line seems to be under 25. Mind you, lots of people seem very young to me these days.
O.T. Just read M.J.'s latest post. Await your take / response.
I had the exact same - my first serious camera love, summer of 1968. How magnificent it was! Feeling nostalgic some years ago, I rebought a nice copy on eBay, I have it out on display at home as an art object.
A few years ago I purchased a fastidiously-restored sample of the first “serious” camera I ever used: my father’s prewar Zeiss Contax II rangefinder. Alas, nostalgia had colored my memory. While I made some decent-enough test pictures with it, after years of using digital cameras I found the process of shooting film awfully cumbersome. The Contax sits in a drawer these days, providing company for a considerably younger Nikon F100 SLR that is similarly idle.
I couldn't afford a Nikon until the F3. Also had the F4 and F5. I have nothing but good feelings for Nikon, going back to the 80s.
Yes the memories flood back. I bought the same camera at the Marine Corps Air Station, Iwakuni, Japan, in, If I remember correctly 1969. I do remember the price $225.00 Nikon Ftn, 50mm f1.4, ever ready case. I also bought a number of accessories including the plain, non metering, prism finder. Everything but the meter still works like new. It was an "interesting" time in my life.
I strongly disagree with what Mike wrote. Rural isolation kills collaborative art, for the most part. That's the crux of it.
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