The end of the story about the Lumix S1R sent in for repair and returned with a big-ass fingerprint on the sensor...

This it the S1R that I bought in October and which failed completely in January.

I was excited to plow into the Lumix S1 Pro system in the last quarter of 2019, not the least reason was because I'd read over and over again, in Panasonic's marketing materials and in reviews, about the "fact" that the S1 series was built to a very, very high standard of quality, with superior materials and workmanship. The shutters are rated to deliver something like 400,000 actuations and the bodies are dust and splash resistant. They are stout and feel solid when you pick them up.

Added to this, my previous experiences with a long line of micro four thirds, Panasonic Lumix cameras convincingly led me to believe that my newest acquisitions would be ultimately reliable. And it's good, in this context, to remember that I am not a photojournalist with a collection of cameras swinging from my neck and shoulders as I run from disaster to disaster with multiple cameras dangling from straps, willy-nilly, while banging into each other with gusto and creating that "great" patina of brutal wear you often see on cameras owned by P.J.'s, or other people who mistakenly believe that cameras are designed to be more like bumper cars than precision instruments....

No, I mostly use cameras one at a time. I carry them to and from advertising and marketing shoots in padded, Think Tank cases or backpacks. I don't drop them, toss them or neglect them. In fact, when I trade in cameras the general comment I get from store clerks is, "This camera looks practically new." 

Imagine my chagrin when I was in the middle of a portrait shoot (in studio, camera on tripod) when the camera became sluggish and slow to respond. Then slower and slower. And then altogether dead. Later, after I finished the shoot with a back-up camera (yes, they do come in handy) I tried every trick in the book to bring the camera back into normal life. Batteries switched out with known good batteries. All manner of card changes. Reset tricks. Everything. What I had in my hands was a catastrophically crippled, brand new camera with fewer than 1,000 actuations on it. 

I sent it back to Panasonic for their official repair service. In less than two weeks the camera returned and I put it through its paces. Everything worked just as it should. The sensor and the main circuit board had both been replaced, the firmware updated and all functions checked. All good. Until I took off the body cap to put on a lens. And there is was... like a turd in a punch bowl... a big fingerprint right in the middle of the sensor. I was shocked at first and then just pissed. And I got in touch with both the local dealer and the Panasonic rep for our area. The store offered immediately to clean the sensor. 

I pulled out the Eclipse sensor cleaning fluid and a fresh Cinema Sensor Swab and did a good job of cleaning the sensor myself, but the carelessness of it all really irked me and I pressed the Panasonic rep to just replace the camera with a new one. One complete product failure followed by a clumsy repair failure seemed to add up to a jinx'd camera. 

Communication with repair was dicey and the rep told me several times that they would take better care of me if I paid a couple hundred bucks and registered for their pro services service. My feeling was that every customer who buys a top of the line camera model deserves the same kind of service. They can't possibly have enough pros signed up yet on a brand new, not so popular product line, to be overwhelmed by priority repairs. 

After several attempts to escalate I was finally contacted by someone at Panasonic service. Here was their offer: "We might consider replacing the camera but you need to send it back to us and we will investigate all your complaints and may or may not agree and may or may not make amends. In the meantime we'll send you a loaner if you give us a credit card number and agree to guarantee the cost of a camera in the meantime. 

I would essentially be sending multiple cameras back and forth with no guarantee of either a stated timeline or final resolution. I told them I would think about it. 

Then the Corona virus hit. Then the shelter in place hit. Then the world seemed to deliver me a much more compelling set of issues to deal with. 

One day I walked into the studio and made up my mind to let it all go. I'd shot non-stop with the repaired and personally cleaned (by me) camera and, after over 1,000 actuations in less than a month I figured the camera would probably be fine. I've been using the repaired camera instead of its twin brother just to put enough frames on it to help me trust it once more. 

I think we're just about there. It seems to be doing everything just right. And it's a perfect companion for the 35mm Art lens from Sigma.

I'm lucky to have three other bodies (one other S1R and two S1s) in case the camera acts up again. But my warm and fuzzy feelings for the company itself (Panasonic) are now less warm and much less fuzzy. They need to work harder to regenerate some good will. But for the moment it's all water under the bridge. Considering how much really tough stuff so many people now have on their plates it seems downright churlish of me to give this even a moment's worry. 

I thought I'd let you know what finally happened. What happened was my capitulation to the idea that the camera is fine, the pictures are great, and all the logistics of replacing it are too silly and burdensome to consider. 

But when the crisis is over and we're all flush with cash again it's probably Leica or Sigma that's getting more of my L-mount money. Panasonic is on a time out where my cash is concerned. 

Finally, the S1 and S1R are two of the finest cameras I've had the pleasure to shoot with. In almost every respect they are a perfect match for my idea of what a camera should be in 2020 and beyond. 

Another boring lens test. Another happy portrait.

B. In "stay at home mode."

Patiently standing still at the window while I fiddle with yet

another camera and lens...

I've been slowly training myself to use wider and wider lenses. It's been an exciting exercise. Since discovering the Sigma 45mm f2.8 I've embraced the fascinating world that exists just a little wider than 50mm. Today I felt oddly compelled to pull out the Sigma 35mm f1.4 Art lens for the L-mount and give it more love. What have I found?

After using some of the bigger and heavier lenses like the Sigma 85mm f1.4 Art and the Panasonic 50mm S Pro I am now considering the 35mm Art to be compact and lightweight. Funny how much context matters. I like the way this lens feels and balances on the right-sized Lumix S1R bodies and I find it an interesting focal length to match with that camera's sensor. I can stand back a bit, frame wider than I do with my traditional (and well loved) 50mm lenses and then, if I find there's too much "air" or clutter around my subject I have ample left over pixels with which to crop. 

While the Sigma 35mm 1.4 is competently auto-focused by the S1R (center point, S-AF) I am much happier with this particular lens if I manually focus. The focusing ring is at the front of the lens and is wide and ample. Manual focusing doesn't seem to be "focus by wire" and if it is it does the world's best job at imitating a nearly perfect mechanical, manual focus. 

On the S1R, when I turn the focusing ring with the camera's AF switch set to "M" a window pops up in my finder with a magnified view of what's at the selected focusing point. The magnification of the image at the point of desired focus is the best implementation of manual focusing I've experienced since I've been buying cameras. The image comes into sharp focus with no messing around and, as you might expect, zero hunting. Hitting perfect focus is wonderful; especially if you are shooting with the lens at a wide open aperture where, in close up images, the plane of sharp focus is as thin as Calista Flockheart.

I was sitting around my office, which is twelve feet removed from our house, when I remembered that I had a somewhat willing model just on the other side of two doors. I took the camera and lens in and asked in my most pleasant voice. B. agreed and I asked her to stand next to one of the windows in our long hallway.  I set the camera to take a large Jpeg in a monochrome color profile and I added some tint to the image in post. What you see is pretty much right out of the camera at f1.4.

I've re-sized the file to 2198 pixels at its widest length so I don't have to pay a fortune to Google for extra storage but I can say that at 8000+ pixels in the original the sharpness and the fall off to out of focus are both pretty neato. 

Of all the lenses I've bought for the L-mount cameras the 35mm Art is far and away the best bargain; the best compromise between price and performance. I'm still happily amazed to think that I only paid $695 USD for a brand new one, late last year. 

Wide open the center two thirds of the frame are critically sharp and, when used four or five feet away from one's subject, while using the maximum aperture, you see that the focus drops off beautifully in the background. I'm happy. I'll keep this one!

Two images from a Medium Format camera from circa 2008.

Eleven years ago I was shooting a lot of portraits and writing about them in some magazines that still existed. Actual printed magazines. On paper! And everyone who was making medium format digital camera systems was sending me product to use and review. One of my favorites was the Aptus II-7 which was a 36 by 48 mm, 33 megapixel back on a Rollei body. Along with the Schneider 180mm f2.8 lens it was a superb combination of parts. One afternoon, as I was working on a photo book for Amherst Media we decided to make some test shots of Heidi, my model who was collaborating with me on the book. My assistant, Amy, helped me get the lighting set up and we shot about a hundred frames. Then the batteries for the camera gave out and we stopped. I just found the files again and thought I'd make few prints. They stand up pretty well, even in the age of breathless Sony sensors and the madcap rush to super high ISO....

Having too much time to shop online is dangerous.

Joyful Portrait of Alaina V. 

My Walter Mitty-esque day dreams...

I spent a good part of the morning today looking through current and older hard drives trying to round up a big collection of photographs of my dear, late dog, Tulip. There are twelve years of images scattered across a dozen or so hard drives and probably dozens of DVDs. Had I been wise (retrospection is so piercing...) I would have created a folder on Smugmug.com and put photographs up there from week to week so as not to get this far behind. But I promised my son I'd make a really nice print of our best dog ever last Christmas and I've been dragging my feet since she passed away. 

At some point looking through all the photos just made me sad so I did what photo nerds and people who love shoes do, nationwide; I went shopping online. It seems especially dangerous right now because I'm trying to convince (delude) myself that we've done such a good job of eliminating debt and accruing a motley handful of assets that nothing seems really out of reach right now (vast hyperbole). All that actually stands between me and financial armageddon is my very rational fear of that disapproving look I know I'll get from my spouse if I come home with something silly and impractical like a Porsche 911 Turbo S. Or something even sillier, like a pool table...

But what about a lightly used Mini Cooper S? Or maybe a great deal on a medium format Leica S3 and a couple well chosen lenses? How about that custom street bike from Mellow Johnny's Bike Shop? A new "Cheese Grater" Mac Pro, all tricked out with $40,000 of RAM and SSDs? Would it really be that bad to come back home on a Ducati Multistrada motorcycle? Especially if I got a good helmet? 

In the end both practicality and need stepped in to bring me back to reality. I order some more ink for my ancient but still workable Canon Pro-100 inkjet Printer and a packet of 50 sheets of 13 by 19 inch Pro Lustre paper. I'll pick it up curbside from the usual photo/crack dealer in the morning. And to enforce the message of exercising practicality I dug up a $50 coupon good off the purchase price. 

I've got some printing to do and I've run out of excuses to put it off. Gotta get some parental controls on my office computer and block any "for profit" sites. Self-preservation...

Every once in a while I like to post this image of Amy to remind me that I can make really good portraits. If the stars are lined up just right....

I've made portraits with so many different cameras and lenses but the thing that's always made the most difference, in the end, is the lighting. That and the rapport you are able to engineer with your subject. I photographed Amy one afternoon in my Westlake Hills studio when my assistant, Renae, and I were between jobs and a little bored of photographing each other. Renae called Amy, who came right over, and we did an impromptu session just for fun.

No stylist then. Our models mostly did their own make up. The light was a Profoto strobe in a 4x6 foot soft box hung up above Amy's head level. Angled down and slightly to one side. There was a tiny bit of light on the background. And no fill except the studio walls.

I can't remember what we were talking about when I took this frame but we were all in a fun, playful and worry-free frame of mind. This was the most serious frame of the day. A few minutes later everything devolved into Happy Hour.

Shot with a Leica R8 on slide film. The lens was probably a 90mm Summicron but could well have been the 135mm f2.8 Elmarit instead. The camera didn't print the shooting info on the cardboard slide mount.... (must have been defective).

Seeing frame like this has the effect on me of "steadying the boat." When I doubt myself I remember I can do portraits like this and then I take a deep breath, slow down and start lighting.

Hope your day is nice and cheery.

All the best, Kirk

Introverts and extroverts. How's that working out now?

I really wouldn't call myself an extrovert. I mean, sure, I love to swim every day with 30 or 40 or my closest swim friends, can't bear not meeting somebody to have coffee with, mid-morning, and like to have a lunch date booked with a friend or client (or in the best of all worlds, both) two or three days a week... but "extrovert"? Well, I have made a career out of being in the middle of events, cajoling grumpy executives into looking their best, and always tickled to go out for a happy hour with colleagues; or anyone else who will have me along... But I've never really thought of myself as outgoing. Couldn't live without blogging, and answering comments, and rarely make it back from a walk around downtown without meeting at least a couple of new people, but isn't that pretty much the same for everyone? Can't wait to get to the theater to watch shows and mix in the lobby during intermission with a drink in my left and and a friends all around (leaving the right hand free to shake hands --- oh.  Yeah. That's so last year. No more handshaking, must learn to bow). 

So being "locked down" and "sheltering in place" for over 30 days in a row is becoming an amazing exercise in endurance for me. And it's made all the more difficult by having a spouse who is quiet, self-contained, calm, not chatty, and happy to be isolated in her rambling, comfortable home, taking advantage of her home office to do "all of the projects I've never had enough time to get to." And after that? "I have a stack of books this high (motions four feet off the floor) that I've been wanting to get to." 

I'm beginning to think that if I didn't try to pull her into conversations she might go days without uttering a word...

So, as hard as it's been for me not to be out, around, deep in conversation with everyone I know, it's probably been equally hard having me around constantly trying to....engage. Chat. Reminisce. Question. and generally disrupt everything just because of cabin fever and lack of continuous social contact. Did I read somewhere that humans are social animals? Did introverts not get the message?

If the virus doesn't kill me I'm thinking a nearly complete shut down of my social network will. Don't jump in and suggest I "Zoom" with people or "FaceTime" with people; it's just not the same. Not into online socializing beyond the blog and a few texts (mostly to make sure Ben is still okay...). What I really look forward to, and what you can help with, is a bit of life on the blog. If you are an introvert (and who knew there were so many of you?) have a little sympathy for quasi-extroverts like me. If, in the back of your mind you thought for even a second about posting a comment, gird up your firewalls and grit your teeth and belt that comment out. I may not love what you have to say but I will be grateful to know you are out there....

I don't want your money and I don't have anything to sell you but I love to hear from fellow photographers and creative people. Maybe I just need to write more clickbait-y stuff and get into arguments about "Sony versus Fuji" (the current current) but maybe I just need to ask you to join in. We'll see. 

COVID-19 Pizza Acquisition Logistics. Yes, this is "off topic" from photography.

Happy Good Friday, tomorrow. 

In the time before COVID-19 it was so easy to order, receive and enjoy a freshly made pizza. You'd hop online, enter your order, enter a delivery time, toss in your credit card information and then get back to retouching something or cleaning off your swim goggles until the delivery driver appeared carrying a box with a hot, fresh and topping rich pie. We kept an envelope of $5 bills next to the front door so we'd always have tip money ready to go. If work was slow and the coffers were running low we'd save the delivery cost and order the pizza as carry out. Then we'd flip a three headed coin to see which of us would go and collect dinner.

The delivery would happen and we'd pop that box open right on the table and start the wonderful process of truly appreciating freshly melted cheese, a robust tomato sauce and whatever savory toppings we craved in the moment. No muss. No fuss. 

Now though we have a virus/pizza box intervention process that we have to go through. Once the pizza is delivered to the front door a family member receives the box and the driver scurries away (we add the tip on line so the driver is pre-tipped by the time he gets here). Once the driver has retreated to his idling car we begin the process. 

It goes like this: The designated pizza box holder remains outside the house and places the box on the welcome mat on the front porch. The same person, who has already been potentially contaminated by whomever before has touched the box, opens the box and folds the sides down to make space for a person from inside the house to approach the box and without touching any part of the exterior of the box and the person on the house side slides a pizza peel (the big spatula used to pull pizzas out of ovens) underneath the pizza until it's stably situated on said peel. At that point she (it's usually Belinda, she's a pro at tossing coins) takes the pizza into the domicile and leaves the door ajar, just a bit . 

The pizza "intermediary" takes the box and places it into the trash can outside. After the box is properly disposed of he (it's usually me messing with stuff that goes in the trash = bad coin tosser) approaches the door and opens it fully with his foot. There is a bottle of hand sanitizer just inside the door and he uses it liberally to disinfect his hands. Then there is a trip to the bathroom to wash hands for at least 20 seconds. Next up is grabbing a Chlorox wipe from the kitchen to wipe down the sanitizer bottle and pump mechanism, and finally the front door knob gets a proactive wipe and the door is closed. Only then can the (now lukewarm) pizza be enjoyed. 

It's a process. And anybody who tells you the journey is more important than the destination is full of shit. Getting a hot pizza is definitely a luxury which I'm looking forward to A.C.-19 (after Covid-19). But lukewarm, safety pizza is definitely better than nothing. 

Side note, if you think the writing here is getting daffy and distracted you might not be all wrong. Monday the 13th will mark our first 30 days of "sheltering in place." Other than a weekly pizza, enjoyed by tradition on Thursday nights, we've been doing all of our meals at home. A strange and quixotic break from the recent good old days of favorite restaurants and favorite fellow diners. I'm not sure how long it will take me to re-socialize.... But I see why there are 400% more mental health issues per capita in rural areas than in cities. One's mind doesn't get pulled into "normal" if there's no social group around to help maintain healthy boundaries.

But, tonight is pizza night! Yay. It's like a mark on the prison wall that let's us understand a relative passage of time. If you order pizza tonight I hope yours comes piping hot. 

We're doing a veggie pizza tonight. With a salad and a bottle of red wine. Takes the edge off self-isolation. Now, if only we can find something fun to watch on Netflix....