Mothers’ Day in Prescott, Arizona Through the Zeiss Lens of the 1954 Rolleiflex Automat TLR

 

 

Like the  many photographers who still use vintage film cameras, I do get moments when the urge to bring one sitting on the shelf back to action takes over the expected effort it will take to address the issues of long inaction time. But the desire to use an old favorite always wins.

So, as Mothers’ Day was approaching, I recalled when a couple of decades I took my 1954 Rolleiflex Automat with me to Paris to celebrate my mother’s day and take a few photos. Alas, those were the last photos I took of her.

With memories affecting the moment, I flipped the cover and looked through the waist finder glass. I was not sure if it was the dampness of my eyes or indeed, the view was significantly dimmer than I remember. After a few minutes, I realized that taking photos with such a dim view finder had become harder on my eyes…

So I looked through my camera parts box, there were the focusing and magnifying glasses of an old Yashica 124 that I had kept. Perfect, now I could ready the Rolleiflex for action.

It took a bit of doing, though, as replacing the single glass of the old German camera with the Japanese double glass affected the firmness of the internal clips that hold the viewing glass together. That in turn affected the fine tuning of the focusing and required some shaving of the glass and shimming the fit.

After checking that the shutter speeds were still in working condition on this 70 years old camera, I took it to the arts show downtown Prescott on Mother’s Day and went through a roll of Fomapan 100 ASA B&W film.

But first, here is how the “upgraded” Rolleiflex viewing glass compared to my 1961 Minolta Autocord’s.

 

Even in full desert sunshine, the Rolleiflex (on the left) is dimmer than the Autocord, a TLR camera that traveled around the globe with me for decades with absolutely no issues and great results.

 

And here is a “portrait” shot of the two cameras. The Minolta is smaller and lighter, but its shutter is louder than and not as smooth as the older Rolleiflex during film advancing. But the brighter view glass and the focusing of the Minolta fit me better during street photography when a split second makes a difference in focusing and clicking.

 

So, on this Mothers’ Day, I tested the Rolleiflex using three criteria: (1) is it now easier to focus in both well lit and dimmer street moment; (2) if a second shot is immediately needed, is the winding smooth and fast; and, if the Zeiss Opton lens’s iconic Tessar feel is still as charming today as it was 70 years ago.

(I realise that the third criterion makes more sense to a seasoned photographer than anyone else. But it is part of the reasons folks like me still use vintage cameras …)

Based on those criteria, here are three photos I chose:

A)     Well lit moment with time for me to adjust the focus. That is the photo atop the page. I saw a sunglass and jewelry vendor behind the mannequins and I wanted to get then all together in my frame. As I was ready to release the shutter, a woman walked into the frame making it more active and impromptu.

All three criteria I was using were successfully met in this shot.

 

B)      Fast winding for a second shot. I saw this young woman in front of the city Court House and wanted to test the Zeiss Opton lens for the feel of texture and transitions of gray one can only truly get on film. So I took a first photo, then I realized that I had kept the shutter speed on 1/100^th second which would be too fast for the shady areas of the frame. Thus, I quickly changed the speed to 1/50^th second and took a second one. The winding was as smooth as one would expect from a Rolleiflex and the shutter operated flawlessly.

Interestingly, when I developed the film, I realised that the first photo had captured more contrast between the textured of the sun-lit stone wall and the young lady in the middle of the frame. So, even though the negative frame showed more intense shade as I had allowed less light to pass through the lens at faster shutter speed, I opted to printing that frame rather than the second photo I took where much more of the street was captured and looked too crowded.

C)      Focusing in dimmer light. The painter was sitting on the grass in front of her kiosk for a break. I was about 50 meters away but wanted to capture the moment of respite, as I had noticed her painting standing up in front of her easel. As I was about to focus the frame, a large cloud masqued the sunlight that was already filtered through the large trees shading that part of the square. So, it got even dimmer in the view finder and I missed the focus as it was just short of the infinity mark on the focusing knob.

 But I do like the off-focus shot. It somehow makes the scene, including the trees and the two passers-by, a bit old-fashioned, and the vintage flavor of the Zeiss lens comes through.

 

Will I use the Rolleiflex to replace my Minolta Autocord? No, I have run miles of film through the latter and I have the comfort and feel using the camera. However, in nostalgic moments, the precision of the Rolleiflex mechanism is pure joy to revisit, even when it is not as functionally dependable as the Minolta to yield higher percentage of “keeper shots”.

And, the Minolta will never have the sentimental memories I have taking Mothers’ Day photos.

 

 May 13, 2025

© Vahé  A. Kazandjian, 2025

The 1951 Exakta VX: an Iconic German Camera Every Film Photographer Should Try at Least Once

 

 I was reading about upcoming new medium format cameras, all of them digital, and realised that the prominent message was that they are small, light and simple to use. And I thought about the 2-3 kg cameras that a few decades ago were the envy of professionals – the Hasselblads, Mamiyas and the occasional Kiev or Salyut for photographers who needed to do weight lifting exercises in their hotel rooms while on assignment!

And, I went to the back of my camera shelves to look for my 1951 Exakta VX to remind me how complicated, heavy and odd professional cameras once were.

I have a few Exakta cameras, and a select number of Carl Zeiss lenses. In the 1990s I used to travel with my trusty 1967 Nikon F, and a 1954 Canon L3 or Leica IIIF for backup. The most frequent medium format camera to join that lineup was a Minolta Autocord from the 1970s. In those days, professional cameras were all mechanical and their attraction was not weight or simplicity of use, but the quality of the lenses, all made of steel and amazing glass. Carl Zeiss lenses set the standard of excellence starting with the 1938 Leica camera, and continue today with their glorious past.

… The Exakta is a breed apart from all 35mm cameras made before and after the 1950s. First, they were the only professional cameras with a trapezoid shape body, which in fact aligns nicely with the human body when using a waist-level viewer. Then, the film winder lever was on the left, and so was the shutter button, but not atop the camera as all other 35mm cameras have since adopted, but on the front of the trapezoid body. And to add to the eccentricity of it all, the arm of the winder had to be rotated more than 180 degrees around making it impossible to have a camera strap! So, the photographer’s right hand was only to focus the lens and hold the weight of the camera, while the left hand fingers operated the winder lever and searched for the shutter button between shots. The reason was that focusing requires more dexterity than winding the film or pressing the shutter button, at least for right-handed users.

 

And these were only the peculiarity on the outside of the camera. To load film, one had to pull and rotate a wonderfully chromed knob which sat on a strong steel spring made to last at least a century. After opening the back, one had two choices: load the film on the right side of the camera because the winding lever is on the left, or, load two canisters (one where the film spool would be on the left and the other on the right) for an ingenious reason I will explain next.

So, here are two illustrations to the above:

A.    Loading film the “usual” way

Everyone who has used a film camera knows how to load film, except that with Exaktas, the film canister is placed on the right of the camera and the film strip travels from right to left, where the winding lever is placed.

But what is that sickle-shaped contraption to the left of the right canister?

B) Loading two canisters the “Exakta” way

And here comes the iconic Exacta film cutter! In this photo I pulled the cutter down to show the movement – the photographer would pull the small rod down and the sickle-shaped cutter head would slice the film strip.

And that is why one needed two film canisters.  Well, if a photographer took the shot she/he wanted at the very start of say, a 36 frame roll of film, then in order to develop that roll, it would be necessary to rewind the film back and thus lose 20 or so frames worth of film. But, given the film cutter Exakta engineers thought of, only the first few frames can be rewound into the right canister, the sickle-shaped blade would cut the film strip leaving plenty of unused film strip in the left canister (where the entire roll had to be rolled in by tightly obscuring the lens) to restart another shooting session. The whole process takes about 20 minutes, assuming the camera was in experienced hands. But film was expensive then, and has become expensive again in 2025!

About the photo atop the page

As I was walking, I saw a photographer taking portraiture shots of a couple. I was about 20 meters away, and did not have time to focus. So, I guessed (zone focused) and framed the shot. Technically, it is majorly imperfect, but the sun in her hair and the instant the couple stole a kiss were captured to tell a story. It was the true critical moment I wanted to capture.

Final thoughts

Exakta was a professional camera in the 1950s, and very expensive (it is said that it cost as much as three months’ salary of a German engineer.) The lenses, when sold in the US, were also expensive. I found a brochure of the prices:

Exaktas, given their capricious design perhaps, did not become popular in the US, except in Alfred Hitchcock’s classic 1954 movie “Rear Window” where Jimmy Stewart used the exact camera I have to spy on his neighbors out his apartment's rear window. To see that far, he used a humongous Kilfitt Fern-Kilar f/5.6 400mm lens that would easily qualify as a short telescope!

But, it is pure German engineering, and after 75 years, my Exakta works as a charm. The lenses, however often suffer from dried lubricants and the focusing can freeze. My Triotar was frozen, but I was able to re-lubricate it enough to be useful. However I did have difficulty in focusing quickly, something that is crucial in street photography.

Finally, while it is assumed that using a waist level focusing camera does not attract the attention of subjects, such an assumption may not be true when using a chrome body lens and an odd looking camera that shine under the desert sun! Here is the proof:

 

When a camera and lens look like this, it is not surprising that this lady tried to lower her hat, even when I was at least 30 meters in front of her….

 

April 6, 2025

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2025

Feet, Boots and the Making of a Path

 

I received a note from a reader who shared a few thoughts after reading my essay about walking making paths (https://vahezen.blogspot.com/2024/04/caminante-no-hay-camino-antonio-machado.html). In this essay I shared my thoughts about how the Spanish poet Antonio Machado proposed that through our travel in life, we make our own paths, perhaps where paths did not exist before our walk. The the final image of his poem compared our passage to wake trails boats make through the waves. Machado suggested that those wake trails disappear after our passage, like a vanishing past.

I did not agree with that perspective, and wrote:

.. In my walks, I might have made a road or two. And I have looked back, without regret yet sometimes with nostalgia. And when I sit in my rocking chair and try to understand, I still believe that ships do not lose their wake trails in the sea, because trails made by cutting waves find their way back to beaches they know, to the mossy rocks that await them.

Wake trails do not disappear.

 

As I sat down to respond to the reader, memories of past trails came to my mind, in a rather unexpected way. Indeed, I found myself dancing under a mirror ball at Nancy Sinatra’s song These Boots are Made for Walkin’! It was the late 1960’s and I was in middle school.

So, I thought I would answer the reader as a street photographer.

I looked through my “Unused Moments” file and chose three photos taken with a medium format Twin Lens Reflex Minolta Autocord, which not only allows for becoming an unnoticed photographer and does not make people change their behavior, but puts me “at their level” both regarding perspective and willingness to become one with their moment.

 

Bare feet and boots (photo atop the page). I take photos of moments that sometimes do not tell a story by themselves. But when put together, they represent a medley of attitudes and behaviors. There is a kindness in this frame, and a promise. The bare feet are the future “explorers” for a path; the boots of woman have already stopped to give the friendly dog a pat on the head. There is much action in this frozen moment.

Singing in the street. And there is music and dancing in this photo. These Southwestern boots are made for the regional identity of a cowboy/cowgirl and for country songs. It feels like a path from the past that did not disappear with the passage.

 

 

Ice cream and memories. This one made my smile! Well, perhaps there is more than boots and feet that make us stop, linger a bit, and enjoy an ice cream cone on a hot day. The feet of that walker had stopped, but the mind was perhaps traveling between the past and the future. And I was there to find that split second to freeze a tongue reaching the ice cream scoop!

 

… Robert Frost took the “less traveled road” when “two roads diverged in a yellow wood”, and “that has made all the difference”.

The roads we make by walking did not exist before our passage. They were not less taken. But they will be taken by others, some day.

As such roads do not disappear like wake trails boats make in the water.

 

PS/ I hope I was able to answer my reader, even if I used “Kodak Moments” instead of words…

 

February 22, 2025

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2025

 

Nikon’s AI Manual Focus Lenses Refer to “Auto Indexing” not “Artificial Intelligence”

 

 

I have been following the new wave of new cameras, some using film, others digital but looking like vintage cameras.  The latter seem to follow the periodic nostalgia humans have to fashion, the arts and perhaps values. Interestingly, some of the “new retro” looking cameras is advertised as having the feel of vintage ones.

I have never owned a digital camera, but did try a few my friends strongly suggested I should experience. I have always returned to my black boxes with a few shutter speeds. The reason has been two-fold: partnership and feel. Like any artist or artisan using a tool, creativity is undeniably related to the joy of using that tool. And sometimes, it is the journey through that partnership that provides the satisfaction and pleasure, no matter the outcome.

So, as I was reading that some of the new cameras are now made in metal not “plastic”, I looked at the shelves where my cameras are organized by maker, rangefinders separate from SLRs and medium format TLRs, including the section where non-functioning cameras and partially dismantled ones are displayed. The latter have been my “organ donors” to repair ones that suffered untimely ailments…

In the Nikon section, my eyes fell upon the 1982 FG. I had bought it to complete my collection, but the moment I handled it almost a quarter century ago, I knew it will not be the tool that would be my partner in creativity, nor provide the feel during the experience.

But, over the years, I have periodically pushed myself to give it a second chance, ignore the un-nikonness of it, pretend that the film advance lever was a smooth as a Nikon F3, that the metering was revolutionary, and that it fit in my hands like gloves made of Peccary leather.

I used it last a year ago (https://liveingray.blogspot.com/2024/07/prescott-arizona-2024-july-4th-frontier.html) but as always, I put it back on the shelf, knowing that I will again get the urge to find a reason as to why I own it.

A few days ago, reading about new cameras, I wondered how it will feel and use a 1970s all-metal and glass lens that was at least 3 times heavier than the FG itself. And that lens was the first version of the 1970s Vivitar Series1 70-210mm zoom made by Kiron, made for the Nikon F. I had used that lens decades ago on my 1968 Nikon F to take school soccer game photos. I recall, even then, a few parents wondering what kind of prehistoric camera I was using. So, it has been sitting on the shelf since.

Here is the Vivitar Series 1 lens

And its imposing presence!

But with the urge of using it on the FG, I went downtown Prescott to test the new contraption.

The zoom range is certainly not suitable for street photography, nor is the size/weight of the lens for quick handling. And, forget about candid shots when people see that massive tube in front of my face! However, I managed to take a few shots using the FG’s aperture priority mode at f11 aperture. The photo at the top of the page is my favorite, and I will discuss it later, but given the history of the lens, a few words about the evolution of Nikon SLR camera mounts seems appropriate.

A quick history of Nikon lens mounts

The first Nikon F camera was produced in 1959 and had a patented “Nikon Bayonet” mount. The lenses made for that bayonet mount had an aperture coupling prong (sometimes called rabbit ears) coupled with a small lever on the external Photomic light meter unit and, after a full rotation by the photographer of the aperture ring, the rabbit ears “told” the camera what aperture the lens was so the light meter can indicate the appropriate speed in the viewfinder.

It was not until 1977 that Nikon introduced to the bayonet mount a structure leading to a new way of coupling the aperture ring to the light meter. It was called AI or Auto Indexing AI lenses have a ridge that catches a feeler on a ring surrounding the lens mount on the camera.

While non-AI lenses’ rabbit ears had to couple with the light meter lever and the photographer had to rotate the aperture ring to inform the light meter about the lens, now AI lenses had an internal mechanical structure that immediately upon mounting the lens, informed the camera about the maximum aperture of the lens allowing the light meter to get ready for the correct metering using that specific lens. So, from 1959 to 1977, not only all Nikon SLR lenses were Non-AI (sometimes also called Pre-AI) but there were third party lens manufacturers who produced a plethora of Non-AI lenses. None of these lenses had the quality or performance of a Nikon, but many stood out with their creativity and surprisingly impressive results. The first Kiron made version of the Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm was among those that shined (there were 6 versions of that lens but none achieved the performance of the first version, the only one that was Non-AI).

Nikon continued the tradition of the rabbit ears, to visually identify them as AI. But more importantly, the AI lenses could still be mounted and used on the older F-mount cameras.

Finally, given the sublime built and performance of Non-AI lenses, Nikon (and others) made upgrading rings with that famous groove to allow Non-AI lenses behave like AI lenses on the post 1977 Nikon mounts. These metamorphosed lenses are called AI’d allowing seamlessly the use historic Nikon lenses on newer Nikon cameras.

Visual difference between Non-AI and AI lenses

The original rabbit ears for the Nikon F bayonet mount are solid metal. Here is the venerable 50mm f1.4 Nikkor-S Auto from 1964.

 

All professionally AI’d lenses had the new ring added to the lens and perforated rabbit ears. The new conversion ring added a second, in smaller numbers, set of aperture numbers to the lens. These changes can be seen on my 1971 Nikkor- P 180mm f2.8 lens.

 

And then there are non-professional conversions. These are the most creative ones (when they work) and shows how much owners cared about their old lens and wanted to continue using them post 1977. I have seen quite a few such creative conversions, but the one done on my Vivitar 70-210mm is the most unusual but it works! Whoever did this was a minimalist – he added a home-made T-clip to the existing aperture ring to catch the new groove of the Nikon mounting base and make the 1972 Vivitar Non-AI zoom lens AI’d!  Perhaps it is fun to use this lens just for this peculiar characteristic?

 

Why did I go into this long explanation? First, hopefully some readers will find it interesting as a historical overview, but also because I have many of those AI’d lenses that continue to provide the vintage look to photography none of the modern Nikon lenses can. Perhaps to the avid B&W photographer, they would provide a unique experience.

But, the photo at the top of this page says otherwise. I was genuinely surprised by the sharpness of the result as I took the photo handheld, at full zoom and f11 from about 50 meters of the memorial statue. The contrast is low, as expected, even with the makeshift lens shade I made. But with no zoom creep, the focusing is very reliable and the sharpness of the lens is truly surprising. Here is a cropped section of the inscription on the memorial, which was the spot I focused on hoping that, the two gentlemen (and the dog) sitting a few meters in the background will be more blurred. Too bad I did not have the chance to take a second shot at f4….

 

I knew that the heft and width of the Vivitar lens felt just right in my hands and I was able to remain very steady, something I had never managed when using the FG with smaller and lighter lenses.

Is it possible that, after 25 years, I have found the right lens-camera combination for the FG?

 

February 9, 2025

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2025

 

PS/ I realise that many young photographers have not seen or used a Non-AI lens fitting the Nikon F, nor perhaps the AI lenses that made the Nikon 2 and Nikon 3 milestones in photographic history. Yet, I find it a timely retrospective trip to see what the term AI once meant to those who ran miles of film pellicule through their cameras and spend endless hours in makeshift darkrooms to burn or dodge a 5x7 or 8x10 photographic paper under the faint light of an enlarger.

And, what AI means today to those who have all the technology in their hands and can see, the instant it has been taken, the photo on the screen back of the camera. And, in full sunlight, they can edit those photos with AI.

For me, washing the printed paper with cold water in the darkroom sink, surrounded with the lingering aroma of the Stop Bath solution (for those who still remember what that is), is a pleasure I am not ready to forego.

 

From Asclepius’s Rod to the Medical Caduceus: An Inspiration for Photography

 

When I heard about President Jimmy Carter’s passing after a century of existence, I recalled a trip to Egypt I took 25 years ago as a public health professional. After the second day of discussions with primary care physicians, President Carter’s work in eradicating a water-borne parasitic worm disease came up.

“When I was a young doctor, I extracted a lot of Guinea worms creeping out from the legs and arms of tribal residents. President Carter helped us and the world stop the cycle of the parasites in our drinking water. But recently I have seen these worms in Sudan, where I worked for a while” an older physician told me.

“I have never seen one in my travels to Africa, the Middle East or Asia” I said.

“And that is a good thing. You know, it was like Asclepius’s Rod – we used to slowly coil the worm around a wooden stick. Just like spaghetti around a Chinese chop stick!” he recalled with a wink.

… So, this morning, in a rather peculiar way, I made a connection between my photography and my health care profession.

But first, a word about Asclepsius’s Rod (or Rod of Asclepsius) and the modern Caduceus of medicine.

Here is a depiction of the origin of Asclepius’s Rod (or staff) as seen in the statue of Asclepius at the Archeological Museum of Epidaurus in Peloponnese (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rod_of_Asclepius)

And the caduceus as the modern symbol of medicine:

 

The visual difference between the two is obvious: two serpents vs one, and a winged vs non winged staff. However, the history (or mythology) behind each is significantly different. Indeed, the Asclepius’s Rod is said to represent a non-venomous rat snake, later called Asclepian Snake, which was believed to freely wander around where Asclepius’s patients slept. The caduceus, however, was the symbol of the Greek messenger of the gods Hermes and a guide to the underworld.  

 

Here is a statue of Hermes carrying the caduceus, kept at the Vatican Museums, in Rome. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermes)

 

 

In Roman mythology, the Greek Hermes continued to exist as Mercury. In neither mythology, Hermes was associated with medicine or healing but he did carry what became the modern symbol of medicine, the caduceus, especially in the United States. It is however often said that the real symbol of medicine is the Asclepius’s Rod, and that the adoption of Hermes’s staff was a misunderstanding of Greco-Roman mythology, although Hermes also represented alchemy, which was associated with pharmacy in Medieval times.

Further, many believe that Asclepius’s Rod does not have a snake around it but a Guinea worm, or Dracunculus medinensis, a nematode responsible for dracunculiasis (Guinea Worm Disease). And as the Egyptian physician told me, these worms were historically extracted by the healer wrapping them around a rod upon exit from a patient’s skin. (The counter argument may be that the statue at the Archeological Museum of Epidaurus clearly shows a snake. But mythology relies more on symbolism than facts, and the snake was historically believed to represent healing and regenerative power due the shedding of its skin).

 

Ok, this long introduction brings me to some of my photos and perhaps gives a context that I had not considered before.

 

A.    Photo atop this essay page of my dogs playing. I took this one a few days ago, on Christmas day. The posture of the dogs reminded me of the two snakes coiling on the caduceus.

 

B.      Street actors in a Shakespeare play. I took this one in Baltimore Maryland.

 

C.     Couple on the boardwalk, Baltimore, Maryland. A tender moment captured as I was walking with my camera as companion..

 

D.    Photo of a couple in embrace in swimming pool. This one was a challenge as I took it from the balcony of my hotel room in Mont-Tremblant, Québec, Canada. I had a Mamiya Pro 645 medium camera with me, and taking a photo with a waist finder by pointing the lens downward was tricky. It takes a minute to see the woman on the right and the man to the left of this composition, but realizing that I was looking down and seeing the shadow of the men’s right leg in the shadow in the pool water helps… The photo made the cover of my fifth book of poetry and travel stories.

 

 

E.     Photo of a couple on the beach, in Nazaré, Portugal. This one may qualify as the “pre-embrace” and made the cover of my 7^th book, this one in French, published in Canada.

 

 

Interestingly, the global Guinea Worm Disease eradication work of the late President Jimmy Carter made me think of the snakes (guinea worm?) wrapping around Asclepius’s Rod and Hermes’s Caduceus. And both as a healthcare professional and a photographer, I saw a continuum between medicine and the arts, somehow going back to the historical healers who were philosophers, artists, poets and founders of today’s medicine.

 

As for my photos, are they reflections of my Défaut professionnel or the result of keen timing by a street photographer? I will never know, but writing this essay sure felt like a self psychoanalysis!

 

January 5, 2025

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2025

Prescott, AZ, 2024 Holiday Parade Through the Eye of a 1959 Petri F1.9 Rangefinder Camera

 

The annual Prescott Holiday Parade was a good time to use one of my cameras that has been “ignored” for a long while. This time, my choice was for a 1959 Petri 1.9 Super rangefinder manufactured by a long disappeared Japanese camera company.

It is not a well known camera as the name Petri has never been associated with a quality SLRs. But this model, made in the early years of the manufacturer deserves attention and has a cult following in the rangefinder world.

Made by the Kuribayashi Camera Industry, founded in 1907, the Petri F1.9 was produced in 1958 and production lasted for only 4 years.  It was aimed at competing in the global rangefinder camera market, but its marketing coincided with the introduction of the venerable Leica M3...  The Kuribayashi Company filed for bankruptcy in 1977.

The Petri F1.9 is a fixed 45mm lens minimalist watchmaker’s camera. However, it is beautifully made and has lasted the past decades gracefully if.. you find one with functioning and accurate speeds! I got mine as a “consolation present” from the buyer who sold me an equally non-functioning Soviet FED-2 rangefinder camera from the 1950s. It was in the late 1990s and film cameras were sold as paperweight since the world was going the digital route and users of film were considered neo-Dodo birds.  Somehow, a Ukrainian camera man in Baltimore, Maryland repaired both cameras and gave me many years of enjoyment using the FED-2. As for the Petri, after dry-shooting it a few times, I reserved a fine spot for it on my shelf.

Here is my camera:

 

And a testimony statement about the company’s dedication to quality and customer support on a sticker inside the back cover:

Till this weekend. I tested winding and clicking a few times, and checked the lens blades for oil deposit – all seemed to function as it should. I put half a roll of film in it (I roll my own film in canisters) and took it to the Holiday Parade for a few street photography test shots.

I was delighted when I inspected the negative strip – frame distances were perfect, and I could tell that there was ample contrast the lens had captured. However, the black and white shades seemed to be following each other abruptly, without noticeable transition of gray. That could mean extreme differences in bright and dark segments of the frame during printing under the enlarger where lenses are typically f3.5 or 4.5 thus not allowing enough light to create the shades of gray during the 10-15 second light exposure time I prefer.

So, I went back to my FED-2 which originally came with a badly calibrated Jupiter-3 Soviet fast lens but has a wide opening of f1.5 allowing more light to go through it under the enlarger. As I have often done so, I replaced the enlarger’s flat field lens with a camera convex lens and proceeded to my darkroom work.

Here is my FED-2 with the 1956 Jupiter-3 lens I used on the enlarger:

 

The photos:

Well, the most dramatic was the one at the top of the page. I wanted to test the 45mm lens at f18 and 1/125^th second. What I got is a very “creative” yet phantasmagoric photo! My first reaction was “these are creatures from another planet!”  but I quickly settled for the effect of a vintage soft camera lens coupled with a re-calibrated Soviet lens on the enlarger. But, I admit that I do like the result which was the type of surprises I like, even if they look apocalyptic!

 

The next photo is more “from our world” although flare (even with a hood) is apparent along with good sharpness at f4 that also surprised me. The thing I wanted to capture was the head of the small dog the young woman was holding on her chest – a careful look will detect the ears of the dog and its left eye pointingly looking at me! Not bad for that much detail and sharpness from a 65+ years old lens.

 

Finally, a photo that combines the two characteristics I have so far seen from this lens – minimal gray scale transition and, an uncanny depth of field. In this photo the foreground is blurred ad the same time that is the background although the name of the gallery where I had my first Prescott exhibit as a guest artist is in perfect focus!

 

Will I take this camera with me when I need predictable, sharp and smooth transition of shades? Clearly not. However, I will use this camera again for creative, hence somewhat unexpected results. The lens seems to be doing things with my scenes that I cannot create via lens opening and speed changes. Artists have been using plastic Holga medium size cameras for years to achieve such surprises.

Maybe my lens is defective. Or maybe this was my first half-roll with the camera and I will learn to celebrate its character more than hope it will render what I was aiming to capture.

One parting thought—for a photographer who enjoys the design and feel of a camera, the Petri F1.9 is a joy to carry and use. And if the goal is to discover, all over again what you thought you saw through the viewfinder, this is the overall perfect camera for that!

 

December 8, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024