Fitting a Soviet Lens on a German Leica – Is it Worth the Effort?

 

 

When in the 1990s digital photography allowed everyone to “take pics”, the market for mechanical cameras, lenses and other paraphernalia became inundated with classics no one wanted anymore. At some point, one could get watchmaker quality professional cameras from the 1950s and 1960s cheaper than the film needed to shoot them. And online selling gave the chance for all those Soviet cameras and lenses, many in inoperable condition, to be available to those of us for whom photography was all about using light and shadows as we wanted it, rather away from Artificial Intelligence and software caprices.

So I bought many cameras that I could not afford before ranging from a few Leica IIIF, Rolleiflex TLRs, a Hasselblatt, A couple of Mamiya 645s, lovely Nikon Fs, Minolta Autocords, Canon rangefinder cameras and of course Soviet cameras from the 1950s and 1960s. The latter came with bagfuls of lenses the sellers enticed camera buyers with “Contax copy” and “Leica copy” aluminum bodied gems. And that gave my curiosity a new opportunity, which was learning how to make one good lens out of parts from 3 or 4 others!

Then came a new temptation – could these practically free lenses, with amazing glass and all metal bodies be fitted on cameras for which their original lenses cost more than all the equipment I had in my darkroom?

And I was not alone. Photographers and engineers from around the world started posting on the Web about their experiences with modifying amazing Soviet lenses from the 1950s and 60s to fit German and Japanese classic cameras. Of course this was before today’s hi-tech adapters that allow approximate fitting of these lenses even if often do not focus at infinity.

I have read most of the postings over the past 20 years. Even after significant effort to make a Soviet lens focus perfectly on a Leica (or a Leica mount Japanese camera like Canon rangefinders) most of the resulting photos are “soft”. In technical terms softness is the result of the lens focusing in front or behind the subject.

Why? First the construct of the lens differs from Soviet to German. Specifically, Soviet rangefinder lenses have a round cam while the Leica lenses have flat cams. That makes a difference in the trajectory of the cam when the lens focusing ring is rotated. Second, the internal construct of the lenses vary using one or more helicoids, making the linkage between the cam movement and the actual focus adjustment vary between the lens and the camera.

The best explanation, for those who are technically inclined, is by Dante Stella here:

https://www.dantestella.com/technical/compat.html

 

Knowing all this, why did I try to adjust a 1960s Yupiter-9 (Jupiter-9) Soviet 85mm lens to my Leica IIIF? Delusional thinking perhaps, but also because I wanted to see if the incorrect focusing can yield uniqueness in street photography.

First, here is the Yupiter on my Leica. Aesthetically, and with the round auxiliary viewfinder atop the camera, I think it looks like a time machine! If my approximate calculation is correct, there are more than 550 individual parts between the camera and the lens. And the purple, thick Soviet glass looks wonderful…

I did disassemble the lens and adjusted the shims. To my surprise I could see the Leica focusing what seemed perfectly between 2 meters and infinity.  I had to test the new arrangement by taking it along to a Classic Corvette car show downtown. My goal was to take photos where there were people at different distances in one frame. Such as folks on the foreground at about 10 meters, then others between 10 and 20 meters, and the last group 25 or more meters or almost an infinity setting on the focusing ring.

After a while three cowboys arrived to check the corvettes. It was a perfect moment when one cowboy was at about 10 meters sandwiched between folks in the foreground and those 25 or more meters behind him. I focused on the cowboy and was eager to develop the negative (I had rolled a short negative strip of about 5 frames just to test the lens.)

When I looked at that frame take shape on paper in the developing tray, I knew how many before me had felt! Yes, it looked like perfect focusing in the viewfinder but that is an illusion. As Dante Stella said, the Leica now was focusing perfectly on the background not the subject, the cowboy, I had focused on.

The printed “experiment photo” is atop this page.

 

Yet, in the past I have had excellent results with a 1950s Industar on this Leica and a 135mmYupiter-11 on a 1954 Canon L with good results perhaps because it is a much simpler design lens than the 85mm Yupiter-9. Here is the 1950  Industar lens which I also sometimes use on my enlarger which has a Leica mount.

 

 So, again, why try to fit a lens on a camera that was not made for it? Simple – because those of us, who still use film, love the sound of a 60 year old mechanical camera’s shutter and work in a darkroom, we love surprises! Just like after 50 years of B&W photography, I get delighted to see a photo take shape in the developing tray, under a red light.  Thus while I know the construct and calibration of a Soviet lens is not supposed to allow a Leica focus correctly, I still like to tinker with the lens or try multiple lenses hoping that the lax Soviet quality control of the bygone years may have produced a lens that could focus well on a Leica.

The only time this has worked was in using 50mm Industar lenses from 1950 (uncoated) and one from 1964 (coated). I have even displayed such shots at photo exhibits surprising photographers who use Leica lenses. Here is that lens:

 

 

And, to my delight, sometimes these lenses produce unpredictable but lovely effects. Here is one with a 1970s Industar. I focused on the dog lens wide opened (f3.5) and got this dreamy background blur.

 

In conclusion, I would not advocate pursuing  such Frankensteining attempts between a Leica rangefinder camera and a Soviet rangefinder lens if my goal was to take predictable photos. But, for those moments when I feel like playing with the unknown and ready for surprises, it is perhaps an experience every photographer should indulge by losing all control over focusing or telling the story I had in mind.

Now, there will be a new story to tell.

 

September 27, 2021

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2021

 

Tonal Range in B&W Photography: Shades of Gray or Atonement?

 

“You still use film?”

I had found a shady spot under a cottonwood tree to change film in my 1970s Yashica 124 TLR camera.  An older gentleman stopped to see the challenge loading film presents.

“I used to have one of these years ago. Fun to use but you have only 12 shots. And the lens used to flare like a desert thunderstorm at midnight!”

When I was done loading the film, I explained that digital “picture taking” has never been attractive to me as I like taking “photos” and working in a darkroom.

“But you can do so much more with digital” he said, “and you do not need to inhale the Stop Bath fumes!”

So, I gave him my card and said that I will try to write something up on my blog if he is interested, but that I had to catch up with the people in the street for a few more shots.

He took my card and promised to read. So, here is why I like film photography.

 

First of all, I enjoy using mechanical tools, and in the case of cameras be that a 1940s Leica or a 1950s Kiev, I still get excited when tiny wheels, springs and levers move in concert at the pressing of a finger or winding for the next shot. In some ways the photo-taking is more of an adventure than the resulting photo.

Projecting the developed negative under the enlarger makes one find out how the old camera worked, if the lens was closed or opened appropriately to invite the wanted light, and if the shutter speed was chosen correctly. I do not use light meters and rely on my experience with the Sunny 16 rules.

Then, the surprises I have seen almost 60 years ago in the developing pan when a plain paper slowly becomes that moment I froze still amazes me.

Finally, using my hands and home-made shading gadgets, when I dodge or burn for a few seconds under the enlarger light, the moment I froze on film takes a new character. It becomes what I wanted to see when I framed that negative.

So, playing with software on a computer just does not do it for me.

 

Now, there are some visual characteristics that film captures which are quite unique. It is usually called tonality or tonal range. This is the range of tones (or range of gray shades) between the very dark and the very light elements of a photo.  The tonal range can be wide (very dark to very light) or narrow (a transition between shades of gray). Further, the tonal range transition can be abrupt (few shades of gray between the darkest and lightest elements) or smooth (a wide spectrum of grays).

I know there are many ways software driven editing can play with the tonal range. But as a purist and one who only uses B&W film, the challenge of creating a tonal range under the enlarger using dodging and burning remains the true artistic touch during darkroom work.

 

To illustrate, I chose three photos I took with 35mm and 120mm film.

A.    Whistler Mountain, Canada.  I took it in late morning light with a 35mm Nikon F. Then, given the wide range of tones (snow, light reflections on the lake and the shade of trees surrounding it) wanted to create a midnight scene. How could I not with two young women in the middle of the scenery?

Spot dodging and burning took a while, but the final photograph was what I had in mind when I tripped the shutter of that 1969 camera.

 

A.    Big Ben and a pigeons, London. On that day I had a 1953 Kiev A 35mm rangefinder camera with me. The evening sun was soft and bright, and pigeons were flying over us. I waited till one flew over the head of a young boy hopping to catch the sun through the bird’s feathers.

Again, there was enough to experiment with the tonal range.

Interestingly the 1950s Jupiter 8 lens had enough sharpness to capture much detail on a flying bird. Here is the cropped portion – the bird was looking at us…

C.      Ferrara, Italy. Given the perspective, it is clear that I was using a TLR camera hanging from my neck. It was my 1970s Minolta Autocord medium format camera which makes street photography “easier” as people do not see me placing a camera in front of my face.

I have done little editing on this photo. It already had the dark lines and the blurred (bokeh) lighter background. The composition of this photo captured natural the tonal range.

 

So, would digital picture-taking produce photos with these classic tonal ranges? Perhaps. But for sure it would not be as much fun (at least for me) as using a 1960s Hansa Pro enlarger, Ilford Multi Grade IV paper, and Kodak chemicals in my darkroom!

 

September 10, 2021

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2021