Denver, Colorado Performing Arts Complex: Testing the Electronic Metering System of My 1980s Olympus OM-2n Camera and Lenses

 

 

I do not take battery-dependent vintage cameras on trips, as time is not forgiving regarding old circuits. The Olympus Om-2n is one of these cameras that have a great reputation for its unique metering system and mine had worked very well the few times I have used it. So this weekend I left the older all-mechanical Om-1 on the shelf, loaded the Om-2 with 100ASA Arista EDU film, and took along the Zuiko 50mm 1.4 and Zuiko 100mm 2.8 for a test of the Om-2 meter.

Here are the two legendary cameras that revolutionised the size of an SLR in the 1980s. I had always felt like holding a rangefinder, not a vintage SLR, camera when I tried the Om-2n after using the Om-1.

 

 

My experiment was to test how the 50mm 1.4 would perform outdoor on a sunny day opened to f2.0 and f 2.8 by challenging the electronic metering system even if the shutter goes to only 1/1000^th of a second. To further the “manipulation” of camera and film, I pushed the 100 ASA film to ASA 200, and set the exposure compensation to -1.

 

The performances were outdoor, in areas between the Arts center’s building so there was enough shade and sunlight to also test the latitude forgiveness of the Arista film. I specifically aimed at compositions that would encompass the transition of gray, as well as enhance the black tones through the pushing of the ASA setting from 100 to 200.

 

A.    The photo atop the page: I saw few people using cameras as most used their phones. Also, there seemed to be one official photographer carrying a belt full of lenses and a digital camera. He was very professional and photogenic, so I waited for the moment when both of these attributes came together.

I took this photo with the Zuiko 100mm at f2.8. It was in full sun and he raised his camera to take a panoramic shot of the brass band and the crow.

 

B.     The crowd listening to the brass band: Again taken with the Zuiko 100mm at f2.8, I wanted to see how the background would be blurred by the lens wide open. The edges are soft, as expected, and the metering of the full sun to shades is washed out and problematic (see the shoes of the woman in the foreground.) I could have burned that area during the exposure under the enlarger, but left it as is since I was experimenting with the camera.

C.     A glimpse at the brass band: The sun was shining on the tuba and both the brass on the reflected light on the player’s face gave the perfect test moment. The OM-2 electronic meter did delightfully well to produce a vintage photo with a vintage film.

 

D.    The Zuiko 50mm and the singer in the shade of two buildings: I took this one at f2.0. There are no apparent distortions on the corners, although the shoes of the singer are washed out... But I like the contrast, the brick wall, and the transition of the gray to black.

 

E.     The photographer, again!  Well, since I started with the photographer, it is only appropriate to end with him. This one is with the 50mm at f1.4, and it shows the depth of field challenges using a fast lens. I was about to take a second photo of the singer as she was finishing her song, and the photographer rushed in front of me as if to be in the photo as well. Interestingly, the woman’s arm in the air complements well with the photo I had taken of the photographer with both his arms up holding his camera.

 

Was my experiment worthwhile?

I think so.

First, the vintage character the Zuiko lenses produce is delightful. I had used the 100mm lens on my Om-1 before, but rarely needed to use the 50mm f1.4 to replace the pancake size 50mm f1.8, which is lighter and sharper than the f1.4 nut not adequate for most indoor shots on the Ok-1.

Second, albeit the expected softness on the edges, both lenses did remarkably well wide open in the outdoors. The sharpness of the lens, from an “artistic” point of view, is more than acceptable t the center.

Third, the metering system is indeed amazingly more sophisticated than the old center-weighted selenium meter on the Om-1 which became popular in 1969 with the Nikon F. Work can be done in the darkroom to address some of the transition of grays, but there is no comparison with the metering of the Om-2n.

One issue remains: Why the camera and lenses did not like the shoes of the women in my photos?

And that, surely requires another testing session.

 

September 13, 2026

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2026

A 1966 Nikon Nikkor-H Lens At a 2026 Indonesian Dragon Festival in Denver, Colorado

 

Last Sunday an Indonesian Dragon festival took place in Denver. It was a perfect gathering around a small lake featuring South East Asian music, traditional dances, boat races, and ethnic food. For me, it was a time for photography, hoping that beside the obvious shots of ethnic dances, I would find a moment to take my Nikon F “for a walk” and bring back a few photos on B&W film.

While I have travelled the globe for decades with, among other cameras a Nikon F, the most common lens I used is the 1960s Nikkor – S Auto f1.4. It is fast, very versatile for various environments and light conditions, and balances perfectly on the Nikon F.

But this time I wanted a lighter lens, one of equal historical meaning to “purist” photographers who see the vintage look and feel of B&W photography the ultimate way to tell a story. Not to get photos of dimples on teenage fleas. Not to attract the viewer’s eye by creating colours through AI manipulations. Just to tell a story about everyday human behavior that would let the viewer dream a little, hope a little, and wish they had taken time to notice some daily behavior.

… The Nikkor-H is an unpretentious lens – it is not as fast as the Nikkor-S, the built is very solid but not an engineering masterpiece, and it does not have a flat-field optical correction design like the most celebrated Leica Summicron 50mm f2. Instead, it is light to carry, has above average contrast compared to lenses of that era, the front lens is recessed enough and does not need a hood, and the focusing is much faster than the Nikkor-S or the Leica Summicron. In short, a true photojournalist lens for quick shots and ease of carry.

 

Here is my Nikon F with the Nikkor-H, both from the 1960s:

 

Note original leather case embossed "Nippon Kogaku, Tokyo, Made in Japan". Also see eyepiece correction lens I “designed” on the view finder. It is a Nikon F3 +1.00 diopter magnifier that does not fit the older Nikon F. So, I came up with my own method of attaching it to the F making my focusing faster and with enough extension from the camera body so my spectacles would not be scratched:

 

 

So, I walked around the crowd and the lake looking for that moment that would be best brought home on B&W film taken by a no-frills vintage camera and lens.

The dancers were wearing traditional Indonesian dance attire, the music was pleasant, there were hundreds of visitors either carrying young children or being pulled by their dogs through the walking crowd. The race boats were too far for a 50 mm lens, and the lines in front of the food kiosks too long.

 

Then I saw a group of young women waiting to go on stage to perform their dances. They were from a dance studio, advanced beginners I was told, but eager to perform. Somehow, as I looked at them, I saw the moment in B&W, perhaps because it was an overcast day; or perhaps because of their attire.

Of course everyone was moving and getting ready to get on stage. I had to find my focusing spot/person, be ready for that split second when the dancers would create choreography for me, and use the Sunny 16 rule to quickly adjust the f-stop on the lens when the sun would suddenly peak out of the clouds mid-my photo taking.

I took 4 photos before they go on stage.

The photo at the outset of this post is of the waiting time the young dancers eagerly experienced while looking at the group dancing before them. I waited to see some unscripted choreography and guessed that the two dancers on the outside of the group may raise their elbows up in unison framing the shot. I focused on the lady at the forefront, as she was the only one I could see with a painted design on her cheeks and nose. I thought the sharpness of the Nikkor-H could be tested by how clearly that painting would be captured on film. Overall, the attired of the dancers and their uncovered shoulders seemed to naturally make it a moment in B&W.

Here is the extreme zooming and cropping from the scanned photo to show the face painting. A zoom from the actual negative would be more sharp, but my vintage Hansa Pro enlarger cannot zoom that close.  However, not bad for a 60 year old lens that was the workhorse for Nikon F in the 1960s!

The next photo is my favorite. I had a split of a second to capture the posture of the two dancers, so the focusing is a bit off. But the story is there, and that is what counts for me.

 

As I printed the photos, I was wondering if a Leica Summicron would have done better than the Nikkor-H which was called by photojournalists the “Japanese Summicron”.  I am not sure. I have used the collapsible  Summicron on my 1954 Leica IIIF, and while it is a marvel of German engineering (albeit expectedly over-engineered), I ended up favoring my 1948 Canon Serenar f1.9 for more frequent use. Clearly, if I were a photographer of landscapes or architectural structures, the flat-field capability of the Summicron would be a must. But for street photography, the Nikkor-H is perfect given ease of use, weight, size and price which is a fraction of what the Summicron used to and continues to cost.

At the end of the day, under the red light of a darkroom, what counts is what a photographer was able to do with his ability to anticipate a street moment and capture it.

 

September 1, 2026

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2026

A 1960s Miranda Sensorex with a Homemade Waist-level View Finder – From Film to Pencil Drawing

 

I do like to use wait-level viewfinder cameras for street photography to capture a moment without affecting the behaviour of the subjects by explicitly pointing a camera toward them. I have a short spot in me for TLR cameras, but the 12 or 15 exposure films and the often dim screens often make me miss that critical moment. Using vintage 35mm wait –level finders like 1940s Prakticas or 1950s Exaktas is a lot of fun, but the viewfinders are small and focusing may be a challenge.

Finally, although I rarely use vintage cameras with light meters, I have never owned a wait-level finder camera that had a light meter.

So, my curiosity to use one led me to modify my 1960s Miranda Sensorex ^(1,2) from a prism eye finder to a waist-level finder because the light meter sensor is build behind the mirror, and taking the prism off still shows the meter needle in the focusing screen.

Yet, it is a 35mm camera with a small view screen. To make focusing easier, I used a 4x magnifying glass made for close-up photography for the 1980s Olympus—OM1.

It may not be aesthetically appealing and may look like a military bunker turret (!) to some, but my goal was to see how I can have the better of two worlds…

 

Here is the Sensorex with the contraption I made and showing the pentaprism I took off. The through the lens picture is bright and easy to focus, and the meter needle perfectly visible to adjust.

 

Here is the frontal view

 

So off I went to testing my “new” Miranda.

 

I shot a roll of 20 frames by using the camera’s light meter for 10 frames, and my usual Sunny 16 method for the other 10. The results were quite comparable telling me that the meter is still working reliable after 60 years.

However, one shot I took without the light meter came out most delightful, and it is shown atop this page. I used a Kodak enlarger deep red filter during the printing and exposed the paper for 18 seconds, as the original negative was underexposed.

Not only this photo has all the vintage look and feel, but it is close to a pencil drawing. So, I took my inspiration to a sheet of water colouring paper, sharpened my #2 pencil, and let my imagination dictate the lines based on the feel from the photo.

 

 

Now the circle was completed.

 

(1)     https://liveingray.blogspot.com/2022/06/miranda-sensorex-forgotten-almost.html

 (2)    https://liveingray.blogspot.com/2019/07/national-cowboy-day-in-prescott-az.html

 

August 27, 2026

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2026

A Walk along Larimer Street in Denver, Colorado

 

Larimer Street, between the 24^th and 32^nd streets is in a neighborhood called River North Arts District or RiNo, and has its own mascot – a rhino of course. The landmark on Larimer Street is an iconic rhino mural painting.

I took a photo of that mural on the way to a Spanish restaurant for tapas. Yet the two blocks of that street seemed out of place in a busy cosmopolitan city.

Open air markets, restaurants, and impressive painting on building facades. The people walking around seemed self-selected with an air of Epicureanism and retro clothing.

Later, I walked around with a 1953 Canon L3 rangefinder camera and a 35mm Canon Sererar lens, and I was delighted that one of the vendors was selling vintage film cameras. We spoke for a few minutes.

The painting of the rhino was most memorable. The photo at the top of this post shows how the artist has captured strength along with patience in a magnificent animal now adorned with lines one would not see on the African continent. And this rhino is introspective -- see the third eye?

Another painting, more suggestive and zen, had yet another message. It was brutally expressive, and seemed to address the multiple human identities -- in contrast to the rhino it did not have a Third Eye, but there was that inner identity displayed on his forehead.  But, was he human? I have seen such paintings in and around temples in Taiwan, often bringing messages to humans from the underground.

 

This next photo is about a moment that stood still on that street in Denver. It was not a mural painting,, and it was not unique – just  a moment that tempts every street photographer to let his camera click.

 

Talking about camera, this last one was the reaction of young men seeing me raise that camera to my eye. I like the body posture of the man who was most curious about what I was hoping to get from that old instrument I was holding.

 

I think he taught I was an eccentric, like many other walkers on that street by pointing toward him what looked like a camera just to get attention. I am almost sure he did not think that my Canon was a working camera…

July 2, 2026

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2026

The Wabi-Sabi of B&W Street Photography

 

 

I was admiring a compendium of waterfalls photos a landscapes and nature colleague of mine had taken, in B&W, during a trip to Latin America.

“It is all about patience, “he started, “the technique is relatively simple nowadays with digital cameras. But composition, the right light and surrounding high textured structures remain what distinguishes a seasoned photographer from one who is fascinating by the water, rocks and trees and forgets to tell his own story.”

“Eventually, the story is capturing the perfect harmony between the movement and stillness; between fluidity and still textures,” he concluded.

“I assume you never used a tripod for street photography, yes?”

 

Indeed, my work relies on walking among those who are moving as well” I summarized. “Most importantly, to do so without effecting their behavior. So, a tripod or a large camera is not what I carry in my small, vintage leather bag.”

Then he asked if, as he had done with the focusing on patience, I could narrow down the secret of B&W street photography.

It was not a difficult question to answer. 

“It is the search the perfect imperfection that in moments that are not framed by the photographer,” I replied. “There is no time to compose, wait for the light or reformulate the best combination of shutter speed and lens aperture. You just guess, through experience, how the composition could naturally shape itself based on predictable human behavior, and get ready to capture it before it changes and disappears.”

He laughed. “Especially since you are in the ancient ages of using mechanical cameras and film! By the time your thumb rewinds the film to the next frame, the world had changed around you…”

So, I promised to share a few shots with him.

 

A.    The photo atop the page is from Old Town Vienna, Austria.  The evening light was soft upon the stone columns and I was having coffee with friends. I saw the young woman pushing the stroller and had enough time for a quick click on my Nikon F sporting a 1960s Nikkor-Q 20cm lens. The composition was created by the moment, serendipitously.

 

B.     Stephansdom, Vienna, Austria. I took a few seconds to frame this shot because I was using a Mamiya 645 1000s camera and a Ukrainian Arsat fisheye lens. But the mime unexpectedly opened his eyes just as clicked, making the shot a story.

 

C.     Siena, Italy.  Ancient stone walls, when the light is right, are among my favorite framework (and frame) for capturing stories in B&W. As I was walking the streets of Sienna, I saw a pigeon in the gap between two stones. As I was about to take a photo with my 1954 Canon L3 rangefinder, the pigeon got out and another popped its head from the opening between the next stones. I was delighted, when I looked at the developed film, that I had caught the split second of the moment as a witness.

 

D.    Paris, France. Here is an example of the stone walls, almost at dusk, helping with the “texture serenity.”  I was walking along the Seine when I saw this young woman comfortably sitting on the stone steps wearing sunglasses. The photo is taken with the Mamiya 645 1000s and the venerable Mamiya Sekor 80mm 1.9 lens.

 

Next, are a couple of “aquatic” photos for my friend to perhaps see street photography in aquatic settings.

 

A.    Watson Lake, Prescott, Arizona. These are one more of an anthropomorphic rendition of ducks’ behavior in the lake. The 3 of them dove in synchrony and I took a photo. Then I saw one separated from the other two, and clicked again. I took the photo with a 1954 Leica iiif and a Canon 85mm Serenar lens, but these were just a fun shot. When I developed the film, I was amazed that two of the ducks seemed to “hold hand” while plunged upside down in the water while the third one had been “kicked away”! What argument did they have underwater?

 

and

B.     Santa Cruz, California.  This would be a perfect setting for my friend to experiment with B&W photos of the waves and rocks at sunset. But for me, it was what I first thought to be seals in the water. It was only when I looked through the viewfinder of my 1982 Minolta X-700 and its 250 mm Kiron lens that I realize these were surfers catching the waves. I took a few shots (the external film auto winder still works…) and this one had captured one surfer up on its board. In that sense, it is a “street photo” in a context of rocks and waves!

 

 and the cropped section

…  Here you go, my friend. In our conversation I described my work as cherishing the perfect imperfection of street photography and vintage fashion B&W film. But perhaps it is also the Japanese Wabi-Sabi philosophy where the search for aesthetics and harmony is to celebrate authenticity more than perfection. As such, it is partaking in the transient nature of moments, and hope to freeze that or those moments on silver embedded film pellicule.

Of course my comments are about B&W street photography where you capture whatever is presented without the perfect staging.

Landscape and water photography in B&W are true creative interaction between the setting and the photographer as Ansel Adams said:

 

                                                          “You do not take a photograph; you make it”

April 24, 2026

©Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2026

Last Photo of 2025

 

 

I am not a fan of cameras that fully depend on battery too function. There are two exception, though – Nikon F3 and Olympus OM-1.  While I have never had a bad Nikkor lens, the only Olympus Zuiko lenses that come close to vintage lens effects are the 50mm f1.8 and the 100mm f2.8.

That being said, I do own cameras that I rarely use given their dependency on battery, among then the Nikon FG and the Olympus OM-2n. Their acquisition was to complete my collection, and when I question why I have been stuck in the 1940s and 1950s with my all mechanical cameras, I go back, load the “newer” cameras with half a strip of film, and I become a bystander as these cameras do the metering, winding and other things on their own.

And when I print a few photos, I take the cameras back to the shelves they were sitting on for decades…

Few days ago I decided to take the Om-2n and 50mm Zuiko lens downtown for the last street photos of 2025. Since Om-2n is smaller than the true professional OM-1, I fitted my old OM-1’s winder to help me with steadier shots, and rolled and loaded about 6 frames B&W ASA 100 film strip.

Here is the camera and lens

 

And my travels’ challenges survivor winder with the tape still holding the loose battery compartment shut tight …

 

I chose one frame to print, as, under the loupe, the developed strip seems to have captured a story I wanted to capture. It was about a woman and a child setting up a children’s theatre on the sidewalk. The sun was perfectly transforming the woman into a fairy, and the dark hair of the child gave the contrast I was seeking.

After a bit of burning under enlarger, the photo emerged as an example of what a good lens and slow film can deliver – a delicate and unintrusive softness, depth of field, and enough mystery for different viewers to interpret.

But, there was also a surprise. When I looked closely to the printed photo, I saw a 5 dollar bill in the left hand of the child. I had not seen it in the split second I took the photo, or on the film strip under the loupe.

 

Wonderful! Now my last street photo of 2025 and first post of 2026 has a mystery and a story for each viewer to propose.

 

January 1, 2026

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2026