A Trumpet Lens Built Like a Tank but Hiding a Very Soft Heart: The Vivitar Series1 35-85mm Varifocal 1974 Lens

 

I was going to a matinée theatre play and learned that there was a small museum on the premises. Photography is not allowed in theatres, but I thought maybe there will be an interesting moment in the museum.

I decided to take my OM-1 along, and I felt that I should experiment with a lens I bought almost 3 decades ago and never used. It is a groundbreaking design of what is called a varifocal lens – it is not a zoom (these are called parfocal lenses), although it is pull-push (trumpet) like a vintage zoom. It was designed in 1974 by Opcon Associates using early computer modeling to have a constant f2.8 across 35-85mm. It was said that it was like having a series of lenses in one, since every time the “zoom” is used, one needs to refocus manually.

It is historically important of a lens, but it never lived to its promise to be sharp, easy to carry or handle. Indeed the 26 oz (722 grams) of steel and glass make my OM-1 nose dive and my neck beg for mercy!

So, I wanted to have it but never found it useful for street photography.

Here is the Vivitar lens (made by Kino, Japan):

 

And its massive front made for 72mm filter, just in case one wants more weight to add to the lens...

 

 

Yesterday I was impulsively curious to see what the lens can (or rather cannot) do.

 

Being early to the opening of the theatre, I walked around the “museum” which consisted of four rooms showing eclectic art works from local artists. I knew I would not shoot the entire 12 or so frames worth of the ASA 100 Formapan B&W film I had rolled, but I have learned that all it matters is that one frame you shoot to capture a fleeing instant and it ends up a “keeper.”

The very first room I entered was supposed to be a display of costumes, but all I could see was a French bulldog wearing a polka dot dress looking at me and pulling its tongue!

See the photo atop the page – can you see what I saw?

If not, here is the cropped view:

 

Ok, now I needed a photo. I moved around and I could see the “bulldog face” become a large bow tie and a short necktie with the changing shade under the dimly lit room. As I was returning to the spot where the bow tie re-became a dog’s face, I saw a woman in the back of the room. I waited till she got into my viewfinder given my penchant for street photography. I clicked keeping the focus on the middle dress, aperture at 35mm, shutter at 1/30^th of a second, hoping I would not shake too badly holding that lens steady.

 

Verdict: The lens is like a smooth moving tank with a very soft heart! I do not have much experience using it (only 4 frames shot) but it can be all soft, all vintage, all shadows, all unpredictable and all surprising for indoor portraiture. It is a time capsule (although too big to swallow) where we may rediscover photos our parents took.

Otherwise, it is not for street photography where I try to be unnoticed, focus quickly with a camera shutter that does not sound like a guillotine (forget the Bronica Medium Format camera) and after 2 hours of walking the streets I do not search for Ibuprofen tablets on my way to the darkroom.

But if you have to use it, take it out with no film loaded. Walk the crowds, and the odds are that you will meet a lot of new people who all start with the same sentence:

                          “What is that torture machine hanging from your neck?”

 

September 27, 2026

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2026

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