Upper Antelope Canyon on Navajo Land in Arizona – a Symphony of Light and Shape on B&W Film

 

 

A recent trip to Page, Arizona included the tour of one of six canyons where light, shape and colour provide dramatic optical delights.

The Navajo Upper Antelope Canyon is called Tsé bighánílíní in Navajo language meaning “the place where water runs through the rocks.” Rainwater during the monsoon season (heavy rains for a month or so) created flash flooding and eroded Navajo Sandstone and created passageways and corridors while polishing and smoothing rough edges in the sandstone. This resulted in shapes that flow like the water passage, and openings atop the walls of the canyon. The light that filters through such open passages creates delightful, somehow psychedelic colours and shapes.

The canyons are the main attraction of the Lake Powell Navajo Tribal Park and access to these canyons are only possible through guided tours by Navajo.

Needless to say, I was intrigued by the photo opportunities such a tour can provide. However, since I do not own or use digital cameras, the challenge of using a vintage film camera, without flash, and slow 100 ASA B&W film provided the challenge I always desire. However, just in case I wanted memories of the promised colours, I opted to rely on the “camera” of my phone…

The evening before the tour I saw a huge square frame in a field as if to frame the background scene. As I was trying to solve the mystery, a young boy appeared out of nowhere and sat in the frame. The street photographer in me immediately pointed the camera and clicked. The boy got up a few seconds later and walked toward the house on the left.

Here is that photo

 

And a cropped section showing the moment

 

What a delightful moment that was when the frame, the field, the boy and the evening sky came together in harmony!

The next morning on the way to the Navajo Tribal Park, I drove by a number of Navajo jewelry stands by the highway. Most were simple open structures where silver and turquoise handmade jewelry are sold by tribal artists. But then there was the one shown atop of the page! I just could not resist pulling over and taking a few photos using my 1981 Minolta X700 camera sporting a 1972 Soligor 20mm f2.8 lens. The banner featuring a Navajo grandma, her grandson, the jewelry stand, the mountain and the white truck described the environment perfectly

That photo is atop this entry.

… Once on the guided tour of the Upper Antelope Canyon, I realised why it is a very attractive place to visit. The light from the openings of the canyon walls filtered gracefully to create form and colour in the most abstract way. As such, the observers were provided to interpret what they saw. The ultimate set-up for guided pareidolia!

So, I opened the lens to its fullest (f2.8) and set the shutter speed to 1/15^th of a second and finished a roll of film hoping that some will be “artistic” enough given the camera shake and the unpredictable sources of light. In a few settings, when my own pareidolia let me to “see” shapes, I took photos with both the real camera and with my phone to see how colour tells a different story from B&W.

Here are a couple of examples:

The angle of view in this photo reminded me of an avian head. The digital version of that view was as follows:

When I printed the B&W film version in my darkroom, I discovered TWO birds!

 

Regarding this second photo, I just liked the multitude of shapes that in my mind could swirl in a monochromatic version.And here is what came out in the developing pan, under my darkroom’s red light:  :

 

Now I saw a small shark (bottom left) trying to grab an enormous seahorse (top half in the middle)!

However, if the canyon was naturally in the shades of gray, it would not be as spectacular. People from around the world would not come to Navajo land to experience the changing colours and shapes with the changing of daily light filtering through the openings of the canyon walls. And for capturing that feeling, colour photography is essential.

Here is one moment I caught when light coming through the tunnel passage and and a small hole in the ceiling of the canyon gave us a spectacular display:

What my eyes saw

 And what it would be if the world was monochrome...

… A visit to a canyon, formed by the sedimentation of sandstone sand washed from higher mountain basins to carved passages through the Navajo Sandstone was a photography experience I had not attempted before.  My goal was not to take photos of the canyon -- for that I would have used medium format cameras (probably my 1948 Rolleiflex TLR), a tripod, and flash light. Instead, I wanted to capture a story behind what light and shape can "write" on cellulose, stories that the eye may not see when being "distracted" by colour.

Yet, on that trip, I found a couple of moments to be what I have been for more than half a century – a street photographer!

 

PS/ I shared the canyon photos (in colour and B&W) with a friend who had toured the canyon. Her interpretation of the “avian photo” was:

“ .. looks like an ostrich turning his head and squawking at the person who just plucked his feather.”

The joys of interpreting abstract art…

 

September 17, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024

Expired Film, Expired Developer Solution and the Revenge of Unappreciated Photos

 

 

A couple of weeks ago, I wanted to test if a film roll, expired 6 years ago, will still have enough sensitivity to capture moments from a very dimly lit theater where a local band was performing. Adding to the challenge, I loaded the film in my 1954 Leica IIIF Red Dial and put a 1948 Canon Serenar collapsible lens that was very fast for the period at f1.9. Here is the combination and a close up of the lens:

 

The lens is a collectible, but a poor performer in sunny situations. I have rarely used the f1.9 setting, as f8 seemed to be the most acceptable setting for street photography. As for the Leica, I have owned and used it for decades without maintenance. The speeds slower than 1/25^th seconds are now erratic, but 1/100^th seconds and faster are still perfectly acceptable. I knew I would need to test the 1/25^th seconds speed along with the “freshness” of the ASA 100 film.

But in the theater I encountered two new challenges – the stage had spot lights on the musicians but the rest of the space was lit with red lights! So, it was very difficult to even see the musicians through my ancient viewfinder – I had to resort to zone focusing, hoping that someone on that stage will be in focus!

When I developed the film, I was delighted that all frames were well exposed. The film seemed still in fine shape even though I had not kept it in the freezer like many rolls I have.  And under the loupe, I could tell that the zone focusing had worked with smooth tonal transitions and decent focusing. Here is the frame I developed (no chemical contamination on the pellicule!) and a section of the developed film strip showing perfect development:

When I prepared the chemicals for printing a few frames, I realised that the film developer solution was older than I like. But, eager to see how the prints would come out, I was delighted to think that it is only appropriate to have an “expired” developer solution while using an expired film!

So, I chose a frame, exposed the photographic paper for 45 seconds under my enlarger and let the white sheet into the developer solution expecting that magic of a photo forming in a few seconds. When I took the paper out of the solution pan, I realised that the developer solution was too old as it was a bit syrupy over the paper.

So, I tossed the exposed paper in the trash bin without going to the next two steps of dipping it in the “Stop Bath” pan, and then into the “Fixer” pan. Since the negative was excellent, I decided to try again when I mix a fresh Developer Solution.

And I forgot about it all.

Yesterday, as I was emptying my trash bin, I saw that printed photo. Over more than 10 days, the chemicals in the expired developer solution had run chaotically over that paper and crystallised in the most delightful way!  So, I took the unexpectedly “artistic” photo to the sink, washed the crystals and hung it to dry.

Too be honest, the photos I took were just to test the equipment – pure curiosity by someone who always tries to get the most from old tools, enjoys old methods of using the tools, and celebrates all surprises. In this case, the unexpected touch of the developer solution’s chemicals made the photo one I will remember.

And, to realise that really, I had no participation in the process. All I had done was to throw the “half-baked” printed paper in the trash bin. Now I learned a wonderful lesson – never disregard the ability of the ordinary to, somehow, become extraordinary!

Maybe I will use this photo as one would use the Rorschach inkblot test – see what people will see depending on who they were and what they have become. I sure have my own interpretation about this band playing in an underwater cave surrounded by aquatic sponges gently swinging to the New Orleans jazz rhythm and flow...

 

September 3, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024

Prescott, Arizona 2024 July 4th Frontier Arts and Parade Through Nikon’s Most Loved and Least Loved Film Cameras

 

 In the past few months, I have revisited some of my vintage cameras that I had not used for a while. I often get the curiosity to walk the streets with cameras that I have used decades ago, perhaps driven by memories or the curiosity to discover what I had not appreciated before.

The camera I have most memories traveling around the world hanging from my neck, out of dozens of vintage film cameras I have, is the 1960 Nikon F. Not only has this camera redefined photojournalism, but its ruggedness has been proven unequaled by war zone photographers. I have had the camera for more than 40 years, ran miles of film through it, never needed repair, and the Photomic light meter still works perfectly.

The camera I have no memories by is the Nikon FG. A friend gave it to me in the 1990s when his father passed away and he found it in the attic. It is the most unattractive Nikon film camera in my opinion and by “Nikonians”. It is plastic, too small for my hands, too light for staying in focus when I need to turn quickly for a street moment, and it needs batteries to function – a non-no for me! Plus, it has the most uncomfortable rewinding lever, made of two folding pieces that resembles a broken finger.

So, I decided to load the most loved Nikon F and the least loved Nikon FG with 100 ASA B&W film and go to the July 4^th Frontier Arts Show and the street parade in downtown Prescott.

Here are the two cameras

 

The lens on the Nikon F is the venerable Nikkor-S Auto Non-AI 50mm 1.4 1950’s version.

The lens on the FG is a 1967 Nikkor-P Auto 180mm 2.8, originally Non-Ai but factory upgrade to AI.  I wanted to see how the Aperture Priority of the FG metering will work with the primitive coating on that 60 year old lens.

 

… I saw a friend downtown, a connoisseur in arts who knew about my proclivity to ignore parades and look for photos of people.

“Any photos of the parade?” he asked.

“Not yet” I said.

 

Photos with the Nikon F and 50mm 1.4 Nikkor-S Auto Lens

 

 

On My 13 2024, a memorial structure was erected for the Granite Mountain 19 Hotshots, firefighters who died fighting the June 2013 wildfire. Given the hot weather of the desert, Arizona is constantly at risk for fires that spread quickly and firefighters have a special place in the hearts of the residents.  The memorial consists of a beautiful statue immortalizing firefights, as well as the names of the fallen Hotshots carved into two huge granite slabs.

The sun was positioned to display a perfect shadow of the statue on the granite and I wanted to test the Photomic meter’s ability of capturing the tonal progression between the statue, the shadow and the bright white granite.

Just as I was pressing the shutter, a woman sat behind the statue and her face was beautifully framed by the curvature of the statue’s legs. Plus, there were artists’ kiosks in the background placing the shot in the context of the July 4^th Art show and parade.

When I developed the roll of film, I was delighted by the lens and light meter – the photo has that vintage feel, the soft tonal transitions yet sharpness of the lens, all bringing back memories of photos I have taken on four continents.

 

The second photo I chose from The Nikon F is actually from the parade, again testing the light and shade transitions via the 50mm lens. I waited till the group of women wearing frontier day attires bass by and get into the bright light to focus on the man, again following them holding a shotgun. And the result was as I had hoped – pleasant bokeh and depth of field, a lot of action, and a body posture by the man in black one can see in 19^th century photographs from the Southwest.

 

 

Photos with the Nikon FG and Nikkor-P Auto 180mm lens

The main reason I opted for the 180mm lens is that is long and heavier (880 grams) than any Nikon 180mm lens made after 1970. I felt that I could stabilise the light and small FG camera better and maintain a good focus. I was wrong – the plastic Nikon never fit well in my hands and rewinding the film with that “broken finger”, two piece winding lever did not allow for quick follow up shots.

However, I saw a painter working on a new work in front of his kiosk on the other side of the road where the parade was taking place. He was about 35 meters away (as I gauged by the focusing ring of the lens) and he was not moving. He was in total shade so I opened the lens wide to f2.8 to test the Aperture Priority metering of the camera.

When I looked at the developed pellicule, I could see the painter was very dark, there were flaring corners on the left side of the frame, but I liked the composition. So I did quite a bit of dodging to bring the painter out, and burning to lighten out the canvas he was painting on.

While the metering is not the greatest and the tonal transitions are rough, the finished photo (atop the page) is a tribute to Nikon’s lens. Even at f2.8 and not being multi-coated, the sharpness and definition of the lens produced a photo of the painter that looks, well, almost like a painting!

 

 

This second photo is about the parade, taken at an aperture of f8. Again, the two ladies were too dark and the street and horses too bright. Not only I did not enjoy handling the FG, I found the metering not conducive to variable light transitions hence creative planning. And the poorly dampened mirror flap is louder than a 1950’s Soviet Kiev medium format camera!

A bit of darkroom work on this frame as well, and again, the beauty of the lens came through. The focus on the lady’s patriotic cowboy hat yielded perfect sharpness and the blurred foreground is smooth and captures the movement of parading horses.

 

Concluding Thoughts

I learned photography when there were no batteries small enough to fit into the frame of a camera. When the top shutter speed was 1/250^th of a second, and when lenses were not coated. With such “primitive” light boxes, the focus was on the creativity of the photographer in using a few adjustments to fit the moments’ challenges regarding light, shade, and movement.

I still used such tools, even when they got more sophisticated and versatile in the 1960s.  The Sunny 16 Rule for synchronizing between lens aperture and shutter speed is all one needs for street photography with B&W film. Of course, microphotography and taking photos of the moon need the wonder tools of today.

And in all this, perhaps in part because of nostalgia for the golden years of B&W photography (1940-1970), the vintage feel one gets from old lenses and ASA 60-100 B&W film is unduplicated with modern lenses and all the AI assisted manipulations of digital pictures.

Yes, I cannot erase pictures and keep on clicking more with a film camera. I have to think and anticipate knowing I have one chance to capture what I have in mind. And then will work in the darkroom, mix chemicals, and use a dim red light to develop and print a few photos.

But it remains a pure joy to recall the shutter sound of a 1969 Nikon F when squinting my eyes to focus the frame on photographic paper, under a 1950’s enlarger!

And when the white paper metamorphoses into a photograph in the developing tray, I know it was a the result of a collaboration between the photographer and his camera.

 

July 8, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024

A 1954 Canon Rangefinder Camera and 50mm f1.8 Lens : Street Photography with Wide Lens Opening

 

I like using vintage cameras that are known to be eccentrically engineered or have original lenses that are average, at best. And the reason is simple – I believe that such cameras bring the best in a photographer in thinking about how to bypass these limiting factors and plan for a shot that sometimes can envy the most celebrated photographic tools of the 1940's and 1950's.

Of course, the ultimate result, or at least the final one, is decided in the darkroom, first in experimenting with the development time of the negative strip, then under a vintage enlarger that is just a lens, enlarging glass and a 40 watt light bulb.

… So, this weekend I decided to take my 1954 Canon rangefinder Model L3 to a gathering on the city square of Prescott, AZ where artists and territorial days’ cowboy reenactors allowed the public to know more about the past and present characters of Prescott.

First, about the camera which I have owned and used for decades.

The Model L3 is a simplified version of Canon rangefinders of the 1940's and 1950's. These were the golden years of rangefinder cameras and Leica was the undisputed favorite of professional and advanced amateurs of the days. And for all the good reasons, pushing Soviet, Japanese and to a lesser extend American companies try to get a slice of the market. It was all rangefinder then, till Nikon, in the misd-1960s, came out with the venerable Nikon F and established the dominant superiority of the SLR as the most versatile professional camera.

Yet, in the 1950s, Canon had introduced many advanced features to its rangefinders that Leica did not have. These included incorporating selectable viewfinders thus minimizing the need to use various external viewfinders for the most commonly used focal length lenses; loading the film by opening the back of the camera rather than struggling with the “bottom feeding” of Leicas, and having a single viewing viewfinder instead of the two step viewing-focusing and framing of the Leica models.

But, no competitor of Leica was able to “design” that poetry of holding a rangefinder that worked like a Swiss watch, sounded like the first morning breeze of a July day, and had the ergonometric of a heirloom piece of jewelry.

To make the point, here are my Canon Model L3 and Leica IIIF Red Dial, both from 1954. I sometimes called the Leica around my neck akin to a “male necklace”, and the Canon an unassuming and totally reliable photo maker.

Ok, so my experiment this week end was to use the magnificent Canon 50mm f1.8 lens at wide aperture, hence as high speeds during the high noon sun of the desert. This, I had never done before since I favor using the Sunny 16⁽¹⁾ rule for quick shots – leave the speed at 1/125^th of a second for ASA 100 film, and shoot either at f11 or f16 for rapid follow ups. My experiment was to shoot at 1/250^th and 1/500^th second in bright sun by opening the lens diaphragm wider and exploring what effect the lens would have on the background. And to try f4 at those speeds if I could find shady spots.

To do this, I needed to rely on a light meter. So, I took a 1940's Kodalux (by Kodak, of course) cold shoe mounting selenium light meter out of retirement to see if it was still able to react to light appropriately.  Here is that vintage light meter:

 

 

Pictures

 

The Nordic vessel

 

The photo atop the page is about an art kiosk where the artist had displayed his woodwork using fallen wood in the desert. Branches from indigenous Arizona desert trees made most of what was displayed. The main work was in oiling, polishing the natural shape of the wood as the artist found them.

As I worked around the kiosk, at a certain angle, I could see a Medieval, almost Nordic sea faring vessel. To blur or minimize the background and enhance my vision of the “vessel”, I decided upon a shutter speed of 1/500^th second and a lens aperture of f4.

As I was about to press the shutter, the artist came out of the kiosk, leaned against the tree trunk, and spoke to a visitor.

I took one photo before he moved, and I like the result – he looks like the captain at the bow, cutting through the water!

 

Yavapai county Fallen Officers memorial

 

This is a memorial that depicts an 1890’s law officer looking down at the empty boots of his partner who lost his life in the line of duty. It is a solemn corner of the courthouse front where many stop and hang their heads.

I saw two reenactors walk toward the memorial and I wanted to make this photo an o\”old fashion” one. I took it at 1/500^th shutter speed and f8. The Canon lens captured the transition of shades perfectly, and I was able to get the man and woman holding the white umbrella think respectfully about the memorial and what it represents.

 

The cowboy bar without cowboys

During the art show, there was a reconstruction of the 1890’s cowboy bar to be used as a setting for visitors to dress in the period’s clothing and pose for old time photos. No one was there yet and the tall tree provided plenty of shade for me to try the maximum aperture of the lens.

So, I finally tested the f1.8 under the high noon dessert! Well, it was really shady actually, but for the decades I have owned this lens, I always used the f1.8 indoors, with minimum light, at 1/30^th speed.

I will try to find more moments like this as the atmosphere given by this 1954 lens is delightful.

 

… When I took these photos out of the fixer bath tray and hung them to dry, I was thinking:

“after decades of using the Canon rangefinder, it sure was time to test the camera beyond the Sunny 16 rule framework!”

 

 

Reference link

(1)  https://liveingray.blogspot.com/2023/07/the-sunny-16-rule-in-b-street.html

Moments from the 2024 Memorial Day Art Show Through a Fungus Infested 1960’s Zeiss Ikon Contaflex Camera Tessar Lens. Prescott, AZ

 

 

Background to the story

A neighbor sent me a note that he had old cameras and wanted to see if I would be interested to add to my collection. So, I dropped by to check.

There were a couple of 1940’s Kodak cameras his parents owned and a 1960s Zeiss Ikon Contaflex. The Kodak would be a good addition to the collection, I thought, but the Contaflex may be usable, although the lens was almost obscured by decades old fungus infestation.  So, I gave these cameras a new home.

I have two Zeiss Ikon cameras, all given to me by folks who did not want to keep them. Interestingly, I was able to get them work again, but they are too cumbersome to use, as vintage German cameras were over-engineered for the basic functions they carry out. When they brake, no one would touch them to repair. Yet, when they work, only those who enjoy the sound of dozens of springs working in harmony to trigger a shutter will still use these vintage cameras.

I am one of the latter. I do enjoy learning about historic developments in camera design, and I never minded spending hours figuring out how to replace a rusted or broken spring. However, I had never cleaned massive fungal infestation in a lens!

So, it was a new experience, and I decided to take upon the task of figuring out how to open the Tessar lens and clean the fungus.

With guidance from other people’s experience (which mostly was “do not try it!”) I found where the cement had eroded and fungal spores had probably gotten in, when the camera was stored in a humid environment.

I cleaned it diligently, and put it back together using epoxy instead of the historic Canada Balsam that Zeiss had used in the 1950s and 1960s. Here are the before and after pictures of the lens:

The previously gifted Zeiss cameras I have represent different decades of German engineering during the golden years of photography:

And the restored 1960’s Contaflex I recently received from my neighbor:

 

Using the Contaflex for street photography on Memorial Day in Prescott, AZ

As on every Memorial Day weekend, there is an art show on the city square providing opportunity to both discover new artists and, for a street photographer, to look for a few moments and capture them on film. This year was special for me since I had no idea if the Contaflex was working correctly, or if my first attempt to clean the fungal growth from its lens was successful.

So I tried various light-environments to see if the coupled selenium meter was reliable enough to allow the automatic shutter priority system to choose the right f-stop.

A. Photos taken in semi-shade with 1/30 or 1/60 second shutter speed

The photo atop this page shows why in the 1940s the Tessar lens was called “adler auge” or “eagle –eye”. It had the simple construct of 4 elements in 3 groups, but was among the sharpest lenses of the time. Today, it is the “character” of the lens photographers would speak about, not its sharpness. And I chose the photo of a photography kiosk to capture that character. I took the shot from less than 5 meter distance, so the sharpness is quite noticeable in the center of the frame. But it is the “bleeding of the shadows” and the smooth transition from light to darker shades that makes this shot a good representative of what the lens can still do based on its simple design from the 1930!

 

While the wave of visitors was in constant flux around the kiosk, I noticed a man taking a nap in the shade of a tall tree. The white cowboy hat was a natural contrast for all the shades of gray in the composition. In the printed photo, the tonal transition is smooth and the camera focus seems to be working quite accurately.

 

 

This photo of a kiosk displaying Native American artwork was taken at a shutter speed of 1/60 second. I focused on the two-headed pottery and the two people were just a couple feet behind that artwork. The depth of field is very shallow and the window in the viewfinder indicated that the camera chose f5.6 for the aperture. I would have chosen f4, but that is very satisfactory from a 64 year old camera…

 

This shot, also taken at f5.6 and 1/60 second shutter speed perhaps best demonstrates what a simple lens design first introduced in the 1930s can still deliver that dreamy feeling when light and shade co-exist. Indeed, modern lenses, although amazingly sharp, may sometimes be “fooled” by the quick changes of light, even when today’s advanced meters (or sensors) are used. The woman was throwing a baseball to the kid and the sun was intermittently covered by tree branches due to the high wind.

Still, one can see the ball reaching the boy, and the tonal transition is delightful.

 

B.     Photos taken in strong light with the speed shutter set at 1/125 second

 

This is where the fun started!  The next photo was a perfect natural set up moment where a man wearing a kilt was next to the statue of a famous local law officer from the territorial days of Arizona. A contrast in cultures, attires and posture. I had a split of a moment for the shot and I forgot to change the shutter speed from 1/60 seconds to 1/125. So, the statue is dark, the man in kilt is ok, but the Court building is washed out.

What is more interesting is that there should have been enough direct light hitting the selenium meter’s panel  that one can see a large section of the building covered in bright circles. Here is a cropped section showing those circles:

 

These are either remnants of the fungus that I did not see when I checked the “cleaned” lens, or is microscopic damage the fungal infestation did to the glass over decades. And both issues would affect the photo only when bright light fall upon the lens at a certain angle. Often a lens shade (which I used) can minimise the effect, but it did not in this case.

So, the fungus issue is not fully resolved…

 

Finally, here is a photo where objects are in bright light that did not show the fungus effect because I was in the shade of the trees and no sun fell upon the lens. However, the camera’s automatic aperture mode did not work well. I would guess that it got set to f8 when it should have been f16.

Concluding thoughts

The 1960s Zeiss Ikon Contaflex is a watch making engineering delight. The ergonomics of preview Contaflex cameras are perfected and the all steel and leather machine still works after sitting idle for more than half a century on a shelf. Even the selenium meter works, although it is off by a stop or so.

But, it is an over-engineered and complex camera. I do not think anyone is out there who would even attempt to fix anything that goes wrong mechanically.

Yet, it is a camera from the golden years of B&W photography, hence it remains cherished by those, like me, who believe that photography is about telling a story not bragging about how much detail a lens can capture and display. It is about the pleasure of hearing that mechanical shutter when tripped, knowing that there are hundreds of levers, screws, springs and moving parts that have to be synchronized at 1/500^th of a second to match that speed with the opening and closing of thin steel diaphragm leafs.

Eventually, it is about the becoming of one between the photographer and the camera. Not the impersonal relationship with batteries, micro chips or a mirrorless “camera obscura.” In a perhaps strange way, in addition to the engineering quirks, sometimes it is the “scent” of a vintage camera’s leather case takes the photographer into a time travel to the 1930s or 1940s. That is the scent of Soviet cameras many of which have leather cases that have kept that unique scent after almost a century. What kind of tanning did they do?

… And if the negatives come out dark or underexposed, well, so be it! There is always a 1960s Hansa Pro enlarger fitted with a Soviet rangefinder camera lens that will allow darkroom work to compensate for a lazy diaphragm closure or “tired” selenium light meter.

 

May 30, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024

Using a Vintage 20mm Wide Angle Lens for Street Photography on Mothers’ Day, 2024

 

 

Most photographers will not use such a super wide lens for street photo journalism, and I have never used it. The reason is two-fold: to tell a story, there has to be a specific moment to be framed as the human eye sees it. A 50mm lens fits my inquisitive eye, although others prefer a 35mm. But not a 20mm which captures so much of the setting that the story gets lost. Second, a 20mm lens has too many distortions, lacks sharpness and definition throughout the entire frame, unless it is a Zeiss Flektogon.

But, since I was able to get my 1981 Minolta X-700 restored to function, I wanted to test a 20mm lens that I had owned for 25 years but never used it. It is a Soligor which is not highly regarded and was often thrown in as a bonus when film cameras were sold as absolute with the advent of digital technology. It is a lens made in Japan for an American company and aimed for amateur use.

But like many who use and collect vintage photographic tools, using what is said as “not worth using” is a challenge to take on. And I had yet another challenge in mind: the Soligor, as a manual focus lens, needs to be focus only up to 6 meters. Then you set it to the infinity setting and your cameras becomes a point-and-shoot one. And, given how much “territory” a 20mm lens covers on a 35 mm film frame, I wondered if I can shoot from the hip by pointing the camera in the direction of the story I wanted to capture. This is even better than using a waist viewer camera like a TLR Rolleiflex with which you still have to look down the waist finder and let people realise you are taking a photo. It is better because people then change their behaviour and the moment loses its authenticity.

 

So, I rolled about 10 frames worth of film into an old canister and took the Soligor to the Mother’s Day arts show.

Here is the lens made by Tokina in 1986. Note the lovely period neck strap on the Minolta…

 

It was a new experience, as I was hoping it to be. I ended up having 12 frames on that film strip, and finished shooting in a short time. It was a cloudy day, so I used f5.6, f8 and f11, with the focus set to infinity. But I had no idea what I was getting in the frame! Yet, I knew that people did not get spooked by having a camera pointed in their direction, if they even knew that I was releasing the shutter.

So I rushed back home to develop the film and see what I captured.

 

Since I did not what to expect about the performance of the lens, I was surprised how sharp the results were in the middle of the frame when shot at less than 10 meters from the subject using an aperture of f8.  Par contre, when using an f5.6 at a longer distance, the sharpness was mediocre at best.

So, I chose two photos to describe my experience.

The one at the outset of the page has both a story, and without knowing what I was framing (!) captured the environment of the story. There were two men, in photogenic Southwestern attire on a bench watching the people visiting the art kiosks. One man was smoking a cigar and was perfect for a photo. I was about 10 meters away and dedicated two frames to the moment.

When I printed the frame using a Soviet Industar 61 L/D 53mm rangefinder camera lens on my 1950’s enlarger, I was delighted by the composition. So, it took me a few attempts, using variable exposure times and dodging and burning to get the shades I wanted. Especially of the clouds.

For a comparison, I zoomed into the frame (by moving the enlarger lens higher) to fill the frame with what a 50mm lens would have captured. And that made me pleased of using the wide angle lens because the 50mm perspective captures less of a story.

It is also to be noted that in the above version, the gray of the shade given by the tall trees around the area does not provide the contrast and the focus on the man I had in mind. But the final version, the one atop the page, makes that man the center of the story as the man with the cigar is brighter and there is “sun” around his feet. This is of the because dodging that I did by shading the enlarger light over the man with my fingers for about 2 seconds, which also lightened the area around his feet giving the impression of a ray of sunshine. The entire exposure time was 5 seconds, with an added second of burning to enhance the clouds.

(I assume young photographers have rarely worked in a darkroom with film, so these terms and rather primitive techniques may be unknown to them.)

 

Ok, the next photo was taken with an f5.6 aperture and 1/125 second shutter speed. The woman wearing Western attire was about 30 meters away, and I wanted the dogs to be in the picture too. Again, I zoomed in to print what a 50mm lens would have seen to test the contrast and definition of the 20mm. Clearly, the Soligor is sharper at closer distances.

 

So, was it worth shooting 12 frames to get one good photo? For me it was the experience of using a new tool, the anticipated surprise about the results after shooting “blind”, and as an enthusiast about vintage cameras and lenses, the joy of using a forgotten lens.

Maybe I will try the lens again, now that I know its limitations.

 

May 12, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024