Speaking Frankly

Is my linear mind colliding with the digital era?

My father gave me my first "good" camera on my 10th birthday in 1935, a 2 ¼ x 2 ¼ Reflex Korelle SLR. I've written about this camera many times and I needn't tell you how magical it was and is to see the world through the lens on a ground glass.

What I haven't mention before is a second gift, fresh on dealers' shelves and a bit exotic for a 10-year old: a Weston 650 Universal, selenium cell exposure meter, invented by a brilliant electrical engineer and photo enthusiast, Dr. Edward Weston (but not Edward Weston, the famous photographer).

Inside Straight: Shoe Fetish

Would you be surprised to learn that the first camera accessory shoe was designed by the inventor of the Leica, prior to 1913? It wasn't used for attaching a flash. When Oskar Barnack put an accessory shoe atop the 1913 prototype Leica, it was apparently for a Leitz Fodis removable, vertically mounted rangefinder.

With the advent of the 1930 interchangeable-lens Leica C, the shoe was needed for accessory viewfinders. The earliest record I have of a hot-shoe for flash was the American-made Univex Mercury CC of 1938. Its accessory flash unit accepted screw-based flashbulbs.

Film Forever!

Will all dedicated film users please come out of hiding? I mean you classicists who believe the world's greatest black-and-white prints are created with heart and love in a chemical darkroom; you slide-shooters who adore examining images with high-powered loupes; you photographers tired of sitting in front of a computer screen when you long to be out shooting; and those of you who sense that the images created on film are, well, just better than digital images. Finally, let's also call out photographers who boldly use both film and digital. Like me.

When Pros Are Cons

Do pros sometimes hold back equipment development?

It's a commonly held belief that professional photographers are asked to try out new camera models before production is finalized. Wrong. While pros may be among the first to see a new model, they have no more chance of altering camera features than you or I. During the design stage, pros (and trusted members of the photo press) may be asked for their opinions or ideas about features. But once the die is cast, we all take what the manufacturer gives us.

Looking back on the history of 35mm and medium-format film cameras, as well as digital SLRs, the manufacturers have a good record of success. Failures at retail have often been due more to a camera maker's financial problems than poor design.

But there have been some odd bumps and missed opportunities to advance camera design. And many have been caused by pros giving SLR makers misdirection during the design stage. Sometimes their opinions were (thankfully) ignored, but sometimes they were followed, resulting in problems that continue to this day. Here are some of my favorites:

Speaking Frankly: Film rangefinder cameras superior to DLSRs? Zeiss gives the old battle a new twist

Having attributed the appearance and apparent success of the Cosina-made Voigtlander Bessa 35mm film rangefinder cameras and lenses to the  contrary mind of the company's president, Hirofume Kobayashi, I had not expected a staid, conservative, old school company also to get into the act. However, as you know, Zeiss did just that with the just becoming available Zeiss Ikon camera plus seven Carl Zeiss lenses.

Why? SLRs defeated rangefinder cameras in the 1970s, leaving the superbly made, still highly capable Leica M cameras as technical relics. Autofocus likewise did in 35mm point-and-shoot rangefinder cameras during the same period. It only remained for megapixels in the last few years to obliterate virtually every 35mm and 120 rollfilm camera. But in enthusiastically trashing all this, have we let somethings valuable slip by us?

I ask asked a major planner of the new Zeiss camera and lenses, Dr. Winfried Scherle, Vice-President and general manager in the Camera Lens Division of Carl Zeiss AG to defend the decision. His answers to my somewhat sticky questions, on behalf of Carl Zeiss, did no such thing.

They went on the attack.

The Contrary Mind of Hirofumi Kobayashi

If you ride the special express train 126 miles northwest from Tokyo, you'll find yourself in Nagano Prefecture near beautiful, blue Lake Suwa, noted for its hot springs, spas, large swan- and turtle-shaped tour boats, and one of the highest geysers in the world. The lake is recovering nicely from industrial pollution. When I first visited years ago, much of the blue was green algae, thanks to many manufacturing plants, including photographic ones, pouring effluences into the lake.

I enjoyed overnight stays at a tiny Japanese ryokan (inn), with open raised daises surrounding a small pool in which carp swam lazily until summoned to be dinner. In the evening, engineers from the nearby Yashica, Cosina, Chinon or Olympus manufacturing plants dropped by for carp sashimi (and horse sashimi, for which the region is also known), and to watch Japanese baseball on TV. There would be plenty of time to discuss cameras and lenses the next day at the factories.

What's In a Name? Reputation. But Whose?

When I first saw Schneider-Kreuznach lenses being made at a Tokyo factory many a year ago, I felt almost like the little kid being told that babies weren't bought at Macy's. Bad Kreuznach is a sleepy little town on the Nahe River near Frankfurt, Germany, complete with great wine cellars, and home to Jos. Schneider Optische Werke, a major world source of optics since 1913. How did its lenses, still marked Kreuznach, wind up being produced in Tokyo?

Schneider had discovered the magic world of Japanese subcontracting. Run out of capacity to turn out your own lenses? Find another company to do it to your specifications. There's no end to the magic of subcontracting.