I bailed from Xitter on April 1st 2021. Because the moment it became obvious Elon was buying Xitter, I saw what was coming and bailed out. Eventually, during the Reddit Scandal I bailed out of there too; and I haven’t been on social media since. I’ve also been pretty unwell, and I’ve barely touched a camera (despite still never being further than 2m from my M4-P).
And you know what? I miss it. I miss having something to drive me to shoot, develop and scan. I have dozens of unprocessed old rolls, and dozens more developed but never sliced and scanned. Plus, my country moved slightly (emphasis on slight, it’s still a hellhole) further away from the whole fascist dictatorship thing and I feel a little safer. So I’m getting back on the SNS bandwagon, I’m getting my camera out, and I’m doing my thing again.
Behold the #PinStreetProject – born from a prototype I did many years ago (the example shot from below is from that roll c.2016) where I went around with a roll of HP5+ in my Leica, with an Avenon 28mm f110 M-mount lens; and then developed it at 3200 from a 1/15 shutter speed.
The photos were a pretty mixed bag and many were painfully underexposed – but the concept worked, and then I never did anything more on it – which is a shame, because that Avenon Pinhole cost me about €200. So I’m going to try and do more of that, and share some of my results. Some of it may end up on here but if you want to follow along, the place to go is https://bsky.app/profile/streetem.id.
P.S. the person who nicked “streetemi” on Xitter after I left has nothing to do with me; obviously.
Whoever is the first person to see this, throw up a comment. I’m genuinely curious how long it takes. for y’all to notice. When Reddit did it to me y’all realised before I did.
But no, this time it’s real and on purpose. I nuked my reddit account and history. Yeah, it’s sad. No, I’m not happy about it – but I’m A: not one to shy away from putting my money where my mouth is and B: fundamentally unwilling to tolerate a toxic social media service, even if there’s a personal and social cost to me of withdrawing. I did keep a copy of my own data.
To be clear, there’s a lot of you on /r/leica I genuinely adore, and I’ll miss you. Drop me a message through the comments if you want to keep in touch by email – I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to reach out. But, I left Twitter when Musk took over, and despite the loss of some good friends through that – I don’t regret for one day my decision to avoid the fascist cesspool it has become. Reddit isn’t in the same place, but their owners clearly aim to take it in an unfortunate direction of it’s own, and I’ll brook no part of it.
As for the decision to nuke my data? I imagine that will be even more controversial than my decision to stop posting – yes, I deleted a lot of good memories, and probably a lot of useful information. The M8 and M9 cults will probably be relieved – but at the end of the day, the data is the valuable and profitable component of my account for Reddit. Leaving it will help funnel users from search engines onto the platform, which will help keep the company sustainable, which will encourage this kind of exploitative behaviour from others.
Simply put – the “social contract” here is that reddit gave me a service and I repaid them in data. Reddit “violated” the social contract by degrading the service they provided me. In turn, I have withdrawn my data. It’s just good business.
On the weekend, I sent Reddit admins a request for a copy of my data following online advice. They apparently decided the correct response was… to delete my account with no warning or confirmation. I hadn’t signed in for a couple of days and the first I knew was an email from James. Thanks for letting me know, and thanks for the thread of mourning. It was very sweet. I guess I’m not welcome on the platform any more?
Fuck you, Reddit.
N.B. Best comment in my memorial thread:
Is there a way to find an archive of her posts and comments?
Hello. My name is Emily, and like most film photographers, I am an addict.
First, there was the four lens kit. A fast modern and a slow classic for each of 35 and 75. I resisted. Then came the new four lens kit – A modern 15, a classic 35 and semi-modern 75 and 135 lenses. That’s where I stayed for nearly four years, until I found myself with more time in the wild and less in the city. Then came the SLR, something I could shoot long distance with – a wide zoom, a fast standard and a tele zoom to sit on it.
Now we’re reaching winter, and I’m back in the city. It’s lockdown – if I drive to the woods I could be arrested – I can walk, with a camera even, but only if I stay in my own town. But the light is so rarely where I want it. I find my temptation creeping back in – A 35 1.2 would give me that flexibility, and such beautiful bokeh, and modern coatings to handle more difficult light…
I stop. I breathe. I have a good job, but even then – after my rent and bills a 35 1.2 is still well over a months’ salary. And beyond just the crazy amount of money – if I was to spend that cash more conservatively, what could I do? Service my long-suffering camera, have it’s advance put back to spec and it’s finder recalibrated. Service my 75 1.8; which has been out of commission for months having worked loose after the same accident that bruised my camera. Service my SLR, which sticks at low temperatures. I could do all of these things and still by a couple hundred metres of my favourite film, Eastman-Kodak 5222 – which I have been out of for years now. Then there’s debts to be paid, my car to be serviced, unplanned events that could crop up at any time, especially during the global pandemic.
So this post is a reminder to myself of all the reasons I stopped buying camera gear, why I sold most of my music gear, why I spent my money on better food and used books. And there’s a host of these reasons, simple and complex interspersed.
Reason the first: I got a film camera to stop having to buy cameras. My F2 was a bit of a conceit in 2020. Before that camera, the only SLR I had was another Nikon, one I inherited – it’s in need of servicing, but could easily be brought back to operation. But, it’s big, battery dependent, heavy – and the lenses that it had weren’t up to the standard I needed. Other than the two giant off-brand lenses I inherited with the camera, my own Nikon glass was battered and infested – the result of living in a cold, damp hovel by the sea for half a decade. I could have lived without an SLR, or with the cheap kit I had – but I indulged myself. One tragedy is that the whole kit with three lenses barely cost me over £500 – a somewhat ridiculous price for what I picked up. But this in itself was somewhat of a betrayal of my original reasoning – I bought the M4-P, because (except for a few specialisms, like wildlife) it’s the only stills camera anyone should need. It can comfortably use lenses from 10mm to 135mm, has framelines for both of the most common “three prime kits” and is built like a tank, with no parts that can’t be replaced with new, even forty years after it’s release.
In 2015, I was looking to replace my 5-year old DLSR. I spent weeks researching like for like replacements – and I stopped because it was eating up my life. In 2020, this has happened again, and research has consumed me. Research to find the “Ultimate Workhorse SLR”, then to find a complete lens kit that was compatible with the F2 and would give me the performance I wanted. Research into a faster replacement for the F3.5 Summaron lens I’ve been using for almost half a decade – something I only bought because I thought my Elmar was faulty. Research into other people’s kit – to advise, to compliment, to offer critical feedback, and to entertain – my deliberately sarcastic attitudes to the M2 and M6 (two fantastic cameras, for the record – just with flaws that people tend to gloss over) have provided myself and a great number of others with many hours of enjoyable argument on Leica’s subreddit. It was fun, and it kept me busy during the first lockdown when I had nothing else to do – but it’s taken up far too much time of late.
Reason the second: #BuyBooksNotMegapixels. A personal parody on a popular film photographer slogan – buying a new lens or camera teaches you nothing, especially when it’s a direct replacement for something you already have. Researching what to buy only teaches you how to buy things better – a self-destructive circle in itself. Books teach, books enlighten, books bring joy – far more than the most well-machined camera objective. I’ve certainly spent crazy money on books as well, most notably my copy of Minamata, which I jumped on for a mere £100, after seeing them for sale at ten times that. Currently, they go for around £150 – so money well spent. But books like Minamata, and the Magnum Contact Sheets (I paid around £60, currently selling at around £150-£300) can hardly be called budget-friendly. My collection of James Ravilious’ work is also extensive, and was not an inexpensive library to create. But, they have proved their worth time and again, and a hardback book will last as well as any camera lens with love and care.
But there are also plenty of works that cost little – widely popular reprints of work like Koudelka and Moriyama tent to cost in the low double digits, and there are many examples of books that fail to reach the lasting cult or academic status that works like Minamata have achieved, and consequently sell for low prices. To give a comparative exemplar we can look at a very high contrast. The first side of this is “Relationship” by Zachary Drucker and Rhys Ernst. This book dealt with the gender transition of a couple, a niche subject even today. The book was published reasonably widely for a photographic monograph, but never reached “airport kiosk” status. However, the niche interest of the work has led to it being commonly available, frequently under £10 in the UK. Our counterexample is a monograph sold purely on the name of the photographer, rather than on the interest of the subject: “What I See” by Brooklyn Beckham did reach the shelves of near every WH. Smiths, while receiving a spectacular train of entirely justified mockery at the idea of a child being worthy of this honor on the basis of: his parents are famous, and were rich enough to give him a Leica M (Type 240).
The point here is – his work was widely derided as an unchallenging snapshot of privilege, which only exists through that same privilege. It was sold in order to capitalise on his popularity as an influencer, a market that has proved predictably fickle. The intent was that people would buy it for the name – which did happen, and as the young target audience aged the book was discarded – which has lead to a common sale price of around £5. It certainly doesn’t compare to a work like Minamata, nor does it compare to the similarly “snapshot-based” Relationship, as “What I See” lacks by definition an inherent purpose. However that’s clear upfront, making it difficult to waste money by accident. If you buy this – you know what you’re getting. And I haven’t bought books in a long time. Perhaps even something like Beckham would teach me something new, if only “don’t give book deals to children”?
Reason the third: I chose my kit to be small, light, agile. I’ve definitely ended up with more cameras than I need, and more lenses than I need. My current four-lens kit could easily have been a three-lens kit of 15/4.5, 35/1.2 and 75/1.8. They share a somewhat consistent visual both in what they capture and their physical nature, and they share a single filter mount that’s common and accessible. Perhaps, if I was buying from scratch today that is what I would do – however when I was buying my kit, the 35/1.2 III was not on the market. The earlier versions of this lens were much larger and heavier than the current model, and all three are designed around precise focusing with a long throw – so knurled rings are the order of the day rather than my far preferred approach of a focus tab, which I find quicker.
I chose the 35mm Elmar because it’s just about the smallest Leica-mount 35 ever made. When I decided to replace what I thought was a faulty lens, the E39 Summaron was chosen for also being very compact, while giving the “modern comforts” of an aperture ring with modern increments, as well as standard filter and hood mounts – things I sorely missed on my little brass pancake. Even the new “compact” 1.2 is still half as long again as my Summaron, and the 52mm filter ring is enough to know it’s far larger in other dimensions as well. Switching to the Nokton would mean changing other parts of my equipment in turn, for example my bag – which will hold two lead-lined film boxes, two m bodies and two lenses – but not two lenses like the Nokton.
The biggest problem in paring down my kit though – is me. The 135 and 35 Elmar’s both see little use, my 50 Summicron is nothing more than a radioactive curio, and with two M4-P’s there is never a need for my “finderless” M’s to see actual use. And yet, I struggle to part with any of them – they all have moments and images associated with them that I love, which ties them to me. A new, fast, big lens would be exciting – for a while. But then I’d become trapped in the nostalgia of what I have and gave up. And to keep both old and new? Unforgivably self-indulgent. And that leads me to the last reason:
Reason the fourth: choice. I could get rid of everything I have, and switch to an E46 35/75 Summarit 2.4 pair. Or to a E43 Nokton 1.4 II and the old matching 75m Heliar 2.5. I could sell the Elmars, and put that money towards a 35 1.2 III and a slightly bigger camera bag that could actually fit it. The reason I don’t is because I choose not to chase the vanity of bigger and better. Thousands of photographers didn’t have this choice, and were able to create the greatest works of the last century with the dated, simple glass they had. Others like Ravilious did have the choice and chose to use the older kit anyway. If these people were able to create such marvellous work with such limited kit, then that same kit must be perfectly adequate for me as well. I could have caught the last hour of light today and shot in empty streets filled with soft mist. Instead, I chose to write this post. I have no regrets, as I needed to remind myself of my old decision, the reasons and the impacts. But this choice exemplifies why my old choice was so important. It doesn’t matter what you shoot. Just shoot. I haven’t been, and I should.
I am a total slacker. I’ve spent about $500 on a Jobo and the associated hardware, and do I use it for developing expensive and difficult processes like ECN-II? Nope. I use it so I can be lazy when developing monochrome film. This practice has a background in my film preferences – I tend to shoot movie film, and I push it, to boot.
Here’s why that matters – cine film is designed for constant agitation processing. So by processing my Eastman 5222 (Double-X) in a Jobo, I’m working much closer to the way a cine lab would process it. Next up is the pushing – it takes more time. With a rotary processor, I can maintain higher-than-ambient temperatures for my whole development cycle (Typically 22C) and because I’m not agitating the film by hand, I can develop for longer periods without resorting to stand processing.
This then leads to my choice of developer. ID-11 is the English knock-off of Kodak’s ancient D-76 process. It was selected (before I knew about the Kodak link) based on the fact that it’s designed for continuous-agitation. As it turns out, it is D-76 – at least for all practical purposes – and that means it’s originally a Cine film developer. We’ve come full circle.
Finally, I’m a “precariat”, part of that modern western generation who will likely never own a house – because the cost of entry rises faster than our savings can. This means that the things I own must last, hence forty year old cameras and developing kit – plus, the reason I started trying motion picture film in the first place – namely that it’s far cheaper than commercial, pre-loaded cassettes from major still film brands. But this also means that I can’t afford to waste chemistry. My pushed, continuously agitated film is also quite high contrast – so using 1+3 dilution on my developer does help manage the costs and improve my results at the same time. A little side note here – a realistic estimate of the “minimum chemistry” for a roll of 135 film is about 50ml of ID-11 stock. Since I use System 2000 tanks, that proves no issue – 1+3 gives the perfect amount of chemistry without waste or overdilution. If I were to switch to the System 1000 tanks (which allow the development of ten rolls at once in a CPA or CPP processor), I would need to develop at 1+1 to retain sufficient chemistry. Conveniently, this *also* gives the correct amount of chemistry, so this costs no more per roll – just screws up my development times.
So what does all this backstory mean in practice? It means I’m using unusual film, in a common developer – but at an unusual dilution, using unusual agitation and shooting at unusual film speeds. Or in other words, Massive Dev Chart doesn’t have a lot to offer my darkroom. This post is actually not meant for you – it’s meant for me. I develop five to ten rolls of film at a time, usually at a period of several months. I constantly struggle to remember the dev times I calculate from one dev-day to the next. What follows are tables of development times for processing in my obscure, but effective film development process.
The Development Tables
This will scale with time. These are the results of my own experiments. They have not been checked with a densitometer, just ‘eyeballed’. All times assume continuous rotary agitation, and a minimum of 50ml developer stock per roll, as above.
Orwo UN54
An 80-100 speed fine grain black and white movie film, somewhat similar to Kodak Plus-X.
Film
Speed
Chemistry
Temperature
1+3
1+1
1+0
UN54
80
ID-11
22C
UN54
400
ID-11
22C
25
13
Eastman-Kodak Double-X (5222)
A 200-250 speed black and white movie film. Reacts poorly to overexposure. The closest current film to Super-XX, though that’s not saying that much. For a demonstration of how this film looks when underexposed and overexposed, look at the intro scene to Casino Royale (2008), which showcases both.
Inspired by Nathan Wright from Ohm Image, I’m having a look at what I think should improve on Leica cameras.
Change 1: Bin the frameline assembly.
For a while, I used Fujifilm’s Leica-knockoff as a backup for my film cameras. The X-Pro1 introduced a great feature that is sorely missing from the M. The framelines in the hybrid VF were digital projections. They were better. In every possible way than those of a Leica M. The M’s framelines are created with a punched metal mask. They therefore cannot be complete, as gaps have to exist where the inner part of mask is connected to the outer. It also means their sizes are fixed – they cannot change size as you focus, only move – and their compatible lenses are fixed. Framelines always appear in pairs, and have to be preselected when the camera is manufactured.
With an X-Pro style projection – no such restrictions. The framelines can be complete, single frames that shrink and grow as well as move – and can be any size – not only 28 and 35, but 32 and 40. (for the Lomo Minitar, and the legendary Summicron-C). The 65mm Visoflex, 85mm Canon, 105mm “Mountain Elmar” can all suddenly be supported in a single finder – and with more accuracy than any rangefinder camera before. As well, the color of the framelines can change on the fly – allowing higher contrast, like red framelines for a landscape scene or green for portraiture. There are essentially no downsides to this.
Change 2: Get with the times, LCD!
Even Fujifilm has seen the light, introducing a full-flip screen on the X-Pro4, as seen on most other prosumer cameras for the last decade. The Pen F has shown how this could be done on a small camera for years now. But for Leica, it’s even worse – the first camera to put this kind of screen on a rangefinder was also the first digital rangefinder – Cosina and Epson’s R-D1.
There is a disadvantage to Leica here: as well as Rolleiflex-like shooting from the hip and the magical power of selfies, a full-flip LCD can also be closed. Leica has used their fixed screen to support the creation of an entire product line – the purist, display-less M-D. With a screen that can be flipped out of sight on a whim, Leica will undercut that product line overnight.
Still, as a product with artificially-created demand – the M-D deserves to die.
Change 3: Twin card slots.
Nathan suggested internal storage as a “smaller” alternative in his list, but I’m veto-ing that right now. Flash memory is an incredibly fragile technology and has a defined lifetime – look at the way SD cards die with enough use. Internal memory would be subject to the same degradation. Fine in a $150 compact, not fine in a pro camera. Nathan’s original suggestion of dual-slots is the only real solution to the problem. If size became an issue, I’d suggest dual µSD (Micro-SD, or TransFlash) cards as being a satisfactory option. Whenever I retire an SD card from camera use, it ends up in a raspberry pi – so for a long time now, I’ve used adapted Sandisk Extreme Pro µSD cards in their full-size SD adapters in any digital camera I use. Guess what? They work fine! µSD cards perform at the same speed as larger cards, but generally have a shorter lifespan – but then, most professionals (and clued in amateurs) will already replace flash cards on a regular cycle to avoid getting too near the write limit. For a professional photographer, having a backup card is more important than saving $100 a year on buying storage media.
Change 4: The body-lens interconnect.
One way Leica M kit lags far behind other brands is in the way the lenses and bodies communicate with each other. The M communicates two things – lens distance, and in later cameras – lens model. Meanwhile, the Nikon F allowed for several functions that the M does not – most importantly, the ability to alter aperture automatically from wide open to stopped-down to allow focusing at max aperture, and shooting at the user-defined one. This is entirely irrelevant for a rangefinder camera, but for a mirrorless camera it’s vital. The M should add a bidirectional electronic communications port to the mount, like the electronic connections on every other current lens mount. This would allow for a number of features – but particularly in lens adapting and using very shallow DOF native lenses – done right, this would allow for wide-open live view focusing on advanced lenses like the 75mm Noctilux without hampering either backwards or forwards compatibility. It would also allow full compatibility with off-brand lenses through adapters – including proper compatibility with all four types of R lens, and would allow more than the 62 lenses currently available through 6-bit coding to be identified. This could also allow the introduction of digital-only lenses with a leaf shutter. While as a film loyalist I’d be somewhat against this for M lenses, Leica already has a range of leaf-shutter lenses that could then be adapted – for the S system. This would then allow effectively silent shooting, as well as flash sync at any speed.
Change 5: Bring back video.
This will probably be the least popular change for an M – and it was when they introduced it the first time. But not having it makes no sense. When it was first “discontinued”, I had the unpleasant hunch that it was done to better differentiate the SL product line from the M. It’s only a hunch, but so far no other explanation has been given, so it’s what I have to work with.
The only additional hardware needed to support video on an M is a microphone. That’s it. Technically not even that, if the hot-shoe connector (used for the Visoflex) can also support an audio interface, as it does on Olympus cameras. Everything else is software – defining profiles and adding an interface. If Leica are buying in the core of their camera firmware (quite likely, as phone companies do for their GSM/LTM stacks) then it will have this software included anyway in what they are buying. Now, there are plenty of better cameras for video – even at Leica, this is one of the specialisms of the SL series. So why bother having it on an M? Better question, why not? This is a premium product that costs thousands of dollars. Why must you then carry a second camera, just for shooting video? There is no technical reason why an M should not be able to film, and Leica’s own M, R and PL lenses (all of which can mount on an M with Leica-made adapters) would be excellent used with this kind of camera – as would Nikon, Canon, and dozens of other mounts when adapted. Leica themselves even list some great reasons. Who am I to argue?
Change 6: Stop being cheapskates.
The M and M-P are flagship cameras that are usually priced very slightly above those from Canon and Nikon, and moderately above those from the other mirrorless brands. So why is it that Leica always seem to be cheapening their cameras by cutting corners on the electronics? Both the M9 and M (Type 240) were roundly criticized for their tiny buffers. While the M-P and M10 series have improved on this, it still makes little sense that a $9000 M10-P has half the memory of a $50 Raspberry Pi. In a similar vein, the single card slot of the M10-P is not a UHS-II slot, so will only perform at UHS-I speeds no matter what card you put in it. I think we can all agree that Cfast and XQD are too physically large for an M camera, but not properly supporting high speed SD cards is very poor. M cameras have a ‘slow, ponderous, purist’ marketing, and there’s no point for them to try and compete with flagship SLR’s on speed – but they should at least meet modern standards, and a 4GB buffer and UHS-II support are painful in their absence. Shooting a burst of shots is one of the advantages of digital, and it’s useful both in commercial photography, and when trying to keep up with fidgety grandchildren.
Change 7: Offer a digital “Motor Drive”.
One of Nathan’s complaints about the M10 is the anæmic battery. This is actually a common complaint on most mirrorless cameras, as it was on early DSLR’s. The solution has been long established – the battery grip. The Leica M even has precedent on this; electronic motor drives have been standard accessories for the M since the M4-MOT in the 1970’s. The current iteration is the Motor-M, which supports every film M since the M4-2, and uses modern battery and motor technology to be extremely compact and quite stylish.
Most camera battery grips are clunky, because they are designed to take standard batteries. For the Leica, I’d suggest a different approach, making the grip a single sealed battery unit that replaced the cameras baseplate the same way the Motor-M does on an M-A. This allows the grip to be much more energy dense, saving space and preserving style – and it would still be easy to add say – a USB-C port to the grip for both charging, and external continuous power – ideal for video use, or for in-camera charging in remote conditions.
Change 8. Time for another culture shift at Leica.
Leica get regularly mocked online for their special editions. These usually sell out rapidly at huge expense, and I don’t think we could expect Leica to stop producing them, despite the “toy camera” reputation it gives the M range. With that said, I once calculated how professional Leica sees the M range as, and it’s not a big number. The M range is a toy camera, and no amount of wishful thinking (or for that matter, successful use by professionals) will change that.
But that is the thing I want Leica to change most of all. All of the changes I list above are things that you would expect Leica to have introduced to a real pro camera range. Most of them wouldn’t even add significantly to the BOM of the M series. The reason they are missing has nothing to do with Leica’s technical ability, or their knowledge of what pro cameras should and do offer in 2020 – they simply see no need to, because the M10 is a toy camera. And that’s sad. I want to see Leica make the M professional again, while keeping the unique design that has made it such a huge success as a lifestyle product. I’ll even forgive the no-doubt impending Seal “Crazy” 30th anniversary special edition, if it’s built around a camera that a journalist could carry without hesitation.
Thanks again to Nathan for the inspiration for this post, and for those ideas of his that I tried to solve in novel ways. Definitely check his article for even more great-and-simple changes Leica could make to upgrade the M experience.
A final P.S. to my favorite camera brand.
Leica, if you decide to follow my advice on how to “fix” the M, I hereby waive my royalties – but if you could send me one of the new M11-P’s I’ve designed, that would be awesome. Also, please reissue the 50mm Summicron Collapsible. Mine is broken 🙁 Thanks!
Ah, that sweet time of the year, when it’s too dark to do anything outside and I return to my lab to enjoy the sweet bliss of carcinogenic chemistry fumes and eyestrain.
But something is a little different this year. For one, I remembered that I have a blog I never write in – and for another, my Jobo kit has been expanded again.
My CPA came with two film-friendly tanks: a 4106 and a 4322. The 4322 is a small tank, designed for one 120 reel (2×120 or 1×220 rolls) or two 135 reels (that each take one roll). The 4106 is a rather more versatile tank that accepts 5×135, 3×120 or 2×5-4 sheet film reels. Following a slight accident involving the “buy it now” button on eBay, combined with doing some research for a friend, my collection (and understanding) has expanded significantly. So lets have a look at the complete collection.
Quick note on compatibility:
It should be noted that not all tanks can be used on all Jobo systems. With the exception of the System 3000 – all tanks will work on a CPA, CPP, CPA2, CPP2 or CPP3. In theory, the same compatibility should be true of the 4100 processor that preceded the CPA, though having only ever heard of one once, I can’t say for certain.
The CPA and CPP do not support the Lift accessory, and as such are incompatible with the Expert tanks. Non-expert tanks with cog lids can generally be used without a lift on any compatible processor, as long as they have a magnet on, and you don’t turn them upside-down.
The CPE, CPE2 and CPE3 are limited to a 600ml total chemistry because of the weaker motor in these processors. This means that they are unable to handle larger tanks (such as the 4323) because the high drag from the chemicals would strain the motor. The CPE series are compatible with all tanks from the 1000, 1500, 2000, 2500 ranges that require 600ml or less of chemistry. In practice, this is only a significant issue for sheet film photographers, as this generally limits CPE users to the current (and expensive) 2509/2509n 5×4 reels in a 2520 or 2521 tank.
The System 3000 (also called ‘expert’) tanks are used for processing paper and sheet film in large sizes with exceptional consistency. Designed for the ATL series Autolab processors, they will only work in an Autolab, or a CPA2/CPP2/CPP3 with lift.
Finally, the Autolab processors are only compatible with those tanks that support the lift accessory. These are the 1500, 2500 and 3000 series tanks with cog lid (plus 2800 series paper drums, for those using it for RA4 or very large sheet film). This means that 1000, 2000 and other tanks fitted with inversion lids may not be used with the Autolab.
The Good Old Days
Always two there are, a master and an apprentice. In the early days of Jobo, these were the System 2000 (or “Professional Series”) tanks, and the System 1000 (or “Amateur”) tanks. Like the current 2500/1500, the 2000 was a larger diameter tank. This gives a theoretically more even development for film, and allows processing of sheet film. Both tank types were usable in all processors (subject to the volume limits of the CPE’s), but parts were not interchangeable.
System 2000:
The System 2000 tanks are not intercompatible with the 2500 series in any way. They use a different design of magnet, a different diameter and different reels. Most reels and inversion tanks are given a “2000” designation, while tanks built or converted for rotary use are given a “4000” designation. We’ll start with these:
Model
Capacity
16mm Reels
135 Reels
127 Reels
120 Reels
5×4 Sheet Reels
4321
275ml
2
1
0
0
0
4322
400ml
4
2
1
1
0
4323
950ml
10
5
4
3
2
4324
250ml
0
1
0
0
0
2400
250ml
0
1
0
0
0
4106
960ml
10
5
4
3
2
4107
400ml
4
2
1
1
0
Note on reels: “Duoset” reels have a red plastic pin, and allow two films to be loaded onto a single reel. This allows 2×126 films for each 135 reel, 2×110 films for each 16mm reel, 2×127 or 2×120 films on each of those reels. Additionally, the 5×4 reels can take 6 sheets.
Four tanks are oddities here. The 4324 doesn’t follow the increasing size of the previous three models. It is (along with the 2400) in fact a daylight tank, designed to be loaded by someone without access to a darkroom, dark tent, changing bag, or wardrobe with a duvet over their head. Needless to say, they are uncommon today. The other major oddity is the 4106/4107 tanks. The 4106 tank is the standard tank I’ve been using since I got my Jobo CPA. The tank is actually a 2336 inversion tank, with a (uneven) band epoxy-welded around it to rest on the processor’s bearings, a magnet epoxy-welded on top of the tank capacity writing, and a new label stuck on with rotary capacities inscribed on it. I have never had access to a 4107 to verify the same is true, but my working theory is that the 4100 series tanks were modified inversion tanks that served as prototypes with the early Jobo processors, before being replaced with more “finished” designs with the 4300 series tanks.
It’s obvious based on my mention of the 2336 inversion tank, that other tanks exist than the ones above. To my current knowledge though, the above are the only tanks in the System 2000 that can be used with a rotary processor. As such, I see no need to detail the inversion tanks.
More useful though, would be a list of the reels. To my knowledge, there are four common types of reels in the System 2000. None of these reels can be used on any other System, and no reels from any other System can be used in the 2000 tanks. The four common reels are the 2001a 16mm Duo-set, the 2001 Uni-set (designed for 1×135, 1×126, 1×120, 1×127 or 1×220), the 2004 Duo-set (identical but with a flexible latch to support 2×120 or 2×127 films) and the 2021 reel that takes 6xsheets of 5×4 film.
There are also other sheet film reels designed for 6×6, 6×9 and 6×12 sheets. These are rare, and the film rarer still – but they bear mentioning! They are slightly shorter than the 2021 5×4 reel. One reel fits in a 4322 for any type. The 4323 can take two 9cm reels or three 6cm reels.
System 1000:
Intended as a ‘consumer’ alternative to the System 2000 tanks, the 1000 has both strengths and weaknesses to contend with. The System 1000 can only develop film up to 220 – it does not support sheet film, meaning someone with a 1000 system who needs to develop 5×4 suddenly needs to buy not only a 2021 reel, but also a System 2000 tank to put it in. Additionally, as mentioned earlier – the smaller diameter does offer potential risks to evenness of film development between the start and end of each roll. In practice, these effects are generally imperceptible. The diameter and reels of the System 1000 are also shared with the System 1500, though the later reels are slightly different in design. This means that these weaknesses are shared with the newer tanks.
There is however a significant advantage to the System 1000, especially for consistent and heavy shooters – The System 1000 uses only 100ml of chemistry per roll, half that of the System 2000 and a third of a Paterson or Ilford tank. This makes it very economical to use pricey developers such as DD-X in a one-shot manner, even at stock or near-stock dilutions. Additionally to this, the small chemistry volume means that much less strain is put on the motor. This gives a maximum load of 10 simultaneous 135 films, (though I’ve yet to try test-fitting this as I don’t have any System 1000 reels) 12 rolls of 120, or – a maximum of 16 rolls of 127 film in a single cycle. This presents an enormous time saving for photographers developing using standardized processes like E6 and C41, as well as photographers who maintain a consistent emulsion, exposure and development process.
Model
Capacity
16mm Reels
135 Reels
127 Reels
120 Reels
5×4 Reels
4311
250ml
2
1
0
0
0
4312
250ml
4
2
1
1
0
4313
500ml
10
5
4
3
0
4314
1000ml
20
10
8
6
0
Note on reels: As with System 2000, “Duoset” reels have a red plastic pin, and allow two films to be loaded onto a single reel. This allows 2×126 films for each 135 reel, 2×110 films for each 16mm reel, 2×127 or 2×120 films on each of those reels.
Much like the System 2000 tanks, there are also System 1000 tanks with a 1xxx number. These are tanks with no magnet, that are not compatible with any Jobo Processor, and so have not been itemized here.
The Brave New World
The System 1000 and System 2000 tanks were Jobo’s first entry into rotary processing, existing designs that were modified and tweaked to suit the new machines. With the launch of the CPA2, CPP2 and CPE2 processors and their Lift and Autolab accessories; it was necessary to redesign the tanks. The new tanks are built to be highly modular, allowing users to start small and build up with extension tubes; as well as reuse tanks for both magnet-driven and lift-driven processing.
System 2500:
System 2500 is the current “Professional” tank system for developing roll film, and the standard tank system for 5×4 sheet. It is not interchangeable with the System 2000, as mentioned above, however the System 2500 does share a number of components with it’s contemporaries. The magnets used on System 2500 are the same as the System 1500, and the tank bodies are similar to the JoboDrum 2800 paper tanks, and are occasionally interchangeable.
The System 2500 introduces the 2502 reel to replace the 2001 and 2004, as well as the 2509 (and later 2509n) 5×4 reels that replace the oval 2021. Again, these reels are not backwards compatible to the System 2000.
While the System 2500 can be extended in the same way as the System 1500 below, this is not a typical use case. The large diameter of the tanks (even compared to the System 2000) means that chemical volumes are large.
Model
Capacity
135 Reels
120 Reels
5×4 Reels
2513
170ml
1
0
0
2520/ 2521/ 2523
270ml
2
1
1
2550/ 2551/ 2553
640ml
5
3
2
2561/ 2563
850ml
6
3
2
+2560
850ml
6
3
2
2583
1250ml
8
5
3
2593
1500ml
12
7
4
Only the 2513 and 252x tanks are compatible with the Jobo CPE2 due to the 600ml limit. The only expansion in the system is already larger than the 600ml limit by itself, making expansion impossible. Similarly, this extension combined with a 252x is above the limit of a CPA or CPP – limiting them to use with the Autolab processors. For 135 users on a CPA/CPP, the mid-size tanks can be more efficient than System 2000, and the 252x remains the only practical option for 5×4 on a CPE. To my knowledge, there are no reels that offer 16mm or 127 processing in a System 2500 tank.
As a recommendation, separate 2520 and 256x tanks make a good kit for a CPA, however for a CPE I would advise using the 2520 only for 5×4 and retaining the System 1500 for other formats. Similarly, for high-throughput one-shot users, System 1000 remains the most efficient system for developing roll film both in terms of chemistry and time.
System 1500:
The System 1500 is the standard tank system for the CPE2, CPE2+ and CPE3. Based on the System 1000, they are compatible with the same 1001 reels, and add their own backwards-compatible 1501 reels – again available in both Uni-set and Duo-set versions. The 1500 system also adds Hewes-designed Stainless Steel reels. The original versions (1555 for 135, 1557 for 120 and 1559 for 220) require special cores (1561, 1562, 1563, 1564) to be used, while the later 1565 (135) and 1566 (120) steel reels fit on the normal plastic cores.
Model
Capacity
16mm Reels
135 Reels
127 Reels
120 Reels
5×4 Reels
1510
140
2
1
0
0
0
1520
240
4
2
1
1
0
1540
470
8
4
3?
2
0
1526
570
10
5
4?
3
0
+1530
330
6
3
2?
2
0
Note on reels: As with System 2000, “Duoset” reels have a red plastic pin, and allow two films to be loaded onto a single reel. This allows 2×126 films for each 135 reel, 2×110 films for each 16mm reel, 2×127 or 2×120 films on each of those reels. Again, 127 numbers (as for the System 1000) are guesstimates as I don’t have the kit to test properly. It should be noted that there are no System 1500 reels that support 127 – however System 1000 reels can usually be used – depending on the individual reel.
Jobo’s maximum combination recommendations are the 1526 (a 1520 with a 1530 attached) for the Jobo CPE series, and a 1520+1530+1530 combination for the CPA or CPP processors. It can be seen from the table above that these numbers make the System 1500 tanks less efficient for use with a magnet drive than the System 1000 tanks – at least when filled to capacity. The maximum capacity of the System 1000 is 10/16/12 rolls of film, and both the 4313 and 4314 tanks use only 100ml of chemistry per 135 film. Meanwhile, the maximum combinations above give 4/6?/4 films on a CPE or 8/12?/10 films on a CPA/CPP – and the most efficient System 1500 tank uses 113ml of chemistry per 135 film.
I have also been informed by a major Jobo dealer in the UK that 1530 extensions are not intended for frequent removal once they have been assembled. Consequently, once a small tank has been “upgraded”, it becomes expensive to use it for single-shot development (typical of black and white) unless the expanded tank is always filled to capacity. While this is also true of a 4314, their non-modular nature makes it less likely that a person will only own a single large tank.
System 3000 (Expert system)
These are mainly intended for prints, but can be used for large-format film. The 3006 and 3010 particularly, are designed specifically for 5×4 film and can be used on a CPA2, CPP2 or CPP3 which have been fitted with a lift. They should provide the best 5×4 quality of any Jobo system. However, the cost of a single 3006 drum is larger than the cost of a complete magnet-driven processor with tanks and reels for both 4×5 and roll film – meaning that they should only be considered for the most unforgiving commercial requirements.
Conclusion
Most of the practical conclusions of this article have already been said, but I suppose I should sum up. First off – there is no value in buying into every single system. For most users, a single system will suffice – 1000/1500 for roll film, 2000/2500 for those who also develop 5×4. For high-volumes where the risk of slight variation can be countenanced, adding a System 1000 roll film kit to a 2000/2500/3000 series sheet film kit is an effective way to increase throughput with a CPA or CPP series processor.
For the majority of us, what system we use will depend almost singularly on what our decades-old used film processor arrived with. In my case, the System 2000 tanks and reels that arrived with my original CPA decided the matter. Compared to a maximum System 1000 kit, I can develop only half the film at a time and I use twice as many chemicals – however I don’t tend to hoard quite that many rolls of exposed film, nor shoot fast enough to be able to develop ten rolls at a time on a frequent basis. Likewise, working with D-76, assuming a minimum of 50ml stock solution per film for complete development – dilution would be 1+1 for System 1000, or 1+3 for System 2000 – both perfectly valid. Further, as the agitation of the processor is automated, the actual development time is not a significant detractor compared to the more hands-on time of loading, washing, fixing, drying. So for now, my trusty 4106 will be plenty.
Contributions
MrAkai on Reddit pointed out that the max capacity tank for a CPE is a 1526, not a 1540. Thanks!
I’m not going to pretend I don’t know how atypical my obsession with filter sizes is – it’s a flatly weird obsession to have, and I know that. I’ve touched upon it in a couple of places, but I’ve never really explained why it bothers me so much. There’s no one dramatic trauma that caused it, instead it was the result of a number of contributing irritations.
To explain, let me go back to my first days (excluding my childhood with a 126 Instamatic) and look at some of the factors. I started with a digital SLR and ‘analogue’ lenses. Because I was using digital, and not much of an artist, I bought the cheapest skylights I could find and left them on forever. When I started with film, I had similar intentions. However, practical problems came in to play. My first two lenses were the 40mm on a Trip 35, and a Leica 35mm Elmar. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a UV filter for either of these – the Trip 35 used a 43.5mm filter ring only made by Olympus during the original run of the camera. Meanwhile the Leica lens takes two takes of filter. It was originally intended to use a push-on filter, the A36. Unfortunately this covers the aperture lever, so most people use the inner 19mm filter thread. As it turns out, finding a filter of either size is nearly impossible.
About this time I picked up my ruined Thorium Summicron a lens that used Leica’s longtime standard of 39mm. This, at last – was easy. Given that the damaged front element made the lens more prone to flaring, I invested in a higher-quality B+W filter. At this point I still wasn’t too fussed about filter sizes; after all, as long as I could get a UV filter for it, why would it matter? Things changed when I started experimenting more with color film. At the rate I was shooting, I’d never have been able to sustain the costs of standard C-41 or E-6 film, so I started exploring alternatives, and soon had a can of Fujifilm’s Eterna Vivid 500T to start playing with. To date, I still haven’t shot enough of that film to be worth buying the correct development kit, which is probably a mistake on my part. In any case; since 3000K light is increasingly falling out of use in our world of energy-saving LED bulbs, and since I tend more towards working outdoors – it was necessary to buy 85-series color correction filters for my lenses. This is where things started to become really problematic. I managed to get a 19mm 85A for the Elmar, and a nice Leica 39mm for my Summicron. However, I was now considering looking at other lenses that were faster, longer, and wider. Additionally, I was considering using color filters to improve my black and white photography. Altogether, the cost of buying high-end Hoya and B+W multicoated filters for 19mm, 39mm, 46mm, 49mm, 52mm and more, for my differing lens choices was upsetting; At that rate, I’d be spending almost as much on filters as on lenses.
That was the point at which I decided that it was necessary to change my plans. By this time I had five lenses: Two Leica 50mm lenses, both using 39mm filters. A Soviet 35mm lens that used an odd 40.5mm thread – a lens which was bought solely as a temporary replacement for the Leica 35mm and it’s 19mm thread – and a Voigtländer 15mm F4.5 with a 52mm thread – a nice standard that was also used on my favorite Nikon F lens, now in use on my grandfathers’ old film SLR.
Picking the ‘threads’ I would standardize on ended up being quite simple. I already had several lenses in two filters (39mm and 52mm), and these were also well represented among the small Leica and fast Voigtländer lenses which I was considering. It did cull a few options from my list, preventing me from considering the Leica Summarit and Voigtländer Nokton 1.4 lenses, as well as the 75mm Summilux and Summicron lenses. It did however allow the 35/2.5 Skopar and 35/3.5 and 35/2.8 Summaron lenses that I was seriously considering, and the 75/1.8 Heliar that ended up becoming one of my two ‘daily shooter’ lenses. My preference in camera gear is towards small and lightweight. For this reason, choosing 39mm and 52mm allowed me to build a kit of relatively compact lenses – of the kit I use, only the 75mm 1.8 Heliar is considered ‘large’ for its focal length, and then only by comparison to the Summarit and older Heliar 2.5 lenses. The popular 75mm Summilux and Noctilux make my Heliar look tiny!
There were some odd side-effects of this choice. It prevented me from pulling the trigger on a goggled 135mm F2.8 lens; which I later learned was widely considered to be soft and unreliable – a lucky save! Interestingly, while all my 39mm filters are either B+W or Leitz, I’ve ended up with a fairly consistent Hoya kit in 52mm – though as I’m starting to select color filters for monochrome work, I’m finding that certain filters like Wratten 22 are almost impossible to find for 52mm and I’m looking at using Heliopan filters. This is because historically, 52mm-thread lenses were bulky SLR lenses, on which most photographers in the 70’s and 80’s used square drop-in filters. I even have a set of these myself. Voigtländer’s modern 15/4.5 II, 35/1.2 II, 50/1.2 and 75/1.8 lenses are the only 52mm rangefinder lenses that have ever existed, as far as I know.
As for my filter choices themselves, they have been a little more slapdash than my lens choices. As it stands, I currently have the following filters for at least one of my two formats:
UV/Skylight filter (Wratten 1A). These are my day-to-day for color and low-light monochrome work. I have a handful of them, because they’re also used as ‘storage’ filters on lenses that aren’t in use.
Deep Orange-Red (Wratten 22, B+W 041). This is my bright-light monochrome filter, mostly used to retain detail in the sky when I’m shooting outdoors, and to highlight skin tones when I’m shooting in the flat, overcast days that I prefer to work on. At the moment, I only have one in 39mm and I’m hunting for a good 52mm version.
Daylight-Tungsten (Wratten 85A). I have these in 19mm, 39mm and 52mm. They allow me to shoot daylight (~5500K) scenes on Tungsten-balanced (~3400K) color film, such as Eterna Vivid 500T, or Vision3 500T and 200T.
Tungsten-Daylight (Wratten 80A). This one is a recent purchase for my 52mm kit. It’s the inverse of the 85A, allowing me to shoot indoor scenes with tungsten lighting on normal daylight-balanced color film. It’s not a filter I expect to use often since most fast color film I use is already tungsten balanced, but I can see opportunities for it.
Daylight Warming Filter (Wratten 81A). You can think of this filter as a much paler 85A. It adds a gentle orange tone to scenes, offsetting some of the harshness of flash, and some of the blueness of daylight – particularly on overcast days. It’s very handy for shooting standard slide or color negative film outdoors, and it tends to live on my 135mm lens which is mostly used for portraiture.
It’s easy to see that my kit isn’t the most comprehensive (or to put it another way – bloated) out there, but with four uncommon filters, plus a UV for each lens – and my requirement for high quality multicoated filters, it’s also a kit that would get expensive quickly if I had to buy it again for filter thread after filter thread after filter thread. It would also take up a significant amount of space as each stack of filters in cases takes up about the same room as my chunky 75mm lens. Finally, it has already proven difficult to find some of the more obscure filters in the common sizes I’m looking for – getting the 81A and 80A filters was more luck than judgement on my part and I’ve mentioned the difficulty I’m having finding a 52mm 22 filter.
That hopefully explains why I have such an obsession with filter threads of lenses – cost, space and availability all play their part in making it difficult for me to justify adding additional filter thread lenses. That said, starting from scratch would allow me to choose different sets – 46mm would allow me the Summilux ASPH lenses, 75mm Summarit lens and the (optically identical) later version of my 135mm Elmar lens, while 43mm would give me the Nokton 3/51.4, a direct copy of Leica’s pre-aspherical Summilux and the Nikon 135/3.5 Q.C. 67mm filters would give me the 16-18-21mm Leica Tri-Elmar and 75mm Noctilux. All of these options are much bigger than the selection I’ve made, so for my needs? I’m happy with my choice.
I wrote yesterday about the process of selecting the lenses I use on my M mount cameras. A lot of that dealt with how I ended up with 50mm and 90mm lenses, and how they proved not to work for me. My original plan for my four lenses were four lenses split over two sets of characteristics, classic and modern, 35 and 75. The original name for the blog was to feature those two focal lengths. Thankfully, I decided to not name myself after the toys I own, instead of the artistic focus. But, it does show my dedication to those lenses, and reminds me that switching to 50mm lenses for a time was quite a surprising move, even to myself. As I stated yesterday, my final-four ended up being a set of four different focal lengths: 15mm, 35mm, 75mm and 135mm. I want to think a little more about focal lengths, and why I chose the ones I did, because to my mind that criteria is far more important than the actual model of lens that one might purchase.
To my mind, the logical place to start is with the first focal length I ever owned as a prime lens: The 75mm. A summary of the backstory is that I was using an APS sensor DSLR, and bought a 50mm. One funny element I skipped before, is that when I bought the first 50, I thought I was buying a Macro lens. When I started photography, I was working entirely on trial and error, and made a lot of obvious mistakes. The lens I bought was a Nikon AF-D 50mm. It had the advantage of allowing auto-exposure on my cheap camera, and I found myself using it quite a lot. Not having originally planned to have a non-macro prime lens, I ended up googling ‘What do I use this for?’ and discovering street photography, which also introduced me to the Leica brand, which I’d only previously heard in a cheesy teen movie from the early 2000’s that made a lot of jokes about it.
Ignoring the Leica as unimaginably expensive and pretentious, I set about using the 50 for street shots of cars, cats, broken paving slabs and very rarely, and nervously: people. It was months later before I understood that I was actually using what most photographers would call a ’75mm’ because of it’s cropped field of view. Eventually, the lens had a few focusing issues, and I gave it to a friend. A year or so later, I found myself missing it, and bought another, earlier version which I still have today. At the same time, I was getting more into the Street photography concept, and started referring to myself as an ‘amateur photojournalist’, taking my camera to interesting events and making poor quality shots similar to those found in the rural newspapers posted through my door. At no point did I consider trying a ‘real’ 50mm, the pretentious side of me preferring to do what I thought was unusual, and shooting at 75mm.
Naturally, this short-tele magnification did give some problems; I was forced to stand far back to get shots, and group pictures were a no-go. A useful tip for people thinking about different focal lengths; while they may be frowned upon by the prime-lens elite, the kit lens that comes with any digital camera will cover a range from around 28mm to 80mm. I used this convenient fact to experiment with street shooting at all of the common focal lengths I could find. This was where I first discovered a distaste for the real 50mm field of view, considering it a bland point between two more interesting perspectives. The 75mm was long enough to get shots more subtly, while still allowing me to be in the same space as my subjects, and not being physically large enough to seem intimidating on the streets. The 35mm view was visually interesting, with enough distortion to give the scene a new pop, without the completely unflattering view a 28mm seemed to present. By contrast, the 50mm was the worst of both worlds, bland from the oft-praised ‘natural eye-like view’ and still forcing me closer than I was always comfortable. The kit of two let me set the distance that I was happy to work at, the 50mm forced me to always be in the scene, even when I wasn’t comfortable.
I used those two lenses throughout my first experience of adult photography. Eventually a mix of external and internal pressures forced me to stop, and I started spending my time on other pursuits more accessible to me. Several years later, some of those pressures subsided and I found myself in the position of trying to take photographs again. I won’t repeat the whole history, especially as I only wrote it a few hours ago; but I will note that for a time I did find myself comfortable with the 50mm view. The problem was that I chose 50mm lenses not for my interest in the focal length, but for ancillary reasons: one was a curio I was tempted by, another came with a camera. Eventually both suffered issues, the curio was unusable on a day to day basis, and the ‘kit’ lens suffered a minor mechanical fault, so was put aside to await repair.
The final decision to return to the lenses I’d long ago fallen in love with, came because of a failing in myself. I reached an impasse where I was having difficulty finding pictures, and from that a difficulty finding motivation to go out and shoot. Wary of the risk of completely losing interest, I decided to experiment with different kinds of photography. By chance, I stumbled across a few opportunities that led me to explore portraiture and fashion photography, and when reading on this I was interested to find that the focal lengths being recommended were the same ones I had fallen in love with long ago. I spent some time playing with my 50mm lenses on a crop-sensor camera I keep for video recording, and decided that it would be worth my considering my original plan to shoot with a 75mm again. I had also found that I sometimes wanted a longer focal length, and after a little research I decided on a 135mm lens that was affordable and highly rated.
An interesting anecdote here. I’ve always been a pretty nerdy woman, I watched a lot of science fiction as a child, and at 7 years old one of my favorite books was the ‘Dorling Kindersley Science Encyclopedia’. As it turned out, science subjects are not where my talents lie, but I do take some enjoyment from interesting mathematical relationships. I’d originally bought a 15mm lens on a whim, having seen some interesting photos and deciding it would be an interesting thing to experiment with. Having crafted my new plan for a four-lens kit, I made an interesting realization about the four focal lengths. 15 and 35 have a difference of 20mm, 35 and 75, 40mm, 75 and 135, 60mm. It would not be untrue to say that this was the clincher that made the decision for me.
I spent a little time playing with other focal lengths, but these lenses are the only ones in the standard range that have such a smooth geometrical relationship. Part of me wonders if this may be a subconscious factor in why I always enjoyed the 35, 75 and 135 views on my SLR, and why I took so strongly to the 15mm. Either way, it’s a piece of trivia that appeals to me, and the set certainly contains common enough focal lengths that are widely used outside of nerdy mathematics fun.
I guess this post is probably long enough to deserve a TL;DR: Try before you buy, using a kit zoom lens to set effective focal lengths to see how you like working with them. Also, mathematics is cool.
As a software hacker, I was always taught the value of taking a historical look at ones decisions during a project, in order to improve either the next stage of that project, or the next project entirely. For that reason, I feel compelled to critique my lens decisions over the last two and a half years, that led from my initial consideration of film through to my current and hopefully final set-up.
The Background
I started film photography, at least as an adult artist, with a single, simple compact camera, the Olympus Trip 35. The 40mm lens was a high-quality standard lens which I found took excellent pictures. I knew I wanted to go further, and I knew I was going to buy a Leica system. Since all Leica M cameras are barely distinguishable from a functional perspective there was no real wrong decision to make on that front, but I knew choosing lenses was going to prove challenging.
My lens knowledge comes originally from my digital set-up. When I first discovered photography, I was using a simple set-up of a cheap Nikon DSLR with a kit lens and a large, heavy 90mm macro/portrait lens that was the only one I could afford. I quickly found that I wanted a smaller, lighter system and decided to compliment my SLR with vintage pancake lenses. I started with a 50mm, with a ‘full frame’ field of view of a 75mm lens. This took a little getting used to, but I eventually fell in love with the distance it put me from my subjects, as well as the way the lens compressed subjects. I still needed a wider view from time to time, so I added a third-party 24mm lens to the kit, to give a comfortable 35/75/135mm pairing, when the macro lens was included.
Having finally decided to get a Leica, I knew without question that I wanted a 35mm lens, and that I would want to stay compact. This put three lenses on my radar. The first was the Voigtländer 35mm F2.5 pancake lens, a high quality modern lens. In the intervening years however, I had discovered the low-contrast photography of James Ravilious, and decided the look was something I wanted to imitate. As such, and wanting to stay ‘on-brand’ for my first lens, I bought a Leitz Elmar 35mm F3.5, a lens associated with Ravilious and known for being extremely compact. Here begins the comedy of errors.
The Comedy of Errors
The 35mm Elmar is a truly fantastic lens, with wonderful image quality. It’s also so small as to be unwieldy, causing an M mount camera to hang off-balance, tilting backwards from the lack of the heavy lens counterweight it was designed for. The front-mounted, stepless aperture ring also proved less than practical to work with and I quickly became frustrated with my inability to find quality filters to fit its bizarre 19mm mount.
I made a second mistake that took the Elmar from awkward to tragically useless. Thinking I knew better, I bought a cheap adapter ring to convert the Elmar from 39mm thread-mount to my M-series’ bayonet fitting. While accurate in thickness to give correct focus, the adapter was rotated relative to the ‘real’ fitting, causing the lens to mount the wrong way round, and bind with the frame selector lever. I quickly found my crippled lens to be useless, and put it aside, though not before getting the first few pictures that had me hungering for more.
Around this time, inspired by my frustration with the Elmar, I had begun forming the idea of the ‘Four-lens kit’. This was to structure my early experiments with Leica and frame a lot of my early choices in lenses. The idea was to have two focal lengths, and two renderings; 35mm and 75mm as with my Nikon, and both classic and modern renderings. Two would be classic lenses like my Elmar, and two would be modern lenses. The first plan was for the Elmar, a Voigtländer pancake, their old 75mm lens and Leica’s new and shiny 75.
At this point, I came across an interesting and fatal tidbit of information; learning about the original 50mm Summicron, how closely it was associated with street photography. This started because I saw one for a very low price on a camera sales website, which touted the rare radioactive version of the lens. Throwing caution to the wind, I purchased the lens, which proceeded to give me some of the best, and more commonly, worst photographs of my first year of film photography. Unfortunately the lens was unrepairably worn, as are most lenses of it’s kind. Still, as a radioactive curiosity, it makes a nice decoration in a cabinet.
I’d already decided to pick up a second body, and a few weeks after buying my first M4-P, I managed to pick up a second, which came with a matching 50mm lens, another ‘Elmar’. Over the course of the next few months, as I slowly realized the faults caused by my Summicron, I started to use this lens as a replacement and soon found that I liked it’s rather beautiful and simple rendering. Eventually, I became so frustrated with the Elmar that I bought an exceedingly cheap 35mm Russian lens as a substitute while I reconsidered my plan.
So, from my original plan of four lenses, I had abandoned three, and was rapidly feeling cautious about the fourth. I’d started using filters for different effects and films, and I was getting frustrated buying new sets for different lenses. At this point I decided to change my plan, and standardized on the 39mm filters used by my 50mm lenses. This cut my choices drastically for a long term 35mm lens, giving me only three options: The Voigtländer I rejected for a Leica lens at the beginning, the Summicron lenses that were miles above my budget and two rare versions of a 1950’s lens that I’d never seen before, the ‘Summaron’.
I didn’t manage to find any records of famous Summaron users, but there were plenty of encouraging words and samples on forums, and I decided to be brave and plump for the best Summaron I could afford. When it arrived, along with the real Leitz adapter I bought to make sure I used it right, I finally discovered my error with the Elmar, which worked perfectly on the real adapter. I decided to stick with the new lens anyway, and road tested it on a few long trips away, which left me cautiously happy with the results. For a gig, I also obtained an old 90mm lens, which survived the one trip, but suffered mechanical failures shortly after. As the lens is not worth a tenth of it’s own repair cost, I attempted to repair it myself, which did not go well.
Over time, I bonded with the 50mm Elmar and the new 35, which grew stronger when I had the latter cleaned (professionally, this time) to remove 60 years of haze. At the same time, I still lusted after my ‘Four Lens Kit’. I had moved on to be more accepting of larger lenses, and after I fell in love with a 15mm ultrawide with a large filter ring, I added that to my list of ‘acceptable’ filter sizes and soon discovered a 75mm and 35mm that were high quality and fitting my tastes. Over a year later, I finally found the resources to complete my line-up. In the meantime I’d also found I had some interest in shooting portraiture, and was eying a 135mm lens that was cheap for aesthetic reasons but optically excellent and which was even more ideal as the ‘ugly’ version shared the 39mm filter ring as my Summaron.
The first lens I bought was the 135, simply because one became available. The 75mm followed, at which point I found myself leaving the 50 behind entirely. I realized that if I were to buy the large, low-light 35, I’d not be able to carry either the 75 or the 135 at the same time, which would make it horribly impractical to use on a regular basis. I’d also fallen so heavily in love with the Summaron that I was reticent to buy ‘another’ 35, when I already had one (actually three, as I’ve never parted with the Elmar or the Jupiter) that was perfectly functional.
The Four Lens Kit
So here I am, having decided to give up my long-lusted fast lens. Conveniently, this takes me back to a regularly used kit of four lenses, just as I’d originally planned. That said, of my original list, not one is still current. There are some similarities to my first plan, with two Leitz lenses and two off-brand, but instead of concentrating on the differences between classic and modern, I’ve ended up with a rather more sane set of four varying focal lengths that take me from wide angle to long portraiture. The question weighing on me, is whether I could have reached this state, or something similarly stable, without the intervening two years of shopping and experimentation?
While it’s not in my final collection, the 35mm Skopar pancake lens was one of the first two lenses I considered, along with the Elmar. It has the 39mm filter ring, and was a tiny and practical lens. I could easily be happy with that, instead of the Summaron – and I almost bought one instead of that lens, as well. By chance, it was out of stock when I tried to order it, and so I went for the Leica lens. But I chose the Elmar because it was smaller, and had less contrast. It took some time before I settled on my ideal look, and until I had done so, I might have found the very modern Skopar just as frustrating in different ways.
The 75mm 1.8 was also a lens I considered in my original listing, rejecting it because a few reviews had said it felt too big for a Leica lens. If I hadn’t bought the Summicron, I would have purchased the older 75mm F2.5, which had an odd filter ring. There is a good chance I would have found this very frustrating as I started to use filters, and I might well have abandoned the focal length entirely. As it is, the 50mm was a strong learning curve for me on many fronts, and for the price I paid I am happy to have it as a curio. My experiment with 50mm also led to the decision to buy my second M4-P, which came with another 50. The matched filter rings was a strong decider in my decisions that followed, as were the lessons I learned from the photographs I produced with them. It’s easy to see my experiences turning out very different without these lenses.
There are a few other lenses I paid for which haven’t been as useful. The throw-away 90mm was used for a single event, and while it produced photographs I liked, I didn’t find myself missing the lens after it became unusable, but as it had been more-or-less free in the first place, I also didn’t find myself missing the cash. Perhaps the biggest waste was on a pinhole I bought as an experiment following a gift from my sister that made me curious about that photography. Even then, I’ve enjoyed the experience of shooting with it, and there were many lessons around exposure and framing that it helped me master.
Realistically, when I calculate all the money I’ve ‘wasted’ on these experiments, it wouldn’t add up to much, and certainly less than I would have been willing to throw away on learning anyway. Each one has produced images that I am proud of, and through the mistakes I made, I’ve learned things that have made me a better artist and helped me decide on a set of equipment that will cover any need I will plausibly have.
The Real Choice
The final question becomes, what do I do with them? The 28 pancake, 35 Elmar and Jupiter, the 50mm Summicron and Elmar and the 90mm Elmar. Two of these are ruined and useless, but also worthless. The Summicron will always be a fun curio, particularly because of it’s scientific interest as a radioactive lens. The 90mm I would happily part with, but I don’t know of anyone who could have any use for it. The other four… The 35mm Elmar was my first Leica lens, and I would be loathe to part with it for that sentimentality alone. Similarly, the 50 is a matched set with my camera, and so will stay. The pancake is something I occasionally play with, and earns it’s keep as such. The Jupiter is the only one which has neither sentimental nor practical value to me. The truth is, I keep it because it’s not worth enough to bother selling, so until I find someone I want to encourage with a helpful gift of a good lens, it might as well stay where it is.
In the end, I’m happy with my choices both past and present. My equipment works for me, and the total amount I’ve spent, including on the items that sit idle, has not been unreasonable for what I plan to be my lifelong companions. I’m content.
