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.