Nikon's Perfect Vision? The N2020

Bloated, ungainly, and bulbous are all words that could be accurately used to describe Nikon's autofocus SLR cameras of the 1990's.  Despite their reputation for rugged and dependable cameras, Nikon's film SLR line up in the later days of film carried a look that was admittedly unbecoming to a number of camera fans, myself included.

But it wasn't always this way.  Nikon's very first successful autofocus SLR actually looked much more like its manual focus predecessors than the bulky AF cameras that would follow it.  In fact, the camera actually had a sister model (the N2000) that looked more or less identical to it, but lacking the autofocus feature.  The 1986 AF model, known as the F-501 in other markets, was known as the N-2020 in North America, which leads to me jest that this camera was Nikon's perfect vision of its future.

I'd rarely use the term "elegant" to describe most Nikon Autofocus SLR cameras, but I certainly can appreciate such a trait in the N2020. 

My interest in the N2020 came after reading Mike Eckman's well-penned Nikon trifecta article.  I was particularly pleased to discover that he had a spare "beater" body that he'd shell out for some surplus trade bait of my own.  I'd already had some experience with the N5005 and N60 that I'd genuinely liked, but the N2020 seemed very much like my kind of Nikon, being an autofocus camera that remained remarkably true to its manual focus roots.

From Russia with Lovely Bokeh: The Zorki 4

The camera sat on my shelf looking sort of lost among a handful of Japanese, American, and German counterparts, bedecked with its incongruous Cyrillic lettering on its face plate, and looking every bit the fish out of water.  It certainly didn't beckon to me, resulting in a feeling that was anything but love at first sight. 

I picked it up and briefly peered through the combination viewfinder and rangefinder, and my eyes literally began to hurt to try to focus on a nearby object, as the entire field of view looked both bright and fuzzy to me.  I placed it back on the shelf, a tad overwhelmed by the operational nuances of this interesting but somewhat puzzling machine, but also confused as to why its benefactor thought I would appreciate it.

So, fellas?  Heard any good state secrets lately?

The camera in question was the Russian made Zorki 4, a generous loaner from Mike Eckman, who also runs a great site featuring vintage cameras.  Though I certainly appreciated the kindness of the gesture, I had yet to grasp just what was so enthralling about this Cold War relic that emerged in 1957 from behind the Iron Curtain.

Pentaxonomy: The Pentax ZX-7

It was with mild interest as I mused back upon my photographic past to realize that prior to my "digital hiatus" beginning in 2001, the camera maker from which I had shot the most different models of film cameras was in fact... PENTAX!

Among my earlier film camera experiences was shooting staff K-1000 cameras as a photographer at my college yearbook in 1991.  Later, when I became the editor of this yearbook, and enabled with some funds to replace the "K-Grands," I selected the P-30T model for offering an affordable choice with auto-exposure.  Years later, when I was a Bus Operator, I snapped up an IQ-Zoom 80 QD to carry with me as a means to occasionally document (on slide film!) the buses, routes, and settings I had the privilege of driving.

When I got back into film shooting however, Pentax had been conspicuously absent my "wants list." In each of my earlier examples of using a Pentax, the camera model was selected more for a pragmatic aspect of cost benefit in a pricey camera market than it was selected for the shooting experience.  The K-1000 simply was there already, and I didn't recall liking it much.  The P-30T performed fine, but always felt a bit cheap.  The IQ-Zoom was actually rather likable, and produced some decent results in favorable conditions, but seemed easily thrown by any varied lighting situation. Simply put, despite my interest in photography and sentimental ways, I was at a loss to conjure up nostalgia for shooting a Pentax.

You would at least think that given my exposure (pun intended) to the brand throughout the 1990's, I would at least be pretty well versed in "Pentaxonomy" but even this fails to ring true. Despite being a Popular Photography subscriber for most of the 1990's, I paid little in the way of attention to the Pentax brand, though much of this is due to the maker rarely getting much in the way of prominent attention at the time.  While Canon, Nikon, and Minolta stole the show with their many new releases, Pentax's line-up generally sat humbly in the backdrop.  There were some occasional feature stories on some of their more innovative releases, but most of the buzz tended to focus on the industry's "Big Three."

Or at least that's how I remembered it.  But then as I was digging through some online copies of Popular Photography from 1999, I spotted an advertisement that suddenly spurred a memory for me:

Suddenly, I could remember being the twenty-something "Quirky Geeky Guy with a Camera Magazine" seeing this very ad back when it first was featured.  I was totally enchanted by the idea of the light up dial featured on the ZX-7 at the time, but had not long beforehand picked up a Canon EOS Elan II-e, so this Pentax and its novel arrangement showed up just a hair too late for me to consider at the time.

But... here I was remembering this in a new era where the film cameras that cost several hundred dollars a decade and change ago could now be had for barely more than lunch money.  I stole off to ebay, found a nice looking ZX-7 for under $20 and pulled the trigger with little hesitation.

The Pentax ZX-7 has a fairly basic look that is hardly intimidating to the amateur photographer.

Admittedly, I was making a buying choice based on little more than a novelty feature, but it wasn't a huge investment.  Looking through what I could discover in documentation seemed to support that this Pentax could provide a new and welcome shooting experience for a person like myself who had been largely used to a much more manual experience.  I certainly looked forward to giving it a try.

Fun with Film: Fujicolor Reala 100

It would have done me a lot of good to simply listen and pay attention years ago.  A lot of good.

Before taking a break from shooting film, I predominantly shot slide film.  I really had a distaste for color negative film, finding the color palette of negative films to be lacking compared to the bold and vibrant colors of transparency film.  There were a few exceptions, such as the vivid Agfa Ultra 50 film, that were known departures from this rule  And while there were general purpose transparency films that had rich and vivid color renditions, there seemed no such thing on the print side of the house.

I recall hearing a decent amount of love for Fuji Reala 100 in particular as a print film with a very likelike vividness rendered in rich hues, but thought this simply meant it rendered accurate skin tones for portraiture, and feeling nothing in the way of loss that I'd neglected to give "yet another print film" at least one try.  

Upon ordering the last couple rolls of Agfa Ultra 50 from a favorite Etsy seller, I was greeted with a happy little bonus of a pair of rolls of Fuji Reala 100 tossed into the package. Thankful to have this bonus, but still not knowing much about the film, I tossed it in with the rest of my expired film and elected to just run the first roll through the Vivitar 5500PZ. This choice was not as much to test the film but to have some cheap color results to show from this camera.

I took the camera along with me on a few Spring outings and before long, I'd wrapped up this roll of film handily, dropping it into one of my home-developed batches of color film to await some results to scan and post, all the while expecting nothing terribly special in the way of results from this film that had been discontinued about a decade ago.  

But that would quickly change.  As the scans began to complete, I realized just what a phenomenal film this is.  Even a poorly done shot on Fuji Reala can look remarkably impressive when it contains a nice pop of color to draw in the eye.  With each additional scan, I realized that I really should have been more open minded regarding this film during the days when it was being made, as I'd almost instantly come to be remiss at its discontinuance. 

So without further delay, have a look at the Fuji film known as Reala, and join me in my sorrowful realization that this is yet one more amazing film that is all but unavailable today.  

It is a major irritation when your camera gives you an affirmative green light that your subject is in focus when it really is not.  Still, the color rendition of this film is nothing short of amazing, as seen here.

Trying not to GAF with the Memo EE

Ever shot a photo with one hand with the other bracing a pole?  Over a blind fence? Panning a moving subject due to a slow shutter speed? Or how about simply using a scale focus camera and no meter to shoot a roll of film?  

Sometimes one best shots are taken in situations where there may be little in the way of guidance or control.  And sometimes, photography can be at its most fun when it's not a cake walk of perfectly metered exposure and/or easy focusing.

In the Summer of last year, as my frugality was ramped up to about the same degree as my Gear Acquisition Syndrome, I stumbled across a cheap listing for a compact little rangefinder camera produced under the GAF name, and couldn't resist.  For about $14.50 total, I snapped up the GAF Memo EE rangefinder in unknown working condition and not knowing just what to expect from this model.

Admittedly, I knew I was flirting with danger with this pickup.  Unlike some compact rangefinder models of the 1960's and 1970's, the GAF does not offer a manual mode, so snapping one up in an "as-is" condition leaves one at the mercy of the longevity of the rather primitive electronics within its confines.  And neither that mercy nor any luck were on my side when the GAF arrived.  I discovered a dead meter in this budget pick up.

The particularly tiny GAF Memo EE is loosely related to the Konica C35, and also has some near-identical twins with various other nameplates. 

Super Sleeper: The Kodak Brownie Starflex

About the best barometer of a camera collector's affinity towards a particular example in his active collection would be the number of rolls of film that have passed through its chambers to produce images.  A camera that sees a single inaugural roll of film only to then sit and collect dust would certainly seem to be less favored than a model that has seen numerous rolls of film in the same amount of time.  

Given that I have a decent sized collection, it isn't too often that a particular example stays by my side for several months as a primary camera churning out roll after roll of film, so a camera that sees half a dozen rolls over the course of a year would admittedly be a well favored "high-use" camera for me.

Occasionally, I come to notice that a particular example in my collection has been called into use more than I would have guessed, seeming to indicate that I have a latent, almost subconscious liking of it that comes as a surprise to me.  I call these examples "Sleeper Cameras" as they possess some intangibles that seem to make them inexplicably endearing to me.   This is one of my very few examples of such a camera in my collection...

I'd more or less expected this little camera to be good for one roll and nothing more.  Nope!

Point and Shoot Pity Party Part 5: Pentax IQ Zoom 160

This is Part 5 of a recurring series on basic point and shoot consumer cameras, the details of which can be found here.

To be offered something for the cost of shipping is a tough thing to turn down, particularly when one has the tricky habit of adopting point and shoot cameras that few people want.  On a recent post of mine about my "Point and Shoot Pity Party," a kind reader offered to send me a few examples of point and shoot cameras languishing in his possession for the cost of shipping.  I got only a general idea of what was coming my way but thought the endeavor would certainly be fun.  Among the treasures in the box was the Pentax IQ Zoom 160, a late model mega-zoom P&S that was among the top tier among traditional point and shoots of its era.  I quickly took to this camera, and spoiled it on a Spring outing with some fresh Ektar film to see just what it might be able to do.  

Front View (open)

Top View (extended) - talk about overcompensating!

Through the decently sized viewfinder.  The bracket marks actually compress as you zoom out to assist in focusing. If you focus on a close object, the top of the viewfinder screen will grey out to assist with parallax correction.   

Name: Pentax IQ Zoom 160

Format: 35mm

Type: Autofocus Point and Shoot 

Year: 1999

Features: Fill Flash, Flash Off, Night Portrait, Bulb with and without flash, Self Timer, Remote Trigger, Multiple Exposure, Spot AF and Forced Infinity Focus, Backlit top LCD, Panorama Mask, Parallax Mask in VF, Red Eye Reduction Mode.

Lens: 35-160mm, f/4.5-12.0 (11 elements in 7 groups).
Battery: 1 CR-123 cell.
Manual: http://www.derrybryson.com/manuals/Pentax/35%20mm%20Point%20and%20Shoot/IQZoom160.pdf