Minolta's Metropolitan: The A5 Rangefinder

"Wow, but you're handsome."  That was my very first thought. 

As someone who owns rangefinder cameras made from the 1940's through the 1970's, I tend to be a bit dismayed to see how the outward appearance of this genre of cameras gradually grew to be a bit less attractive as the years went onward. The svelte design of a flagship camera like the 1948 Konica I had become less endearing by the time the Auto S2 was released less than two decades later. Both are excellent cameras in their own way, but the earlier camera possesses a sleek design that had been jettisoned as the camera took on a faster lens and improved functionality in the form of exposure metering. 

Looking at some of my other rangefinders of the 1960's, I'm not particularly smitten by the overall look of the Ricoh 520M CDS, Taron Marquis, or Yashica M-II.  But then I happen to acquire a little gem of a camera from the 1960's that really impresses me with its outward appearance...

Simple and elegant, the Minolta A5 puts forth an attractive and clean look. 

I call it my "Metropolitan" as the gorgeously raised "M" logo, looking more like an upside down "W," strongly reminds me of the solitary "M" logo associated with New York's Transit system during the later part of the same decade.  It's clean, simple, and even a bit elegant. It seems right at home in the decade in which it originated.  It's specifications are more or less identical to most decent Japanese rangefinders of the era, sporting an f/2.8 lens and a capable shutter that shot as fast as 1/500 of a second.  Another spare item generously granted to me for trial by Mike Eckman, the A5 impresses me with its clean look.  

Point and Shoot Pity Party Part 6: Olympus Infinity SuperZoom 300

This is Part 6 of a recurring series on basic point and shoot consumer cameras, the details of which can be found here.

If a point and shoot and an SLR had a baby, it would be a "bridge" camera.  These viewfinder based cameras hit the market in the early 1990's marketed as a more full featured alternative to a point and shoot but designed with a more novice-friendly interface than an SLR.   Ricoh, Chinon, Canon, and Olympus were some of the primary manufacturers of this genre of camera.  I knew when I started this series that I'd love to snap one of these up to try out if the price was right.  I had all but given up on finding one when this one showed up in a nearby thrift shop.  Even after getting home and finding the camera working, it was particularly fiddly about loading film, but finally acquiesced and let me run a roll of some Ferrania film through it. 

The look of the Olympus Infinity Super Zoom tries to be intimidating, but tends to come off as a bit awkward to say the least. 

Name: Olympus Infinity SuperZoom 300

Format: 35mm

Type: Autofocus "Bridge" Camera

Year: 1988

Features: Single and Continuous Advance, Multiple Exposures, Macro and Portrait Modes, Infinity Focus Mode, Exposure compensation (-1.5 to +1.5 in half steps), Spot metering, Servo Focusing for moving subjects, self-timer, forced fill flash and force flash off.

Lens: 38-105mm f/4.0-5.6, 12 elements in 11 groups
Battery: 2 x CR-123 cells.
Manual: http://www.butkus.org/chinon/olympus/olympus_infinity_superzoom_300/olympus_infinity_superzoom_300.htm 

Fun with Film: Imation Chrome 100

One of the more interesting and encouraging bits of news that emerged a couple of years ago as I was getting back into film photography was the initiation of an effort to save machinery and restart production of transparency film by Ferrania in Italy.  Though the project has been fraught with a number of unforeseen challenges, it is moving forward at a better pace now, and is showing signs of emerging at some point hopefully within the year. 

As a result of this, the "Ferrania" name carries a significantly higher profile than it did during the 1990's onward, when it was largely a "private label" film maker that produced many "store brand" films until about 2007 or so, when its production lines shut down.  In addition, Ferrania produced branded film as well, but this typically was marketed under the "Scotch" and later "Imation" lineups. I took a lot of shots in the early 1990's on a private label "Seattlechrome" brand that I suspect may well have been made by Ferrania. 

While I've managed to find a decent amount of Ferrania color negative films over the past year under various labels over the past year, the slide film product that Ferrania now seeks to replicate for its new product had been pretty elusive in searches on ebay.  I HAD been able to find a single roll of Imation Chrome 100 early last Summer that I excitedly snapped up in hopes it would give me a vague idea of how the forthcoming film will look.  

I split the roll between my Ricoh 520M CDS and the Olympus OM-2, with shots on the former taken on a Maine trip, and shots on the latter taken locally.  I anticipated there may be an extreme amount of color shifting, and some loss of speed, so I rated it around ISO 80 and hoped for the best.  The results from this 12 year old film, while not pristine, were appreciably better than I'd feared they might be.  The film had a slight amount of grain, and some color shifting towards the blue end of the spectrum, but didn't look nearly as shifted as the 2008 vintage Ektrachrome I took along to Oregon in 2015.  Here are samples of 12 year old Imation Chrome with some degree of post processing...

Loaded first into the Ricoh 520M, I had a lovely day before me to see what the Imation Chrome would do.  The color rendering is exceptionally on the cold side, but contrast and detail remain adequate. 

Franka's Tower of Portable Power: The Tower 60

It was a purchase decision that took the better part of 2 minutes.  Spotted in a nearby antique mall was what seemed to be THE perfect camera to add to my collection.  A medium format folder with a fast and rather reputable f/2.9 lens AND a rangefinder.  Priced at $40 with a 20% discount, I gleefully raced up to the front desk to ask to see this camera to check its operability.

Shutter: check.  Rangefinder: check.  Folding and unfolding: check.  There was nothing whatsoever that I could detect as being of serious issue with this camera.  It was oddly parallel to several others in my collection, but having the working rangefinder was the perfect incentive to add the Tower 60 to my camera collection.

Franka made models seem to come past me with surprising regularity.  This one was was a very pleasant surprise. 

Though sold by Sears Roebuck, the Tower 60 was a product of Franka, the very same maker who made the Solida camera that is a beloved favorite of mine.  In fact, the Tower 60 is more or less a Solida Variant with different markings.  It is for all intents and purposes identical to the Franka Solida IIIE.  Equipped with the same Schnieder Radionar 80mm f/2.9 lens as my previous Solida cameras that I loved using wide open wherever possible, I wholeheartedly welcomed the ability to add a version with a rangefinder to ensure accurate distance measurement.  I was $32 poorer, but vastly enriched culturally.  

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.