It turns out my eloquence, compared to the length of my post TODO list, is rather limited. Often I am out of ideas for filler text long before the end of a post is reached. In the past, I have tried to provide at least one line of text between the images of my “5 Frames” posts, but I feel like my lack of creativity is a hindrance. So from now on, I will use a different format: 1 title image, a little bit of context info, and then the remaining 4 images. Thus without further ado:
On a sunny day at the beginning of 2020, I did another trip to the Tegernsee with my trusty Hasselblad 503cx in my backpack.
I had a roll of Ilford HP4+ loaded and walked through the lovely town of Rottach-Egern.
The main goal in Rottach-Egern was to feast on a delicious piece of steak, and to enjoy the weather and the landscape.
There is nothing else to convey, so this post will be on the short side.
Please enjoy these 5 frames that I am quite happy with, as they seem to capture the mood of the day decently.
Shooting panorama photos has always been tempting to me. I have had my eyes on a Fuji GX617 for a long time, but I never could convince myself that it would be worth spending the necessary money. I considered other panoramic cameras, but none felt as exciting as the prospect of a high-quality medium format 6x17 camera.
For example, there is the Hasselblad XPan, which offers a 24mm x 65mm panoramic frame. A beautifully made camera (as far as I can tell from the pictures on the product page). But that camera is (used) as expensive as the Fuji, and compared to the near 60mm x 170mm the frame is tiny.
Another problem with the cost of those cameras and my urge to own one is my drive and spare time that I have available for getting my behind out into the wild to take pictures. And I have a lot of other cameras that want to be fed with rolls of film.
Speaking of other cameras: I do have a couple of cameras that would be suitable for panoramic photography if they are used together with smaller film sizes. A strip of medium format film in an 8”x10” film holder could give a frame of 61mm x 250mm, which would even make the Fuji GX617 look like it is coming in short a bit. The problem with this is mobility: A 8”x10” large format camera needs a tripod and the camera, lenses and film holders consume a lot of luggage space. It is tedious to lug around. And if you put in all that effort, why not directly use 8”x10” sheets of the film?
A 6x9 medium format camera, on the other hand, is quite easy to transport. You can get decent pictures, even when shooting handheld. And there are adapters that enable the use of 135 film. These adapters can be found cheaply on “the bay” from individuals that 3D print them. I acquired two sets of them. That way I could directly transfer the exposed film into another (previously empty) 135 film cartridge. (Note: 120 film usually is transferred from one spool to another when advancing frame by frame, while 135 film is spooled back into the original cartridge when all frames are exposed.)
I took a Voigtländer Bessa 6x9 and loaded the 135 film with the adapter. It is a simple camera with only a viewfinder and no rangefinder. Advancing film is done by rotating a knob. When used with 120 film, the frame numbering on the backing paper of the film is shown through a small window. This does not work with the 135 film, as it does not have said backing paper. I had to guess how far to advance, and I guessed with way more safety buffer than was necessary. With a better guess, I probably would have gotten about 10 frames onto the film (instead of 7).
While I usually use my Nikon CoolScan LS-9000 ED, a (nearly) 35mm (including sprockets) x 90mm frame does not fit into the mask of the 135 film holder. Luckily, I recently acquired a Howtek Scanmaster D4500 with scanning 8”x10” sheet film in mind. That gave me the freedom to scan the whole frame (including sprockets, which was never an option with the Nikon CoolScan). Unfortunately, dust is the mortal enemy of any drum-scanned image, and my apartment is a paradise for dust.
This is the fourth post in a series of duplications. It is the companion post to ”6 Frames - Eibsee With The Fuji GW690 III”, where I told you the story of a medium format camera that got dragged around a little lake at the foot of a tall mountain. But that story was incomplete until now. It is a story not just about a medium format camera, but about a 35mm camera, too.
As I already mentioned in ”5 Frames - Zugspitze With A Leica M6”, I went out with both the Fuji GW690 III and the Leica M6. The M6 was paired with a Zeiss ZM 21mm Biogon f/2.8 lens and fed with a couple rolls of Kodak Pro Image 100.
The lake is the Eibsee at the foot of the Zugspitze, the highest mountain in the German Alps. And this is as far as I will go with the description of the trip. Following: A little bit of photography philosophy.
Claim: Photography is best enjoyed with patience. Observation: The more time I invest into photography, the more I enjoy it.
With this, I do not aim at the time one may invest into the process alone, but also the time invested into waiting before looking at the results. For digital photography, the time between laying eyes on a scene for the first time and having a look at the result is way too short for my taste. It goes “Ah, that looks pretty!”, *click*, a quick look at the tiny display at the back of the camera and the subsequent disappointment that it does not look exactly like what your eyes can see, often resulting in the picture going to the bin.
Only when I had enough time to forget the beauty of the scene am I able to enjoy the pictures that I had framed so long ago. Photos age better than the memory of the past. And with that memory lost in time, I am finally able to look at the images with a sense of pride and joy.
The story has been told so many times before. It was a sunny day, no rain in sight. A young lad was climbing a mountain to bring back visions from a faraway land. Or something like that. This post is about the Zugspitze. Again. Just like in the ”5 Frames - Zugspitze With The Fuji GW690 III” post.
The same old story. A different camera: The Leica M6 with a Zeiss ZM Biogon 21mm f/2.8 lens. A combination that should be familiar to the avid reader, as I have introduced it in ”5 Frames - Nebelhorn Again”. What a coincidence, that I may refer to a post that is titled “Nebelhorn AGAIN” in a post that I could have titled “Zugspitze AGAIN”. And both posts are about pictures taken with the same camera.
One may wonder: Why bother running around with two cameras, if you end up posting the “same” thing multiple times?
The Fuji GW690 III may be called a “Texas Leica” (as I have explained in ”5 Frames - A Texas Leica In Sydney”), and it is a rangefinder camera, but it still is a different beast than a real Leica. For one, it only has a fixed lens that is roughly comparable to a standard prime on a 35mm camera. Another difference is the size of the negative: The Fuji exposes a frame that is close to a whopping 6cm by 9cm.
The Zeiss ZM 21mm Biogon is a wide-angle lens, which makes it suitable for wide sceneries like landscapes (which is what I was aiming for on the peak of a mountain in the Alps). The camera is small, and with a suitable camera strap length, it may hang around your neck without the two cameras colliding. Both together make for a decent combination.
“What? 6 frames? SIX frames? But… but… but… it should only be 5! FIVE!”, you scream in horror. Well, maybe you don’t, but I’ll let my imagination run wild for a moment. As with every post, I started with the whole collection of images that I shot at the “event”, and then threw out the unlikely candidates. I ended up with these 6 frames and had a hard time to get rid of one more image. So I didn’t.
Following my adventures on the peak of the Zugspitze, I followed up with a walk around the Eibsee. This lake is at the foot of the mountain, and given the gorgeous weather, it would have been a waste to go home directly after reaching rock bottom.
Now that I have one more image than originally planned in this post, I need a bit more filler text to avoid overwhelming your eyes with all the colourful imagery. (You did not expect me to write all this so you have something to read, did you?) The avid picture viewer might have noticed a lot of lake-imagery lately. I am trying to do something for my physical and mental health, and I find walking around lakes calming and relaxing. There you have it: I am fat and insane.
Enough about me: The cameras that I took with me were the same as in the previous post (”5 Frames - Zugspitze With The Fuji GW690 III”), of course. A Fuji GW690 III and my trusty Leica M6. The pictures in this post are from the Fuji and were taken on Fuji NPS 160, a film stock I generally like quite a bit. Unfortunately it seems to be out of production and remaining stock is getting more and more expensive.
Now I am out of things to tell you. Maybe you are interested in learning, that walking around a mountain lake has its ups and downs?
I still have the images I took with the Leica M6 on the Zugspitze and around the Eibsee in the pipeline. And I have to come up with more filler text. This will be hard.
Enjoy the images!
Fin.
Since moving to the south of Germany, I wanted to get to the top of the Zugspitze and take pictures of the alpine panorama. And so I did. I packed my Nikon F5 that I got only a short time before the trip, and took the cog railway to the top to enjoy the view. There was just a slight problem: There was no view. The peak was in the centre of a huge cloud. Visibility was about 10 meters, it was freezing cold (something around -14°C), it was windy and it was snowing.
I tried again. This time during the late summer. I packed the Fuji GW690 III (and a Leica M6), drove to the valley station of the Zugspitzbahn and took the new (amazing) cable car to the peak. The view, as you can see in the pictures, was near perfect. There was a lot of tourist traffic, but the renovated platform at the top of the mountain offers a lot of space. Only the passage to the Austrian side of the peak was a little crowded. Of course a beer garden up there is absolutely necessary. And of course they had to put it right where the passage is. Genius!
I filled two roles of Fuji NPS 160 while running around. While the view is breathtaking, there is not that much to take pictures up there. There are mountains in nearly every direction, and the platform can be explored in a relatively short time.
A neat detail is the restaurant with the corner where you have an unobstructed view of the Alps. Just walk into the restaurant downstairs and find the area with waiters. Sit down at one of the tables right at the window and relax with some decent food. Heaven!
A visit to the Zugspitze, in case you are no mountaineer who likes to hike up 2000m to the top, will set you back a whopping 58€ per person (at the time of writing). Make sure you get your moneys worth by checking the weather and the webcam. If the stars are all aligned, I feel that this place is worth a visit.
While having a walk around the Schliersee, I took the opportunity to grab a camera (or two, with the second one being the NOPO135) and shoot my surroundings. I had a couple of rolls of Rollei IR400 medium format film quietly degrading in my freezer, which should have given me a neat effect with all the foliage around the lake. Rollei IR400 is a black and white film that is sensitive up into the infrared spectrum (to about 795nm). Together with a suitable red filter, this film stock shows foliage as very bright, making forests look snowy.
Silly old me took the right camera (the Fuji GW690 III is a practical choice, as the focusing is not done through the lens), the correct red filter, but forgot to take the filter adapters with him. With a roll already loaded into the camera when I was still at home, I chose to push forward and shoot without the filter. “Well, let’s just see what happens…”, was what I thought.
What happened is, that the film behaved like normal black and white negative film. I am unable to see any hint of brightened foliage, which leads me to believe that the visible light spectrum was overpowering the infrared spectrum.
The resulting images, thus, are black and white negatives with fine, modest grain and contrast that is on the heavier side. Nothing that I could not get from other film stock, which makes using Rollei IR400 this way somewhat wasteful.
Next time I go outside with this infrared-sensitive film, I will be prepared: I found the filter adapters in my equipment closet and attached them to the camera. And they will stay attached. Permanently. Forever! Muhahahaha!
The Camera
The Zorki is a Russian screw-mount rangefinder camera based on first Leica designs captured after world war two. I am presenting here version 4 of this camera, paired with an Industar 22 lens. The Industar 22 is a 50mm lens with an aperture that opens up to f/3.5. It is, as far as I can tell, uncoated. Oh dear…
As the camera is a rangefinder, it is worth talking about the rangefinder patch: It is small, a bit dark and hard to see. At least that was my first impression. After taking it out and using it for a while, I got used to it and was able to focus adequately. I do not have any experience with the early (Barnack) Leica design, so I am unable to do any comparison on that front. Compared to later Leica M bodies, the Zorki 4 has a couple of “quirks” in its operation.
Operation
The first oddity that I noticed when loading film, is the double lock system that is used. On modern Leica M bodies, there is a single lock on one side and a pin and hole combination to hold the other side. The Zorki 4 has a lock on each side, which helps with balance when setting the camera on the table, as both locks are not flush with the bottom.
The next oddity is the film winding knob: There is a counter for the number of frames on top of it. Wind on one frame, and the knob is turned by 360° minus (or was it plus?) one frame on the scale. Unfortunately, I have not been able to align that knob correctly after loading a new roll of film. To get the number of shots I took, I have to read the frame number indicated on the scale and subtract whatever was indicated right after loading.
Speaking of winding: When you are done with the roll of film, rewinding is initiated by turning another, small knob around the shutter release. After turning that knob, the winding mechanism is disengaged and the film may be re-wound.
Shutter times are set by pulling yet another knob up, followed by turning it into the correct direction. This only works after the shutter has been cocked by the film winding knob. This, and pressing the shutter, rotates the shutter speed knob. So, aside from the fact that you are not supposed to set the shutter speed before cocking the shutter, you would not even know what you set it to. I guess, without having seen this in action, it is hard to picture what is happening. At least with all the knobs on the Zorki 4, I will dub this kind of camera the “Knobby”.
The Lens
The Industar 22 is a retractable lens design, which makes for a relatively compact camera in total. It locks in place with a turn when fully pulled out, but there is no mechanism to lock it in place when it is fully retracted. This means that the lens may move around when you tilt the camera. Another weird feature is the infinity lock: There is a pin on the focus lever that can be pushed out and locked in place on a notch. A nice feature if you want to focus at infinity for most of the time, but otherwise it blocks you from focusing “near” infinity. Aperture is set on a ring at the front of the lens. This seems okay, until you leave your fingerprints on the front element of the lens.
Results
The images in this post were taken on Fomapan 100 using the sunny 16 rule. Mostly for laziness reasons, as I did not want to carry around a light meter. Some of the pictures ended up too underexposed to be usable. Most of them were fine, though. The lens is sharp enough for what it is (an old, uncoated design). I did not see any problems with flare, and the contrast is acceptable. I am looking forward to give the Industar 22 a test run with some colour negatives.
Conclusion
The camera, in comparison to what I have had experience with so far, is a quirky one. None of those quirks are real problems that would deter me from using it more. It does make the Zorki 4 quite a bit of fun to use. And the camera feels nice in the hand.
In conclusion: Will use again.
The Camera
NOPO is a company that produces handcrafted wooden pinhole cameras. The NOPO135 is their 35mm film offering. I got mine as a birthday gift a couple of years ago, and after I went through the first roll of Fomapan 100, I tossed it into the closet and it sat there for a long time (with a second roll of Fomapan 100 loaded and a few frames in). The reason for that is its operation: While it is a basic pinhole camera that is simple to operate, there is one painful step.
Operation
The NOPO135 is divided into two segments that are held together by a magnet. The top has the holder for the 35mm film cartridge mounted, and loading the film amounts to “stick cartridge into one side and pull film out of cartridge until it can be slotted into to winding wheel”. Then put both pieces back together. Done.
Taking a picture is similarly simple: Wind the film on a couple of “clicks” (you start with 15 and reduce by one every 4-5 frames to use the film as efficiently as possible), rotate the shutter until it “clicks” open, wait until the exposure is done and rotate the shutter back until it “clicks” shut again.
Exposure time is usually calculated by measuring for f/22 with a light meter and multiplying by 40. Easy. If only the winding knob would not be so stiff. Oh well… this is not much of a problem winding forward. But when you are done with the roll, you have to wind it back. This entails turning both knobs in the backwards direction. A lot. When you are done, you might notice that your fingers hurt. Those knobs aren’t very comfortable.
Experience
When you leave your house with the NOPO135, you will inevitably want to take a tripod, too: Exposure times, even in daylight, are around 4 seconds with an ISO 100 film. I went to the Schliersee and decided it is time to take my little pinhole camera out into the wild again. So out I went with a tripod and the tiny wooden camera loaded with Fomapan 100 mounted to it. I walked around the lake, and some passersby sure gave me some amused looks.
Taking pictures is a slow, deliberate process. And guesswork. Markings on top of the camera indicate the view angle, but that’s it. You have no idea what exactly is in the frame until you get a look at the developed negatives. You can’t be sure about the exposure times, either. But that is not that much of a problem: For the duration, you just count to the calculated exposure time and hope the latitude of the film does the rest. Turns out that works just fine.
Results
As you can see from the images in this post, this pinhole camera for 35mm film is anything but sharp. Given that it is technology from the beginning of photography, this is to be expected. If a pinhole would result in a tack sharp image, nobody would pay thousands of dollars for lenses, would they? Well… then why buy this camera?
I wanted it because I love the design and the idea behind it. I like the craftsmanship and the wood. And I like the idea of having a working piece of the history of my hobby.
