Categories
Gear Personal

Going Analog: The Origins Story

While surfing Facebook today, I chanced on one of the “On this Day” memories that reminded me of a dilemma I had some good 7 years ago: Should I buy a Minolta X300s or a Nikon FM2. I was tempted by acquaintances around me to dabble in film photography since time immortal (haha ok at least since 2009). Because I’m such a drag whenever I narrate stories of my past, I’ve decided to break up this mother of all grandmother stories (not the first nor last!) into bite size blog entries… Now let me start the story from the beginning… Once upon a time…

 

Circa 2009, I think that was the peak of the lomography fad. A dude I knew through a uni schoolmate was collecting old Minolta lenses to use with his Dad’s Sony DSLR (think it was a A99 or something snazzy and expensive). Very soon he was acquiring a Hasselblad 500c. Boy was is that waaaaaaaaay out of my price range… But kid was loaded so he quickly snagged up a complete kit with lenses. There were talks back and forth about the nostalgia of shooting film among acquaintances. Every other person I knew were using one of those Holga/Diana toy cameras, refurblished Polaroid instant cameras, Fujifilm Instax or some older family member’s antique film camera. Mind you, I only shot with disposable cameras most of my film days, so my contribution to this topic was quite limited. Nobody was particularly into disposables. Heck, not even myself by choice… But beggars can’t be choosers, it was either that or no camera to use at all.

 

Backstory: I was lucky enough to touch my parents’ Minolta compact on a rare occasion back in 1999. But that ended quickly and badly when I wasted 2 frames (unfortunate combination of flash jamming, Mum’s intervention and us pressing the shutter button too quickly in succession). I ended up being hammered on the head with said camera by my Mum. I vaguely recall my Mum firing off in random order: “Film is expensive! You don’t know how to use the camera! Don’t spoil my expensive camera! You’re lousy in photography!” Now that last statement stuck in my head for a very long time. I still occasionally playfully reminded my Mum of her critique on my “lack of gift” in photography. It took me a long time to get to where I am today. I spent 9 years shooting primary with disposables, and I felt I was reaching nowhere. The bulk I’d shot were “nearly but definitely not there” or a “spike” (jargon for a picture not fit for publication). It was only when I shot with a disposable Kodak during my uncle’s wedding that I unwittingly stumbled on a mini epiphany: The Decisive Moment! Clicking the shutter button only at the right moment when every element in frame falls into it’s rightful place. Why didn’t I think about that – to think before clicking the shutter button! The very action of planning before finalizing your frame (composition) makes a big difference. I think for this very reason I find myself inclined towards Henri Cartier-Bresson and his works, since it was he who originated this photographic ethos.

My progress in photography came after a hell lot of determination and endless practice. No one, be it friends, schoolmates and family, believed I could take great pictures prior to my uncle’s wedding. Changing the way I approached photography started me on the route to improvement and attaining a certain degree of finesse in this craft. Of course digital photography greatly sped up the learning process. With instantaneous playback on your last shot, the process of fixing your exposure errors and poor composition were expedited. Get it wrong? Delete that image and try again right away! It doesn’t cost you an extra cent! Shoot to your heart’s content, experiment with all the wackiest angles possible within the memory card’s limit. Without a doubt I wouldn’t have been able to pursue photography as a career that soon if not for the advent of digital photography.

 

I was months into using my new DSLR camera (Nikon D90), it was the most expensive piece of camera equipment I had used at that point in time. The D90 was way more than I could handle back then. I literally stuck to Auto mode, like a true n00b. Moreover as a student with limited budget, I think it was wiser to stick with digital photography. It felt “cheaper” to me in the long run since I wasn’t obliged to develop and print my works to see/evaluate them. Sure there are film cameras that barely cost much. But being a student back then, without a full-time income, it made sense to stay away from unnecessary expenditure. Buying film, developing and printing them all cost money. Money that could be spent elsewhere more “meaningfully”. A close friend in college had recently unearthed an old family camera. It was a Minolta X300s in pristine condition. If memory didn’t serve me wrong, he generously loaned me his camera for my advertising class project and even encouraged me to use it.

 

I felt shy using his camera for free, and tad bit scrooge-y to cough up money for a roll of film. So for the length of time I had the camera with me (something like 3 months?), it served the purpose of a prop for advertising class projects. I really liked that camera, it brought back sweet memories of my parents’ film compact. I had a sweet spot for the magenta-ish tint captured through Minolta’s optics. But because I was too cheap to buy film to try it, and the chronic fear of f*cking up exposure and ruining the roll, unleashing a domino effect of wasting money on trashy shots, I ultimately couldn’t bring myself to use it. I just switched the camera on and off. Turned the barrel of the lens clockwise, anti-clockwise to focus on my desired subject and imagined the outcome of my shots.

 

So what about the Nikon FM2? How did that come into the picture? Well months before the Minolta X300s came into my life, I was trying my best to pinch pennies together to get a macro lens. I was ideally thinking of getting the AF-S Micro Nikkor 60mm f/2.8G ED but man do I not have $600 worth of loose change hanging around to even afford a used version. I managed to pull together $280, and being ever so impatient, I hastily bought a banged up Nikkor MF 55mm f/2.8 micro lens from a foreign NUS scholar. That chap posted photos he took with that lens and I was pretty impressed with the end products. So I bid for the lens through an online forum. In retrospect for the price I paid, I was clearly ripped off. I shouldn’t be paying more than $200 for a lens in that poor of a condition (lens barrel was whacked and loose but thankfully optics was fine). Of course I only knew the condition of the lens at the point of sale. Still, I should’ve backed off from buying. I would continue to make that same mistake again when I bought the Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm manual focus zoom lens later in that year. Regardless, it was ultimately my fault for agreeing at that amount. I was just reeking in desperation to own that macro lens. I was so clueless with changing lenses off my D90, the guy and his friends started laughing at me. In what felt like mock sympathy (accompanied with wha I felt was an underlying tinge of sexism), one of his friend demonstrated to me how to remove and fit back the lens to the camera body. Foreign NUS scholar, at that point, was done dealing with me (the clueless n00b), so he took the cash and left with his companions. They continued laughing as they left. It was a humiliating encounter obviously, which is probably why I remember the episode so vividly till this day.

 

On my journey home by bus, I started exploring the lens, focusing and unfocusing, snapping picture after picture. When I reached home, I picked out miniature alcohol bottles from my dad’s liquor collection and snapped pictures of them. I  marveled at the shots produced with this lens. I fell in love with manual focusing and for the first time moved into the unknown territory of manual exposure mode. I was no longer an all-auto idiot. I learned to guesstimate exposure, what ISO, shutter speed and aperture combination was needed to attain my photographic vision for a particular shot. All that dabbling in manual exposure mode subsequently opened me to the idea of using a fully manual camera. It would be cool to use a camera that operated without battery, where I have full control of every expect of the photographic process. It sounded fascinating to me to own a camera that would keep on shooting with having me to worry about battery life, and the possibility of passing it on to my posterity (hehe that last bit is kinda stretching it). While researching more about my new flame (the macro lens!) from the internet, I discovered this website on all legacy products Nikon had produced. It was through this website that I chanced on the Nikon FM2. Interestingly at that point in time, the local photography forum was flooded with people trying to offload this model. I was so tempted to snag one, but having spent much of my savings buying a small collection of MF lenses, I held off on that. Moreover, with the rate that I feverishly took pictures, I would quickly end up in debt from buying film, developing and printing them. I felt I should hold off on it and focus on mastering the D90. Better dabble things one at a time, eh!

 

When my friend asked me if I wanted to take over (buy) his Minolta X300s, I was reminded of my desire to own the Nikon FM2. So I told him I needed some time to consider… Eventually I ended up returning his camera, so he could sell it off to a decided buyer. The last time I ran into him some 3 years ago, he told me he decided to keep the camera in the end. Just in case one day he decides to dabble with film again. As for me, I was onto my fourth digital camera… The Fujifilm X-Pro1. Looks like going analog ain’t gonna happen with me after all.

 

 

Now now that sounds like the end of my story, but that’s just the beginning…

Leave a Reply

error: Content is protected !!