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The
Cameras ... Links
to the various cameras mentioned on this page are provided at the bottom;
as there are many of them mentioned in the text, I have gone this way so
you can read (and digest!) this page and then move onto references to cameras
externally.
Two years later, this was replaced with an Olympus OM 1N with a Tamron zoom lens (remember, the quality of zooms of any type then was far from as impressive as they are today!). The OM 1N joined me on a couple of early explorations around the Otway National Park, including one quite horrendous winter ride in which I battled snow and ice amidst the saturated narrow confines of Turtons Track, making Beech Forest saturated and exhausted just as darkness fell. In 1984, I caught on with the sensation that was, at that time, the Olympus OM4 with its quite surprisingly fast motor drive. The chief appeal with this well specified camera was its small form that suited my smallish hands. I also became very interested in the multi-spot metering methodology; this methodology is still called on today and used in the EOS 1N with its variable spot metering facility as an effective means of tackling subjects with awkward contrasts.
I used the OM 4 to record proceedings for the first Great Victorian Bike Ride from Wodonga to Melbourne in November of 1984, so that was quite a busy time for both rider and camera; I exposed something like 50 rolls over 9 days, both during daylight hours and at night, later having these published in a colour brochure mailout to all ride participants as a memento of their achievement. This wonderful camera came to grief during a ride with a friend on his tandem to Breamlea via Surf Coast Highway. We turned off onto Blackgate Road (at the time, unsealed and rough gravel) and proceeded to knuckle down for the slow grind up the only incline on that road. Once over the top, we opened up and literally flew. However, the racktop trunk in which the OM4 was held made free over a bump and was abrubtly caught under the wheels of a following truck. It has never been satisfactorily explained why we stopped, ran back, picked up the trunk and re-attached it to the rack — without so much as a cursory inspection inside! So...upon arrival at Bancoora Beach, I was presented with an OM4 that had literally been crashed and shattered; the lens had been wrenched clean off the mount, the top and right side of the camera was crushed and broken glass, metal, circuits and fasteners of all sorts littered the inside of the trunk, which incidentally was little damaged by the impact save for a tear on the side where glass had attempted to exit. And so, a little over a fortnight later, another OM 4 was procured. This one travelled extensively in a front handle bar bag of my first mountain bike and joined me on many travels along the Great Ocean Road and far western Victoria. I think in the Autumn of 1985 this camera, too, was doomed when the handlebar bag, removed from the bike, was placed on a sanddune upon which I was admiring the view over Cape Paterson when it tumbled over, and the camera out, all the way to the bottom. A frantic attempt to grab the bag only encouraged more contents to escape. The OM 4 was taken to Melbourne for assessment and, after 3 weeks of waiting, the news came back that it was not salvageable due to the extent of sand penetration which would make it uneconomical to repair. It, too, joined the scrap heap, sold as 'parts' to an enthusiast in Northcote a month or so later. With a long cycle touring trip planned to Tasmania in the Spring of 1986, I splashed out on a Nikon F3 and MD 4 motordrive, plus a small black tripod. About a week went before disaster struck here, too. On the wharf at Strahan, in western Tasmania while waiting to board one of the vessels for a cruise up the Gordon River, I lost my footing and tumbled into the shallows — camera and lenses and all. Nothing of this distressing incident was salvageable. Changing liaisons In 1987 I made the switch to Canon, picking up a Canon T90 which at the time was a masterpiece of engineering, and indeed it is still revered in classic circles as the definitive start of the digital control revolution. This camera joined me on big rides through Gippsland (often to Wilsons Promontory) and as far as Errinundra, up into the alps around Falls Creek and more summer rides in the Upper Murray and Goulburn areas. This was the only camera that escaped incident. Photography with this was becoming better as an understanding was forged with my chosen subject: the landscape. I used the T90 with a Canon FD 28-105 f3.5 zoom (remarkable for its day) and created several quite beautiful images of Wilsons Promontory and Gippsland generally.
Changing priorities in 1989 saw me pension it off (in hindsight now, it seems it was an absolutely crazy thing to do, but tempered by the fact that Canon was on the cusp of abandoning the FD lens mount as it steamed ahead with the all electronic EF mount) and revert to small compact AF cameras. So a Konica Big Mini was next, which was quite a hit for its quality of optics, then a Minolta AF9000 (an entirely forgettable machine), then a Nikon FE2 then a period of nothing at all until the interest picked up again toward 1990. Forgettable follies At some time around this period, I briefly owned a Nikon F401 which so appalled me in terms of its tardy AF speed and lack of clarity that it was abrubtly traded-off after its one and only journey with me to Mitchell River in Gippsland. That camera was a gem, just lousy. The aforementioned Nikon FE2 had some enduring appeal: being all steel, it was quite rugged, small and very straightforward to use, and its metering was uncannily accurate. I sold it off in Bendigo in 1991 as my interest in real, or thoughtful photography waned, probably due to the amount of activity I was dealing with in lengthy travel to and from work from my base in Campbells Creek, south of Castlemaine, which the family relocated to from North Melbourne in 1989. With employment in Castlemaine increasing my cash reserves, in 1994 I seized upon the suggestion from a lady friend that maybe I could re-visit photography and make something of it. The mid-1990s saw a surge in the number and quality of AF-SLRs being released. Canon naturally caught my fancy, having already established that I quite enjoyed the Canon T-90 (even though I crazily disposed of it!). A trip to Melbourne and a look around the camera haunts had me eyeballing the Canon EOS 5 which, at the time, was quite a revolutionary little beast, boasting chiefly about its eye-control facility (even today among professionals using subsequent EOS models with this feature, it's either a totally dubious distraction or a downright gimmick, depending on who you talk to!). I collected this camera and a Canon EF 35-105mm zoom lens , bagging the lot duty free en route Norfolk Island in July 1995. • • • An idyll in the Pacific Now, Norfolk Island, a brilliant green speck in the vast blue South Pacific, was quite a hit with me. Lush, green terraced hills (upon which quite plump cows deftly negotiated improbably steep inclines), quaint, old world architecture and roads so bad that keeping lunch down and bum on seat while driving over them was nigh impossible. Dodging browsing cows mid-road, chooks, ducks and the occasional straying pedestrian were memorable daily events in a distractingly beautiful emerald-green land renowned for its ubiquitous Norfolk Pines and wild and unblemished coastline. Here, amidist much travel up hill and down, getting to grips with the new EOS 5 was proving quite a learning curve, not helped by forgetting to put a battery in it on the first day out. The beautiful, volcanic boulder strewn arc Anson Bay is where most of the early photographs with the EOS 5 were made and to this day they remain among my favourites which I can look back on as very early benchmarks. The photo record of Norfolk Island bears little likeness to my work today. Upon returning from Norfolk, I set about looking at what could be achieved into the medium term with a camera of this calibre, studying the work of Peter Dombrovskis in particular. I then made several weekend visits to Tasmania to check out the landscape there. These two things had the greatest impact and influence in setting the long-term course of photography in the years to come, but especially the inspiration drawn from intently viewing the lush, beautifully considered images of Peter Dombrovskis. Meeting the Master I'd met Peter only once, in torrential rain at Edgar Dam (Western Tasmania), as he was unpacking his car for a 2-week sortie into the South West National Park. An evidently strong and very quiet man, from memory, he packed a bulky camera and several smaller pockets containing lenses into his huge overnight pack. I came to learn later Peter was using a large format 6 x 4.5 Linhof Master Technika Classic; he, too, had started with 35mm, progressed to medium format in the 1970s and then to large format in about 1979. In later years, I have come to rever the Linhof, and the skills required to master it — particularly for its superior imaging quality, and if it were not for the practical problems of carrying sheet film about (oh, and cost!), I would have changed. I think 35mm is best for me. At that time, I didn't think I would be buying any further lenses. I was to use the one simple EF 35-105mm lens for almost 2 years before buying a Canon EF 20mm f2.8, at what I recall at quite horrendous cost. With this, I put into practice the selection of photographic subject, the exploitation of depth and the gradual, but marked refinement of technical skill in using colour transparency film. The 20mm optic was prominent in setting the foundations of understanding "fit-to-format" composition. With more and more photography, more lenses actually did follow fairly quickly. Canon's first image stabiliser tele-zoom — a 75-300mm f4.5-5.6 (discontinued) was next on the list. It's most memorable impact was in the amount of power consumed from the 2CR5 battery powering the EOS 5. I held onto this lens until 2003 as it wasn't used very often — the somewhat suspect optical quality being my main concern. Next, a Canon EF 100mm f2.8 macro and shortly after, my first L-series optic, a Canon TS-E 24mm f3.5L perspective control lens. This lens has been an interesting beast right from the start, and one which would set me on an 6-year learning experience, consolidating basic skill learnt with the 20mm lens, and building upon this to master tilt / tow and shift and the combined or isolated affects of these movements on the overall image. It has been a fascinating learning experience and the mistakes that often occurred proved absolutely invaluable.
A few months later, this lens was soon joined by the acquisition of a Canon EOS 50E. This camera stole some thunder from its bigger brethren (EOS 5) with the making of 'The Moorings' B&W triptych shot at Norfolk Bay Harbour, Taranna, Tasmania, in 1997 (these images are in the Gallery). This amazingly successful triptych was shot with an EF 20mm f2.8 lens. Wanting to record my travels in a "snapshot" sort of way, without using the big camera, in 1998 I took delivery of a Ricoh GR1 AF compact. I was to enjoy this little gem immensely until silly accident on the tideline at Lorne saw it, too, join the long litany of cameras that have come to grief. I put it down on a rolled up jumper, went to get my toes wet and suddenly a tidal surge engulfed not only my toes, but raced up to where my camera was and swallowed it whole. I unravelled it from a sopping wet jumper, gave it a shake and rushed it back to the hotel room. There, I watched sullenly as its displays faded from strong to faint to nothing; its little self-timer light gave a flicker and it died. The film was salvaged, but the camera could not be. For some reason, this loss hit me harder than all the others. The moral to this incident is simple: don't — just don't — put a camera anywhere down on the sand no matter how safe it looks! • • • By 2000, I had recovered my senses enough to invest in "just one more", collecting another classic: an Olympus XA, bought from a friend in San Diego, USA. This tiny, manual focus, manual wind camera is still in use, repaired once after I tumbled into the surf at Johanna Beach in 2001! Watchers in the wings On the evening of Boxing Day 2003, several items from my kit were stolen from a niece's car parked at Wreck Beach, in Victoria's Great Otway National Park. No cameras were stolen, but 2 prized lenses and a flash, plus personal written notes and records and 2 exposed rolls of film were lifted. While this was certainly an upsetting development, it proved the catharsis for launching a tilt (pardon the pun!) at Canon's high end L-series lenses, the quality of the TS-E 24mm f3.5L being such that I was more than convinced that I was onto a good thing. An EF 17-40mm f4.0L and EF 70-200mm f4.0L were procured quickly, and a newer model replacement Canon EF 100mm f2.8 macro also joined the collection. In November 2005, I purchased from a Sydney-based friend a Canon EOS 1N, thus putting my trusty EOS 5 away (but never for too long!) after more than a decade of constant, dedicated use. It is still used, but not as much now, the heavy work being taken on by the 1N.
• EOS 1N In April 2005, having found little use (quite aside from 'The Moorings' of 1997 in Tasmania) and some end-of-year functions in central Victoria, the EOS 50E was pensioned off to a young photography student in Queensland. Fast forward to 2nd October, 2006, and, having run out of film on my arrival in Queenstown, New Zealand, I made the decision to shift my print film photography to digital so that 'snap and go' photography would not be hindered here, or further down the South Island, nor would photography be restricted due to print film being hard to find in many places. After a look around (shopping in Queenstown is quite an experience!), I settled on a FujiFilm FinePix E900 digital camera (9 megapixels, below) providing me with a wide range of exposure adjustments. A 512Mb xD card (too easily lost given its miniscule size!) was an adjunct purchase, as was a later 1Gb card. Now home, the Olympus XA will be traded off to a specialist Melbourne collector sometime in early December.
• Fujifilm FinePix E900 And
finally Well, no. There are no further camera or lens purchases
planned (I imagine you are surprised to read that?). The shift to digital
for my ad hoc (non-production) photography was to some extent predictable
as print film is being offered in reducing quantities by scant few manufacturers;
this despite Fuji's pro-level transparency and print films (NPS, NPC), which
are still quite abundant and sought after by studio and product photographers. Buying
so many cameras over 20 years must be viewed in perspective. With the exception
of the OM 4 and T90, I probably didn't learn a great deal about serious
imaging until taking up the EOS 5 and studying the works of other photographers
(notably Peter Dombrovskis, but there were others of lesser influence).
No two cameras are the same and as one camera followed another, each bore
different (and interesting) approaches to the presentation of emergent technology.
An example is the wide gulf in technology between the sophisticated metering
of the Olympus OM 4T and the heavy, clunky, noisy Nikon F3: as an owner
of one in the 1980s, I firmly regarded the F3 as being very, very, very,
very expensive for what it was. Do I have personal favourites? Yes. But only three cameras have made a lasting impression in memory: the OM 4T, Canon T90 and my long-suffering EOS 5. Latterly, the EOS 1N has certainly been an immediate hit in terms of zeroing exposure accuracy and particularly with the use of the TS-E 24 f3.5L perspective control lens. All this is tempered with the necessity of dexterously mastering the 1N's awkward overlap of controls and settings. That's my only quibble, and nothing of consequence to me in the field.
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Olympus OM 10
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OM 1n | Ricoh GR1 | Olympus XA | Canon EOS 5 | Canon EOS 50E | Canon EOS 1N | Wikipedia link: EOS 1N | FujiFilm E900 Linhof
Master Technika Classic | Peter
Dombrovskis / West Wind Press
Canon EOS 1N-series message board, Kuala Lumpur
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The first time I picked up an SLR of any type was in 1981 I think when I
bought an Olympus OM10 — a basic, coherent all auto machine that introduced
me to 35mm photography. It joined me on my first long overnight bike tour
on the Queen's Birthday long weekend of June 1982 to Melville Caves in Kooyoora
State Park (where the image
'Evening Light on Boulders', in Gallery, was shot).
Olympus OM4