Category: Cameras

Utrpení tříbí charakter — a když si hodíte na bedra tyto stroje, charakter z vás bude přímo prýštit. Pot teda taky. Možná i slzy. Titáni vyvanulých časů důstojně čnící nade vší fototechnikou dneška a kolosy lámající stativy a páteře těch, co je nosí.

  • Sinar S1

    Sinar S1

    The Sinar brand is synonymous with Swiss precision and, along with Arca Swiss and Alpa, belongs to the photographic triquetry and holy trinity of large-format cameras from the land of cogged railways and melted cheese. The word is an acronym for "Still, Industrial, Nature, Architectural and Reproduction photography."

    • The birth of Sinar dates back to 1879, when Carl August Koch finally found himself in the best art in the world, photography of course.
    • It's hard to believe, but all three companies are still in existence and still dedicated to the same craft, i.e. the production of high-end photographic equipment, optics and related thingies. And they still have one thing in common—in order to get anything from them, you have to sell your grandmother, grandfather, one of each paired organ and register on OnlyFans.
    • The term "Swiss holy trinity" usually refers to the three unshakable pillars of another industry—watchmaking. It refers to the three most important traditional companies—Patek Phillipe, Audemars Piguet and Vacheron Constantin. To get a watch from their portfolio, the same applies as above, you just have to add your mum and dad.

    Main focus of Sinar has always been on large-format optical bench cameras, mostly used in studios or architectural photography, where their full potential can be used through their movements. You can find out what is a field camera and what is a monorail in my previous article, I offer a basic excerpt below.

    • The term "movements" means the deflection of the front and rear standards in different directions and angles. Each movement has its own name (tilt, shift, swing, slide, rise, etc.) and serves a different purpose—to correct parallax, vertical lines correction, play with depth of field, focus/defocus only parts of the image, and other nice little thingies. The possibilities are far-reaching, and mastering them will open up whole new universes of photography. The undisputed kings of motion are monorail cameras, whose design allows for much more dramatic degrees of movement than field or press cameras. But even these can show off. I recommend a comprehensive and illustrative article here.

    The first important kick-off into the world of images came with Alpina—the lines of the future were drawn, but there was still room for improvements. The drawbacks at that time were still the non-modularity of the accessories and the atypical construction (for example the rods, which were not typically Sinar and interchangeable with subsequent models). A small step for the world and a big leap for photographers was the Norma. Here, it was already a full-blooded model with clearly recognizable Sinar DNA and tons of accessories for all formats. Made of metal and cast iron, indestructible and heavy - yet quite compact. This was followed by models such as:

    • P (precise)—mostly for the studio. They were larger, heavier and more robust with focus on maximum movement and precision.
    • F (field)—for use in the pleneur. The design was lighter and with less available movements (but still highly superior).
    • C and X—hybrids of the previous two models or simpler, cheaper versions.

    However, the greatest strength of them all except the Alpina is the maximum modularity and interchangeability of accessories. With rare exceptions, there's nothing stopping you from assembling a Frankenstein composed of a Norma, a P version or the decades newer F2 variant—it will fit and work according to your needs and preferences. So it's a kind of PhotoLego with a wide variety of things around.

    Warning to weaker individuals—the following lines may contain a trace amount of bragging!

    The attentive reader, however, after Christmas scratches his fourth chin and notices that one version is missing—and he is right. Perhaps it wouldn't even be me if I didn't have something special—literally. The version I use is marked S (special). It was used for scientific and copying purposes, and the number of pieces produced could be counted on the fingers of one hand by a slow-witted fan of New Year's firecrackers.

    The differences are obvious at first glance—the front and rear standards are significantly lighter and almost free of movements. The front one allows only rise/fall (and has a different locking mechanism to the rod compared to the newer versions) and the rear one has only precise focusing. Normally the unit was mounted on a moving base (like the enlarger) with lights (Polaroid MP-4) in a vertical plane and used to photograph subjects. However, nothing prevents it from being used like any other camera for normal use. Pros and cons are obvious—limited movements but very low weight of 5,08kg, which surpasses even many folding cameras (however, nothing is lost on stability and I use it without any problem even with very heavy lenses). Those who are bothered by the lack of movements can replace the standards with another version thanks to interchangeability.

    This is specifically the S1 8x10" version from around 1978. There was supposed to be an S2 version with a more movable front standard, but I've never seen it. In fact, I've only seen one other piece of the S1 variant, and nothing can be traced.

    • The only materials I have obtained are directly from the Sinar HQ and I am attaching those in the article. Treat them with respect and discretion—possession of these documents will bring you into the large format noble elite and you'll have to chase the girls away with a tripod.

    However, the attached materials cause amazement and shock to a person familiar with the Sinar ecosystem, as it shows an 8x10" reflex binocular viewfinder! The vast majority of people have never heard of it, and the rest think it never existed and remains only in blueprints and wet dreams. However, let me take you out of the darkness—it did exist and I have used it. At this stage I slowly couldn't even walk outside and use two tripods to chase away the amazed crowds.

    • Occasionally you might see DIY versions built at home or viewfinders from the Toyo system—these accessories are mostly interchangeable with the Sinar and occasionally, though very rarely, shows up. This, however, is an original.

    Unlike the regular 4x5" version it was not intended for portrait use in a horizontal position, but a vertical one—in tandem with the aforementioned Polaroid MP-4 accessory, you looked into it from above (it also lacked a flip-up magnifier—so it is a very simple accessory consisting only of plastic and a mirror). The binocular was not perched at an obtuse angle like the smaller version, but at a sharp angle—so you need to be quite tall for normal comfortable use, but even so it's not quite right. The official name "Special copying focusing hood" already suggests something.

    When someone tells you that monorail cameras are for studio use and unsuitable for the outdoor use, it's easy to reply—so what? Don't be intimidated by good advices and instead harden your spine and train your will.

    At the end of the year and the article, forgive me a pinch of soaring advice and pathetic phrases: take pictures! Paint, compose, knead and verse! Do not be seduced by setbacks and idleness, there is no time to waste. Mistakes will be compounded, failures piled up. But nothing lasts forever, and the night is darkest before the dawn. Master D.A. said it better than I ever will:

     "Your soul is plagued with cowardice, which many times so weighs a man down, it turns him back from noble enterprise - as a trick of sight will make a beast recoil."  [Dante Alighieri. The Divine Comedy. Translated by Allen Mandelbaum, Bantam Books, 1980.]

    I wish you as many large format negatives as possible in the coming year and the many years to come. Per aspera ad astra.

  • M.P.P. mk. VI

    M.P.P. mk. VI

    M.P.P., or Micro Precision Products, was a British manufacturer of optical accessories that dabbled in several related industries.

    • The company was founded as early as 1941 and passed away in 1982, rest in peace (it had a slightly changed name since 1976).
    • As well as large format monorail, field and press cameras not dissimilar to the American Graflex (read previous article!), the company also developed successful medium format cameras, namely the double-eyed Microcords, Microflex etc (the only post-war company in Britain to produce medium format TLRs!). But they also flirted with enlargers, projectors and other related things.
    • TLRs (twin-lens reflex cameras) were also fitted with top-quality optics, e.g. from Ross or Taylor, Taylor & Hobson. Yum yum!

    However, we won't torture the kind reader with the details of the portfolio from this British photographic national treasure and we'll jump to the protagonist of today's article. The Micro Technical Camera is the name of this box, here specifically in the (mark/mk.) VI subtype for 4x5" format that saw the light of day in 1952.

    • There were six types, marked I (1948) - VIII (1963). Versions IV and V were not produced and so these numbers were skipped for some undoubtedly sophisticated reason.

    These were almost certainly the most advanced machines of this type ever produced in the British Isles, boasting, moreover, very good workmanship. Each successive version was an evolution of the previous one, and all had common denominators: light weight, small size and versatility.

    Showcase of M.P.P. camera products
    Sample of products of the company

    These versions, unlike their reportage siblings (Micro-Press), did not feature a built-in shutter, thus necessitating the use of lenses with integrated shutters—the consolation being the rather generous hole in the front standard, which could accommodate even the more obese lenses. However, there was no lack of a rangefinder (you'll find out what a rangefinder is from my brilliant description in the previous article) and a flip-up sports viewfinder with a frame at the top. In addition, the rangefinder could be calibrated with small metal slices to different lens focal lengths—for which there was an indication at the base. A nice little handy detail.

    • The sports viewfinder or sportsfinder is used to quickly frame a scene without having to delay using the optical viewfinder or the waist-level finder. The time is selected, the shutter is cocked, pre-focused to infinity and you just blink into the sportsfinder and snap! Some frames and masks even had different focal lengths pre-drawn so you knew exactly what you were aiming at straight away. Quick and efficient. These features made sports viewfinders applicable, now take a breath, when shooting sports.

    Where the mk. dominated, however, were the uncompromising movement options for a folding camera. Apart from the obligatory ones on the front standard, the base could be negatively tilted or the rear section with the bellows additionally extended. This de facto allowed movements even on the rear side or to extend the bellows lift and thus allow the use of longer focal length lenses to satisfy the tastes of portraitists or tele-photographers.

    • The term "movements" means the deflection of the front and rear standards in different directions and angles. Each movement has its own name (tilt, shift, swing, slide, rise, etc.) and serves a different purpose—to correct parallax, vertical lines correction, play with depth of field, focus/defocus only parts of the image, and other nice little thingies. The possibilities are far-reaching, and mastering them will open up whole new universes of photography. The undisputed king of motion are monorail cameras, whose design allows for much more dramatic degrees of movement than field or press cameras. But even these can show off. I recommend a comprehensive and illustrative article here.

    Together with the versatility, the weight (which is around three kilos) and the dimensions, where the camera folds down into an apart square, it is a truly universal and travel-friendly camera (readers with APS-C cameras and similar palm-size funny thingies, please stay calm!). However, I can't fail to mention the solid craftsmanship, consisting mostly of metal—which, besides great durability, also increases the wearer's defensiveness. Thanks to the integrated leather grip, you can stretch out quite solidly and you'll be commanding appropriate respect during evening wanderings through the lands. More advanced warriors can equip themselves with a tripod in their second hand and double their defensive-attack radius. So, good fight and good light!

  • Graflex Pacemaker Crown Graphic

    Graflex Pacemaker Crown Graphic

    You're a reporter in the US in the twentieth century and you're wondering what kind of camera you should get. Actually, you don't have to. Graflex. Done, solved.

    Unless you planned to be a mumbling weirdo, having a need to always go against everything popular (hello Pentaxists and my reflection in the mirror), there was almost no reason to get anything other than a Graflex—a company that dominated the industry between 1912 and 1973.

    • The company itself, of course, has been around much longer than that—dating back to 1887, but cameras were still more of a sideline. That changed in 1909, when the company was swallowed up by the behemoth of photography, Kodak (not to be confused with Kodiak, as Wikipedia so innocently warns us).
    • There were many more models and variants—even medium-format, large-format monorails and 35mm machines—but these never achieved such fame.

    The first time Graflex bared its fangs was before it was eaten by Kodiak, sorry, absorbed by Kodak, with the production of the unique SLR Graflex. It had a folding mirror, you looked into it from above and it looked pretty obscure. However, it had a built-in shutter and you could use almost any lens on it. Quite innovative and decades ahead of its time.

    In 1912, Graflex maxed the volume and the Speed Graphic saw the light of day. The benefits were far-reaching: compact size, low weight, in addition to a ground glass for focusing, a coupled rangefinder, flash compatibility and an internal shutter.

    • The rangefinder is a little device for focusing, where you look into the viewfinder with two images of what you're shooting, and with shifting the bellows or rotating the lens, the images converge and the moment they overlap, focus is achieved (think of it as squinting oyour eyes and gradually stopping). Fast, accurate, efficient. Three types were used—Graflex, Kalart and Hugo Meyer.
    • The flash was essential for journalists. It allowed shooting in low light conditions and with fast exposure times, and besides reporters it was also used by police on crime scenes and for evidence or photographing corpses during autopsies.
    • The built-in shutter consisted of a canvas curtain and a tension selector. The tension controlled the speed at which the curtain would run—i.e. the exposure time—adjusted by winding it. The highest speed was 1/1000s (in words: one thousandth of a second!) and to this day this remains unsurpassed for a shutter of this size.
    Historical photograph of a 5×7 Press Graflex SLR camera
    5×7″ SLR Press Graflex

    The presence of a built-in shutter allowed, as in the SLR version, to use almost any lens (you were limited only by size and focal length), but versions without it were also produced. These were, for example, the Century Graphic or Crown Graphic—which I tried in the Pacemaker 4x5" version with the Ektar 127mm f4.7 lens in the shutter. It's a machine that's almost unrivalled in its category, but we didn't exactly match—it's a machine designed for fast work, and something else suits my deliberate lazy pace better. Nevertheless, to this day these machines are still very popular (and also occasionally someone will murder them and gut the integrated shutter to use elsewhere—not that I haven't thought of doing the same, but I haven't had the heart yet).

    Graflex press camera with side-mounted flashgun, highlighting the detachable Graflex flash handle
    • Graflex has had a number of interesting inventions and firsts in its rich history—in addition to the Graflok mounting standard and the Grafmatic holder. In this you could insert up to six sheets of film and quickly change sheets by "rewinding" the sheet cover (a metal plate that protects the film from the light). The advantages are obvious—you only carry one holder instead of six, and changing the sheets you shot was lightning fast. Almost a matter of life and death for the journalist.
    • In 1977, the first movie in the Star Wars franchise was released and the iconic lightsabers are nothing more than a flash holder from a Graphic camera. The budget wasn't inflatable, so they went hunting in junk shops. When you take pictures with it, you can console yourself with the fact that you're only slightly less cool than Luke Skywalker or Darth Vader. May the Force be with you.
  • FKD

    FKD

    USSR, the land of mud and wooden spoons, spent several decades churning out its one and only line of wooden cameras: the FKD (I could feel it in my bones that this acronym meant something, but I couldn't dig it up. Fucking Klunky Device maybe?).

    • Update: turns out the bones didn't lie. A friend pointed out that it really does stand for something: ФКД—фотокамера дорожная—literally road camera or simply a travel wooden photo brick.
    • The design follows the classic and timeless tradition of German Reisekameras, made since the 1860s, with their final Soviet iteration being the FKD that lasted into the 1980s. They were produced in sizes from 13×18cm up to 30×40cm (the largest, however, wasn't foldable and was labeled FKP/ФКП, intended more for studio or repro work). I could feel it in my bones...

    In any case, this was the magnum opus of Soviet photo-carpentry, fitted with a basic Industar 210mm f4.5 lens—both light and compact enough to actually fulfill the whole "portable" thing. The camera often came with a stylistically matching tripod and film holders, sometimes even a travel case (what the Kharkov factory hath joined together, let no man put asunder!). And like everything Soviet, it was manufactured in the millions, which, compared to other makers, is still pleasantly reflected in the price today.

    Which, unfortunately, is more or less where the positives come to an end. Finding a holder that is light-tight and doesn't leak is not so easy (or "flow," depending on who you ask—both are absurd expressions when it comes to light, but that's just the way we talk in our oh-so-elite circles).

    • Although, why shouldn't light actually flow? There's the photometric quantity of luminous flux (Φ), and what do fluxes do? They flow. Case closed. 
    • As for light blowing into the holders... Maybe if the wind is strong enough it'll blow a few photons into the holder. They're terribly light, after all. They'll stick to the negative and make those little overexposed patches. That's just science.

    The tripod is about as stable as mounting the camera on a puppy with ADHD, and with the camera itself you can't be sure if it was made in millimeters, Viennese ells, Russian versts or just beaten into shape with a rock. The whole contraption shakes like an old drunk, but considering the factories mostly built furniture, and maybe also tractors, tanks, and knitting needles, the result is actually kind of impressive. The camera smells of vodka and when you lift the ground glass to insert the holder, faint strains of The Internationale  occasionally drift from within, lost on the wind.

    Of course, you can always turn it into a lamp or a mushroom incubator, but… that would be a shame. If it doesn't collapse on your way to the field—just like the USSR did—it's actually a fine little box for your first large-format steps, at least in calm weather. It'll teach you what that glass display at the back is for and why everything on it is upside down, where to stick that oversized SD card and what the accordion in the middle is supposed to do. A sophisticated, precise machine full of possibilities would almost be wasted on a beginner, but this humble wooden cube will patiently walk you through the basics, serving as a kind of splinter-ridden mentor. Wonder, laughter, and a few slivers in your hands are guaranteed—and that's why I remember it fondly. My first large format. Thanks, FKD.