the legendary nikon f4

Please note: this is only for camera aficionados. Specifically, Nikon fans. It goes into way more detail to be of interest to anybody but the most dedicated of photography fanatics.

There's nothing like my reverence for fine products to inspire me to post anew. In this instance, I'm paying homage to the legendary Nikon F4. When this product was introduced in 1988, I could not help but fantasize about one day owning one of these cameras.

My first camera was a Nikkormat (in my case, the Japanese model "Nikomat") FTN. This was a heavy, beautiful camera that by its nature just seemed purposeful. I had made this decision at the last moment switching from my initial impulse to order a Minolta SRT101 (another fine camera which still gives me pause whether I made the right decision or not, but that's fodder for another posting). In any event, the Nikomat naturally influenced my lens purchases as manufacturer's lenses were not portable across other lines (yet, another topic worth discussing since that has changed somewhat today with the micro 4/3rds standard, but I digress). It was only a natural progression to one day migrate to the F4. In the years between my Nikomat and the Nikon F4 I had purchased other Nikons. Notably, the FM and then the 8008S and finally, the F100, an amazing camera in and of itself. (The F100 is easily one of the best cameras I've had the privilege to own and I'm still amazed at the build quality and beauty of the sound of the shutter release each time I shoot with it) 

The Nikon F4 was the flagship model of the Nikon line-up. It boasted 1850 body parts, a communication network with a maximum of 7 CPUs, sophisticated software holding 43 million ways of operating conditions and 4 motors. It was the most advanced camera of its time and represented the largest technological leap from one model to the next EVER. At the time of its introduction, it cost $3600 (in today's currency). It was targeted specifically for the professional market and was therefore built with durability as well as ease-of-use in mind. Production was halted in 1996 when Nikon introduced the F5, an evolutionary model (not revolutionary, mind you). The beauty of the F4 is that it is compatible with every Nikon lens ever made, including those produced AFTER the camera was introduced. This is the only camera (with the exception of Leicas?) that can boast this capability. Canon, Minolta (now Sony), Pentax, all changed their lens mounts somewhere along the line to the annoyance of devotees of these respective manufacturer's product lines.

As you can image, with an 8-year production run, there a number of used Nikon F4s available on the market. With the advent of digital photography, such cameras have rapidly lost re-sale value as film has been relegated to near-obsolescence status. Thus, I have purchased my dream camera, now 24 years later at the cost of $295!  Yes, perhaps it can be viewed as sad that I have been unable to let it go after all of these years and have to satisfy that obsession when a newer technology has emerged. To me it's very fulfilling that after all of these years, I can satisfy that obsession EVEN when a newer technology has emerged. Since the camera was built for longevity, many F4 owners firmly believe they will be able to continue to use it through the rest of their lives. As proof, the F4 was built for a minimally reliable shutter cycle of 150,000. To put this into perspective, shooting the Nikon F4 for 10 years at a rate of 15 rolls (36 exposures per roll) per month, the shutter would have gone through approximately 64,800 cycles, roughly 43% of its rated minimum life. At the same rate it could be utilized reliably for another 13 years. I personally do not think my Nikon has been put through such a pace judging by its condition. So I suspect I will be able to utilize it for many, many years to come, especially since it has undergone inspection and had the requisite cleaning, lubrication and adjustment.

And so, I anxiously await the delivery of this latest purchase (my birthday present). It is on its way to my awaiting hands as I write this, having departed Seattle at midnight, via UPS with a scheduled delivery of Tuesday. It is in remarkable condition having been owned by an amateur rather than a professional, who undoubtedly would have put it through its paces on a daily basis. The high resolution photos of my particular camera  betray just a few minor scuff marks, with the seller describing it as "mint." I'll of course be anxious to inspect it, but I'm hopeful the photos accurately depict its present condition and that there will be no surprises.

Admittedly, I'm shooting again with film in preparation for the opportunity to utilize the F4. I love digital because of its immediacy and "disposable" image ability. By that I mean, I can review my images and erase them with a push of a button, allowing me the freedom to shoot without discrimination. Film is a little more precious to me. I tend to be stingy and perhaps too careful with the images I shoot with a film camera. However, in spite of the resolution advances of digital photography, there is still a quality of film that I believe cannot be reproduced in any other medium. I know there are many "traditional" photographers who would agree. There is a silkiness or smoothness about a film image that is just plain beautiful. Hopefully, one of my next posts will include some images taken with my new-old camera. 

keith richard's skull ring

The first time I spotted Keith Richard's (of Rolling Stone fame) skull ring, I believe was on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine. I immediately responded to the "cool" factor of that ring and vowed that one day I would possess one. Occasionally, I have scoured shops, usually on vacation when I happen to be in one that would feature such items. You know the kind I am referring to: "biker" shops or "head" shops or "wicken" shops. It has not been an ongoing obsession. It is only when I am reminded of that iconic ring that I momentarily remember my vow of oh-so-many years ago and resume my search for the PERFECT skull ring.

Fast forward to today. Lately, I've been making a number of purchases on the wonderful site known as Etsy. Etsy features crafts people and artists from all over the globe. It is both the blessing and curse of Etsy as it is often difficult to find the real gems that exist on the website. You often have to perform very focused searches in order to discover some truly wonderful finds. Sadly, it does not occur to me to search categories that contain such finds. As an example, there is a wonderful artist who makes little dioramas that have a mechanical component to them. In one of his series of dioramas, you crank a little handle to animate the waves of a small ocean with a wonderful little sailboat perched atop the water. What keywords would you enter into a search box to uncover this? I'm not even certain how I stumbled upon this artist which makes me wonder how many more are out there in the cyberspace of Etsy. But I digress . . .

Recently it occurred to me that Etsy might just host the artist who has crafted my ideal skull ring. After several pages of scrolling through the results of my search, I stumbled upon an artist, Paul Phillips, who makes a wonderful skull ring of either sterling silver ($300) or bronze ($140) that can be silver plated. His skull is different than the one  worn by Keith. If anything, I believe it to be a more accurate representation of a human skull, but before I go any further, below is the information I managed to uncover on the original ring produced for Keith as per the Courts and Hackett website:

"In 1978 the celebrated London goldsmiths David Courts and Bill Hackett were working on a small scale silver sculpture of a human skeleton. Using a real skull for reference they carved a perfect miniature replica which they then moulded. When the hollow wax skull was removed from its mould the inspiration for the ring was born. Further experimentation led to the creation of the original silver skull ring. At the same time an invitation arrived from Keith Richards to his birthday party in New York - so Bill and David decided that the new ring would make a fantastic present. From the moment he put it on his finger, the magic began and he has worn it ever since


Since Keith put on the original Courts and Hackett skull ring in 1978, David and Bill have received countless requests for a copy but their original decision that the ring should remain unique has meant that there is no replica mould and no duplicates.

Now, for the first time and only available from them is a magnificent new deaths head ring sculpted from the same human skull used for the original.

Using unique techniques developed in their workshop they have created the ultimate skull ring. Exquisite details include an immaculately carved bone structure, individual teeth and finely engraved cranium.

Crafted in solid 925 silver each ring will be stamped with the Courts and Hackett hallmark guaranteeing authenticity, date, materials used and country of origin."

Me again. The Courts and Hackett ring goes for approximately $477, not an unreasonable price at all. However, to me, the original looks just a little mean. Although professed to be an accurate depiction of the human skull, I swear the eyes look menacing. While I want to adorn my finger with a skull (to express my inner Rock Star), I don't necessarily want my ring to be any more off-putting by looking menacing. (Yes, yes, I know; a skull ring is inherently off-putting, but hopefully you know what I mean. Incidentally, if you're interested in purchasing the same ring, Paul's Etsy shop can be found at: http://www.etsy.com/shop/noformdesign?ref=seller_info.)

Anyway, to make a long-story short, I am now sporting my newly-purchased skull ring (shown above). And yes, I now look like a Rock Star, thank you very much.

higashi

Recently, a co-worker presented me with a pink box of obvious Japanese origin. The box was wrapped in a rice paper skin with one of those gold elastic bands with the neat little bow on top with Japanese script. Inside, beneath a leaf of delicate textured rice paper lay neat rows of little sculptured delicacies in various muted tints of color. She told me someone had presented this to her as a gift and she thought I might like to have it for its aesthetic qualities as a subject for one of my photographs. I accepted it, put it in my kitchen drawer (containing my candy supply) and promptly forgot about it.

This month, my issue of Saveur magazine arrived and contained therein was an article on "Higashi," the very confections I had sequestered away a few weeks earlier. Briefly (and this I did not know until I read the article), Higashi is composed of tinted sugar and rice flour. It is an integral part of the Japanese Tea Ceremony, but only from around the 18th Century when it was first introduced to the royalty and upper class ranks of Japanese society. The Japanese Tea Ceremony itself dates back to the 15th Century. Traditionally, Higashi  was sculpted to reflect the season. In Spring, as an example, Highashi were crafted to resemble cherry blossoms. Higashi is rarely found outside of Japan, but there is an American company, Chambre du Sucre (so why do they have a FRENCH name?), that imports these confections. Incidentally, these delights are made by the same Japanese company for 268 years.

And, I have yet to photograph them in a way to do them justice.

the lost city of atlantis

Today an article appeared in Wired magazine's on-line blog detailing how the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) create maps of the ocean floor. Some years ago, the data they collected was integrated into the data utilized by Google Earth. Some observant aficionados of this app noticed a grid of regular lines in a portion of the undersea floor northwest of the Canary Islands. They immediately proclaimed these grids to be an indication of civilization in the form of streets. It was not long before they speculated this to be the streets of the sunken city of Atlantis.

Purportedly, as reported by Plato in 360 BC, the city of Atlantis sunk into the ocean "in a single day and night of misfortune" as a result of earthquakes and floods.

Sadly, Google Earth was displaying an error that resulted from the sonar method that oceanographers used to map the ocean floor and the way various maps and data were integrated. As NOAA cited, "the lines show the paths traveled by the ships that gathered these higher-resolution sonar readings." This week Google updated their maps with the corrected images.

As I've stated in a previous post, I sincerely want to believe in such mysteries. I still hold out hope for the discovery of the Loch Ness Monster, Yeti and the Abominable Snowman. I would like to think that there are such things that remain undiscovered even though modern technology seems to continually and brutally advance solely to dispel the romantic notions of mythical creatures and legends of yore.

And yet, there are after all, new species that have been discovered and continue to be discovered (which I celebrate). And even more importantly, the discovery of heretofore previously thought extinct species. Why then, is it not possible for the Loch Ness Monster to be swimming happily in the murky waters of the Loch? Or for the Lost City of Atlantis to be a historical fact rather than a mythical tale? Regardless, I will continue to believe in the possibility of such wondrous and awe-inspiring things.

memory loss

My memory isn't what it used to be. In fact, I'm afraid the electrical connections that once lit up my internal thought processes have lost their brightness. Before, entire storage spaces in my mind were brightly lit allowing me to access the most obscure information you could imagine. Now, those spaces are dark, occasionally lit by the flickering of a soon-to-be extinguished bulb.

I'm not as bold in conversations with friends and less so with strangers as a result. I fear for the stalled silences that immediately accompany a lost thread of knowledge or train of thought. Before, I could summon up the names of books, movies, authors, actors, plot lines, artists, etc. at the drop of a hat. Often one small association would trigger a string of thematically connected ideas that could dazzle even the most adept of cocktail conversationalists. Now I'm reduced to something like, "you know, the actor who played the general in that Sylvester Stallone movie where he went ballistic." Such are the ravages of age upon the cognitive process.

I try to keep my mind sharp with little exercises. I do the word scramble each day in the newspaper. I string together meaningful phrases out of the letters on license plates in front of me (e.g. GSC could equate to "girl scout cookies" or "go shoot coyotes"). I exercise every day (well, almost). I systematically go through the alphabet in my mind whenever I forget something, like the actor example above. ("Abraham? No. Bob? No. Collin?" etc.) Sometimes this methodology yields results but even when it does, it is often minutes sometimes hours after the initial thought should have been completed - a far cry from my "sharper" days.

I saw this phenomena creep up with my parents which does nothing to quell the internal terror. The only solace I can derive from all of this is that my older friends all seem to be suffering from the same malady. Our conversations no longer run smoothly as they sputter and stall upon those lost associations and references we used to grab readily. An astute onlooker could undoubtedly identify those moments of silence and stupor where both parties look at the ground in embarrassment (and in the vain hope that there might be some clue as to what we are looking for there on the ground). It all goes down easier when I know I am not alone.

In the meantime, in a real pinch, I can always go to my iPod. At least I can Google enough of my memory fragment to find the component I had forgotten. I try not to rely upon it too much though. I'm convinced that the iPod, like the calculator, has become a crutch that discourages us from more active mental participation. I suppose I'll know I'm in real trouble when I forget how to use the iPod or forget what the iPod in my hand is entirely. I do hate this memory loss thing. But then, by that time, I won't remember what it was that was troubling me.

rangefinder cameras revisited

Seriously, if you're not into cameras or have little patience with other's obsessions, be forewarned, you may want to skip this post.

It's been quite a while since I've posted anything and wouldn't you know that inspiration would be found in my penchant for conspicuous consumerism? Way back in March of 2010, I praised (in more detail than any but the most rabid of photographers would appreciate) the joys of rangefinder cameras. I won't bore you with a re-hash of that post, but am compelled to say that in retrospect, my purchase of the Panasonic GF1 while motivated by the similarities (at least in appearance) to the rangefinders of old, was totally misguided. In truth, the GF1 is a digital camera with a similar body style that offers interchangeable lenses, but in action, it does not possess enough of the rangefinder's DNA to qualify as a modern-day substitute.

I refer you once again to the photo below to clarify.

The key feature of a rangefinder camera is the optical viewfinder in the upper right-hand corner of the camera (a Leica M3) displayed above. While single-lens-reflex cameras became the eventual standard for news photographers, sports photographers and consumers in the late 60s and early 70s, the blessing and curse of this design is that at the precise moment of exposure, the mirror that allows the photographer to see through the lens that is capturing the image, flips up to totally obscure the viewfinder. 

The rangefinder on the other hand, offers a clear view of the framed subject at all times since the viewfinder is simply a "window," clear glass if you will. In a sense, with SLR cameras, the decisive moment becomes the indecisive moment as you may or may not have captured what you intended. True, the digital cameras of today offer almost instantaneous feedback, but to the PURIST, in the spirit of a rangefinder camera, the decisive moment is still the moment when you depress the shutter release button as you compose through the viewfinder. (OK, OK, some of today's digital cameras offer electronic viewfinders eliminating the blackout problem, but the view is propagated by a micro-miniature television screen which makes it somehow offensive to technophobes such as myself). And so in an attempt to right my past wrong, I have recently purchased the new Fujifilm X10. 

The first thing you should notice, now that you've been trained to spot rangefinder cameras, is the optical viewfinder just to the right and above the lens. It is this one key important feature that qualifies the X10 as a modern-day rangefinder and one that is lacking on almost every digital camera today. Sadly, the display on the back of these cameras has become de riguer these days. Cameras should not be held away from you, they should be snuggled against your face(which incidentally, helps steady the camera in a way not achieved otherwise). 

And similar to the classic rangefinders, this camera sports a vast array of manual controls, those things called knobs and dials that have somehow been eliminated with touchscreens. You actually have to twist the lens to zoom in and out rather than push a lever that actuates a motorized zoom lens. How innovative is that? I suppose I'm betraying my reactionary ways here, but you should know I was "classically trained" as a photographer. Cameras were mechanical marvels back then, operated by gears and intricate internal mechanisms that coalesced in a perfect symphony of movement to adjust the lens opening, the shutter speed and align the film in the proper spot to capture a moment of time. Somehow the decisive click and tactile feedback of the shutter mechanism of those cameras proved to be immensely satisfying, unlike the electronic beep or simulated shutter sounds of today's devices. Yes there are more electronic parts than mechanical ones in the Fuji X10, and yes, it is a digital camera. But, Fuji has incorporated the interface and operation of those old rangefinder cameras in its latest model. There is a reassuring feel and look of a camera once more versus the evolving face of digital image capture devices (have you seen the Lytro?) I can return to my roots with this camera, back when I was first inspired to create images. Remarkably, I've found the "fun" again in shooting photos.

supernova

Just this past week, astronomers in California discovered the closest, brightest supernova in 25 years. In essence, it is believed to be the sighting of the first hours of a super-dense white dwarf star (containing more mass than our own sun), exploding. This blast hurls matter in all directions at nearly one-tenth the speed of light - matter that ultimately will form the building blocks of other stars and planets.

Last night, around midnight I went outside to see if I could witness the supernova. Supposedly,  the zenith of the supernova's brilliance was to occur sometime between last night and this weekend. I looked patiently around, trying to find the Big Dipper, the landmark via which the supernova could be located. I utilized my Planets app on my iPod Touch to mark the position of the Big Dipper in the night sky, but to no avail. Either the clouds were obscuring it or the brightness of the moon was creating too much glare off of the atmosphere. I was of course disappointed, but realized as I stood there for what seemed an extended period of time that just being out there was beautiful. I paused at that moment to absorb it all, the cool summer breeze that hinted of the arrival of Fall, the quiet of the night, the vastness of the universe that lay outstretched above me and the silent, distant stars that flickered against the darkness. I didn't care that I couldn't see the supernova at that moment. Although it is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, there is something to be valued about what exists out there for us everyday.