I sold my Canon EOS 6D MKII and the lenses. It was a difficult and emotional decision. I have travelled with the camera and made memories. It is an excellent camera, a very capable one. Ready for all circumstances. Except I only shoot in 35mm and 50mm focal lengths. This made the camera an overkill. Too bulky.
I often left it at the hotel and carried on with my iPhone or X100T. I hate to admit that I was wrong when I upgraded from the 500D; DSLR is becoming obsolete. The advent of mirrorless full frame digital cameras made sure of it. I held on to the 6D because of its low light performance and fast auto-focus. But physical size does matter, not just technological performance.
Leaving the 6D unused is a waste of a great camera. Somewhere there is someone who can benefit from owning and using it. I had a good run with the EOS system. It is the system I learned photography seriously with.
My dry box looks so empty. But when you let go, you do not just make physical space. You are making room for changes in your life. Hopefully, for the better.
The EOS system made me a proper photographer. It is by Canon I know my aperture, shutter speed, focal lengths, compositions and bokeh. Wielding a DSLR makes me look like a photographer—despite I don’t have fancy hats and scarfs.
Self-portrait, 2015
Now I am at the stage where I don’t want to look like a photographer. Just an individual living or travelling, casually. Trying to see places and people; to be interested and pay attention.
When a photographer changes a camera system, he changes his religion. Adopting the Leica M-system is a great leap of faith. No one needs a luxury camera. How do one justify the stripping down of features and the increase of price? By measuring and re-evaluating what really matters. Do you ever use or even touch camera settings other than dialling up to ‘P’, ‘Av’, ‘Tv’, review playback, and white-balance? How often do you use the video recording feature?
The M-system reduces everything to basic necessities. Drawing with light is the art of seeing. You are not merely documenting. You are sketching your perceptions, reflecting your views to the world.
The system’s architecture of choice makes the photographer assume a correct posture in photographing; to be intentional in the exposure triad—the holy trinity of photography: aperture width, shutter speed, focus and composition. This is not friction, this is traction.
The small size makes the rangefinder inconspicuous. The shutter clicks are discreet. The photographer can easily carry it anywhere, the subjects can see his face.
Purist, minimalist. Unobtrusive.
I can argue about the engineering and built quality. The M cameras are made of brass and iron. It can withstand extreme environments and weather. From the arctic tundra to deserts, warzones and ballrooms.
The vanity factor is also an appeal. The pride of owning a luxury item without being loud. The “look-at-me-but-don’t-look-at-me” brag. In this social media era, where “likes” are validation to good photography, Leica is a reminder of what matters the most in photography. When I am photographing with the M-system, I can let go of the idea of getting “likes”. I have owned a Leica, the most premium camera system for small format. I do not need the opinion of the masses.
Leica’s price point forced me to be more serious in my photographic endeavours. Now I have spent significant money on tools. I need to improve my skills. I read more books, I took courses and workshops. I got to know more about Henri Cartier-Bresson and, most importantly, the Tao of Photography. I got the validation I needed: that you do not need to be a commercial photographer to call yourself a photographer. I may be an amateur, but I am no dilettante.
I have come to the realisation that photography, as with writing, is my self-expression. I ceased to see photography and writing as separate. The great photographers are readers, first and foremost. They are capable of expressing themselves through words, spoken and written. Cartier-Bresson was a writer and a painter. The only way to train your observations is to read great books and to immerse yourself in art.
HCB embodied photography as the art of seeing. “Taking photographs is a way to understand and a way to live more intensely.”
A photographer is also a witness. We have our biases. We tend to see what we want to see. To be partisan in the event we witnessed. To give narratives—testimonials—according to our prejudice. An image, a photograph, is a representation of reality which can be worth a thousand words. It can be manipulated or used for manipulations; the real event captured can be contextually different than what is presented to the viewers. Consequently, there is an ethical aspect of photography. A reliable witness, despite their biases, must strive to tell the truth.
Yes, truth can be subjective and debatable, but witnesses shall not deliver false testimonials intended to mislead or misrepresent. Even when one practises salon photography, the sculptor-kind photographer expresses his surreal art by making photographers akin to fiction. He is trying to tell the truth by lies. This is different from propaganda, in which one twists the truth to tell lies.
I look forward to travelling with my new camera system. It is when you shoot you are practising photography. I am most inspired to make pictures whenever I travel. I have new thoughts, stimulated by new environments and novel subjects. I am escaping, no—wandering—beyond the banality of everyday life.
In the words of Ratna Mohini, “Yes, it is good to travel the world, but above all the world has to travel in us.”
Erik Prasetya photographs Jakarta with a Leica M. Cartier-Bresson, Salgado, and a long list of Magnum photographers’ works testified its prowess. The original rangefinder camera. Classic timeless design with the iconic red dot (or subdued, if you don’t want to announce ‘expensive camera’).
I have always had a crush with the M since I saw Blood Diamond; Jennifer Connelly wielding the M among hard men with Kalashnikovs and Armalites. I may never cover an armed conflict, but I practice photography the most when I am travelling.
Rangefinders are the happy medium between size and performance. Bigger firepower than smartphones, smaller than DSLRs. The ergonomics of a real camera is always better for making pictures. Smartphones’ features are distracting. When you’re travelling, you want to save your phone battery for navigating—and posting those pictures.
Never a best value camera. M’s lack of auto-focus at that price point was a deal breaker for me, a mere photography enthusiast.
Settled with the poor man’s Leica, Fuji X100T. Not exactly a rangefinder, a premium point and shoot. Beautiful retro (Leica-like) design with a pancake lens equivalent to 35mm and f2.0 aperture—an ideal street photography camera. Attached Lensmate’s thumb-rest and red lizard soft release button for better stability and look.
My EOS 6D and X100T are all that I need for travel photography. I have realised that when a picture is not good enough, it’s usually because you’re not close enough. Bang Bang Club. I use 50mm and 35mm lenses.
I was a contented traveler-photographer. Until the pandemic.
In the last months of 2020, I was demoralised—perhaps even depressed. I was burning out from the dullness of isolated days. I was running out of my resiliency in enduring the pandemic days. I found it hard to finish books I am reading, to choose which film to watch, or even to decide where to eat when dining out.
I wanted to write a New Year post. Something about surviving 2020. I had so much insights from 10 months of ‘house-arrest’. But I was unable to find the words. I sat and stare at the blank word processor page. When I force-typed the words, they were vapid.
I tried photographing my neighbourhood: potholed and cat shitted roads; government or community sponsored banners with vapid jargons (‘Bersama kita lawan COVID-19’); rows of ruko(shophouses) housing SMEs with alay copywriting: ‘Alpucok’ (alpukat kocok), ‘Kedai Netizen’. Digital images are extremely low cost to make and store, but they are not even worth to be captured.
Naturally, I was not alone. Even creative professionals felt similar burnout. My London host brother, Adithio Noviello, lost interests in photography—a career threat for him. He decided to return to film photography. He picked up his old Bronica ETRSi and started shooting again. He said analog photography allowed him to slow down, to savour more the process of making a picture.
Photography as therapy.
Iyo’s posts piqued my interest in analog photography. In pre-pandemic times, it felt senseless to revert back to impractical photographic equipment when you can spend your resources for travel.The subjects and the environment are always the more decisive factors in making a picture than your kits.
But I needed something novel to stimulate my mind. Thus begin my research.
I never used a medium format camera like Iyo’s Bronica. My search got me to Negative Feedbackrecommending Mamiya 7 and Romanas Naryškin’s review on Mamiya RZ67. Mamiya 7 seems to be better suited for travels, but you’d shoot from your chest with RZ67—allowing you to make better eye contact with your subjects.
Romanas reminded his readers that taking picture with analog camera will not make you a better photographer, but it will make you take pictures in a different way. He admits the impracticality of shooting with RZ67. It is a choice he made with heart, not head.
I spent weeks ruminating on the compactness of Mamiya 7 and the shooting experience of RZ67. However, when I saw the price of 120mm film rolls, I decided to start with 35mm.
The cheapest way is to use my father’s Nikkormat again. But I want a small format camera that I’d take when travelling. Negative Feedback recommended Minolta TC-1, a point and shoot with 28mm lens. It is not available in Indonesia. Another problem: it’s so hipster (try searching ‘#minoltatc-1’).
My further search led to ‘the best camera ever made’. Sounds heavy for a 1954 technology, but it’s a Leica. After watching Youtube videos and reading blogs about the M3, I knew that she’s the one. I have always been in love with the M after all.
Yet, I was worried that I won’t make good pictures; that I would be wasting money. What if this craving for analog photography is just a phase? Will I actually want to travel with a film camera, risking missed shots of priceless moments? 36 unreviewable-undeletable shots with full manual control seems to require so much skill.
The M3 does not have a built-in lightmeter. If I rely on my current light reading skills or the rule of the average from Kodak Pocket Guide to 35mm Photography, the learning curve would have large error margins (costly in terms of money and, worse, moments). Leicameter seems to be a complicated apparatus. Most modern lightmeters’ designs are not aesthetically compatible with the M3 design.
Thankfully, KEKS EM01 is an easy to use digital lightmeter. Its compact minimalist box shaped design is compatible with the M3’s. The hot/cold shoe attachment, unfortunately, is flimsy white plastic.
I found the justification for the acquisition of the M3 from Jillfit’s post (‘It takes a lot of courage to be willing to suck at something’) and Michael Ramage’s (‘Do something for yourself this year, get better at something…old. Find yourself again’). Digital cameras are my comfort zone photography, analog camera will drive me out of it.
So I went to Joelcam. They had two M3s for sale: a single stroke and a double stroke shutter release lever. The double stroke is the older version, more ‘vintage’ (I checked the serial numbers on f22cameras.com, the double stroke was made in 1955; the single 1962). Function wise, double stroke can better prevent accidental shutter release. Conversely, you can lost milliseconds for readying the shutter release.
The double stroke’s body is in better conditions. The single stroke has more wear and tear. I don’t mind cosmetic wear and tear as long as the camera works; the weathered look also gives that vintage feel (and makes it cheaper).
Arifin of Joelcam made his sales pitch: more and more photographers are turning to analog. Investment wise, analog camera price is not as depreciative as digital. He didn’t really need to pitch the M3. The moment I walked to the store, I already made my decision.
The M3 viewfinder is designed for 50mm lens. I’d love to get a Leica lens—the Summicron, Summarit, or Summilux. But I thought it is best to start with something cheaper: the Voigtlander Nokton 50mm f1.2.
Leica M3 with Voigtlander Nokton 50mm f1.2 and KEKS EM01 Lightmeter
Joelcam gave me a complimentary Kodak Gold 200 roll film. It became my first roll for my M3.
I walked out the store with the M3 single stroke. Anxious and excited, like successfully asking a lady for a first date. Hoping everything will work out yet knowing everything could be a disappointment. Downloaded and consulted the manual, watched video on how to load the film roll.
The M3 is heavier than it looks. The shutter speed options are limited from B to 1/1000. I never had to compensate the viewfinder parallax before. I was worried that I would only get a few good pictures or none at all. Dropped my first film roll at Rana Lab when finished it. A few hours later, the developed results were emailed to me.
Dapit the Builder (Kodak Gold 200)
I am glad that my success rate in making good pictures is not bad at all, especially for first time user. Matt Day is right. The Nokton produces visible vignetting in low light conditions. However, it is a great lens with good value.
The M3 is the first camera with which I do photography for the sake of photography. I read that the M3 is not a camera for working professionals but for artists. I am not at the level of an artist, but I am not a working professional. The fully mechanical functions and minimalist features, as well as the delayed gratification of seeing the results, allow me to enjoy again the thrill of shutter clicking and the excitement of anticipations. No white balance setting, no ISO adjustments. Just shutter speed, aperture, and focus.
My choice of the negative have direct and almost unalterable impact to the images. I found joy in experimenting with the negatives. After the Kodak Gold, I tried film rolls from a Ciamis firm, Lapan Film Lab: the BW400 and Cine200. They are half the price of established brands. My verdict: very grainy and inconsistent exposures in low light. The hidden costs of missing moments can be larger than expected. In anyway, I’m a Leica owner. I should be able to afford the investment of better (pricier) negatives.
Mini Cooper (Lapan BW400)
I am glad that I didn’t decide on Minolta TC-1. A point and shoot would have lessened my photography experience. If I am only looking for the analog look on the images, I could have used one of those filter apps.
I want my skills to match the fine apparatus I am using. I researched on black and white photography books. The first authoritative name appeared from my research is Ansel Adams, the father of straight photography, I acquired his trilogy The Camera; The Negative; and the Print, which unfortunately are too technical so I only skimmed them. Still, I was enlightened of my ignorance on many photography terms (and even the existence of large format cameras).
I bought Lambrecht’s Way Beyond Monochrome. The book focuses on developing and printing film. Too advanced for someone who have only loaded fewer than 10 film rolls in his adult life.
The references section, however, is a map to gold mines. Sontag’s On Photography is on the top of ‘Art, Perception, Composition, and Lighting.’ But another unfamiliar name kept reappearing: Mortensen, William. His books The Command to Look and The Model are mentioned as the classics.
I followed the rabbit down the hole.
Command is a book on how to make an impactful image with the anti-thesis of the straight (purist) photography. Adams dubbed Mortensen as the Anti-Christ and used his influence to exile Mortensen from the mainstream photography. Mortensen approach is to engineer a photograph in such a way using psychological nudges to make the viewer look, see, and enjoy.
The ‘pictorial imperatives’ constitute of shapes/patterns associated with our primal fear as well as universally appealing themes. The shapes/patterns are diagonals, S-curves, triangles, and dominant mass. While the themes are sex, sentiment, and wonder. Mortensen’s ‘pictorial imperatives’ are Roland Barthes’ ‘punctures’ in Camera Lucida.
Mortensen’s formula for two dimensional visual arts was adopted by Anton Szander LaVey in creating the rituals for the Satanic Church—rituals are aimed to satisfy the carnal desires of men and women, employing psychodrama theatrics which are often sensual and terrorising (like in Eyes Wide Shut).
LaVey’s The Devil’s Notebook feels like Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil or Hesse’s Demian, but with pagan carnivals. Perhaps, Satan is Abraxas. Satanism is not really about worshipping Satan or eating babies. It’s an alternative to mainstream religions and consumerism herd mentality. An atheistic philosophy of individualism based on responsible pursuit of pleasures.
I was a sixteen year old high school kid, sitting on a bench of a warung on a Saturday night; waiting for my friends who have cars to pick me up to party at one of the live music cafes in Kemang (was it Barbados?). The proprietor sat beside me, smoking a clove cigarette. He inhaled and exhaled nicotine and tar fumes. Contented in cancerous indulgence. He was illuminated by a dangling incandescent lightbulb powered by stolen electricity from the streetlights.
I wished I had a camera and the photography skills to take his portrait.
I couldn’t afford to pursue photography yet that time. But what really prevented me was Dazed and Confused teenage life. Gaining approval from my peers was more important. Spent my pocket money on cellphone credits, internet cafes, fast fashion, marijuana and cheap liquors (which tasted so bad you’d have to mix them). Got into a gang, but not a band; soft drugs and violence, but no sex other than masturbations.
Now.
I am reading books, on photography and other topics.
