Archived posting to the Leica Users Group, 1998/06/01
[Author Prev] [Author Next] [Thread Prev] [Thread Next] [Author Index] [Topic Index] [Home] [Search]Ted, > No offence intended, but I'm amazed at how many folks seem to pay more > attention to "how it looks rather than what it does, "Expose film!" Now we > all know in reality great pictures occur due to the human being with the > vision holding the camera and not the camera persa. I don't believe in platitudes or generalizations that divide people by intention so neatly. Beauty is extremely important to me both as an artist and as a member of the natural world. Considering that we, as photographers, glorify most everything we render with such thoughtless aplomb, I'm having a hard tie believing that you mean what it is you're saying. On your side of the argument, I do have many experiences that ring true. I recently decided that I'd try to learn a bit about camera repair and a man sent me a dead Minolta X700 to toy with (it was his trash) and, much to my surprise, I did fix it. Now here is a camera I have little respect for in terms of its design and/or build qualities. The top/bottom plates are made of a plastic that most toys could best; the internals are made with questionable parts everywhere and even the solder connections are poorly done. I bought a lens for it with the intention of making a gift of it, to one of my friends and then, I tested it...... The viewfinder is remarkable, with a great big magnification and an Acutematte screen. The lens I bought, a 58/1.4 Rokkor, is a delight in terms of its rendition and the way the meter is implemented makes the camera very easy to use. I loved the chromes and would recommend this camera _as a tool_ to anyone. My sample had been through hell and, with some careful repair, was working perfectly still, _long after it was first made. Chalk one up for your side of the argument. Another story. In the late 1980's I was working with another photographer travelling Europe & covering the fashion shows for Harpers Baazar magazine. When we stopped in Milan, I had the opportunity to go to a local Bike shop and found, to my amazement, a set of Campagnolo New Record C brakes. These had yet to be in general release in the US at the time and were a striking departure in design from anything anyone had made before. I owned a bicycle that I'd outfitted with the Record C gruppo in that was available in the US at the time, but which came with the older Super Record brakes. When I was faced with the choice of spending all of my food money on these brakes, or not, it wasn't because the brakeset worked so well that made me want them so badly. Matter of fact, the Record C gruppo was heavier, more expensive and didn't work nealy as well, or gracefully, as the _far less dear Shimano 600 groupset. I bought that gruppo solely because it was *the* most beautiful bicycle component set I'd ever seen. I enjoyed every minute of owning that bicycle and regret having sold it (a decade or so later) to this day. I could've shaved almost three pounds from my bike and saved money as well, had I not wanted the pretty stuff. The point of the story is that truly elegant design is as much a part of what creates a desire in me as excellent function. I offer no apologies for being fascinated by beauty and will, at times, go hungry to appreciate it. Over the years I've found that it is more common to find truly talented artists who will reject ugly things that may work well and opt to suffer the inconvenience of a more truly beautiful tool. I'm learning that I've been too dismissive in my choices over the years but I do understand why I chose what I did. Everytime I use my Canon EOS5 I remark to myself how disgustingly ugly the design is and I curse the lousy view; then I revel in how quiet the camera is and how amazingly similar it feels when used to shoot verticals, to its balance in horizontal 'mode'. One thing is sure, I get far more pleasure from using my M6 than I do from my EOS5 and alot of that has to do with how its built *and how it looks. I'm as guilty as they come. Regards, Danny Gonzalez