The FujiFilm X-Pro1 - the perfect camera?

I recently wrote elsewhere that for the past three years or so, new camera releases have left me stone cold. I was perfectly happy with the cameras I had. Lately, however, my eye has started to wander. Since yesterday, it has more than wandered. The FujiFilm X-Pro 1 has been announced and I don’t think I have ever coveted a camera more.

A documentary dream

Mirrorless cameras have many benefits for documentary photographers.

For a start, the absence of a mirror means the camera is quieter, practically silent if built well. There is less vibration, too. A single lens reflex (SLR), on the other hand, can sound and feel like you’ve just let off an Enfield.

No mirror also means no prism or mirror chamber, making the camera smaller and lighter than an SLR.

The same applies to lenses for mirrorless cameras. Optical design is simplified, which means that mirrorless camera lenses can be teeny.

With fewer laws of physics to tussle with, the optical performance of lenses for mirrorless cameras tends to be excellent, and in many cases better than that of lenses built for SLRs – certainly this is the case for wide-angle lenses and most definitely for Canon wide-angle lenses. In my experience, anyway.

The rangefinder fail

The traditional mirrorless camera for documentary photographers has been the rangefinder camera. Once popular, it is now a design that appeals largely to older photographers or to people who don’t actually take many pictures.

These days, your new rangefinder camera choice is fairly limited. There’s Leica, which is expensive. Or you can buy a Zeiss or Voigtlander, which are both made by the same company (Cosina) and currently come in film versions only. All of these cameras are manual focus only. Old school.

I don’t get on with rangefinders especially well. And speaking strictly from a personal point of view, I think the rangefinder focusing system is not only a pain but also long past its use-by date. I’m not saying you can’t get spectacular photographs using a rangefinder. I just think there are better solutions available today that simplify the process of photography greatly.

Autofocus, for instance.

And electronic viewfinders (EVFs). Or better still, the hybrid optical viewfinder/EVF found in some mirrorless cameras, notably the FujiFilm X-100 – and now the FujiFlim X-Pro1, a camera that I think will change camera design forever.

Dribbling all over myself

The X-100 and its fixed focal length lens were well received. So also its younger sibling, the X-10, which has a zoom lens. However, while the X-100 is appealing to documentary photographers, it is glacially slow. And you are stuck with the one lens and angle of view – brilliant though that lens is. A little variety would be nice.

Enter the X-Pro 1, which has an interchangeable lens mount. You can even mount Leica lenses if you want to. That said, Fuji’s reputation as a lens maker is stellar, so it seems unlikely that the three lenses it has announced to go with the new camera will be slouches. They also cost a fraction of their Leica equivalents.

Did I mention that they are autofocus lenses?

In essence, the X-Pro1 brings together all of the attributes of a mirrorless camera that appeal to a documentary photographer, and adds in modern autofocus and viewfinder technology. And it does so in a body that I can only describe as “Yum”. It looks beautiful.

Apple appeal

What FujiFilm have produced here is a camera full of modern technology in a design that appeals to the senses. It has, in essence, done an Apple.

And it’s done so not purely from a design and functionality perspective. I think it has also managed to create a new type of camera design that others will copy.

Think of it like this. The X-Pro1 can do most things that a digital SLR can do in a much smaller package. Admittedly, I doubt it will be a match for any of the high-end, super-speedy Canons and Nikons used by sports photographers or wildlife photographers – yet. Who’s to say that in a few years’ time a mirrorless digital camera won’t be able to match a digital SLR for speed or telephoto reach?

For many photographers, including professionals, a camera like the X-Pro1 will do exactly what they need, and do so in a smaller and lighter package. I think the days of the mass-produced consumer-orientated digital SLR are numbered.

BUT

Sure, I’ve got a big crush on the X-Pro1.

Thing is, I’ve never actually met her. She looks gorgeous, but what if she’s a bitch? What if the viewfinder is pathetic, and the autofocus is glacial and the ergonomics are painful?

So, until I’ve used one, please feel free to take the above with a pinch of salt.

Vanguard Skyborne 51 - the reverse Tardis. It carries less than you'd think. But it does so in style © Roger Overall 2011

There are certain milestones in your online career as a photographer.

For instance, the first time someone other than you reads one of your blog posts.

The first time someone you don’t know leaves a comment.

The first time someone you don’t know leaves a nice comment.

The first time a gear manufacturer, usually a bag company, asks whether you’d like to review one of its products.

I have arrived at the latter. In my case, the bag manufacturer is Vanguard, who appear to have been on a bit of a mission during 2011. Some research showed that, in recent months, lots of bloggers have written about the bag I was offered: the Skyborne 51 backpack.

Disclosure and all that

The arrangement suggested by Vanguard was a simple one. They ship me a bag, I review it and then keep the bag.

I wasn’t keen on the last bit. Actually keeping the review product undermines a dispassionate mind and can colour one’s judgement. Mine is cloudy at the best of times. Besides, what if I hated the blessed thing? I’m short of places to stow the camera bags I liked enough to pay money for. An unloved one, freebie or not, wouldn’t make the storage issue any better. No, the review product would have to be returned*.

Vanguard agreed to take the bag back after I was done with it. That made me more comfortable.

Unsuitable whopper

I was keen to get a Vanguard bag that I could bring with me on my trip to Lapland. Unfortunately, the Skyborne 51 was the only one available for review. It’s a meaty bag that is bigger in several dimensions than the carry-on luggage allowed on some of the flights I’d be on. Vanguard assured me none of their customers had ever encountered problems.

Despite my reservations about its size, I agreed to have it shipped to me. After all, Vanguard did seem like thoroughly nice people with a respected product. So why not?

Idiot. As soon as the box arrived, I knew it was going to be too big and too cumbersome to haul around with me through airports on my two-day journey out to Lapland. Not only that, it wouldn’t hold all of the gear I wanted to carry with me.

That sounds contradictory, I know. Thing is, the 51 is designed only partially as a backpack for camera equipment. Part of it is given over to space that allows you to store other stuff. Like clothes and essentials that a seasoned outdoorsman or lady might need. So from a gear point of view, it’s a bit like a reverse Tardis**. It has less space inside than you’d imagine looking at it from the outside.

Therein lies the problem. I’m a documentary photographer. Small is my game, and I rarely find myself far from a place to buy a coffee. The 51 is designed for photographers who are out in the wilds and need to bring both photographic equipment and supplies with them.

From the start, the 51 and I were incompatible. For me, the bag was just too big and too impractical for my work.

For the discrete documentary photographer, the Vanguard Skyborne 51 does, perhaps, have one practical use. Camouflage © Roger Overall 2011

Do you want the good news or the bad news first?

However, this doesn’t mean I can’t see the 51′s merits.

It is extremely well made and looks very good in a rugged, chiseled, wholesome, outdoorsy sort of way. It is confidence inspiring.

It is also surprisingly light. Thinking it to be heavier, I put far too much effort into pulling it out of the box it arrived in and consequently hit myself in the face.

It has lots of nice touches, such as magnetic clasps that keep the zippers in place, and a removable laptop sleeve that can be converted into a stand-alone bag.

It has a rain cover – if you can find it.

It oozes quality.

For someone, somewhere, it will no doubt be a dream bag.

Quirks

That said, the bag has some quirks that you will either love or hate. I really don’t think you can hang around in the middle ground on these.

For a start, the bag doesn’t open like a traditional photographic backpack. It opens on the harness side.

Skyborne 51 harness side closed © Roger Overall 2011

Skyborne 51 harness side open © Roger Overall 2011

I understand the logic. If you’re out in the mud and you need to lay the pack down to access it, better to get the side facing furthest away from you dirty.

I have to say, though, that I found wrestling with the harness to get to the gear compartment annoying. The harness is well made, so it fights back when you push it away. It is more cat than dog in that regard.

Another quirk is the quick access panel on the left-hand side.

Skyborne 51 easy access panel closed © Roger Overall 2011

Skyborne 51 easy access panel open © Roger Overall 2011

This feature allows you to get to your gear by simply slinging the bag off one shoulder. That’s fine. If you’re right handed. If you’re left handed, you’re going to hate this. That said, you can really only get to the outermost piece of kit, so it had better be what you’re looking for or you’ll have to lay the bag down in the mud anyway.

A gripe

I do have one real gripe. On the left shoulder strap, Vanguard have placed a holder. For what, I don’t know, but most people are going to want use it to house their iPhone or equivalent. An iPhone 4 or 4s squeezes in really, really tightly, provided you don’t have a bumper or any kind of protective armour around it. To get it back out, you have to pull with some force. Too much effort, and the sudden release will likely see you fling your phone a good distance. Out in the wilds, where the 51 is designed to be used, there are going to be very few forgiving spots for it to land. Really, the 51 should come with some kind of phone protection plan as standard.

Conclusion

I want to like the Skyborne 51, but sadly I can’t. To me, despite its good looks and rugged construction, it feels over-engineered. It’s a bit like a modern DSLR, with all those functions and menus. Too far removed from the essence of what it was designed to do.

But hang on.

I knew this was going to be the likely outcome of this review. So I’ve offered Vanguard an alternative. Two of my best photographic friends are landscape photographers Peter Cox and Neil McShane, with whom I produce ‘Dynamic Range‘. In an episode slated for recording early next year, we are going to do a group test of backpacks. Peter and Neil are much better qualified to discuss the 51 than I am. So while, to their credit, Vanguard encouraged me to write my review despite my reservations, the 51 will, I hope, get another go at the hands of more qualified judges.

Watch this space.

In the meantime, perhaps I could get one of Vanguard’s Heralder shoulder bag series bags to test? The Heralder 28 looks nice.

*All fine and well in the case of a camera bag. I sense I could bend my rules should, say, a Leica M9 be delivered to me for review.

**If you don’t know what a Tardis is, you have likely been deprived of BBC television for the past 50 years. You must write immediately to your television channel provider. Incidentally, Tom Baker was the greatest Doctor ever. Any suggestions to the contrary in the comments shall be ignored.

PLEASE NOTE: Links in this blog may be to affiliates who pay a commission on any sales generated through those links. Clicking on them may benefit me. Read more…

I have just enough time to reflect on one of the cameras that I used for the wedding – the Canon 1D Mark III that was loaned to me by Neil McShane.

An unspeakable pile of …

The 1D Mk III is a controversial camera. When it was launched, it was lauded by the mainstream photography press. They cannot be trusted. Gear manufacturers are big advertisers.

It was left to bloggers to highlight a flaw in the camera. Reports surfaced that the 1D Mk III’s autofocus system was unreliable, particularly in bright conditions. The major player in this was Rob Galbraith, with whom Canon worked to figure out what was going on. A fix was eventually found, though I don’t know how effective it was. It doesn’t matter. The damage had already been done and the Mk III’s reputation never really recovered – at least, as far as I know, though I’m not an expert.

My thoughts

It’s maybe a little silly to write a user’s experience of a camera that has already been superseded. Twice in fact, if you count the forthcoming release of the 1D X. Nonetheless, so striking was my experience of elements of the 1D Mk III that have been carried forward in later models that a few words seem justified.

Firstly, the weight difference between my own 1 series camera (a 1Ds Mk II) and the 1D Mk III is significant, making the latter a nicer camera for me to use. Much of the difference is due to the size and weight of the battery. The Mk III battery is more compact, and it lasts longer too.

As for the autofocus, what can I say? I was impressed.

Actually, that doesn’t do it justice. I was gobsmacked. The holy grail for every low-light photographer is an autofocus system that works in very dim conditions. My 5D Mk II has a terrible autofocus system. I mean truly, utterly, irredeemably bad. My 1Ds Mk II is better, but doesn’t handle dim lighting very well.

The 1D Mk III was locking on during the wedding in pure murk. I could barely see what I was looking at myself. I was astonished. It may have been a flawed device for use in bright conditions, but in the dark it works like a dream. Well, Neil’s copy does any road.

New territory

The photograph below is never going to win any awards. It is, though, a nice moment between the groom and his new brother-in-law.

There isn’t a chance my 5D Mk II would have been able to get this photograph, particularly as the scene was much darker in reality, likely a stop or more.

The coming iterations of Canon’s line up will likely include even better autofocus capabilities. For someone like me, that bodes well. My current cameras certainly haven’t exhausted their commercial usefulness, not by a long stretch. Yet when they are rotated out of the business, I’ll be quite excited about the autofocus on the cameras that replace them.

I was impressed, to put it mildly, with the autofocus performance of the 1D Mk III © Roger Overall 2011

I would choose the 24mm because I like to show context in my photographs. Rather than zoom in on a detail, I prefer to step back and show the surrounding story. It also allows me to show multiple worlds in a single frame, something that is much harder with a 50mm lens.

Sometimes, though, 24mm isn’t quite wide enough. For the picture below, I would have loved a little more, pressed up against the corridor wall as I was. Almost a great photograph.

(c) Roger Overall 2011

Our conversation was rich and touched upon social media, Tim Hetherington, Leica, Linhof, Mamiya, documentary photography, landscape photography, soul, heart, vision, Rencontres d’Arles, secondhand cars, a possible new business venture, technique, photographer collectives, business dress, the seismic changes in the wedding photography market (more about that on the blog later this week), film, the Fujifilm X-100, the Circle of Confusion, business succession planning, Roger Hicks, 50mm lenses, the advantages of wide-angle lenses, Michael Reichmann, rangefinders, digital cameras, Perpignan, photo-journalists and their scarves, Apple computers, a totally new approach to wedding photography that I’m toying with, creative blocks, yacht crewing, photography for NGOs, Gothenburg, Kalingrad, Martin Parr, and Bantry as a potential artistic centre of Ireland. Those are just the things that I can remember. There was more. It was a great three-and-a-half hours.

We also discussed my project with John Tait. In the course of talking about that, I was able for the first time to put into words something that had been skulking around elusively in the shadows of my mind.

Which one tells the best story? Should the decision have been made at the time of capture rather than afterwards? (c) Roger Overall 2011

Digital cameras allow me to engage with the story of the scene that I am photographing in two ways – one right, the other less so. Film cameras, Bessie in particular, force me to adopt a single approach – the right one.

Digital cameras are liberating from an operational point of view. I get 500+ shots from a 16GB memory card in a Canon 5DII. That’s as good as infinite if I’m shooting for a day. I don’t really need to worry about running out of shots in the middle of taking a picture. Bessie runs on 35mm film, which usually comes in rolls of 24 or 36 frames. That brings with it the very real possibility of running out of film just when things are getting good, or that I miss a shot because I’m reloading the camera. So I have to slow down a bit.

Moreover, I can shoot lots of consecutive frames on a digital camera without needing to take it away from my eye, or moving the camera at all. I need to wind the film on when I’m using Bessie. That’s most easily done by taking the camera away from my face (I’m left-eyed). Besides, the motion of winding on the film is still going to take longer than it takes my digital camera to reset itself. I might miss something between frames. So, again, I slow down and wait and wait and wait until the moment occurs.

Add to this the fact that it costs me in film and processing each time I push the shutter release and it’s not hard to see that when I shoot with film I’m conscious that I have to be more conservative. That conservatism is restrictive, but it forces me to answer an important decision while I’m taking the photograph: “Why am I taking this photograph. What is the story here?”

When I shoot film I have one, maybe two, frames to capture the moment that tells the best possible narrative of a scene. I have to decide there and then which moment is best. To do that, I already need to have chosen what the story of the photograph is.

My digital cameras allow me shoot several frames quickly as a scene develops without concern for cost or fear of running out of shots. Therein lies a trap. Instead of deciding on the spot what the story is, I can retrospectively decide what it was based on which frame I think is best when I compare them all on screen in the office.

At best this can make me lazy. I see a scene and take multiple frames, thinking I’ll have captured whatever story was there in at least one of them. Sometimes, I get away with it – just. Sometimes, I end up with two or three frames that tell roughly the same story, but I’m stumped as to which tells it best. Other times, though, I’m left with a series of pictures, none of which is quite as perfect as the one frame I didn’t get.

At worst, I could miss the story altogether. That’s happened to all of us. Ever looked at a photograph and wondered why on Earth you took it in the first place? Most likely, you didn’t decide on the story you wanted to tell when you took it, so it’s not there when you see the photograph later on.

Bessie is teaching me to chose the story first on each and every occasion, and then shoot the best frame I can when it happens.

Meanwhile, as if to illustrate my unsettled frame of mind, here are three photographs taken for three different reasons with three different cameras.

Taken on Inchydoney beach in West Cork. My daughter's Barbie doll lay abandoned in a rockpool while she went off to sit in the waves. iPhone 4. (c) Roger Overall 2011

A scan from a horribly underexposed negative. A shocker. Yet there is something about the eye of the bull that I find utterly captivating. This is part of my ongoing project with pure Aberdeen Angus beef farmer John Tait. Voigtlander Bessa-R. (c) Roger Overall 2011

Taken today on the Deerpark golf course as part of a commission for Fota Island Resort. There is a launch event in early May of the work that I've produced for them over the past six months. Canon 5DII. (c) Roger Overall 2011

Purer than a DSLR, though it could do with a clean - (c) Roger Overall 2011

There is something about the phrase “pure” that is, well… pure. Something to aspire to, something complete and unadulterated. Something good. Unless it’s pure evil.

For many documentary photography purists, the purest tool is the rangefinder camera. And the purest of the pure is the Leica. Remove any last impurity that could possibly remain and you end up at the M3.

I won’t dwell on the advantages of the rangefinder camera for documentary work. I’ll limit myself to these few: they are small, light, unobtrusive and immediate.

All of these appeal greatly to me.

There are drawbacks too; or rather “challenges”.

For a start, I don’t have the ready funds to switch to Leica. I could, and would, make a lease or hire purchase arrangement with a bank – if I could find one in Ireland with sufficient reserves. After all, we’re talking a lot of cash. Two M9s, along with 28mm, 50mm and 75mm lenses is going to account for the best part of €15,000-€20,000 ex-VAT, depending on how exotic the lenses are.

The next challenge is converting from being a DSLR photographer to a rangefinder one. The difference in shooting experience is significant, especially as I’ve grown flabby on a diet of too much autofocus. I’d need to exercise and beef up.

Which is what I’m going to do. Almost literally. Today I’m starting a year-long project with a rangefinder camera. My chosen subject is the breeding, raising, slaughter and consumption of pure Aberdeen Angus beef. Apparently, that is a whole 100% more Angus than regular Aberdeen Angus beef.

More on the specifics of the project in a later post. For now, I’ll limit myself to the technical parameters.

The project will be photographed entirely with my beaten-up, much-loved Voigtlander Bessa-R. Its wind-on mechanism is faulty. It’s noisy – the shutter goes “KER-PLUNNKKK!”, books fall from their shelves, dogs bark, people the length of the St Andreas Fault wonder whether the time has come, you get the idea. Its main appeal is that I already have it, along with a 50mm lens. So cash out of my bank balance is €0.

Sort of. While the camera won’t cost me anything, running it will. It is a film camera, so there will be a penalty for each frame taken. I see this as a good thing. Eight years of digital cameras have made me a tad trigger happy. Reverting to film will concentrate my mind. Each press of the shutter will eat into my capital.

Shooting the project on film will also add to my enjoyment. I miss film. While for my commercial work digital offers substantial benefits, I do yearn for the simpler post-production that film offered: get a lab to do it. This is a rose-coloured view. I do, when pressed, remember the nervous wait while the film was being processed. The instant feedback of digital is calming.

There are two more technical parameters to the beef shoot.

I own only one lens for the Bessa-R – the 50mm. The entire project will be photographed using it. Again, I see this as a good thing. I like 50mm lenses, especially their ability to work as both wide-angles and telephotos, which is another post in its own right. The discipline of a single lens will be nice. I just about manage to corral a 24mm, 50mm and, to a much lesser extent, a 135mm. I don’t know how photographers who use zooms cope with the almost infinite choice of focal lengths. As a man, I am not designed for multi-tasking. So composing a shot with a fixed focal length helps me overcome some of this handicap.

That leaves a final parameter. My most ambitious one. The beef project will be photographed entirely in *deep breath – concentrate – get the word out* colour. The reasons are many and complex and drive to the heart of documentary photography. They merit their own post, so they shall get one.

In the meantime, I’m in a state of high excitement at the prospect of the journey the Bessa-R and I are about to embark on. Given that we’re going to be spending so much time together, I shall have to give the camera a name.

“Bessie”.

The problem with acquiring such an expensive camera is that it would be a costly mistake if it turned out the camera and I simply weren’t compatible. There is little room for financial error. Admittedly, Leica equipment holds its value well, so the cost of divorce would be less than fatal but I’d still lose money.

You can’t rent Leica cameras in Ireland. I’m not sure you can anywhere in the world. That rules out testing one intensively before buying one.

That leaves reviews.

There is a problem with reviews.

Your typical review of a Leica camera goes like this:

Aaaaaaah, Leicaaaaaa

I’d given up hope of any sensible insight into the camera before taking a leap of faith with my wallet.

Then I got a lucky break.

At the IPPA conference last week, I was able to borrow a colleague’s Leica M9 and 50mm Noctilux for half an hour during lunch.

What follows is a description of how I got on. A mini hands-on review.

Brace yourselves.

Ready?

I didn’t like it.

Let’s start with the biggest flaw of the M9-Noctilux combination. The lens is stupid big and stupid heavy, making for a ridiculously imbalanced camera. This is especially annoying as the M9 doesn’t give you any grip at all. The black rubber on the camera afforded me very little purchase. Maybe I just have peculiarly greasy hands. I doubt it. Ultimately, the camera was uncomfortable to hold.

So, the Noctilux isn’t that practical on an M9. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to try another combination, but I would guess a Summilux or Summicron or Summarit would be much better balanced. (See, I have all the Leica lingo).

Of course, you could always add the optional grip. I must admit to having a problem paying close to €200 for an ergonomic improvement to a €6,000 camera. At that price, it should be an ergonomic masterpiece.

Next comes the viewfinder – the piece de resistance of the rangefinder camera.

Brace yourselves again.

I didn’t think it was that great. The focus patch is small.

Double brace yourselves.

I think that the viewfinder patch and viewfinder experience of the Voigtlander that I own is better. Certainly, I am sure the focus patch is bigger and more clearly defined.

(Somewhere in Leicaland, a believer has just declared a jihad on me).

That leaves the last gripe I have. The camera’s screen. Holy Mother Divine, it is terrible.

Image playback is glacial and everything looks out of focus. With the camera set to ISO 1,600, the screen rendition of a photograph turns to heavy noise mush. It is staggering in its incompetence. The cheapest Canons and Nikons have better screens. Sorry, scrap that. It is unfair to compare the screen on a Canon or a Nikon to the disgraceful thing Leica have chosen to glue on to the back of the M9.

So is there anything good about the M9?

Sure.

1) I’s a Leica.

2) It is astonishingly quiet.

3) Leica lenses are stunning. Just look at this comparison between the Leica with the Noctilux and a Canon 5D Mrk 2 with a 50mm f/1.4:

Leica M9 with 50mm Noctilux f/0.95

Canon 5D Mrk 2 with 50mm f/1.4

So, do I still want one?

Of course I do.

I refer you to item 1) above.

]]> http://www.rogeroverall.net/blog/equipment/leica-m9-review/feed/ 20 http://www.rogeroverall.net/blog/equipment/lot/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=lot http://www.rogeroverall.net/blog/equipment/lot/#comments Mon, 20 Sep 2010 22:45:05 +0000 Roger Overall http://www.rogeroverall.net/blog/?p=2557 Continue reading →]]>

I'll take two.

Here’s news that has got photographers talking. A new digital rangefinder. The FujiFilm X100.

My own response to the camera when I saw it was one of immediate lust. I want one. Plain and simple.

The styling and design are gorgeous.

I mean just look at it:

I wonder whether it's legal to marry a camera? I bet it is somewhere in the world.

From there my imagination takes over. It’ll handle like a dream, produce stunning images and prove reliable. And that’s without even considering the seemingly genius optical-electronic hybrid viewfinder. (Suck on that one, Leica. No – LEDs in the viewfinder don’t count).

Of course, I know none of these things. It could be a piece of utter tat. Ergonomically flawed and the leather finish might peel off at the first hint of contact with clammy human hands. The viewfinder might be all gimmick and no substance.

Like most people, I’ll have to wait until the luminaries are sent their review copies. Mind you, you rarely read a camera review these days that ends with the words: “This is a total insult to photography and the human race in general”. I wish we did.

In the meantime, my imagination can run riot unfettered by reality and pretend that this is the discreet, light documentary camera I crave.

In all cases, they were taken with a 50mm lens.

Regular readers will know that I generally favour a wider field of view. However, the 24mm lens I own is fairly big and heavy. I didn’t feel like bringing it along to the Netherlands. Besides, this year I’ve been shooting more with the 50mm anyway.

Eight days with just the 50mm has made me realize just how versatile a lens it is. Just take a peek at the pictures I posted over the last week. In some instances it feels like a telephoto lens; in others like a wide angle. Quite remarkable.

I’m not going to say that only having a single focal length takes a bunch of decision making out of the equation, allowing you to concentrate on the photograph… Ah… I just did. Sorry. It is true though.

The main point I want to make in this short post is this: spending time with only a single focal length is a great training exercise. Thoroughly liberating, it also forces you to get to know the focal length intimately – its strengths, its weaknesses and, most importantly, its possibilities.

My only complaint? That I have to gaffer tape on the lens hood to stop if from dropping off. How is it that lens manufacturers can design and produce such wonderfully advanced optics, but not a lens hood that will stay put?