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Posts Tagged ‘Remembering’

Photographic legends: Remembering Peter Lindbergh, Charlie Cole and Fred Herzog

18 Sep
Left: Peter Lindbergh, Right: Fred Herzog

Earlier this week, an outpouring of condolences directed toward legendary artist Robert Frank streamed through international news outlets and various social media channels. What we need to remember is that since September 3rd, the photography world also lost three other icons who deserve a tribute on DPReview. Peter Lindbergh passed away on the 3rd, Charlie Cole on September 5th, and Fred Herzog on September 9th — one day before Frank.

Peter Lindbergh

Peter Lindbergh 2015, via Wikipedia, used under CC BY-SA 4.0

Peter Lindbergh leaves behind a legacy as one of the fashion world’s most renowned and sought after fashion photographers. The German artist passed away on Tuesday, September 3rd, at the age of 74. Lindbergh’s style of capturing women with minimal makeup and forgoing any retouching in his black-and-white images presented a stark contrast to the typical 1980s aesthetic of big hair, loud makeup plus outfits, and excessive airbrushing.

Portrait of German Photographer Peter Lindbergh, taken by Stefan Rappo (New York, 2016), via Wikipedia, used under CC BY-SA 4.0

Lindbergh was born in Leszno, Poland, and grew up in Duisburg, Germany. He attended the Berlin Academy of Fine Arts. During that time, it was the pure love of capturing his brother’s children in action that inspired him to pursue a career in photography. In 1973, he opened his very first studio in Düsseldorf. Five years later, he would move to Paris and take a job at Vogue magazine, essentially the ‘fashion bible’ to this very day.

Lindbergh is most famously credited for ushering in the era of the 1990s supermodel. His January, 1990 cover shot plus accompanying spread for British Vogue featuring Naomi Campbell, Cindy Crawford, Tatjana Patitz, Christy Turlington, and Linda Evangelista catapulted them to a first-name basis level of fame. His powerful depiction of these women inspired singer-songwriter George Michael to cast them in his music video for his hit “Freedom! 90.”

Besides photographing fashion icons, Lindbergh also made an impact with Hollywood starlets such as Lupita Nyong’o, Sharon Stone, and Reese Witherspoon. “Over the years I’ve worked with Peter on many shoots. He was enormously kind and always made me feel beautiful no matter what kind of day I was having. He was a wonderful soul who put so much gorgeous art into the world,” wrote Witherspoon in a heartfelt Twitter post.

“When @therealpeterlindbergh shoots, it’s about the women,” said Crawford on her official Instagram account. “It’s not about the hair, makeup, or styling, really. He had a way of turning your imperfections into something unique and beautiful…and his images will always be timeless.” Lindbergh leaves behind his wife of 17 years, photographer Petra Sedlaczek, and his three sons Benjamin, Simon, and Jeremy.

Charlie Cole

Charlie Cole was an American photojournalist best known for one of the most resonant photographs of our time, ‘The Tank Man.’ The image’s central subject was a Chinese officer confronting a row of tanks during the 1989 Tiananmen Square crackdown. Cole passed away in Bali on Thursday, September 5th, at the age of 64.

He was one of four photographers at the scene who captured this pivotal moment in history. The framing and perspective he was able to get with a telephoto lens, from the balcony of his Beijing hotel room, is what won him the the 1990 World Press Photo of the Year award. He would later speak of watching the man in a white shirt walk into the center of Changan Avenue as the tanks approached. ‘I kept shooting in anticipation of what I felt was his certain doom. But to my amazement the lead tank stopped, then tried to move around him.’

‘I think his action captured peoples hearts everywhere and when the moment came, his character defined the moment, rather than the moment defining him,’ Cole commented to The New York Times. ‘He made the image. I was just one of the photographers. And I felt honored to be there.’ China’s Public Security Bureau would eventually seize the man in the photo and escort him out of the vicinity. To this day, his fate remains unknown and the image remains largely censored on the country’s Internet.

Cole instinctively knew that Chinese officials would search his room and confiscate any camera gear and film. He wrapped the one roll containing the image of ‘The Tank Man’ in plastic and attached it to the flush chain of the hotel room’s toilet. It worked. The men seized all other camera gear and film rolls, then left feeling satisfied with the evidence they confiscated.

The remaining film roll was developed at the Associated Press bureau then delivered to Newsweek magazine on time for a deadline, thanks to a photo tech-photographer who had flown in to deliver it from the magazine’s Tokyo office. Cole would live to regret the fact that the image he captured had become synonymous with the Tiananmen Square tragedy. In his mind, it diminished the accomplishments of the other photographers on the scene that day documenting the crackdown against the demonstrators in the square. He rarely spoke of his career-defining photo as a result.

An accident on his Harley Davidson, taking place in Tokyo during the mid-1990s, ended his news career. His left leg was shattered but not amputated. He eventually relocated to Jakarta, then finally settled in Bali with his Indonesian wife Rosanna. For the remaining 15 years of his life, he worked quietly as a commercial photographer.

Fred Herzog

Fred Herzog taking photos in Vancouver’s Chinatown in the early 2000’s. Image captured by DPR reader Jack Simpson and used with permission.

In the 1950s and 60s, almost all street photography was black and white. Fred Herzog used Kodachrome slide film to produce rich colors in his images that captured vibrant city life in Vancouver, British Columbia, the industries it was built on, and its working class. Herzog passed away on Monday, September 9th, at the age of 88. His death marks the end of an era. The city he once documented has been largely replaced with upscale housing and corporate structures.

Fred Herzog, Curtains, 1972, Archival pigment print, Courtesy of Equinox Gallery.

Herzog was born in Stuttgart, Germany, in 1933. He emigrated to Canada in 1952, living briefly in both Toronto and Montreal before settling in Vancouver. Professionally, Herzog worked as a medical photographer and was the associate director of the UBC Department of Biomedical Communication. He would roam the streets of his new home base, spontaneously documenting its fleeting moments.

Fred Herzog, Crossing Powell, 1984, Archival pigment print, Courtesy of Equinox Gallery.

‘It’s not a question of learning all the techniques or learning composition or learning about the art of it. I think what is important is that you are out there as a person and relate to those objects and those people who intrigue you,’ said Herzog whose time capsule of photos taken during the 50s and 60s established his legacy as one of the pioneers of artistic color photography.

His photos were ahead of their time. It wouldn’t be until the 1970s that technology evolved to the point where Herzog felt the elements contained in his Kodachrome color slides could be properly processed in print. ‘The majority of his photographs are done on Kodachrome slide film which has this particular richness to it. The reds are just sort of extra velvety and there’s just something really particular to that color,’ said Equinox Gallery director Sophie Brodovictch.

Fred Herzog, Flaneur Granville, 1960, Archival pigment print, Courtesy of Equinox Gallery.

‘Printing techniques of the time […] just couldn’t reproduce those Kodachrome colors. So he patiently just filed his slides in his basement and waited for technology to catch up to show what he wanted to see in a tangible paper or printed format,’ Brodovictch added. Herzog, as a result, would not attain commercial success until later in life. His first retrospective was shown at the Vancouver Art Gallery in 2007, when he was 74 years old. He went on to show work in several major exhibits across Germany and Canada plus release several photography books.

Herzog briefly put his legacy in jeopardy during a 2012 interview with the Globe and Mail. He expressed doubts about the extent of the mass slaughter that occurred during what he deemed ‘the so-called Holocaust’ during World War 2. When he learned that the reporter, Marsha Lederman, was a child of Holocaust survivors, he retracted his statement.

In 1994, Herzog took part in an interview with Global News, who shared excerpts from it after the news of his passing.

He leaves behind his daughter, Ariane, and son, Tyson. His wife, Christel, passed away in 2013. While Vancouver may have changed dramatically over the decades, a new generation of street photographers continues to be inspired by his work. On a final note, artist Clayton Cubitt was able to articulate my feelings about Herzog’s work deftly with a single tweet, embeded above.

Articles: Digital Photography Review (dpreview.com)

 
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The Vertical ELPH: remembering Canon’s PowerShot TX1 hybrid camera

28 Jul

Buried among the February 2007 announcements of Canon’s PowerShot SD750 and SD1000 Digital ELPHs*, and the A560 and A570 IS was the PowerShot TX1. It took the main features of camcorders at the time, namely the vertical design, rotating display and long-ish lens and put them into a stylish body about the same size as your average Digital ELPH. Add in 720/30p video and it quickly became obvious that the TX1 was created to bridge the worlds of photo and video shooting.

* The SD750 was known as the IXUS 75 while the SD1000 was the IXUS 70 outside of North America.

Behind that metal door was an F3.5-5.6, 39-390mm equivalent lens.

The PowerShot TX1 was based around a 1/2.5″, 7.1MP CCD, which was paired with Canon’s DIGIC III processor. While the F3.5-5.6, 10X zoom lens was quite long for that day, it had a focal range of 39-390mm equivalent, so wide-angle work was out. The lens featured Canon’s excellent image stabilization system – a necessity when capturing video at long focal lengths. Keeping with the stylish look of the ELPH/IXUS lineup, the TX1’s lens hid itself behind a door when powered off.

The 1.8″, 114k-dot LCD could rotate a total of 270 degrees, fitting in perfectly with the TX1’s camcorder-like design.

Canon had to cram a lot of buttons into a small area on the diminutive TX1. The result was a camera with pretty lousy ergonomics. DPReview’s Simon Joinson sums up the TX1’s ergonomic issues nicely in this paragraph:

‘Sexy looks aside, in use the design is nothing short of a disaster, and has the unique ability to make you feel like you have too many fingers on your right hand. Once you’ve mastered not blocking the lens the challenge is to take a picture without jolting the camera, change settings without dropping it, or use it to take a vertically orientated picture at all. It’s better if you use two hands, but not a lot.’

Ouch. Something that came along with the small body was a small battery. The TX1’s CIPA rating of 160 shots per charge was probably the worst I’ve seen in almost 20 years of reviewing cameras.

The TX1 took SD and MMC cards, and you needed a big one to store more than a few minutes of video.

Ergonomics and battery life aside, the PowerShot TX1 took pretty nice photos. Its resolution was competitive with other 7MP cameras, distortion was relatively mild and its noise levels weren’t too bad at ISO 400 (going much higher than that on a compact was a bad idea). As with most compacts, the TX1 had some image quality shortcomings: clipped highlights, purple fringing and redeye were all problems, though the latter could be fixed in-camera.

For those hoping that the TX1 would be a camcorder replacement, it wasn’t. Its 1080/30p video is noticeably softer than what you’d get from an HD camcorder and the use of the Motion JPEG codec meant that each second of video took up 4.5MB on your memory card.

Photo courtesy of DCResource.com

The TX1 didn’t have an HDMI port (but what camera did then?) so if you wanted to hook into a nicer TV, it took a lot of cables. On the right in the photo above are component video cables, which take up one port on the camera. Naturally, you’d want to listen to the high quality stereo sound recorded by the TX1, which required a second cable: the composite one you see above-left. It ended up being quite the rat’s nest.

In the end, the Canon PowerShot TX1 generated a lengthy list of pros and cons and was the recipient of DPReview’s ‘Recommended (but only just)’ award.

Sample Gallery

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Did you actually have a PowerShot TX1 and want to share your memories? Leave ’em in the comments section below! As always, suggestions for future Throwback Thursdays can be left there, as well.

Articles: Digital Photography Review (dpreview.com)

 
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Hot mess: Remembering the Leica M8

25 Jun
The M8 was Leica’s first digital rangefinder. Smooth, sleek, but distinctly rough around the edges, it nevertheless laid down the basic pattern for the cameras that came after it, while remaining true to its film roots.

I share an anniversary with the Leica M8 – sort of. The M8 was announced in the same week that I started my career as a camera reviewer – September 2006. We were both very green, both a little unsteady on our feet and both decidedly unpolished.

Up to that point, Leica’s experiments with digital had been unconvincing. The clunky Digital Modul R was emblematic of the company’s lack of confidence when it came to digital. Designed to clip onto the back of R8 and R9 film SLR bodies and in effect convert them into digital cameras, the Digital Modul R was a good idea but a bad product. It took two years to actually ship, and when it did, it was extremely pricey, costing more than $ 5000 (and that’s without a camera body on which to mount it).

In the mid 2000s, whether or not Leica would ever bother to risk an digital M-series rangefinder was still an open question. After the much-maligned M51, Leica’s approach to upgrading the M-series in subsequent decades might charitably be described as ‘conservative.’

When it finally arrived, the M8 was a mixture of new technology and traditional rangefinder operation. It featured a 10MP APS-H format CCD sensor, a decent-ish LCD screen and a modern-ish menu system, but it retained the pure rangefinder focusing system and (by and large) the same ergonomics as previous M-series film bodies. And it was not, as Leica’s representatives were at pains to point out, definitely not intended to replace the M7.

Compared to Leica’s long-serving flagship film rangefinder (M7, left) the M8 was slightly bigger, heavier and noticeably cleaner in terms of design, thanks to the omission of the film wind and rewind levers.

For a lot of people, rangefinder shooting is a pain, but if you love it, you love it. While the rangefindery parts of the M8 were for the most part nice and mature, Leica was new to digital, and it showed. The first M8 I used personally, in late 2006, was a buggy mess. Its frame counter was basically just a random number generator, and its battery level indicator wasn’t much better. It also crashed frequently, and had a nasty habit of getting worryingly hot when it was turned off and placed inside a camera bag. These days, Sony trolls like to shout and scream about the a7-series overheating, but you could have fried an egg on that particular M8.2

And then there was the shutter. Leica’s M-series film bodies have rubberized cloth shutters which operate with an almost apologetically quiet ‘snick’ sound. I still shoot with an even older IIIC from time to time and unless you’re standing right next to the camera, its shutter is almost inaudible. By comparison, the M8’s shutter fired with a loud whirring ‘ker-cloink’ which I could never quite get used to. Very un Leica-like.

Not a great picture, but a good illustration of the M8’s ability to render detail. The lack of an AA filter meant that pixel-level output at low ISO sensitivity settings was very crisp.

Another thing I struggled to get used to was the M8’s 1.33X crop. When you look through the viewfinder of a crop-sensor DSLR, the increase in magnification is effectively invisible. You don’t need to mentally convert the field-of-view of an 18mm lens to 28mm equivalent in order to frame your shot accurately, because what you see through the finder is what you get.

Things aren’t so simple with a rangefinder. In a rangefinder, framing is approximate to begin with, and the limits of the frame are indicated by bright lines in the finder, which change depending on the lens you have mounted. Adding a crop factor makes things even more complicated.

Since the 1980s, there have typically been three sets of framelines built in to Leica’s rangefinders, which change to show indicators for pairs of focal lengths: 28mm and 90mm, 35mm and 135mm and 50mm and 75mm, depending on the lens you have mounted. Simple, right?

A rough illustration of the scene through an M8’s viewfinder with a 35mm lens attached. The inner framelines represent the approximate coverage of the 35mm lens (~50mm equivalent on the cropped-sensor M8) and the outer framelines represent 24mm (~30mm equivalent).

Almost all of Leica’s film rangefinders since the 1960s have featured 0.72X magnification finders, which are well-suited to shooting at the 35mm focal length, with 28mm lines (where present) indicated at the extremes of the finder. Of course on an M8, 35mm = 46mm, so Leica had to change the framelines.

But but this is where it gets confusing, because the magnification of the M8’s viewfinder was actually reduced compared to film (i.e., full-frame) cameras, to compensate for the increase in effective focal lengths resulting from the cropped sensor.3 When you attach a 35mm lens, you see framelines covering ~50mm and ~30mm equivalent fields of view. That’s all well and good, but of course rather than the 35mm lens field-of-view being represented by the outer set of lines, as would be the case on a non-cropped film body, they’re the inner set of framelines because of the crop. The outer set of lines is actually for 24mm and the two sets are pretty close together in the finder (see illustration above).

The end result is that with a 24mm or 35mm lens attached, the view through the M8’s finder looks a bit like a deconstructed zebra crossing. Faced with unfamiliar framelines, some experienced M-series users also found themselves second-guessing their effective focal lengths quite a lot when first using the camera. The M8’s framelines were optimized for accuracy at 0.7m, becoming increasingly inaccurate beyond that, which didn’t help matters either.

One of the weirder features of the M8 (and subsequent digital rangefinders) is the design of its memory card / battery compartment. Like the older film models, the entire baseplate must be removed if you want to swap either the battery or memory card. Sure – why not?

Let’s assume though that you’ve familiarized yourself with the unique framelines, you’ve grown used to the grey-on-black-on-grey menu system, you don’t mind removing the entire base of the camera to swap batteries and your M8 isn’t one of the ones that self-immolates. What kind of pictures can it produce? Really nice ones, actually – on the whole.

Although there were definitely better sensors on the market in 2006, the M8 was reasonably competitive in terms of detail and noise levels at low / medium ISO sensitivities, and the lack of an anti-aliasing filter means that images are really, really sharp. Auto white balance has never been a Leica strength, and JPEGs from the M8 tended to look a bit murky, but it was easy enough to get acceptable results from converted Raw files.

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Leica M8 Review Samples

36 images • Posted on Jul 31, 2007 • View album
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As far as image quality was concerned, there was one major gotcha though, which inexplicably made it past Leica’s experten: infra-red sensitivity. Too much of it, to be specific. The M8 was very sensitive to IR light, which isn’t major issue most of the time, but when it’s a problem, it can be a real show-stopper. As reviewers found out, you’ll mostly see it when shooting green foliage (which sometimes comes out looking too yellow) and black manmade fabrics (which often come out looking distinctly magenta).

Leica’s solution – shipping two screw-in IR filters to all M8 owners for free – was really more of a goodwill gesture, and wasn’t until the introduction of the M9, several years later, that the problem was actually solved.

The M8 was superseded pretty quickly, by the M8.2 in 2008. The M8.2 introduced a quieter shutter, a more discreet black dot, a nicer body covering (the fluffy plastic finish of the M8 was cheap-feeling and icky), more accurate framelines and a badly-needed scratch-resistant coating on the rear LCD.

Partly because it was so quickly superseded, second-hand M8s can be picked up relatively cheaply these days, at least by the admittedly insane standards of previously-owned Leica digital rangefinders. But if you’re really curious about trying one, my advice would be to save a little extra and grab yourself an M8.2 instead.

Read about Leica’s current flagship digital rangefinder, the M10


1. The M5 was a highly advanced and eminently practical camera when it was released in 1971, but an utter commercial failure, and is widely (and probably unfairly) talked about as The Camera That Almost Ruined Leica.

At any rate, the M5 served as an early lesson (it would not be the last) to Leica’s product planners that while a lot of photographers might balk at weird film loading, external light metering, limited close focus capability and eye-wateringly high pricing, just about the only thing that Leicaphiles won’t put up with is change.

2. Author is a professional exaggerator. Do not attempt.

3. This might sound odd, but makes complete sense. Effective focal lengths are increased by the sensor’s crop, so Leica reduced the magnification of the M8’s finder because inevitably, M8 users would be mounting wider lenses to achieve similar fields of view to the ‘classic’ 28/35/50 primes. Hence the addition of 24mm framelines which actually show a 30mm field-of-view (etc.).

Articles: Digital Photography Review (dpreview.com)

 
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‘The only camera that ever got me a date’ – Remembering the Canon EOS-1D Mark II

04 May

I dropped it because I was drunk. It was a brand new Canon EOS-1D Mark II, and I was drunk because I hadn’t eaten any dinner. It fell from hip-height onto the sand-covered floor of a shipping container, which had been converted into a tiki bar at an outdoor music festival. It was 2005 – tiki bars were a thing back then. 

The camera survived the fall, but the attached 24-70mm F2.8 did not. The lens took most of the impact, and jammed badly and permanently at around 50mm. A sobering (literally) lesson was learned, and in the subsequent weeks I shot quite a few jobs at 50mm before I could afford to send it in for repair. 

Another lesson from what I came to remember as ‘The Tiki Bar Incident of 20051‘ was that no matter how carelessly it was treated, the Canon EOS-1D Mark II was a very hard camera to kill. Based on the chassis of the original EOS-1D, the Mark II seemed to have been hewn from a solid lump of magnesium alloy. Like a Henry Moore sculpture, there wasn’t a straight line or hard corner anywhere. Also like a Henry Moore sculpture, it was large, expensive and heavy as hell.

Compared to the EOS 10D, the 1D Mark II was actually capable of proper flash metering – quite a novelty for me, back in 2005. That said, with the benefit of hindsight there’s no excuse at all for this slow sync zoom effect. 

For me, upgrading from an EOS 10D to the 1D Mark II was like entering an entirely different world. The 10D wasn’t cheaply built by any means, but the 1D series has always been in a league of its own. I got talking to a sports photographer a few years ago who still used an original EOS-1D, and over years of hard use, he’d worn the paint off virtually every part of the camera until it looked like a lump of roofing lead. Despite appearances it still worked perfectly, regularly getting smacked by soccer balls in its retirement role as a static goalpost camera. 

I owned my EOS-1D Mark II for about four years. I don’t remember any close encounters with soccer balls but it certainly absorbed its fair share of abuse.

It also absorbed a lot of beer. Shooting live music in major venues isn’t glamorous. During my (short) career I was pelted by bottles, kicked in the head, stolen from, and on one memorable occasion, almost swallowed by a collapsing floor2. And almost every night, someone would throw beer3 at the stage, which would inevitably fall short and drench the photographers instead. Back then, one of the most useful items I carried in my camera bag was a towel. Come to think of it, that’s still true.

Canon EOS-1D Mark II, 2004-8

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At the time of its launch in 2004, the EOS-1D Mark II was unmatched. Nikon’s game-changing D3 was still three years off, and Olympus and Pentax had quietly retreated from the professional SLR market, leaving Canon at the top of the tree. The EOS-1D Mark II had the best sensor and the best autofocus system of any professional DSLR and (arguably) benefited from the best lens lineup, too. Its modest APS-H crop factor of 1.3X provided a welcome focal length boost for telephoto work, without hobbling wideangle lenses too much (the 17-40mm F4L, for example, became a still very usable 22-50mm equivalent).

Shot from a prone position, on the stage side of the very skinny security barrier at Newcastle’s Carling Academy (stage 2). Compared to the 10D, the 1.3X crop of the EOS-1D Mark II wasn’t too severe, meaning that wide lenses were still reasonably wide.

It was from a similar position on the same stage that I was accidentally kicked in the head by a crowd-surfing metal fan a few months later. He was very nice about it, and most apologetic.

Compared to my 10D, the 1D Mark II was a racehorse. Suddenly I could shoot at ISO 1600 and upwards without worrying too much about noise, and take more than a handful of Raw files in a sequence (at 8 fps, no less) without the camera locking up. One battery lasted for thousands of exposures. I could use off-center autofocus points without fear. The EOS-1D Mark II even got me a date.4 It was the first camera I ever really loved, is the point.

So when I found a used 1D Mark II in my local camera store last year for a couple of hundred dollars (Glazers Camera in Seattle – be sure to visit if you’re ever in town) I couldn’t resist.

Can we all just agree that this is a good-looking camera? The EOS-1D Mark II is nothing but compound curves. In keeping with a lot of late-2000s reboots, the Mark III ditched the friendly curves for sharper, more aggressively-sculpted edges. Shame.  

Inevitably, after more than a decade my ardor has cooled a little. I’ve used a lot of cameras in the interim. I’m older, more jaded perhaps. More… experienced. And with experience comes perspective. The EOS-1D Mark II is still beautiful, but it’s not the forever camera I thought it was when I was just starting out.

The smile of a man who can barely afford to pay rent, but who’s having a good time anyway. This is a selfie taken on the balcony of the Newcastle Carling Academy in 2005, before ‘selfie’ was even a word. The EOS-1D Mark II is on the right.

By today’s standards, its most obvious deficiency is the small rear LCD screen, which isn’t sharp enough to judge critical focus with any degree of confidence. And then there’s the user interface. I’d forgotten how obsessed Canon used to be with preventing accidental button input in its professional cameras.

Even something as simple as scrolling through images or navigating the menu requires a cramp-inducing combination of ‘press, hold, scroll, press again’ actions that take a while to learn. I used to be able to operate the Mark II entirely by muscle memory, but shooting with it again recently I was struck by how complicated it seems compared to more modern cameras.

A youth theatre production of ‘Les Miserables’ in Durham, in 2005. The EOS-1D Mark II was my main camera for theatre and music photography for several years. 

Fussy user interface aside, when the EOS-1D Mark II is placed alongside the current EOS-1D X Mark II it’s amazing how little some things have changed. Canon got a lot right with the control layout of the EOS-1 back in 1989, and the continuity of design over almost 30 years of development is impressive. If you’ve shot with just a single one of the EOS-1 series, the chances are you’ll be able to pick up and use any of the rest without too much of a learning curve.

In 2005 the EOS-1D Mark II was replaced, sort of, by the torturously-named Canon EOS-1D Mark II N. Essentially the same camera with a larger LCD screen, the ‘N’ stuck around until early 2007, when Canon unveiled a more substantial update in the form of the EOS-1D Mark III.

For low light photographers like me, the Mark III was a better camera in all respects. It brought serious improvements to image quality and low light autofocus performance, it was faster, and it introduced a more modern user interface. It also marked the switch from Canon’s older, heavy NiMH battery packs to the lithium-ion batteries we still use today. Unfortunately, its AF system was bafflingly complicated compared to the Mark II, and turned out to be plagued with unpredictable accuracy issues when tracking moving subjects in daylight.

Aside from the small LCD, the EOS-1D Mark II’s rear control layout is extremely similar to today’s EOS-1D X Mark II. The essentials of the 1D II’s design were actually laid down in the original EOS-1, way back in 1989.

For whatever reason, the Internet responded to these problems with pure fury5, and Canon, caught on the back foot, struggled with damage limitation. A series of firmware fixes didn’t convincingly ‘fix’ the issues, and adding to the company’s woes was the fact that unlike the Mark II, the Mark III had some serious competition. A few months after the Mark III was introduced, Nikon upped its game considerably with the full-frame D3 – a colossally capable next-generation camera that eventually persuaded me (and a lot of the photographers I knew) to switch systems.

Because the EOS-1D Mark III had developed such a toxic reputation (unfairly, I would argue, but please let’s not get into all that again…) the Mark II/N enjoyed quite a long ‘life after death’, holding its value on the used market for a couple of years after it was officially discontinued. Ironically, that worked out well for me in 2008, when I sold mine to pay for a Nikon D3 – but that’s a whole other article…

Original Canon EOS-1D Mark II review samples (2004)

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1 Overshadowed in my memory only by ‘The Royal Festival Hall Cloakroom Disaster of 2009’, which I still can’t talk about.

2 I’m pretty confident that most of it wasn’t personal. Except perhaps for the floor.

3 At outdoor festivals, on the other hand, one of the first lessons you learn is that it isn’t always beer…

4 On the same day as the Tiki Bar Incident, actually. How’s that for karma? (It never happened again).

5 I got caught up the backlash myself, having published a largely positive review of the Mark III in the spring of 2007 for my previous employer, based largely on analysis of low-light shooting (like I said, it was spring in England). Since joining DPReview in 2009 I’ve been regularly subjected to violent threats by anonymous Americans over something I wrote on the Internet, but back in 2007 it was still a novelty.

Articles: Digital Photography Review (dpreview.com)

 
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Remembering Fan Ho: 1937-2016

23 Jun

There are few photographers who have documented Hong Kong’s past in the way that Fan Ho did back in the late 40s and early 50s. Dubbed ‘the Henri Cartier-Bresson of the East’, Ho observed the then British Colony through his Roleiflex, producing iconic images that played with shape and form and captured people going about their daily lives.

Ho was born in Shanghai in 1931 and moved to Hong Kong at the age of 17 As such, while Hong Kong was always the city he called home, he was able to view it as an outsider. His work was predominantly black & white, but while Ho preferred to shoot with Kodak Tri-X and Plus-X, he was by no means a traditionalist. Ho considered film an equally important medium to stills photography, directing 27 films himself, and was always willing to experiment. “I hate to repeat myself. I’m still finding some new ways of seeing. A new approach, a new kind of experimentation,” he said.

 Approaching Shadow 1954. 

Between 1958 and 1965 he was named one of the top ten photographers of the world by the Photographic Society of America and received over 280 awards over his career.

I was lucky enough to speak to Fan Ho for an interview for Time Out Hong Kong back in 2014. He had produced a new book and exhibition of his work, images from his archive that had never been printed, digitally overlaid to produce multiple exposures, with sometimes serious and sometimes humorous results. Over an often poor quality internet call to his house in San Francisco, the 83-year-old spoke slowly but clearly in exceptionally good English. He was funny and self-deprecating; “I’m a simple-minded man,” he said. He admitted he had little knowledge of Photoshop and worked rather more as a director to produce his latest work but he clearly still maintained his passion.

‘I’m still finding some new ways of seeing. A new approach, a new kind of experimentation’

In November 2014, Ho made a trip back to Hong Kong to open his new exhibition in the city and I had the opportunity to meet him in person. Though clearly tired by the busy schedule, he was still the sharp and entertaining man I had spoken to a few months earlier. He seemed truly grateful for all the coverage his work had received without an ounce of pomposity.

It will be his classic images of Hong Kong streets and fisherman for which Fan Ho will be remembered, but his career was full and varied. He was simultaneously a perfectionist and a rule breaker; a passionate photographer and a gentleman.


Mat Gallagher is the former managing editor of Time Out Hong Kong and deputy editor of Amateur Photographer magazine. He has worked for a range of consumer titles in the UK, China and Hong Kong. He now writes about technology and travel. For more of his work visit www.matgallagher.com

Articles: Digital Photography Review (dpreview.com)

 
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Remembering Rebecca Jackrel: Wildlife Photographer and Friend

06 May
Rebecca Jackrel
Rebecca Jackrel

Rebecca Jackrel Having Fun Behind the Camera

It is with pain in my heart and tears in my eyes that I write this memoriam of my friend Rebecca Jackrel who recently lost her battle with cancer this week. Rebecca was a driven and dedicated wildlife photographer who prided herself in recent years raising awareness to the plight of the Ethiopian Wolf via the Ethiopian Wolf Project with Will Burrard-Lucas . Quite the world traveler her trips always centered around conservation wildlife photography of subjects spanning the Albatrosses of Midway, Polar Bears of Churchill and Svalbard, Spirit Bears of Vancouver Island, Manatees of Florida, Sea Otters of California or marine mammals & sea life along the California coast.

To say Rebecca loved animals would be an understatement as her respect and love of animals was at the core of her being. She worked as veterinary technician before catching the photography bug and regularly volunteered with her husband at the Marine Mammal Center in Sausalito, California. She shared her home with a variety of furry creatures including dogs, cats and even a lost hamster that literally walked into their house. There is little she would not do for an animal, wild or domestic, in need of care and/or protection.

Rebecca at Tea Kettle Junction, Death Valley National Park

Rebecca at Tea Kettle Junction, Death Valley NP

I first met Rebecca at the Photochrome camera club in San Francisco back around 2004/5. She knew of me from my writing and images shared online and was in the cutest way smitten and shy in approaching me. Initially I thought I might have a stalker on my hands, but she quickly passed the non-stalker test and quickly became a good friend. It was at this time I got a glimpse of her generosity as she invited me to join her photographing the Wave in Arizona. In the years to follow she was incredibly generous in sharing her gear and most meaningful to me her support & heart felt believe in me.  Very selfishly I mourn the passing of Rebecca because she was the rarest of friends who had a heartfelt interest in my work and believe in my artistic & professional development. Her support meant the world to me. I will forever treasure the time we spent together in the field and running workshops to photograph Sea Otters in Monterey and landscapes in Death Valley.

While Rebecca was never one to toot her own horn I will share her most recent and prized accomplishment she shared with me before she passed… it was her Certificate of Congressional Recognition for her work to study, document and defend the Ethiopian wolf.

Rebecca you will forever be in my heart. I will miss you more than words can describe.

You can view Rebecca Jackrel photography on her Photoshelter site.

rj_congressional_cert_recognition

Copyright Jim M. Goldstein, All Rights Reserved

Remembering Rebecca Jackrel: Wildlife Photographer and Friend

The post Remembering Rebecca Jackrel: Wildlife Photographer and Friend appeared first on JMG-Galleries – Landscape, Nature & Travel Photography.

       

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