My first crush was secretly Japanese, even though she was masquerading as a German. She was an Exakta, my first true Single Lens Reflex camera, 35mm of course. I’m not sure what model . . . she would have had to be something produced around 1973. We hooked up in high school, but, well, she never really put out for me. God knows I worked on her though. At the time, I thought she was a beauty. She had no meter, and neither did I, so the exposures were all a guess. I had to take the film down to the local drugstore, and it was weeks before I found out if I had one or two good frames for every roll of Tri-X black-and-white. She didn’t last past graduation; I was moving on.
In college, I majored in journalism and fell for the Olympus OM System. She was the new girl in the market, compact and affordable. I had an OM-1, and then later got a second one and they weren’t even jealous of each other. This was my first experience with different lenses, even though I went with a 50 mm “normal” lens ninety percent of the time. These girls at least had internal metering, little needles that moved up and down on the side of the viewfinder. I was still shooting Tri-X usually but most of each roll was now usable, at least from an exposure standpoint. They had cute little on-off switches on the top next to the viewfinder, man, did I love to flick their buttons. And the manual advance! Frames per second were limited to whatever I could produce with my thumb, but if I went too fast the 36 frames on each roll were gone in a flash.
After college, I got a job working in a corporate PR department and needed a real pro camera, so along came my first Nikon, an F2a and two or three lenses (though the 35mm medium-wide was the one that lived on her body most of the time). She was a little heavy but felt like a dream in my big hands, and she got looks from other photographers . . . they were jealous of her thoroughbred bloodlines. I think I would call her my first grown-up relationship.
That Nikon was loyal to me for many years. We traveled around the world a bit, moved through a few jobs and career changes, then tragedy struck. She was kidnapped out of the back of my car one day on the first day of a vacation. Even as I swallowed my grief, I realized I was excited for a fresh start. I went promptly to a camera store and made the leap to digital for the first time with a Nikon P6000. She had a stunning-for-the-time 13-megapixel sensor and a custom-designed zoom lens. She led me tentatively into a whole new world of possibilities, introducing me to Photoshop and archival inkjet printers. She made me feel as if I was exploring new worlds of photographic expression.
Eventually, though, other sirens appeared on the horizon. Nikon and Canon were racing neck-and-neck to dominate in the new digital world, and I was at a point where I needed more than my little Nikon could give me. At that point in time, Canon was a little ahead of Nikon in terms of resolution and other features, and also at a slightly lower price point. I made the leap and swore my undying love for the Mark series. I fell hard for their pro-level glass and the sexy lenses with the little red rings around the barrels.
I had a good run with Canon, she was as dedicated to me as I was to her. We went through several different models together, and my 24-105 zoom was almost perfect in every situation. Through travels in Europe and Asia as well as back and forth across the US, she never let me down. With her in my hands, I matured in my vision and style. Her automatic exposure and focusing were reliable and soothing and I shot everything from street to portrait to landscape almost effortlessly.
Alas, time passed, and my Canon aged. Eventually, a svelte and classic gold-digger caught my eye. It was love at first sight.
My first Leica was a special edition M-240 in Safari Green, a tribute to the earliest combat-ready Leica 35 mm bodies that made their name on the battlefields of WWII. She was the epitome of simplicity, fully manual with only the slightest luxury of an internal meter, and the glass . . . oh the glass! Like nothing I had ever experienced. All prime lenses, tack sharp at every f-stop, and with a bokeh and color rendering like a soft and sexy hug. I added a M-240 Monochrom after a couple of years and fell in love with black-and-white all over again. Eventually I set my original Safari aside to step up to the lucious M11 with its massive 60-megapixel sensor. At last, I was happily married for life . . . or so I thought.
Oh, sure, along the way there had been a few side flings, some point-and-shoot ruggedized and waterproof cameras from Olympus and Nikon that I carried with me to beaches or when I was cycling or hiking, but they were just passing infatuation. I also have an ongoing affair with a Leica X-U underwater camera that gives me pleasure while snorkeling in places like Hawaii and the Galapagos. But none of those relationships have ever been serious.
I had sworn to be true to my Leica M’s, until finally my eye strayed.
Two weeks ago, a new mistress arrived in the form of a Hasselblad X2D 100C medium-format mirrorless stunner with her accompanying prime-quality 35-75 zoom. She feels sleek and delicious in my hands, and her massive 100-megapixeal sensor captures a resolution and dynamic range that I could have only dreamed of ten years ago. She’s a bit bulkier than the Leica’s, and may never match them for street work or for blending into a crowd, but for fine art and landscapes and portraits, my Hasselblad is my new Queen.
So, well, I guess I’m in a bit of a polyamorous relationship right now, dividing my affection between Leica and Hasselblad, and I can’t imagine that any other brand could turn my head. But who knows for sure? If there’s one thing that my lifetime with my camera mistresses has taught, it’s that there’s always a new knockout around the corner.