Cameras and Electronics

It's an odd thing to contemplate, in a world where everything is an electronic device, that it wasn't that long ago when cameras were entirely mechanical and manual devices. The film was wound on by the photographer, the shutter speed and aperture was set by the photographer and the the shutter was cocked by the photographer, the lens was focused by the photographer before finally the camera made an exposure, when the shutter button was pressed by the photographer.

There is a limit to what can be achieved by mechanical means alone.  Wouldn't it be great if the lens could focus automatically? What about if the camera had a light meter built in, even better if the light meter could cause the aperture and shutter speed to be automatically set? Hmm, I'd like to set my aperture myself and have the camera do the rest, no problem. On another day I'd like to set my shutter speed and have my camera sort the aperture out.

All of the features that we take for granted now, were once the domain of science fiction. As electronics developed and were miniaturized, they started to be included in the cameras of the day. Initially with built in light meters, then electronic shutters and auto focusing.

By the 1980s most cameras had some electronics in them but by the 1990s the cameras were fully automated electronic affairs. Marvels of the modern age.  With a business model of constant improvement and expansion, the 1990s cameras were not expected to be used for years on end. A quick look at the Dixons catalogue shows really capable consumer compact cameras, packed with electronics for amazingly low prices. 

The low prices revealing the intent that if the camera failed, it was not economic to repair and so the real solution was to replace. Even with a 12 month guarantee, the manufacturers would simply replace the camera if it developed a fault.  If the consumer price was low the manufacturing price was even lower. If a camera sold for £80 then it probably cost £20 to make at scale. Not really sustainable for the planet but that was for the future to sort out.

The 1990s were the start of consumers having money to spend on "toys" rather than something the family needed. So the business model was to manufacture at scale for your market, keep manufacturing prices low, sell at low prices on the high street and replace rather than repair the units if they failed. 

There was a deceit that happened with repairs. Camera manufacturers would either establish repairs departments at their factories or sub contract the repairs out to a separate specialist company. With the rise of Japanese consumer electronics, sending something back to Japan wasn't cost effective. These companies established repair departments in the UK by way of sub contracting.  The cost of repairing any consumer device was costing industry a lot of money. The introduction of electronics was done, in part, to make the devices more reliable and less likely to develop a fault and need repair. This was a huge cost saving for the manufacturers.

The general public however were used to having things that they bought repaired and so Dixons would take a faulty camera, for example, and fill out the repair form in store.  The customer would be assured the camera would be inspected and assessed.  The reality was that the camera would be chucked in the bin and when the customer came back a new camera would be supplied with the reason that the camera couldn't be repaired.

The reality of this system is that by the 1990s the reliability of these devices meant that faults went from 1 in a 1000 units manufactured to a vanishing small 1 in 1 000 000 units manufactured. 

By the time that digital cameras came along, faults were unheard of, almost.

So the current trend for people buying 1990s compact cameras, should ring alarm bells. While the cameras were super reliable in their day, after 35 odd years, those mass manufactured, surface mount electronics, that were never designed to be repaired, are a bit of a ticking timebomb. 

It's not the preserve of the compact camera either. The Hassleblad XPan, a panoramic format 35mm camera, that has retained its secondhand value and was expensive when new has been known to work fine one day and be dead the next. That is an expensive ornament. The best bet is to find a donor body and rob circuit boards from it, but even that avenue would be expensive as it's specialist work.

Anything that is entirely mechanical can, with the right skillset, be repaired and serviced indefinitely.  Early cameras that has electronics such as the Olympus Trip 35, only offered simple metering systems, run by a selenium cell, that if the electronics died, the rest of the camera could be used manually.

So don't pay lots of money for 1990s compact cameras. You can but it's a bit like Russian roulette, you may get lucky but not for ever.

As a postscript to this the reliability of these cameras initial design means that if they do die all is not lost. It's unlikely to be the main board or CPU that's at fault. Generally it's something simple that can be fixed. Broken wires, solder joints that have failed and contacts that require cleaning. The solder joint failure is more common than you'd think.

A camera that isn't operating even with new batteries, should be inspected carefully. If a battery has corroded in the battery compartment then cleaning the compartment with white vinegar may resurrect the camera. Broken wiring inside can make a camera appear to have died, when it needs replacement or simple resolder the connection.  It's also surprising what a squirt of electronic contact cleaner can do.  If a camera does "brick" itself, it may just be revivable.

Old Cameras, why bother?

I am not, personally, interested in fuelling industries that have a need to keep producing new stuff that isn’t substantially or objectively better than what has already been manufactured.

Manufacturers need to keep “improving” cameras so that people will get FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) and go and buy the new one while the old one gets cast aside like an unwanted child's toy. But caveat emptor, those “improvements” may not be of any use to the photographer.

The X-Files

A bit like Mulder in the X-Files, photographers “want to believe”.  Marketing will sell “improvements” as the silver bullet to why you don’t take world class photographs.  If you buy into the marketing hype and your pictures aren’t great, you can blame the choice that you made in the camera shop.  Oh damn, I bought a Nikon when I should have bought a Canon!  Why didn't I pack whatever lens you left at home?

The range of cameras and lenses in any camera shop is amazing, but we all want to believe the marketing. We want to believe that there is a technical reason why our brand new camera or lens doesn’t make us Ansel Adams.  

Ansel Adams, or any other photographer of note, put the hours in, generally using the same camera for years and years, honing their craft, learning how photography works from a practical point of view, eventually making a catalogue of worthy work from many thousands of rolls of film or memory cards.

Back to the narrative...

A camera should take a picture. If it does that, well we are onto a winner, aren't we?

The way the picture is captured may matter to some. 

I might need a camera to capture family moments without a lot of fuss and bother or making my family pose while I muck about with settings only to be disappointed and frustrated at the results. A decent quality P&S that does all the heavy lifting, so those family memories can be captured quickly and easily and largely without anyone knowing, should fit the bill.

Equally, I may need a camera to capture the family portraits using a shallow depth of field, pin sharp focus and bang on metering. Enter the SLR or DSLR.  No P&S will achieve this and it is nonsense to expect it to.  The SLR/DSLR with a number of lenses will be the best bet. But do I need a brand new one? No I don’t. Most SLRs will work just fine and the DSLRs with a 20Mp, or larger, sensor will produce 8x10 prints of a great quality.

Where DSLRs are concerned, we have full frame sensors that were supposed to be better than APS-C, but the hype rarely met the expectation and certainly did not improve anyone’s photography.

Then we have Mirrorless cameras, that removed the mirror from a DSLR and made everything smaller and lighter, but better?  Obviously more portable and the lenses were smaller and lighter too.  But those Micro Four Thirds sensors weren’t full frame and therefore not very good?  Well the MFT sensor was perfectly good and is capable of really decent results. I'd challenge anyone to take an 8x10 print of the same subject taken on a MFT and  FF DSLR and tell the difference at normal viewing distance.

Medium format cameras are lovely but no one makes one new now so you have to go second-hand.

Large format cameras are still made but these are niche, and there are plenty of second-hand options here too.

Today cameras, of all types, are plentiful on the second-hand market, so naturally if considering a new camera purchase, that is where I’d tend to look first. New to me doesn't mean new in the box.

Why use old cameras? Well why not? They exist and in many cases have had very little use and so represent great value for money.

Obviously you need to beware of hype as some old cameras have achieved cult status and their second-hand prices have sky rocketed.

But old cameras are perfectly serviceable, if they work for the photographer and produce results where the expectation, unhindered by hype, meets reality then isn't that all that matters.  Some old cameras were underrated when new and damned by the reviewers with feint praise. In the cold light of a second-hand purchase, reappraisal will often be kinder.

Buy an old camera, be kinder to the planet and just enjoy the photography!

N.B. If you want to buy a brand new camera and can afford to do so, don't let anything I say deter you. But please list your old kit with a sensible, not hyped, price and keep the second-hand market buoyant.

Single Holga Photo - 5

This Holga Photo was taken in Brittany France on one of my forays over there.  I like the photograph because it exudes calm. It was a bit of a misty day and the day was starting slowly. I remember that we, the lady wife and I, went for a drive.  We ended up stopping at this destination, I've not recorded where though, for a cup of coffee and I loaded the Holga and took some snaps.  This one was the best of the roll, in my opinion.

Two yachts at rest

Single Holga Photo - 4

Holga Photo number four is a colour photograph taken near my home in Somerset. 

A Holga will struggle to focus down as closely as was required for this image. I carry a magnifying glass in my bag. You can focus the magnifying glass by looking through it and when you are happy, keep the magnifying glass still, and move the Holga so that the lens touches the magnifying glass.  An that way you have a close up adapter for the Holga. Framing can b a bit hit and miss, but in this case a hit.

This was taken in Autumn and the leaf had fallen and lodged in the cleft between two branches.

Single Holga Photo - 3

This Holga photo was taken in Swansea Marina on a cold, early spring day. I was experimenting with using the bulb setting on the Holga.  This frame was the one from the roll that stood out, most of the rest were a blurry mess. This one is still blurry but is at least recognisable for what it is. I like this shot because the rope holes and opening on the bow form a kind of surprised face.

Single Holga Photo - 2

Taken on the Holga in Bathurst Basin, a triangular dock area to the east of Spike Island. You can see the general Hospital building to the right.

I love the dappled light under the trees. I think the Holga has handled the scene well.

This is an area of Bristol that I know well and I still enjoy visiting, especially with a Holga.

Walking along the dock at Bathurst Basin

Single Holga Photo - 1

One of the things that I love about the Holga camera is it's ability to surprise you. This photo has such a painterly feel to it. I remember when I took it not feeling very hopeful about the frame. However with the Holga camera you need to keep shooting, even if you are not feeling great about the roll.

When I processed the film and looked at the negatives this one jumped out.

The photograph was taken in Pill, near Bristol.  The name "Pill" comes from the Welsh word Pîl which denotes a tidal inlet or harbour. My maternal Grandparents lived in Pill until the 1980s, when they moved to South Gloucestershire.

My Mums cousin operated the Pill Ferry from Pill to Shirehampton when I was a kid. His name was Robert. These boats reminded me of those days.

Pill Ferry

Two boats resting until they are needed again.