uncommons

A pondering Greg Lovett (left) and Mark Edelson (right) along with one unnamed intern in the back. One of the last frames I made on my film Leica M6, West Palm Beach, 2007

I know, I have been gone for quite some time from this blog. I have just been extraordinarily busy and unable to prioritize my time. For the greater glory of God my work has been exceptionally busy and rewarding. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet to many of my friends, but in addition to my full-time editorial newspaper and wedding work, I have joined the faculty of my alma mater, Saint Louis University, as adjunct professor of photography. I will be teaching photojournalism to bright eyed photography students who are eager to learn the craft.

Although, I’m going to digress for just a moment, because I’m procrastinating on a shoot and staring at my dusty Leica M6 next to my iMac. It’s sad, really, it doesn’t even have a strap on it. I yanked it for one of my strapless Nikons a few years ago.

Let’s go back in time. I bought this camera at the height of my photographic youth — I was freelancing almost full time in school, money was good and I was living in the dorm off debt that loomed only after graduation. I knew photojournalism was my path, knew it without a doubt. I wanted the true reportage camera, a Leica M. Post-Dispatch staffers had ‘em, one even used his on assignment, which I thought was pretty hardcore. Much like other photographers, I pictured myself using an M on my daily work– obviously these were the days before corporate took over in papers and you didn’t mind using your own gear because you knew they’d find the cash to fix it if you broke it.

A few months later after stashing some cash, I walked into the now-defunct Jefferson Camera in St. Louis — the only Leica dealer in town, if I remember — plopped down a stack of bills, $2750 if I remember right for the M6, and 795$ (!) for the Summicron 35mm. I was thrilled, until I realized that I hated the .72 viewfinder because of my glasses. The next day I swapped it for the .58 and since then photographed happily ever after.

I shot a story with the little camera about a struggling catholic girls school. It was a wonderful adventure using nothing but the little rangefinder. I traveled through Europe with it, got my first scratch on the lens exterior while running to make a train. I loved it. The images burned onto Fuji Velvia just sang. It was, in essence, a precursor to my love of color.

Slowly, the red dot faded away (no, not literally) and digital made its permanent foray into my shooting. For a long time I shot the Nikon D1 for my freelance work, which was replaced by a D2h, then D200s, and now D700s. The Leica lost its PC cap, lost its strap, grew furry dust and lived in a domke bag that I took only when I traveled.

The Nikon D700 is a fabulous camera — it really is, don’t get me wrong –a full-frame chip, gorgeous color, unbelievable dynamic range and extraordinary ISO. My Nikkor lenses, notably the 24-70 2.8 and 105mm 2.8 macro are just stunning…unbelievably sharp to a fault, and contrast so yummy you can scoop it with a spoon. It’s pretty much everything I want in a digital camera. It replaces film — no, wait — it exceeds film a hundred times. When was the last time we pushed film to iso 6400?

Meanwhile, the Leica sits — I removed the battery years ago so it wouldn’t corrode.

Remember when Leica almost lost its shirt a few years back? The M8 was a disaster (what’s up with that shutter click?) and the product line pretty much stalled at the M7. I assumed all I had left was a collectible.

But now that tide has changed — Leica is lurching forward with the M9 and S2 cameras. They have introduced new lenses and reached out in social media. Suddenly, Leica is back in the black, thankfully, mercifully.

Here’s my dilemma — I feel like I’m done somewhat with digital. I know, I know…why? It’s just that — it’s perfect, instantaneous, beautiful, expressive…but it lacks something — something inherent, tangible, a delayed sense of gratification, perhaps? Digital wasn’t a descendant of my time in the darkroom and early photographic years, it lives in its own parallel universe. I don’t hold prints in my hands anymore, haven’t tacked one up on the wall with a thumbtack, haven’t left a fingerprint on the finish.  I control digital traffic nowadays, in the ‘cloud,’ on external drives, in folders, moving and directing and blowing my digital traffic whistle. It’s not the art, not the feeling, it’s the flow of digital content.

McCurry has it right. Are we going to look at hard drives forty years later? I can’t keep a hard drive around more than five years without it clicking to death. I constantly move pictures around, like snow in a snow shovel, but it just keeps piling up. Can you believe I have only two bins of negatives down in our cedar closet in the basement? They have our wedding negatives, negatives of my parents, grandparents, future wife-to-be. They glow when you look at them in the light, and they are the memories that I forgot existed (except the wedding, ahem…)

I miss film, really. But here’s the problem —  have you seen the prices for Leica gear these days? My same 35 F2 is $3000 (!!!) and the M7 body is $4600. SERIOUSLY?! I’ll never be able to replace that, come on. I have college debt, a house in Florida left over from the housing boom, and these pesky little gnats called bills. I’m married, we have aspirations — a D700 at $2500 for the business we can handle, because that’s used for business purposes, but an M9 for $7000…no way, no, can’t happen.

What to do? I want to shoot some film, process it and share the prints around the family table.  But why carry my favorite M when I know I can’t replace it if it breaks? A little point and shoot I can eat in the wallet if my nephew spills soda on it.

I guess that’s the curse of this little film camera. I can’t really use it, but I really want to use it. Why risk it, even though I never plan to sell it. It’s going to be one of those things my future kids might fight over when I’m dead, or maybe they’ll just sell it to the lowest bidder and the legacy of my own photographic life — or at least what has become my cherished photographic possession, will fade into the hands of another. Or heck, will there even be film then? Because when it comes down to life’s moments — a baby is born, for example, which am I going to turn to — the contemporary digital camera, or the old film Leica? Your heart says the Leica — I know it does, but really, we know it’s going to be the digital camera because it’s easy and it’s far superior to film — right? So has my M turned in to a paperweight, waiting quietly for an emulsion revolution? I think it has, because I sadly can’t afford the price of that luxury anymore. That’s the curse of this little film Leica. Maybe it would have been better always wanting it, but never actually having it.