Fortyfive Pancakes

The pleasure and freedom of walking and taking in life with a simple camera and a single lens. Unburdened with weight and excess stuff, the body, and more importantly the eye, stays fresh much longer. You might miss a couple of photos because you didn't bring those three other lenses, yet the gain is much greater than the loss. At least that's my experience.

It could be a point&shoot or a Holga. For me, it's usually a Rollei TLR or a Nikon F2/F3 with a 45mm pancake lens. I'm very fond of the latter combination, and have often preferred it to a Leica. In an interview, the late and great Mario Giacomelli, when asked about his camera, remarked that he wanted a "working man's camera", and sent his delicate Kobell to Milan to have everything removed that he deemed unnecessary. (You should check it out. It's wonderfully bizarre). For me, the F2/F3 are a working man's camera: spartan, robust.

I prefer the 45mm focal length over a 50mm. 45mm feels right. Maybe that's why I have both 45mm pancake Nikkors: The ancient GN-Nikkor and the much newer 45mm-P version. Both are wonderful. The old one had some Guide Number  coupling feature for flash (hence the GN name), which I've never used. Other than that, it's a bit weird in that the focusing is reversed, and the focus throw is very long for mid-to-infinity distances and then gets a bit short for near distances. Mine also survived a fall making the focusing very rough at some distances, turning it into a working man's lens...oh yeah!

I feel more relaxed when photographing people when what I put in front of  my face is of the humble kind. Nothing that looks like it's gonna steal their souls. Even better when it looks like a working man's camera :)

~

The working man's camera the working man had with him for the above photos:

Post-bark Trauma

Out of the blue, a small dog, sitting on the lap of its heavily made-up owner, barks at B. Of all the people rushing by in the street, it decides that there is something wrong with B, and only B. Seemingly calm, B keeps on walking. Dogs are known to have acute senses, he says to himself. "What was it? The rucksack? Something out of the ordinary in my appearance or smell...or thoughts? Something noone but a dog can sense? Maybe I exude a sinister aura? Or could it be that whatever irritated the ugly beast is indeed visible to everyone, nevertheless is something one tends to keep silent about." In any case, a seed of self-doubt has been planted. Pre-bark, B had one worry less. Post-bark, he's thrown off-balance. One could even argue that he's a different man now. B keeps on walking, but somewhat more insecure, wondering what that stupid dog noticed in him. Although another possibility, he considers, is that he's yet again being too thin-skinned; a burden he knows to have carried his whole life.