All I Want for Christmas ...

It's a plea that sometimes is played for humor ("... is my two front teeth") and sometimes for heartwarming pathos ("... is my Daddy home from war"), but sometimes it's a bit of a palate cleaner in the bacchanalic greedfest that Christmas can become.  And sometimes it is something that you just can't get out of your head.

All I want for Christmas is my camera and lens back.

A Leica M4-2

Some time ago, a very nice man -- a retired professor of biology here in Lexington -- stopped by to show me a camera he had bought new some years ago.  He knew of my book, and had seen me carrying, now infallibly, a Leica as I went about life in town.  He had an M4-2 that he had bought when it was new in the 70s and wondered if I would like to buy it from him along with a 135mm f/2.8 lens.  The offer took my breath away.

The M4-2 and its mate, the M4-P were unusual (perhaps unique -- though I think that word overused, and I guess if there are two they can hardly be unique) cameras in the Leica inventory.  When they were built, Leica's leadership had seen the writing on the wall.  Nikon and Canon were rising out of the ashes of post-war Japan, and had begun to totally command the camera market with single lens reflex cameras (SLRs), having switched to them in the late 1950s and early 1960s after a decade of producing Leica M imitations.  Leica decided to change with the times, disposing with the iconic (another overused word) M rangefinders to concentrate on the R-series SLRs.  (Also, the disasterous M5, the most unloved Leica M this side of the M8, didn't help their attitude any.)

Walter Kluck, the Leica executive in charge of its Canada facilities (where some lenses were produced) thought stopping the M line was an incredibly bad idea, and asked to be allowed to make Ms in Canada.  Leica reluctantly agreed, and it can be argued that not only the M but Leica itself was saved.  The M4-2 and M4-P were the cameras Kluck's factory produced.

Anyway, I did some quick EBay research and told my new friend that he deserved at least $1000 for his camera and lens, if not significantly more (the lens, for example, was still in its box).  I didn't have $1000.  Not by a long shot.  I might, for four years, send him $20 a month to get near that amount, but he could do significantly better on EBay.

He wasn't concerned, he said.  $20 a month was okay.  He was happy to know I loved the camera, and I did.  I loyally sent him my money -- sometimes a month or more late, with a $40 or more check, to make up the difference, but he was never cross.  Sainthood is made by such as he.

Then came a rainy evening, when I climbed out of our minivan.  I had the camera with me as usual -- it made many a great picture -- with a Zeiss 21 f/2.8 lens on it.  The lens was my wife's last extravagant Christmas gift before our total financial collapse, a thing of beauty that made images with gray values beyond belief.  It produced pictures the way I saw life; it was no accident that I was traveling with that combination.

But what happened as I got our of the car was an accident: the shoulder strap -- itself a thing of beauty, a soft, black, leather strap produced by Luigi Crescenzi of Leicatime -- caught on my knee, and in one of those moments when reality seems to drop into slow motion, I watched the camera arc past me and onto the hard pavement of our driveway, landing with a painful smack.

Leicas are tough cameras -- when the M4-2 was made, they were commonly carried by war photographers into Vietnam and other rough, dangerous places -- but they can only take so much.  Both the body and lens were damaged.  

I did some internet research, where I was depressingly told at one point to just throw the M4-2 away -- it would cost more to fix it than to just find another -- until I came to the legendary Sherry Krauter, beloved of Leica enthusiasts everywhere.  Sure, she could fix it, she said, but it might take a while.  She was busy.  I told her that was okay, as it would take me a while to find the money to pay her.  Little did either of us know ...

Dance rehearsal, shot with the M4-2 and Zeiss 21

She took the poor camera and lens in, and I put my mind to rest.  I had told her to take her time, and thought surely the money would come in one way or another.  But when she called to say it was ready, I wasn't.  I sent a portion of the bill, assuring her that Christmas bonuses were coming, and she was again more than patient.  That was roughly three years ago.  How's that for patient?


Each year -- each month of each year -- I look at payments for extra work, windfalls from jobs that come my way, and that eagerly anticipated Christmas bonus, thinking: This is it.  Now I can pay Sherry.  And every time, like the cruel torture when a prisoner is told he will be released, then sent back to his cell at the last minute, the money has to go to something else.  I'm sure she gumbles under her breath, and she should.


So what do I want for Christmas?  I could list a lot of little things: Some film, some random fascinations of late, even the money to process the film I've already shot.  And, mind you, I'm not losing sight of the big things: I'm happy that my family is housed and fed and more or less healthy.  It's not by chance that my money gets allocated to things before it comes to my camera.  But really the thing I want -- the self-indulgent gift I'd automatically ask for if you asked me without warning -- is my camera and lens back.


Maybe next month ...

Catching Up...

The Fourth of July in Lexington, Virginia, is like many holidays here. They seem to resemble Norman Rockwell paintings, or some other hugely unlikely, idealized version of the small town holiday...

The day begins with the children's bike parade down Main Street, starting at the public library. Decorations are handed out for the kids to use, and the mob then sets out on the downhill-sloping street for -- I don't know, about a mile? Others actually do gather to wave to the passing kids, as seen here, in front of storefronts which have also been decorated in patriotic colors. Flags hang from every lightpost.

The eventual destination, after a luncheon break of free hot dogs, lemonade, watermelon and popsicles provided by local businesses, is the parade ground (or "deck" as they prefer) at VMI. The hub of festivites rests there, with various booths for charities and sales, including snacks and drinks, a flea market of sorts, a barbeque dinner by the sponsoring Rotary Club, and a hot air balloon festival. Usually anywhere from ten to twelve balloons show up, launching in the early morning and early evening, when the wind is the most still.

Here we see the crowd watching as a balloon begins to inflate. As you can see, this year the weather was more uncertain by late afternoon, and indeed by nighttime (and the fireworks) it was lightly raining.
I shot this, and particularly like it, because it shows in its way what I think the celebration of America is all about, as well as capturing some of the cheerily chaotic festival atmosphere there.

Here several balloons have risen enough to launch, which they did shortly after, rushing off roughly Eastward at a brisk pace in what I assume was a surprisingly strong wind.

And, at day's end, the tent for the barbeque is mostly empty. I don't know whether this couple are die-hards or just extremely early for the fireworks, which wouldn't begin for another two or three hours...

All the pictures were shot with my Leica M4 and 21mm Zeiss lens on Kodak BW400CN film.

As an aside: As I waited with my girls for the bike parade to begin, the Leica around my neck, a broadly smiling man approached and, with a German accent, explained he was from Wetzlar, where the camera was made. (The factory has since moved to Solms, which he explained is nearby.) He seemed very pleased to see the Leica and I wish the circumstances had let me chat with him longer...

Again with the Leica...

So of course, in the process of filming (or rather, to be technical, video-ing, or rather high definition video-ing, which is why I prefer "filming" ... just because it's easier) Phil and his work I brought along the Nikon D-80 for production stills and my Leica M4.

A wide view of Phil in his workshop. He is paused -- something he does often to stare at the wood, or his quick, rough drawings, to gain a sense of where he is, what he's doing and (perhaps most importantly) where he's going. Sometimes it seems as if these aren't pauses at all, but the real work. The rapid, often noisy, handwork with the wood is only punctuation to the heavy lifting of thought...

A portrait, of sorts, shot as we were chatting just before I left on the first day of filming. He looks somewhat more severe than he truly is here -- and thus it's really not a good portrait, having failed to fully capture him. However, it does show some of the intensity of thought that goes into everything he says.

Finally, another view of work. This is from the first day also, when he was piecing together larger hunks of wood to form the general shape from which he would carve and rasp out the more graceful form of the piece. Again, he is in a pause, turning the wood, contemplating its place and shape.

Shot with the Leica M4 and a Zeiss 21mm f/2.8 lens on Kodak BW400CN film.

Okay, just a couple more...

Because, in addition to the Canon XL-H1 HDV camera I was filming on, and the Nikon D200 I was using for all the previously posted production stills, I had my beloved Leica M3 with me while following the cadets, I have yet more pictures.

This is the campsite at the Frontier Culture Museum.  I have often want to, but never had the time to, do a project on photographing at Civil War reenactments using my Leicas. The theory was to see what, say, Robert Capa could have made of the Civil War.  A bit pretentious in two different ways, but a comingling of two different interests of mine, so why not?

Anyway, I thought this picture captured what I had in mind.  Shot with a Zeiss 21mm on Kodak BW400CN film.

This is perhaps my best picture from the take, particularly as it is so in style with the reason I like using the Leica.  I've probably "buried the lede" by putting it second, but so be it...

That's Cadet Aaron Cregar during one of the last rest breaks just outside the town of New Market.  His feet by then were heavily blistered (they had by then marched roughly 80 miles) but he pushed on to the end and even stayed at the battlefield through the weekend to take part in the reenactment.

This was shot with a Leica 35mm f2 -- the kind with the spectacles, because the M3 didn't have a 35mm viewfinder -- on BW400CN.

That's Cadet Curt Herron taking the flag at the end of that same rest break.  You can see from the background that much of that day's march was in a fog, following brief but noisy overnight thunderstorms.  Also done with the 35 and BW400CN.

I've got to say I'm really loving that Kodak film.  Though my heart will always belong to TriX, the ease of use provided by BW400CN, which can be processed at any C41-type one-hour machine (I actually have mine done at the local WalMart), is beyond measure in this right-now world.  It means I can still use my lovely, 50-year-old film cameras, but produce pictures almost as quickly as digital...

The Wedding Party...

Actually, the engagement party of a friend, Father of the Bride far right, the prospective groom far left.  The party hasn't really begun, and the early arrivals are milling about...

As part of my plan to use this as an outlet for those random pictures I enjoy making, but have no real outlet for...

Shot with a Leica M3 and a Zeiss 21mm/f2.8 lens on Kodak BW400CN film.  In case you were curious...