Is the Nikkor Z 28mm f/2.8 Nikon’s most Boring Lens?

Whenever I visit a new country, I like to check out the second-hand camera scene for potential bargains as souvenirs. On a trip to Shanghai, I went to Xingguang Photographic Equipment City, a sprawling, multi-story mall full of small camera shops selling used gear. Armed with 1000 Renminbi in my WeChat wallet, I hoped to find a unique lens within my budget. I was drawn to the idea of a 135mm, but it was too expensive, so I set my sights on something more modest.

I eventually found Nikon’s 28mm Z f/2.8 SE lens, a lens with a retro design that fits Nikon’s ZF digital camera. It’s affordable but not particularly exciting in quality, as it has a plastic mount and feels more like a cheap throwback than anything premium. However, it was within my budget and looked decent enough. The shopkeepers were friendly and humored my attempts at speaking Chinese, making the experience enjoyable.

Reflecting on the 28mm focal length, I find it somewhat mundane. Back in the film era, 28mm was considered wide, but these days, it’s essentially the default view on smartphone cameras. The world is now saturated with 28mm photos—thanks to the trillions of smartphone shots shared online—creating a visual monotony that’s almost tiresome.

To test the lens, I decided to take it to Zhujiajiao, a historic water town near Shanghai, to see if I could capture something interesting with this “boring uncle” of a focal length.

Serviceable, yes but… Exciting?

When I downloaded the photos from my 28mm lens, I felt a bit disappointed. They felt overfamiliar, like the endless shots of water taxis or gondolas in Venice that we’ve all seen. I started questioning if it was the lens itself or simply my inability to break away from typical tourist shots. Maybe the 28mm field of view kept me stuck in that mode.

The 28mm lens is easy to use, with smooth and quiet focusing, and it focuses closer than my zoom lens at 28mm, which is a nice feature. When focusing close, it handles out-of-focus areas beautifully with soft, creamy bokeh. While it won’t completely blur the background like other lenses, it subtly draws attention to the subject without being overpowering.

That said, the Nikon 28mm Z f/2.8 isn’t perfect—28mm does feel a bit dull. At least, to me. I got some decent shots, but reviewing them feels like scrolling through my phone gallery. My 24-200mm offers more versatility, letting me capture close-ups and control framing better by using its longer focal length to keep distractions out of the frame. With the 28mm, I have to be more mindful of composition, especially on the streets, compared to a 35 or 50mm lens.

After sorting through, I picked a few shots that captured the feel of the place without looking too postcard-like. The dim light drained some color from the scene, and a few images actually worked better in black and white.

I do think this lens is a good lens, maybe even a great one if you consider the price and can get over the plastic mount. I can’t fault it that I find the 28mm field of view a bit dull and perhaps, actually, with more use, I might to appreciate that focal length a little more.

Pet Photography in the Styles of Terry Richardson and Bruce Gilden

You know how it is when you get a new family member and want to capture all those special moments? First day of school, first soccer goal, and so on. Well, it’s the same with puppies. Sure, their moments might be a bit different—I’m pretty sure I never licked myself as a kid, though who knows, maybe I would have if I could. Kids grow up fast, and those moments slip away quickly. And if dogs are truly our best friends, don’t they deserve more photo attention than your last Instagram post of spaghetti bolognese?

Meet the latest member of our family, Juniper the Groodle. Fresh faced and furry at 14 weeks, it was time to immortalize this little lady. I checked out some pet photography and found it uninspiring. How many photos of dogs in lavender fields do you need? Cute, cuddly, charming—these aren’t the words that inspire me. Instead, I think of artists like Terry Richardson and Bruce Gilden.

Richardson is known for his raw, uncompromising fashion and celebrity photos, stripping away the glamour for a more stark and sometimes harsh look. Gilden, on the other hand, captures New Yorkers in their most unguarded moments, creating shocking, brutal, and even ugly photos. While I don’t want to emulate their exact styles, I do appreciate their approach to challenging traditional aesthetics.

Juniper Meets Terry Richardson

For Juniper the Groodle, I aimed to channel a bit of their spirit. I set up with a flat white wall and used a Zhiyun Molus 60 with a small softbox for lighting. I even enlisted Slothy, a stunt double, to help with the setup while Juniper relaxed. After getting the settings right, I swapped in Juniper and was pleasantly surprised. She could easily outshine supermodels with her lustrous ginger hair and prehensile tongue.

Juniper Meets Bruce Gilden

For the Gilden-style shoot, I needed to recreate his gritty look digitally. Using my Nikon Z6 with a 24-50mm lens, I adjusted the aperture to f/8 to capture as much detail as possible while keeping the background dark. I added a neutral density filter to manage the ambient light and used a powerful flash to highlight Juniper against the darkness.

In the end, instead of capturing a marginalized character with my uncompromising lens, it was more like me running backward while Juniper pounced and tugged at the lead, trying to chase the camera like it was some high-tech chew toy.

Juniper isn’t exactly tall, and Gilden’s method involves crouching and shooting from below, holding the flash higher to model the subject. With Juniper’s head just a foot off the ground, the whole process taxed my back and patience, and completely embarrassed my daughter as I backed down the path like a hunched paparazzi at the beach on a Sunday morning. Needless to say, I didn’t get many great shots. In that sense, I guess it was an authentic shoot – Gilden is known for being selective in curating his own work. Usually, I show the whole roll, but in this case, it’s better to showcase only a few that worked.

More Experiments

I tried to recreate the look at home. Gilden loves an eye patch and and a munted-mouthed look. I thought including a prop and providing some peanut butter could promote the masticated gurning that could typify that Gilden Crack Whore Aesthetic. Again, with limited success. Our model, Juniper, wasn’t cooperating, and it seems all the attention has gone to her head. She scampered, jumped, rolled, and did everything except stay put. I was too tired to work with such a privileged, unprofessional model. In the end, I was left with some subpar frames, and the eye patch I’d added for effect was discarded in 15 seconds.

It occurred to me that maybe the best way to get Juniper to behave was to be in the picture myself. So, I did a quick setup early one morning, trying to capture both of us. This approach was more successful, though trying to hold a dog and operate the camera remotely was tricky. I think I managed to capture some of that gritty style I was aiming for, channeling a bit of that “Hoboken Hobo” energy.

Check out the video for how I created a Dragan-style edit that upped the grit and contrast of the image of Juni to reflect the grimy urban streets of New York.

Perhaps I could revisit this scenario when a life time of pain and deprivation has left its indelible mark on her pretty face. In any case, I think I will  keep at this because…  even if I can’t channel the genius of Richardson and Gilden, I can at the very least end up with some slightly different and somewhat distinctive photos. And who knows? Maybe there is some more photographic magic to be mined from this process.

Photography Roadtrip Part 2 – Capturing Australia’s Great Ocean Road

Day Two of my exploration of Victoria, not the royal lady but the rugged Australian shores. Winding along the Great Ocean Road between Aireys Inlet and Port Fairy, I found myself greeted by a sky painted with rainbows and ever-changing conditions. Each stop along the way presented a chance to scan the coastline for unique features, though initially, I felt out of place in the natural world.

However, as I ventured on, I stumbled upon a lunar-like landscape of rutted rocks and alien vistas that captured my imagination. Shooting into the light yielded some of my favorite photos of the day, showcasing glistening reflections and odd shapes. Moving inland, I explored the lush greenery of Barham Paradise Scenic Reserve with my drone, capturing the undulating beauty of the Victorian countryside.

Returning to the coast, the Great Ocean Road revealed its promise and decay, with limestone cliffs battered by the southern ocean. Despite the cliché of photographing the Twelve Apostles, I aimed to bring a unique perspective to the iconic location, acknowledging its imminent erosion and the misnomer of its name.

Continuing along the coast, I sought to evoke a sense of the strange and fascinating, rather than merely document the landscape. From silhouetted birds against dreamy backdrops to timeless structures along the shore, each image told its own story.

Arriving at Port Fairy, I found a tonal counterpoint to the fierceness of the coastline, with a serene sunset casting its glow over the landscape. Even mundane scenes by the roadside took on mythical proportions, like a Trojan horse abandoned in an Australian landscape.

In conclusion, I didn’t aim to capture the landscape’s majesty in the conventional sense, but rather to invite viewers into a world of ambiguity and intrigue. The best photos were those that sparked curiosity and imagination, leaving room for interpretation and storytelling.

Photography Roadtrip Part 1 – Melbourne to Aireys Inlet

It was finally time for me to escape the urban chaos and embrace the tranquility of rural life. Leaving behind the chilly winter of Perth, I embarked on a quest to capture the beauty of the Victorian countryside near Melbourne, Australia. The adventure began with a flight on Jetstar, the budget brand of Qantas, which was an experience in itself. Despite the discomforts, including watching Harrison Ford in the latest Indiana Jones movie, I landed safely in Melbourne.

From there, I journeyed through Regional Victoria, exploring places like the Great Ocean Road and the Grampians. Along the way, I encountered both mundane and extraordinary sights, from suburban landscapes to ancient-looking steel structures. Despite the initial drizzle and monotony, the scenery eventually opened up to rolling plains and breathtaking sunsets.

One memorable stop was at Aireys Inlet, where I managed to capture a fleeting moment of beauty during sunrise. Despite my doubts about the composition of my photos, I was content knowing that I had something to show for my efforts. The journey continued, with challenges in balancing elements within the frame and battling the unpredictable weather.

As I wrapped up the first stage of my exploration, I reflected on the difficulties of landscape photography but looked forward to the next leg of my journey along the Great Ocean Road to Port Fairy. Although I can’t promise perfection in my photos, you’re welcome to come along for the ride.

First Impressions of the Nikon Z 180-600mm f/5.6-6.3 VR

So, I finally got my hands on Nikon’s latest zoom telephoto lens, the 180-600mm f/5.6-6.3 Z. The big question is: is it a wildlife warrior, slicing through the wilderness to capture distant action, or just a hefty fella trying to compensate for its lack of sporting prowess?

Let’s start with the unboxing, which was honestly a bit underwhelming. All you get is the lens, some cardboard, and the usual paperwork. The lens case is a joke, more like a napkin than anything protective. It’s not exactly travel-friendly, to say the least.

But enough about the packaging, let’s talk about the lens itself. It’s big, no doubt about it, but compared to its competitors, it’s not that intimidating. Plus, it doesn’t extend when you zoom, which is a plus. As for ergonomics, it feels solid in my hands, though it’s definitely on the heavier side. Still, it’s manageable without a tripod, thanks to its balance and design.

The zoom range is impressive, and the short throw of the zoom ring makes it easy to adjust quickly. Overall, it’s a well-designed lens that’s comfortable to use, even handheld.

But the real test is in the field, or in my case, at the zoo. Hey, I’m not about to go traipsing through the wilderness. So, off I went to capture some wildlife action, and let me tell you, this lens didn’t disappoint.

How Good is the Lens?

After surviving various landscapes from the African savannah to the frozen Antarctic tundra, I’m here to share my wildlife photography adventures with you. I did find myself surrounded by children more than animals, though. Mixed feelings about zoos aside, Perth Zoo isn’t too bad, offering enrichment for its inhabitants, even if it’s with plastic containers instead of TV sets showing David Attenborough documentaries.

But enough about zoos, let’s talk lenses. The Nikon Z 180-600mm proved to be a reliable companion during my zoo excursion. Comfortably hanging it around my shoulder for hours, I was able to shoot handheld or on a railing with ease. The images turned out sharp and vibrant, as seen in the giraffe example. While I did some editing, minimal adjustments were needed thanks to the lens’s performance.

Telephoto lenses often lack flexibility in tight situations, but the ability to zoom with this lens was invaluable. Despite its smaller aperture, ranging from f/5.6 to f/6.3, I was pleasantly surprised by the results, even at high ISOs. My favorite shot, taken at ISO 11,400, showcased the lens’s sharpness and the Z 6 sensor’s ability to handle detail even at high ISOs. While extracting detail from white fur was challenging, overall, I’m impressed with the lens’s performance.

Still a Challenge

So, let me dive into the nitty-gritty of my experience with the Nikon Z 180-600mm lens. Focusing was the biggest hurdle I faced, and it’s not entirely the lens’s fault. The Z 6 camera, despite firmware updates, showed its first-generation mirrorless roots with its unreliable autofocus. I found myself constantly switching between autofocus modes, particularly struggling with pinpointing focus on small subjects at 600mm.

Once I got focus right, though, the results were stunning. The sharpness of the lens was apparent, perhaps even too sharp for my taste. I often find modern photography produces images that feel clinically perfect but lack soul. Shooting through glass or fences impacted image quality at times, but the lens still delivered impressive detail.

However, I did encounter situations where the contrast and crispness felt a bit overpowering. I had to employ post-processing techniques like the Orton effect to soften the harshness. Despite this, the lens still managed to maintain character, producing smooth bokeh and delivering sharpness where needed, like capturing the intricate details of a penguin’s iris.

While I’m not a wildlife photographer per se, I purchased this lens for my ongoing telephoto project focusing on ships along the Perth coast. It offers a significant reach and excellent stabilization, allowing me to capture stunning seascapes handheld. At $3k Australian dollars, it’s not cheap, but considering its performance and versatility, it’s a worthy investment.

In conclusion, this lens isn’t perfect, but it’s pretty darn close. I can see it becoming my go-to companion for capturing distant ships on the horizon—a testament to its sharpness, size, and overall performance.

Road Testing the Nikon F50: Is this Nikon’s Ugliest Camera?

Get ready for a first-hand look at my latest thrift find, the Nikon F50. As I awkwardly wrestle with the packaging, I can’t help but wonder if this will be a Hitchcock-level suspenseful experience, especially as I attempt to tackle that pesky bubble wrap without injuring myself.

And there it is, the Nikon F50, not exactly the epitome of elegance or charm. As a devoted Nikon SLR film camera enthusiast, I’ve got a long list of favorites, and this one definitely hasn’t made the cut. Every time I see it online, I can’t help but cringe at its less-than-appealing appearance.

But hey, when I stumbled upon it for just $19, I thought, why not take a chance? After all, it’s cheaper than a gallon of methylated spirits, and while I can’t drink it, at least I can take pictures with it, right? So, despite my reservations, I took the plunge and made it mine.

Now, let’s talk about its quirks and limitations. This camera is definitely not for the faint of heart. It’s designed for older Nikon lenses, lacks focus assist for manual lenses, and don’t even get me started on its menu system. It’s like solving a puzzle just to change a setting.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. After a quick test, I can confirm that it does indeed work, which means I’m stuck with it now. On the bright side, it’s time to load it up with some film and see what it can really do. So, despite its flaws, let’s keep an open mind and give it a fair shot. Who knows, it might just surprise us in the end.

An Imperfect Camera

Using this camera isn’t exactly a walk in the park, but here’s the kicker: it takes surprisingly good pictures! In the end, isn’t a camera just a tool? As I experimented with it, I managed to capture some impressive shots on just one roll of film. Sure, it wasn’t the most enjoyable experience, but the results spoke for themselves.

A big part of its success was probably thanks to the lens I used, a humble Tamron 28-200mm. Despite its quirks, like significant distortion, it produced sharp images with fine focus. Sure, the autofocus could be a bit shaky, but with careful adjustment, I got the shots I wanted.

This got me thinking: am I being too harsh on this camera? Am I judging it solely based on its looks? After all, beauty is subjective, right? Maybe this chunky, unassuming camera has its own unique charm that I’ve overlooked.

Sure, it’s not the most ergonomic or user-friendly camera out there. Its menu system can be frustrating, and it lacks some advanced features. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe its simplicity is its strength. If you’re not too hung up on aesthetics and just want a camera that gets the job done without fuss, then this might be the one for you.

So, here’s the bottom line: if you’re a budget-conscious film photographer who values function over form, this camera might just surprise you. Give it a chance, and who knows? You might end up with some Hasselblad-worthy shots after all.

Can You Make Art with a Nikon Coolpix 4500 from 2002?

This is the Nikon Coolpix 4500 and when I look at it, I see more than just a camera – it’s a testament to the optimistic spirit of the turn of the millennium. Back then, the world was buzzing with hope: the Cold War was over, globalization was on the rise, and technological advancements, like the internet, were shaping a promising future. Social progress was evident too, with strides in equity and diversity.

But as we know, that optimism was short-lived. Yet, amidst all this uncertainty, Nikon managed to craft a sleek, onyx brick of a camera that defied convention and exuded minimalist style and futuristic vibes.

And guess what? It swivels! Sure, it may seem like a small feature, but for someone like me with a short attention span, it’s a game-changer. Plus, it’s not just about looks – this camera is built like a tank, weighing in at 374 grams yet still fitting snugly in your pocket.

I couldn’t resist snagging one when I spotted a second-hand deal. And while mine lacks the trademark red Nikon stripe, that just adds to its mystique. Sure, this camera’s 4mpx sensor and sluggish performance may seem outdated, but can it still produce art?

A Dense and Fully Featured Brick of a Camera

This Nikon Coolpix 4500 is quite the powerhouse when it comes to specs. Its list of features goes on longer than a tapeworm and that is reflected in its original price tag. Back in 2002, this bad boy would set you back a hefty $700, which in today’s money would be… well, let’s just say it wasn’t cheap. But with a price like that, you can expect a plethora of options to play with, all neatly tucked away in its menu system.

From the standard PSAM and auto modes to a variety of scene options like sunhat, confetti ejaculation, and court appearances (don’t ask me about the logic there), this camera offers a range of choices. ISO goes up to 800, though you’ll likely encounter some noisy images at that level. And don’t even think about adjusting settings on the fly; they’re buried deep in the menu.

Flash performance is decent, exposure is smooth, and skin tones look good. Just don’t get too close with the flash, or you’ll end up with some unflattering results. But here’s the kicker: it supports external flash via a PC sync cable, making it surprisingly versatile.

Now, let’s talk image quality. Despite its modest 4-megapixel resolution and subpar high ISO performance, this camera can still deliver some impressive results. Colors pop, JPEG processing is top-notch, and while dynamic range leaves something to be desired, chromatic aberration is well-controlled.

Can You Make Art with It?

But enough about specs; let’s get to the real question: can you create art with this camera? And the answer is a resounding yes. Just like Jackson Pollock wielded a paint bucket to create masterpieces, I can use this Nikon Coolpix 4500 to capture the beauty of everyday life and provoke thought with my photographs.

And while I may jest about the mundane objects I encounter, there’s a deeper commentary on the state of our world hidden within these images. From the encroachment of suburbia to the struggle between nature and human progress, there’s a story waiting to be told.

Is It Worth It Now?

This still feels like a substantial piece of kit, even now. Of course, no camera is without its quirks, and this one is no exception. From its tendency to drain batteries like nobody’s business to its slow performance, it’s definitely showing its age. But hey, we can overlook these minor inconveniences when we consider its impressive image quality and macro capabilities.

And let’s not forget about the features. Sure, some are a bit gimmicky, but others, like continuous autofocus and exposure bracketing, prove to be invaluable tools in our artistic arsenal. And did I mention it swivels? That alone adds a touch of fun to the photography experience.

Why I’m not a Landscape Photographer

Landscape photography is a discipline in and of itself and not one I’m particularly familiar with. I’m normally more comfortable on the streets than in the bush. That said, I spend a lot of time watching YouTube videos about landscape photography, so maybe it’s time I came to grips with this strange but fascinating genre of photography.

You might have noticed a few quirks in my approach to the scene, maybe even some choices that seemed a bit off the beaten path.

A Superhuman Feat

Typically, landscape photography involves an early rise, a long hike, and finding that perfect spot for contemplation. But let’s face it, that’s not really my style. I’m not one for meticulous planning or waiting for the perfect conditions. And yes, the weather was lovely, but that doesn’t always make for the best photos, right?

Now, about tripods. Every serious photographer swears by them, but I’ve got my reasons for steering clear. Call it a personal vendetta – to me they are the horrific vehicles of destruction used by alien invaders in HG Wells and John Christopher novels. At the very least they add a lot of weight and awkwardness to the photographic process. And sure, my agility might not rival a mountain goat’s, but that’s just not my vibe.

So, armed with my Nikon Z6 and a polarising filter, I ventured forth. And thank goodness for YouTube, where I can share my mishaps and lessons learned. Lesson number one: relying on in-body image stabilisation for those slow shutter speeds? Yeah, not the best idea.

But amidst the struggles, I managed to salvage a shot or two. It’s all about finding that one gem, even if it feels like picking the tallest jockey on the basketball team.

From Sow’s Ear to Silk Purse

Now, onto the editing phase. As shown in the video, it’s a delicate dance of balancing contrast, toning down those pesky highlights, and adding a touch of warmth. And let’s not forget about injecting some vibrancy into those rocks and dirt – gotta make ’em pop.

And sure, I might have a heavy hand with the edits sometimes, but that’s all part of the process. After a few tweaks here and there, I step back and give it some time to marinate. Because let’s face it, perfection takes time – and maybe a few do-overs.

Let me know what you think of the results. I don’t think landscape photography is my forte. But that’s okay. I find my stride elsewhere, amidst the urban jungle. And if you’ve got your own tales of photographic misadventures, I’m all ears. Because in the end, it’s not about the gear or the accolades. It’s about the journey – the trials, the errors, and the relentless pursuit of that perfect shot.

So here’s to embracing failure, to dreaming big, and to never giving up – even if we’re stumbling along the way. After all, they say greatness lies not in success, but in the trying. And if there’s one thing I’ve been called, it’s trying.

Road Testing a Beaten up Nikon F75 Film SLR

Well, what can I say? Like myself, this camera has seen better days. All of that millennial photographic optimism, crushed by the insurgency of digital and hindered by its flimsy build quality.

I harbor a peculiar fondness for Nikon’s less prestigious SLRs. Or maybe that’s just Stockholm Syndrome—a strange psychological bond forged between crappy old cameras and a crappy old photographer, both steeped in nostalgia. But let’s not dive into self-flagellation just yet; instead, let’s direct our attention toward the Nikon F75.

Now, I can’t be certain whether the last owner treated this camera as toilet paper or handed it to their three-year-old as a plaything before relegating it to the second-hand shelf alongside fallen aspirations—exercise bicycles and DVD copies of “Daddy Day Camp.” Suffice it to say, this camera wears its battle scars.

In its prime, I imagine the F75 stood tall—a photographic titan. But it followed the Mickey Rourke path of self-improvement. Let’s address the worst of its woes: the batteries drain suspiciously quickly, and the zoom ring turns as smoothly as a skier on asphalt.

Amidst the wreckage, though, there was promise. I’ve encountered several similar Nikons—the hideously ugly F50 and the perilously flimsy F55. Both have graced my channel, and while they’re crippled clones of what we’d associate with a “real” Nikon camera, the F50 at least had reassuring heft, and the F55 prided itself on being the smallest and lightest 35mm SLR in my collection.

Enter the F65, sandwiched between the F55 and our battered F75. Supposedly a notch up, the F75 boasts more segments for matrix exposure metering and spot metering—nothing groundbreaking. Unfortunately, the F55 refuses to play nice with newer lenses sporting built-in focus motors, and none of these cameras truly embrace manual lenses.

The F75 is just an incremental improvement on the F55 and F65. It sidesteps the plastic lens mount of the F55, supports TTL for external flashes, and claims the title of the first cheap consumer camera to support stabilization in VR lenses. Yet, it remains plagued by a low flash sync of 1/90 second and the inability to adjust ISO manually—limitations that hinder its outdoor flash photography prowess and bulk loading potential.

To unlock professional features, one must ascend the greasy pole of photographic power, reaching for cameras like the F80 and F100. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves; for now, let’s consider the F75 on its own merits.

First things first—it works. Quality-wise, I didn’t push the camera to its limits. I set it to program mode, peered through the viewfinder, ensured focus, and checked the shutter speed. Random shots ensued, and it was liberating not to overthink every click.

As for the lens—it’s acceptably sharp. The corners may smear a tad, but in the open areas, I didn’t need to wide open the aperture. It behaves much like the G version of the lens that accompanied the Nikon F55, albeit with an aperture ring—a touch more versatility for compatible cameras.

Venture beyond the focal zone, and things unravel. The bokeh—well, it possesses ‘character.’ Imagine Cartman from South Park—either mildly amusing or downright offensive, depending on your subjective taste. Personally, I don’t mind; the subject is so mundane that the background’s busyness bludgeons you into submission. Photography shouldn’t be a game of “spot the subject,” but here we are.

So, dear F75, you’re a relic, a survivor. And perhaps, in your pixelated embrace, I find solace—a connection across time and technology. Or maybe I’m just another crappy old photographer, capturing moments with a camera that’s seen better days.

How Good Really is the Nikon 5cm f/1.4 LTM?

Introduction to a Legendary Lens

Back in its heyday, Nikon’s 5cm f/1.4 LTM lens was the rock star of the photography world, propelling Nikon into the big leagues and giving Leica aficionados a run for their money. Rumor has it, this lens even had war photographer David Douglas-Duncan swapping out his Leica lenses faster than you can say “cheese.” Yep, Duncan found these Japanese gems to be snappier and more contrasty, perfect for capturing the gritty drama of black and white news photography. Legend has it that even the editors at Life magazine mistook his shots for large format masterpieces.

The Unconventional Field Test

Now, strap on your combat helmet and lace up those boots, because I’m about to take you on a wild ride through Scarborough Beach and Hillarys Boat Harbour in Perth, Western Australia. Armed with my trusty Zorki 4k and loaded with Ilford HP5 ammo, I decided to put this old-timer through its paces. And let me tell you, it was a battlefield out there, with soccer mums jostling for their morning lattes and surf lifesaving helicopters buzzing overhead like something out of M*A*S*H.

A Closer Look at Performance and Character

But let’s cut the theatrics and get down to the nitty-gritty. This lens may be a vintage beauty, but how does it hold up in today’s pixel-peeping world? Well, let’s just say, it’s a bit of a mixed bag. Sure, it’s got that classic Sonnar design, giving off fuzzy vibes straight from a 70s soft-porn flick at wide apertures, but don’t let that fool you. This lens can still pack a punch, especially when you stop it down and give it some breathing room.

But hey, no lens is perfect, right? And this one’s no exception. From wonky rangefinder issues on my Zorki 4k to a scratch on the rear element, using this lens had its quirks. But even in my hands you see the magic it can create and I think that’s enough to forgive its imperfections.

So, is it worth the hype and the hefty price tag? Well, that’s for you to decide. But for me, this lens is more than just a piece of glass—it’s a ticket to a bygone era, a reminder of the glory days of photography. And hey, if it was good enough for war photographers dodging bullets, it’s good enough for me. So here’s to you, Nikon 5cm f/1.4, you may be old, but you’ve still got it where it counts.