• Photography

    Windsor 35

    This incredibly quirky little rangefinder camera is a lot of fun to shoot. The Windsor 35 was developed and manufactured by Tōkō Shashin K.K, a.k.a. TKC, in 1953. TKC made quite a few cameras in the 40’s and 50’s, showcasing their creativity and innovation in the rapidly advancing field of photography. After WWII, they designed the Mightyy, a 17.5 mm paperback film camera, which was indicative of their forward-thinking approach. By the early 1950s, they were building a name for themselves and establishing a reputation amongst photography enthusiasts.

    There is not a lot of information on the company, which adds a layer of mystery to their products and makes them even more intriguing for collectors. If any of you have any additional info on TKC or their other models, please let me know, as I’m eager to learn more about this fascinating brand. The Windsor 35 is not just a well-designed piece of machinery; it is a compact rangefinder camera that blends aesthetics with functionality. It is quirky, especially the rewind mechanism, which adds a unique character. To rewind the film, a person has to hold down the rewind button and turn the knurled rewind knob, creating a tactile and engaging experience. This is not a bad thing, but after rewinding twenty or so frames, you might wish there was another alternative to streamline the process.

    I genuinely enjoyed shooting with the Windsor 35. There is no light meter in a camera of this era, which can be a bit daunting for new users. A person can buy a cold shoe light meter that works great with it or use an app on a mobile device, bridging the gap between vintage charm and modern technology. I use the Pro Light Meter app most of the time, and it has never let me down; it is always accurate and reliable, making it an excellent companion for my shooting adventures.

    The shutter goes from Bulb mode to 1/200th of a second, offering a variety of options for exposure. The shutter is crisp and in time on my model, delivering results that inspire confidence. The lens is a sharp 50mm f/3.5 T.K.C Color Sygmar lens, which produces images with a pleasing depth and clarity. F/3.5 was standard for the time for any rangefinder, though it still provides excellent performance in various lighting conditions.

    That may not be a big enough aperture for some people, especially those who prefer shooting in low-light situations, but really, are you going to be doing street shooting or portraits in the dark? I used a flash with mine at a vibrant Christmas party and got amazing results from this little camera, showcasing its potential to adapt and perform well even in challenging environments. The rangefinder is accurate and the focusing system is smooth, making it a joy to use for both seasoned photographers and beginners. Like all tools, each one takes a bit of time to get used to it, but especially with a camera as user-friendly as this, it doesn’t take long to master its quirks and features.

    This little camera is sleek and a conversation piece, often attracting attention and compliments wherever I take it. It also is somewhat rare, with limited availability in today’s market. There is not much information on these cameras or their manufacturer, adding to their allure among enthusiasts and collectors. If I held onto this one, it would be worth a lot more one day, given its uniqueness and the nostalgia it carries. But, I have a rule about cameras: if I haven’t used it in a year, I have to sell it. I haven’t stuck to that rule of late, but I’m consciously reinitiating this guideline. I’m selling this one on to someone who will genuinely enjoy it, giving it a new life in the hands of another creative individual. Besides, I have my eye on another rangefinder that I will hopefully talk more about soon, which will bring fresh experiences and new stories to capture.

    This camera is the later version and has a flash sync port, which is a valuable addition for creative photography. I tested this feature and it does work well, enhancing the versatility of the camera. The shutter is crisp, and the aperture blades are smooth as butter, allowing for seamless adjustments while shooting. I currently have it listed on eBay for those interested in adding this charming camera to their collection. Go check it out; you may be the winning bidder who gets to explore its creative possibilities. If you have any questions about it, or if you’re curious about my experience with it, feel free to leave your comment or question below. Thank you for your interest!

  • Zeiss Ikon Contessa
    Photography

    Zeiss Ikon Contessa

    If you know me at all, you probably know that I love old Zeiss Ikon cameras. They are a bear to work on and a bit fiddly at times, but all old cameras have their quirks that make them unique and endearing. The camera I am reviewing today is the later Contessa, the compact rangefinder that, although it is heavy by today’s standards, it is compact for its time, embodying a blend of innovation and classic design. These were developed in the early sixties with selenium light cells for light meters, a cutting-edge technology at the time that highlighted the ingenuity of camera engineering.

    Over the years, I have acquired a few of these with working light meters and a few that didn’t work at all, and it’s fascinating to see how the functionality can vary so significantly across different models. It is very rare that they are accurate, as the passage of time often takes its toll on these delicate mechanisms. I would not recommend you rely on that alone, especially with a color film that requires accuracy; after all, achieving the perfect shot is often about timing. Black and white film, what I use the majority of the time, has a lot more exposure latitude, allowing for a bit more creative freedom in the developing process.

    This particular model is accurate within a stop some days and not accurate at all on other outings, creating a sense of unpredictability reminiscent of film photography’s charm. You can sometimes revitalize these old light meters by cleaning the contacts, a rewarding endeavor for those who enjoy tinkering; each restoration feels like breathing new life into a forgotten piece of history. Cleaning these old cameras is good to do, regardless of the chance of rescuing the light meter or not, as it enhances their functionality and preserves their beauty. The main reason for this post is to talk about the amazing little lens they put in these little cameras. It has a Carl Zeiss Tessar 50mm f/2.8 lens that is sharp and takes stunning photographs, rendering details in a way that often surpasses modern lenses. As stated, I usually use black and white film, but due to the coatings on the lens, you can use any color film, allowing for vibrant and rich imagery that stands the test of time.

    This particular model has accurate shutter times, smooth aperture operation, and buttery focus, creating an exhilarating shooting experience that brings joy to both seasoned photographers and novices alike. These cameras are at such a great price point, making them an accessible option for anyone interested in exploring the world of rangefinder photography. If you want to try a rangefinder before shelling out thousands of dollars on a Leica, buy one of these cameras; the value they offer is truly exceptional. You will not be disappointed in the quality of the lens and its sharpness, which can capture faint details even in less-than-ideal lighting conditions. Due to its coatings, it does provide a lot of contrast as well, delivering images with depth that draw the viewer in.

    I am selling this one on eBay, but I would recommend it whether I am selling one or not; my admiration for these cameras goes beyond mere transactions. If you have any questions about the camera, leave me a comment. Or, maybe you have one handed down through the generations, each with its own stories and memories. Tell me your story, as I am always excited to hear about fellow enthusiasts who understand the passion that surrounds these wonderful machines.

  • Photography

    Living in the Tonto National Forest in the High Desert

    In May of this year, I wrote about moving to Arizona; in fact, it was my last post. We were so busy with selling the house and the chaos that ensued and finding a place to live out here that I didn’t update the blog. We’ve been living in the Tonto National Forest for almost two months. As you might imagine, moving across the country is an arduous journey and costly.

    We are still unpacking and getting life sorted out. I transferred out here and then started a new job in late August. Life has been hectic, but we are loving it. One of the major reasons we chose Arizona, other than the fact that Deana is from this great state, was its stunning natural beauty, which has offered us endless opportunities for exploration and adventure. The vast landscapes, with their unique rock formations and diverse ecosystems, have become our new playground. Each weekend, we try to set off on new adventures. The local attractions are truly spectacular, and we rarely find ourselves bored with so much to see and do.

    I tell people that it is a lot like the mountainous area of South Carolina. It is a more arid climate, of course, the flora and fauna are different, but the people are a lot like they are at home. We live in a small tourist town that more than doubles in size during the summer. The ponderosa pines and mesquite trees sing with glee and give off a glorious scent. The community here is vibrant and welcoming, and we’ve already made a number of friends who have introduced us to local customs and hidden gems that we might have otherwise missed. We’ve also participated in local festivals and farmers’ markets, where we’ve sampled delicious regional dishes and handmade crafts that showcase the talent and creativity of the local artisans.

    The Mogollon Rim is one of the most breathtakingly beautiful places I have ever seen in my six decades on this earth. On a particularly wet Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago, we drove up to the top of the rim, or at least as far as we could get on pavement, and looked out over all the Ponderosa pines covering the Mazatzal mountains. As we arrived at the lookout, clouds rolled in below us, offering a heavenly vista of the world below, so serene and picturesque. This experience alone made all the challenges and hardships of our move worthwhile. The tranquility of the forest, coupled with the majesty of the towering cliffs, makes this place a true sanctuary.

  • A photograph of Table Rock from the Caesars Head Overlook.
    Life,  Photography

    The Great Blue Hills of God

    When I was a young boy, my grandfather would tell me stories about the great Cherokee nation and Sah-ka-na-ga, a somewhat level camping area atop the rock where they could camp for a few days whilst on an arduous journey across the mountains. The mountaintop and the water and wildlife provided a respite to the weary travelers. We were told of the wise elders who spoke of the mountains with deep reverence, and of the nights when the stars seemed close enough to touch, as if the elders’ tales summoned them nearer.

    Like most of you, I learned about the ‘Trail of Tears‘, a stain on our nations history, in school. The mountains in the featured photo of this post used to belong to the Cherokee. Right or wrong, they signed over their rights to this land in 1785. If this land could talk, I’m sure it would fill a hundred volumes. It’s these stories that haunt the crevices of the rocks and the currents of the streams; the echoes of laughter, the whispers of the wind through the trees, and the songs of sorrow for a people forever entwined with these hills.

    Being part Cherokee, these mountains, valleys, streams, and ponds hold a special place in my heart. There is an aire of mystery about this land and a haunting cry from the past as the wind whistles and winds its way ’round the mountain tops. It is a shame that so many people are moving here that don’t know its history. The land is being taken again, except this time by colonials from the North, West, and Foreign Governments. The history is still taught in school, but the folklore is passed down from one generation to the next. Hundreds of books have been written, but who reads anymore?

    The stories told by my grandfather were not just narratives of the past; they were the threads that wove the fabric of our identity. He would speak of the legacy left by the Cherokee on these lands, leaving a mark as indelible as the seasons themselves. To this day, I feel the presence of my ancestors in the rustling leaves and the gentle babble of the brooks, as if they are reaching through time to remind me of who I am and whence I came.

    As I grew older, I came to appreciate the poignant beauty in the confluence of nature and history here. The same mountains that witnessed my forebears’ tribulations now stand as silent observers to modernity’s advance. To hike through these woodlands is to walk alongside ghosts of a bygone era, each step a small pilgrimage through a history richly layered and complex.

    Yet the relentless march of progress does not cease. Newcomers arrive, drawn by the allure of unspoiled vistas, seemingly ignorant of the depth of history that permeates the very soil. They come seeking tranquility or perhaps refuge from their own crowded spaces, unaware that each footprint is an echo of a much older passage.

    I hold hope, however, that our stories will persist, as resilient as the ancient rock formations that bear witness to time’s relentless passage. Oral traditions may give way to digital scrolls, yet the essence of our folklore, like the mountain’s silhouette against a twilight sky, remains immutable — a testament to the enduring spirit of the Cherokee people and the enduring majesty of the lands they have called home since time immemorial.

    There is something magical about these mountains on a foggy morn’ or when God dapples the leaves with colours like a canvas in the fall. I have spent numerous mornings gazing out over the ridges of the mountains and watching them pierce through the moving fog and clouds. At times, the fog lifts as if the earth itself is exhaling, revealing hidden vistas and secret places that seem untouched by time. As the sun breaks, the mountains play an orchestrated symphony of light and shadow, enchanting any who take the time to watch.

    Throughout the seasons, these mountains don foothills of white snow, a wardrobe of endless greens, and a spectacle of autumnal hues. The cycles of life continue unabated, as do the stories that are passed from one generation to the next. For those who sit and listen, the mountains offer a narrative of resilience, beauty, and an enduring spirit that no treaty could sequester within mere pages of history.

  • Black and white photo of a leaf.
    Life,  Photography

    Insignificant Leaf

    In a previous discussion, I highlighted the inherent beauty contained within the minute details of our everyday lives. We find ourselves ensnared in the incessant pace of existence, perpetually striving to surpass the expectations laid out before us—both our own and those of others who hold stakes in our journey. This unyielding race often blinds us to the profound joys of life’s subtleties.

    Consider the photograph presented in this post: a lone leaf, apparently inconsequential and one of a multitude. Yet, it poses a silent question—can we truly consider it insignificant? Each leaf weaves its own narrative, etched with intricate patterns and a distinctiveness that beckons for recognition. It stands out among its peers, its form imbued with a quiet personality. Dismissed by some as an inconsequential piece of foliage, we are compelled to ponder: does it genuinely lack value?

    This leaf, in all its simplicity, is an artifact of divine craftsmanship. Though it may be flawed in the eyes of some, it remains a testament to God’s work. To contemplate whether it possesses rights would be to misinterpret its role. It is, at its core, a leaf—fulfilling its purpose within the grand tapestry of nature. Yet, it demands our appreciation just as a flower does, for its own sake and for the beauty it contributes to the world.

    There is a profound lesson nestled among these subtleties: to decelerate our pace and cherish the seemingly insignificant elements that populate our lives. Much like this leaf, such moments and objects ask for nothing but a brief pause—a moment of contemplation, an ounce of gratitude. As my ability to see these details dwindles, their significance becomes amplified. The pine cone, the leaf, they are all fragments of a greater whole, pieces of a divine puzzle meant to be valued.

    In time, my vision will diminish entirely. I urge you not to wait until the charm of sight or the grace of being eludes you—appreciate the splendors of creation now. Soak in the simplicity and the intricate detail bestowed upon us by God, and you will find a world rich with wonder, ripe for your admiration.