Tag: Vintage gear

The Enduring Elegance of Vintage Cameras: A Personal Journey

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film Photography, ReportageTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 6 Comments

I often find myself discussing the concept of “vintage” with my father during our phone calls. I live in France, while my parents are in Northumberland. The term “vintage” means different things to different generations. For my 25-year-old son, vintage clothing is anything from the 90s—he even sports a few of my sweaters from that era. At 52, I’m beginning to see myself as slightly vintage, with a style that has evolved into something more classic and refined compared to my younger years. And to my 15-year-old daughter, my father, who grew up during the war, must seem positively ancient.

So, what does this have to do with photography? For me, a camera from the 1990s feels relatively modern, while those from the 80s and 70s seem older but not quite ancient—much like myself. Using these older cameras in my photography practice forces me to slow down and be more deliberate. Just as my style has become more refined with age, these cameras have an enduring elegance and charm. They may be from a slightly bygone era, but they still capture images with timeless grace.

Incorporating this vintage technology into my work isn’t just about using old equipment, however enjoyable working with what could be considered museum pieces may be; it’s about embracing a process that demands patience and mindfulness—concepts that are somewhat foreign to this younger generation. Each shot taken with these cameras becomes a deliberate act, mirroring how I approach life and photography. The result? A deeper connection to the process and a greater appreciation for the unique quality of film. This slower pace allows me to savour each moment, akin to how my evolving style reflects a deeper appreciation for life’s subtleties.

In a world increasingly dominated by digital immediacy, there’s something profoundly satisfying about the slower, more thoughtful pace of using vintage cameras. They may not be the latest technology, but their classic design and the deliberate process they require make them a joy to use—much like the evolving sense of style and perspective that comes with age. The emotional impact of working with these cameras is profound; they carry the weight of history and personal connection, enriching my creative process and deepening my engagement with photography.

My own “vintage collection” began with an SLR from the 1980s: an East German Praktica MTL3 that served me faithfully until 2009. After it finally gave up, I quickly replaced it with another. From there, I delved into exploring more iconic cameras from the 1970s and 1980s. At that time, they were still relatively affordable before the hipsters discovered film photography and the prices inevitably started rising.

My exploration didn’t stop there. I began to seek out cameras from the 1960s and even the 1950s. The oldest camera in my collection dates back to 1949! It’s quite vintage, even for me, though perhaps not so much for my father. Each piece of my collection is a link to a past era, offering a tactile connection to history that digital tools can’t replicate.

There was a time during the digital age when people sought to recapture the film aesthetic, and right on cue, apps like Hipstamatic, Instagram, and VSCO began to emerge. These digital tools embraced the nostalgic look of film, offering a nod to the past while thriving in the digital present. Yet, this digital simulation can’t quite match the authentic experience and emotional resonance of using actual vintage cameras.

This led me to a thought: if I truly wanted to capture that film aesthetic, why not use actual film and cameras from the eras I admire? I have always been drawn to “old” things, having loved exploring a special drawer at my grandmother’s house filled with genuine relics—not just my grandparents’ old possessions. My fascination with older technology, particularly when it’s still functional, remains strong. There’s an undeniable charm and satisfaction in using equipment that carries a legacy, offering a perspective that both honours the past and enriches the present.

So just because something might be old, it might still work and open a whole new world to you that you didn’t even suspect existed! It might, however, have something of a quirky nature, but once you get over that, the world is your oyster.

my daughter contemplating cake
portrait of a young girl

Capturing the Essence of Nantes: A Street Photography Journey with the Pentax ME Super and Kentmere 100 Film

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film Photography, France, Nantes Photography, Photography Tutorials, Street PhotographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 6 Comments

Dear Reader,

This is less of a tutorial than the last four articles but more a “how I approach the subject” kind of article. You can read about something I seem to do a lot of and have experience of. I’ll be talking about my film photography phase from this summer when my X100F was still dead

Have you ever felt that familiar tug of nostalgia while strolling through a city that reminds you of your hometown? For me, Nantes, with its maritime heritage and busy streets, brings back memories of Hull in East Yorkshire. Those of you from Hull will see the irony in this, wondering how the heck a town can be like Hull, but it has similarities… If you know, you know. It’s a city that feels like home, and it’s just a short 35-minute drive from where I live. Come with me through the streets of Nantes, with the Pentax ME Super and Kentmere 100 film.

Exploring Nantes Through My Lens

Nantes, like Hull, boasts a rich maritime history, or is it the other way round? As I set foot in the city, I can’t help but feel the past staring me in the face. The first thing I do is head to my favourite spot, Parking Feydeau. It’s become somewhat of a ritual for me. I park on the same floor, in the same space — predictability eases one worry when you’re out capturing moments, or as my son says, are you autistic Dad? The cheeky little bugger. No, I’m just me! An old Fuddy-Duddy.

As I step out onto the street, I take my first light reading with my camera. It’s a bit like taking the city’s pulse, getting the vibe for the day. My starting point is usually Quartier Bouffay, near the castle , and the fact that the pub is close by has nothing to do with anything! From there, I seem to find myself in front of the Sainte Croix Church. Sometimes, it’s for confession; other times, it’s just to warm up, both physically, spiritually, and visually.

Just as walking the streets of Nantes is a physical workout, and with a camera it is akin to a visual workout. You’re constantly observing, framing, and capturing scenes as they unfold. Rue des Carmes or the path leading to the Castle are some of my more frequent routes, but I’ve been known to start my journey at Place Royale, especially if a visit to my barber is in order. My beard and length has often been a debate between my mother and I. She prefers the shorter, therefore neat and tidy beard. I seem to like a little more length, going for the Father Christmas look. From there, I can explore the Rue de Calvaire or aim for the Tour de Bretagne. Should I choose Rue Crébillon, it will take me to Place Graslin, and I end up in the very French and very stylish Cours Cambronne. They do do a nice courtyard do the French. Sometimes I will head to Quai Président Wilson, to the Hangar à Bananes, where I go to the HAB Gallérie. The added bonus is that parking is free in this area, and after all as Tesco’s would have us believe, every little helps. Again, the fact that I have an address for a beer and a piece of cake has nothing to do with anything, and I will, of course deny everything!

Moments and Encounters: The Heart of Street Photography

As an older gentleman with a slight limp, courtesy of arthritis, I’ve come to understand the importance of comfortable shoes. Fortunately, I do happen to posess some comfortable shoes, allowing me the extra bit of ease whilst wandering around the streets. I’ve also done the odd reckie of spots where I can sit down— be it for a meal, people-watching, sipping a cup of French expresso that packs one heck of a caffeine punch, or, on rare occasions, enjoying a decent cup of tea, but as we are in France this a much more challenging endevour. The French can just be so French now and again. Ah, tea — that drink that is a hug in a mug.

Navigating the streets of Nantes with a camera in hand and a discerning palate for food has become somewhat of a habit for me. Some of the things I hold dearest to my heart, tea, and cake. In France, we encounter the “droit à l’image,” a set of laws governing the right to one’s image. Some people may feel uncomfortable having their photo taken, and I’ve seen it manifest in numerous shots of people’s backs. However, these unwitting contributors add a recognisable element to the urban landscape, showing human interactions in the city.

I recall an incident when a passerby accused me of taking his picture without permission. I had a 28mm lens, and he was merely an infinitesimal part of the scene I was capturing. Reassuring him, I explained that he was not the focus of the photo, and that I had only noticed him when he started yelling at me. So much of a muchness. It was a lesson in navigating the sometimes touchy waters of street photography in a culture sensitive to “the right to one’s image.” As it turns out, compassion is the universal language, but so is muttering under my breath when out of earshot.

Another way I combine photography and life in Nantes is through my visits to the local barber. Whenever I’m in the chair, I discreetly document the atmosphere of the shop. The photos I take are subsequently given to my barber, forming a visual record of his small business — it’s good to be good, and it’s my small way of supporting local businesses. As is drinking tea and eating cake. Nothing to do with my tummy, and nothing like Whinnie the Pooh…

The Pentax ME Super and Kentmere 100 Film: A Street Photographer’s Dream Team

Why do I choose the Pentax ME Super for my street photography outings? Well, it’s a matter of practicality and style. First and foremost, it’s compact — a small camera, and in my pocket another lens and a couple of rolls of film. In the world of street photography, less is often more. It’s a “Keep It Simple, Stupid” approach, and I am a great fan of simple.

But it’s not just about size as in many domains; it’s also about subtlety. A massive DSLR with a conspicuous zoom lens can be intimidating, both for the photographer and the subjects. With the ME Super and prime lens, I “zoom with my feet.” This set-up forces me to engage more intimately with my surroundings especially with the 50mm lens, and the result is a more authentic perspective of the city. Plus, let’s face it — the ME Super is just a really cool looking camera and its vintage appearance just oozes kudos and style. It makes me feel like a true photographer, even though I’m merely an observer of the city.

Now, let’s talk about the Kentmere 100 film. It’s practical and easy to find. This film stock is budget-friendly, a nicer way of saying cheap (Fomapan is another cheaper film stock too), which, if you have seen the prices of Kodak film, is a very convincing argument, yet it reminds me of more renowned Ilford films. One year, I decided to exclusively use HP5+, a faster film. Switching to Kentmere 100 or any other 100 ASA film gives me a finer grain, and I can still expose at F2 and 1/2000th of a second for that silky depth of field that just makes everyone go weak at the knees in “good” light. Bokeh whores I’m talking to you!

Street photographers often aspire to capture the kind of timeless black and white aesthetic seen in the works of Doisneau, Cartier-Bresson, or Vivian Maier. While we may never fully replicate their images, using black and white film, allows us a head start on our digital brothers. I’ve always been drawn to this style of documentary photography. Street photography, for me, isn’t just about street portraiture; it’s about observing the street and documenting it in a classic way — classic, much like myself, or should I say, old-fashioned? Whatever it may be, it’s certainly not modern and up-to-date, just like Yours Truly, but that’s fine too! We all have our place.

Tips for Aspiring Street Photographers

Now, for those of you who aspire to explore street photography, let me share some tips. Remember the phrase from the cover of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”: DON’T PANIC! When you’re working with a film camera, such as the Pentax ME Super with its 36 exposures, don’t expect to get 36 keepers. However, consider each photo that doesn’t quite hit the mark as a valuable visual note.

These notes help you study your subjects and how the scene changes with shifting light. Practise, after all, makes perfect. Don’t think that any photographer publishes all their shots; in fact, I curate and edit my photos carefully before sharing them on my Instagram feed. It’s all part of the learning process, using each “less than perfect” shot to refine your craft. And each photograph is a journey towards the ultimate photograph.

Dont forget those comfortable shoes, which, as I mentioned earlier, are essential. You’ll be walking and standing a lot, so prioritise comfort. Again, reduce your kit to the minimum. The less weight you have to carry, the fewer excuses you’ll have to sit down and maybe have a cup of tea and a piece of cake. But keep that option open, you never know…

I photograph to find out what something will look like photographed.

Garry Winogrand

Conclusion: Capturing the Essence

In conclusion, street photography is about capturing the essence of the city, and with the Pentax ME Super and Kentmere 100 film, I document the life, culture, and people of Nantes. It’s a city with a rich past and a vibrant present, and through my lens, I’ve sought to capture moments that reflect its unique character.

Each click of the shutter is a testament to the enduring appeal of film photography and its ability to capture moments that transcend time. It’s a classic approach in a modern world, much like my beloved Nantes itself. I mean, it’s not Hull, but not many places can rival Hull. If you know, you know.

If you want to dig into the Pentax ME Super itself — its controls, its character, and why it works so well for street photography — I’ve written a dedicated review: Why the Pentax ME Super Is the Perfect First Film Camera (Even in 2026).

So, Dear Reader, whether you’re a seasoned street photographer or just beginning your photographic journey, I encourage you to explore the streets of your own city or a new one. Embrace the art of observation, document its nuances, and don’t be afraid to capture this essence of the world around you. It’s a journey that rewards both the observer and the observed.

Thank you for joining me on this photographic adventure. I invite you to share your own street photography experiences and engage in a conversation about this beautiful art form. Until next time, keep clicking and exploring.

Why the Pentax ME Super Is the Perfect First Film Camera (Even in 2026)

Posted on Posted in Film PhotographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 6 Comments

The Pentax ME Super is one of the finest 35mm SLRs ever made. Small, quiet, and genuinely capable; it’s still available on the used market for a fraction of what most beginners spend on their first camera. If you’re getting into film photography, it belongs on your shortlist.

What It’s Actually Like to Shoot

Mine came from Robert with two lenses already attached. I trusted him, put some film in, and tried it out. Some of the photos worked and some didn’t — but that was about getting used to the camera, not the camera failing. The more I used it, the more it became second nature. It has the same feel as my X100F, which is a high compliment: a camera that stops being something you operate and becomes something you just use.

I’ve shot with it on the streets of Nantes and taken it into the mountains. In the mountains especially, I was impressed — I could just put the film in and take photos. No fussing, no second-guessing the settings. A 24mm from my cousin in the States, a 28mm and 50mm that came with the camera from Robert. Between those three focal lengths, it covers everything: architecture, people, light, the kind of landscape you find when you’re walking a city and the streets go quiet.

The shutter isn’t noisy. It’s not silent either — this is a 1980 SLR, not a rangefinder — but it doesn’t announce itself. The Nikon FE is louder; that’s the sound of different machinery. The ME Super just gets on with it.

The Films Worth Putting Through It

Most of what goes through mine is HP5+ or Fomapan, and the ME Super handles both well.

HP5 is the obvious choice for a camera like this — fast enough to keep pace with aperture priority in unpredictable light, forgiving of the exposure errors you’ll make while learning to trust the meter, and consistent enough that you stop thinking about it. That’s a compliment. The best film stock for a camera you’re still getting to know is one that gets out of the way. And with a top shutter speed of 1/2000th, you can shoot HP5 at box speed and still open the lens right up in decent light — something a lot of cameras at this price point can’t offer.

Fomapan earns its place differently. It’s cheap enough that you stop treating frames like they matter, which turns out to produce better shooting habits than expensive film does. Fomapan 400 in particular has a quality to it — grainier than Ilford, lower in contrast, a little rougher around the edges — that suits a camera from 1980. They feel like they belong together. Fomapan 100 wants better light, but when it gets it, the results are clean and sharp in a way that doesn’t announce itself.

The two together cover most situations without requiring much thought about which to reach for.

ME Super vs. the Standard ME

The two cameras are nearly identical. Same compact body, same K-mount, same aperture-priority automation, same viewfinder. If you handed both to someone who didn’t know what they were holding, they’d be hard pressed to tell them apart.

The difference is that the ME locks you into aperture priority entirely. The Super adds manual mode — two small buttons that step the shutter speed up or down — but that’s not really why you’d choose it. Most of the time, you won’t touch those buttons. The meter is good enough that you don’t need to.

The reason to get the Super over the ME is for the moments when the meter gets it wrong, or when you’re shooting something unusual enough that you want to override it rather than argue with it through exposure compensation. It’s a fallback, not a feature. But it’s a useful one to have, and since the two cameras sell for similar prices, there’s no real reason to choose the more limited version.

If you know for certain that you want a point-and-shoot experience and nothing else, the ME does that. For everyone else, the Super is the sensible default.

Buying Used: What to Check

These cameras have been around for over 40 years and most copies you’ll find have lived some kind of life. The things worth checking are specific.

Battery corrosion is real. My cousin sent me his old Pentax K1000 from the States — same era, same dependency on small cells — and the battery compartment corrosion meant it went straight into a drawer waiting for repair. I kept the 24mm lens. The ME Super takes two LR44 cells in the base; check the contacts before you commit. Light oxidation can be cleaned. Green crust is a different problem.

Mirror foam is the other common issue — the light-sealing foam around the mirror box breaks down over time into a sticky residue. Open the back and look. If you see black gunk around the mirror frame, budget for a re-foam job. DIY kits exist; a repair shop will charge €20–40. It’s not a reason to walk away, but it’s worth knowing about going in.

Check the shutter at all speeds in manual mode, and look at the door seals along the back for crumbled foam — that’s light leaks on your first roll.

A working body in decent condition currently sells for around €70–130, with the sweet spot around €80–100. With a 50mm lens: €85–130. Serviced or near-mint examples from Japan go higher — €150 and above. Parts-only bodies start around €15. Anything listed as “untested” is a gamble worth skipping unless the price reflects the risk.

A Note on Batteries

One thing worth knowing before your first outing: the ME Super is almost entirely battery-dependent. Without working LR44 cells, you have exactly one shutter speed — a mechanical 1/125 failsafe. In good light with the right aperture, that can save a situation. In anything trickier, you’re stuck.

Carry a spare pair. They’re cheap, they last a long time under normal use, but running out mid-shoot on a cloudy afternoon in a city you’ve walked an hour to reach is frustrating in a way that’s easily avoided.

Technical Specifications

  • Shutter speed: 4 seconds to 1/2000th, plus Bulb
  • ISO range: 12–1600
  • Exposure control: Aperture priority (with manual override)
  • Viewfinder: 0.9x magnification, 95% coverage
  • Other: self-timer, cable release socket, exposure compensation (±2 stops), K-mount lens compatibility
Wind socks photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Fomapan 100 film in Nantes, black and white street photography
La Grue Jaune crane at the Hangar à bananes in Nantes, photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Fomapan 100 black and white film
The waterfront near the Hangar à bananes in Nantes, photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Fomapan 100 black and white film
A second view of La Grue Jaune at the Hangar à bananes in Nantes, shot on a Pentax ME Super with Fomapan 100 black and white film
A street musician playing guitar in Nantes, photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Fomapan 100 black and white film
Bokeh shot at the Hangar à bananes in Nantes, taken on a Pentax ME Super with Fomapan 100, demonstrating the 50mm lens's shallow depth of field
Street portrait of a man in Nantes, photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Fomapan 100 black and white film
A bicycle in the streets of Nantes, shot on a Pentax ME Super with Fomapan 100 black and white film
A landscape in Clisson, France, photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Ilford HP5 black and white film
A street scene in Clisson, France, photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Ilford HP5 black and white film
Portrait of a young man in Clisson, France, photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Ilford HP5 black and white film
The Le Voyage à Nantes art trail installation photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Ilford HP5 black and white film
Café Bécot in Nantes photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Ilford HP5 black and white film, street photography
A bicycle on a Nantes street photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Rollei RPX 100 black and white film
The Pitta Pit restaurant frontage in Nantes, photographed on a Pentax ME Super with Rollei RPX 100 black and white film
A pub frontage in the streets of Nantes, shot on a Pentax ME Super with Rollei RPX 100 black and white film
Post Scriptum

If the Pentax ME Super has caught your attention, I’d recommend checking out my other posts on classic film cameras like the Olympus Pen EE S (Aug 9, 2023) or my reflections on the lasting appeal of film photography in In Defense of Film (Aug 23, 2023). For a more in-depth look at the Pentax in action, mark your calendars for Capturing the Essence of Nantes: A Street Photography Journey with the Pentax ME Super and Kentmere 100 Film (coming Nov 17, 2023). And for those curious about the Fujifilm X100F, you can preview how it compares in Seeing the World Through 35mm: Street Photography with the Fujifilm X100F (Jun 21, 2023). A more detailed comparison between these two cameras is also coming this November!