Cameras As Therapy
I wouldn’t say my job is stressful. “Often frustrating” is a better way to describe it. I manage the marketing and communications department of a large company that owns and operates retail automotive dealerships and auto collision centers in the San Francisco Bay Area. Much of my time is spent overseeing the customer-facing digital infrastructure that we depend on. And almost on a daily basis, there are gremlins that get into the system and disrupt this function or that one. Many of them are easy to diagnose and resolve. Others leave my team, vendors and me scratching our heads.
After a day of high tech madness, I often find myself retreating deep into my world of old cameras, lenses and light meters for a bit of solace. Yesterday was one of those days. I spent much of the day on the phone with various vendor’s support teams, opening tickets, asking questions and not getting many answers. Pricing on our inventory of new vehicles was not showing correctly on our websites and no one knew how to fix it. Showing correct prices is a pretty big deal in retail, so the frustration level was running pretty high on my team. We finally put a band-aid on the problem and I headed home for the day.
On my front porch, I found a package from DAG Camera. It was my Leicaflex SL2 that had been in Don Goldberg’s capable hands for the past few weeks. I sent the SL2 in for a CLA as well as a new prism finder (the old one had begun to desilver), and recalibration of the TTL meter to work with modern batteries. Seeing the DAG label on the box immediately made me feel better. I changed into some comfortable clothes, poured myself a glass of wine and opened the box.
Don has worked on several of my Leica SLRs. He is a master and his work on my Leicaflex was no exception. All of the controls now worked with buttery smoothness, the new prism made the viewfinder bright and clear and the metering system was now powered by an easy to find 625A battery. As I sat there running the Leica’s shutter through its range of speeds, hearing the sound of a 44 year old machine operating flawlessly without any dependance on battery power, I felt a calmness come over me.
Most of my photography takes place on the weekends, but I often find myself fiddling with one of my old cameras weeknights after dinner. There’s something about an old film camera that just settles me. Perhaps it’s a connection to my youth and simpler times. I’m not sure, but it is a satisfying part of the hobby for me.
I guess it’s the same reason I enjoy using my Hasselblad 500cm. Loading up a Hassey film back and going through the various steps involved in shooting a frame with one of these cameras is not something you can do quickly. The whole process slows you down, way down in a wonderfully analog calming way. I like it. It makes me feel good.
There are so many advantages to all of the digital wonders that have made our life easier and more efficient in 2019, but it sure is nice to be able to escape the modern world when you want to and click the shutter on an old film camera, take a deep breath and relax a bit.