I’m about due for a new digital SLR. My old one, a Canon 20D works perfectly, but we have, uh, grown apart. Things were going swimmingly, until I bought a mint-condition “used” Canon EOS 3 from Map Camera in Tokyo. Remarkably, it is still on the Canon Australia website for AUD $2,199.00. Mine cost AUD $300.
I assume the 85% discount was due to it being an “analogue” camera, you know, like the old days. And who the hell would want one of those? Seeing as I had sold my last film camera to a DOP I know, and put my hand on my heart, grandly declaring that I would never go back to film. I have had to step back. Mea culpa.
There are many things to love about the EOS 3—from the quirky to the sublime. Quirky is the eye-controlled focus, which actually does kind-of work. Sublime is the weight and balance, the full-sized viewfinder, the speed of the autofocus, and that satisfying whir of film rolling on—and the full sized, er, “sensor”.
Just down the lane in from Map Camera, Shinjuku, is the remarkably well stocked film department of Yodobashi Camera. I got just about one of everything, feeling oh-so-smug when I calculated the number of exposures I could afford to buy with the money saved not buying a new digital camera.
I wasted no time loading that sucker up and popping off a volley of exposures. Compared to the 20D, things just looked better through the eyepiece. It was brighter, bigger, and the lenses behaved as they should; not cropped to 65% of their field of view by an awkwardly sized sensor. I was in love with a camera all over again. Our love, however, was a bit one way. Being film, I had no idea if the camera loved me. There was no digital preview. However, the funny thing about shooting digital for a few years was that I think it trained me. You would think it would make you more lazy, more dependant on that little screen on the back. I think the opposite was true, I learnt so much about exposure and making quick choices—consequently, my “guesses” became more accurate “estimates”.
After ripping through about 12 rolls over the next few days, I took them to be processed. I would have been surprised if there was a light leak, scratches, or other camera-bound problems. Although second-hand, the camera was still in its factory-issued plastic bag and it still smelled modestly perfumed by some carcinogenic plastic polish. The manual was fresh, with warranty card inside and a little cheat-sheet sticker to decrypt the cryptic “user functions”, represented only by numbers: it was all intact.
When the film-lab passed everything back over the counter and switched on the lightbox, I got excited. I thought it all looked pretty much what I had imagined it to. Although I had no idea what the negative actually looked like, there were no incredibly bright or dark bits on the film (so I guess exposure was in range), and the little digital contact sheet seemed to indicate everything was okay. The reversal, on the other hand, was a more direct, easy to read result. And I was very happy with the way it looked. In fact, I couldn’t have been happier. Scanning them would be time consuming, but I though it was worth it. They were on film, dammit. They just felt–I knew—less transient compared to the digital versions, which were rather venerable pixels on a hard disk.
The the smile was wiped of my dial, of course, at the cash register. I’d forgotten just how much it costs to develop film, worse still, I hadn’t factored it into my utopian calculations of film versus a new digital camera. A quick thumbnail calculation (now much rehearsed and revisited), pretty much blew my first theory sky high. It wasn’t cheaper. It was a lot more expensive. Later, as I was waiting for the slide-scanner to finish previewing a scan… I realised the cost in time. I hadn’t even got the shot into a state I liked yet! I could die before the scanner finished! Or at least finish the bottle of wine that was tutoring me…
So this all served to remind me of why digital was so seductive in the first place. However, that first, naïve digital love had now been replaced by something more mature… more… experienced. I dared to look back, and lo, it hath spoilt me. Now I wanted the best of both worlds.
My 20D has problems that really irritate me. It’s okay, I promise not to get angry. First, and foremost, is the sensor crop. I hate it. Note: next digital camera will not have this problem. Second, is dust on the sensor. Whatever I have done, no amount of electrostatic, gently blown air, wipes, or chanted incantations will get this crap off. I’ve resigned myself to the fact it is probably there forever. Note: next digital camera will have an anti-dust function (as is appearing in quite a few these days). Third, is the viewfinder—there’s not enough information, it’s too small, and too dark. To constantly have to consult the camera LCD bugs me.
You see, we have grown apart. There was a time when the 20D felt like raw power in my hands. Now I am looking further afield. I’m sorry 20D… I think we need some time apart.
Anyway, as you have probably guessed, the reason I am “waiting for the man”, is because what I want isn’t available yet. Like any good technology junky I don’t think I am ready to compromise. I’ve done that. I want what is going to fit. So as much as a Canon 5D is tempting, and ticks almost all of the boxes, I also know that the new version is imminent. My suspicion is that this new version should be exactly what I want. Unfortunately, it has been rumoured to imminent for about two years, and despite the reports suggesting that Canon were going to lay one in January at the PMA, it didn’t materialise. Pundits now have it marked for August. But that’s not all: now there are suggestions that there will be two cameras in that bracket. The 5D MkII; and—allow me to suppress my absolute joy—a digital version of the EOS 3, the 3D. After all I have been through, could it be true? I have no idea, they are rumours after all. But now I do know what I want, and I am not spending another cent on a digital SLR until I get it.
I may however, have to spend some more on film… until it arrives.
Read More
