For a while now, I’ve taken some issue with the use of the word take when it comes to describing the making of photos. After all, we don’t take photos. We make photos in collaboration with the camera and the environment. It’s pedantic, I suppose, and it doesn’t truly bother me when someone uses the term. It’s just a word I try not to use.
The other bothersome term is shooting photos. The camera isn’t a gun, is it? Maybe I’m just a bit cranky because I’m not feeling the best at the moment!
Angel & Tina – Nikon Z5
So, why do we make photos? Why do we use cameras? What is it about photography that keeps us coming back for more? I can only speak for myself of course.
Photography allows me to see the world differently. It’s not always relaxing, as I might be prioritising Aperture values and the exposure over framing a scene, but when I see something that speaks to me, it feels as though I can frame it and place a focus on it to remind myself of details in the world that we often miss. It can remind others too.
The old glass still glows – Olympus E-1
Susan Sontag once said that photography is a voyeuristic activity that removes us from the meaning of events and diminishes their importance. I can see merit in that thinking even if others think of it as inflammatory. When behind the camera, how close are we to the events around us? Arguably, we immerse ourselves in a scene more fully when we focus on it through the lens, but the goal is also to frame that scene in a specific way so it follows the rules we deem personally important – rule of thirds, art of photography, light and shadow, marketability, appeals to social media followers, and so on. A photograph may have an audience with their own set of values. In this sense, a photo is like a cut-out of a small part of the world, presented for viewing and criticism.
Ladder pathway – Sony RX100 Mark 1
Consider the photo above, for example. Is it voyeuristic? The photo of a home, possibly abandoned, but likely still owned by someone, is a deliberate cut-out of the entirety of the home that creates a separate reality. What does it say? What was my intention in making the photo? Am I merely highlighting the abandonment of buildings where people once lived and loved? Am I doing so callously and without regard for those who may still live there?
Late night contemplation in orange and blue – Nikon D7100 with 50mm 1.8 AF-D
Street photography has a long and rich history of provoking thoughts along these lines. Is it ethical, for example, to make photos of vulnerable people on our streets? In some photography classes, it’s made clear that photographers are best-advised to ask for permission first. Yet, there is nothing surer to diminish spontaneity than to create a contrived street scene through such permission seeking.
If we are to document human life across a wide range of experiences through time, then street photography is an important tool. The photographer may, at the time, be vilified for lacking ethics, but as time relentlessly moves forward from the event, new audiences may view those photographs as historical artifacts. Perhaps there is no right or wrong in these cases – merely changeable thoughts and beliefs that drive culture.
Hong Kong offers a feast of sights for those with camera in hand. Spending all day carrying the Nikon D7100 and an attached 55-300mm DX lens – since sold and replaced by the old 70-300mm ED VR lens – is not exactly the lightest task. As with most Nikon cameras, the D7100 is solid and conveys a sense of trust and comfort. Whilst not the best telephoto lens available, the 55-300mm is certainly one of the least heavy in this class, even though the image is prone to softness, especially at the long end below f8.
The old walls have a face in Hong Kong – Nikon D7100 and 55-300mm lens
Before I purchased the D7100, I was using the Nikon D5100 – a truly capable camera with the well-reviewed sensor found in the Nikon D7000, though much cheaper. I really liked the D5100 but moving to the D7100 felt as though I was really moving on up in terms of features and ergonomics. Just the external buttons alone gave me easy access to ISO and White Balance – two dedicated buttons the D5100 didn’t have.
As much as I was tempted to sell the D7100 when buying into the Z system with the Nikon Z5, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I do miss the old Nikkor 50mm f1.8 D lens though, as it’s so light, small, and sharp. It’s a reliable camera and mine has a lot of life left in it.
The old walls have personality in Hong Kong – Nikon D7100
Years of grime, torn stickers, puckered adhesive, PVC pipes, and crazy wires that lead to subterranean places adorn the walls in many parts of Hong Kong. I love the texture of the place, the hustle and bustle, and the sea of humanity. But I’m not unaware of the poverty and the cramped lives, struggling to get through each day in the wet heat. And here I am, a tourist with a big camera, framing it all up and editing in a quiet room…
Yes, it was another cloudy day and I was out with the Finepix 6500fd. Driving around tiny old towns, largely forgotten and left to people with desires to escape the rest of the world, can be surprising sometimes. Yes, there are plenty of interesting ruins to look at and photograph, but occasionally there are also encounters with unfriendly locals.
Old Post Office – Finepix 6500fd
Admittedly, not an awesome photo, but the old Post Office above is an interesting building. I’m always careful when it comes to remaining in public areas, as there’s largely few restrictions on what can be photographed as long as it can be viewed from a public area that one is occupying. I can walk along any public road or path and photograph buildings and most other things without a problem.
The confrontation
So, there I was in the middle of an old dirt road, pointing my camera at an old Post Office. A car pulled up and out hopped a local. She asked me in a very pointed manner: “Why are your taking photos of my house?”. A little surprised, and somewhat curious, I replied, “You live in the Post Office building?”.
It turns out she didn’t live there, but in the house next door. I assured her I had no interest in photographing her home, but only the old building because it “looks cool”. She clarified and told me that she only uses it for storage. I tried to de-escalate the situation and asked about the history of the building and when it was closed down. She responded but still was very unhappy and asked me again why I was making photos of her home. At this point I politely fare-welled her and left, knowing that it was pointless to continue the conversation.
Mangroves at sunset – Finepix 6500fd
Reflecting on feelings and laws
I knew I wasn’t doing anything illegal and this was simply a case of an unhappy and suspicious local. That’s perfectly understandable, of course. There’s a difference between what I can legally photograph and how someone feels about it. I’d tried to cool things down and assure her that I wasn’t interested in photographing her home, but rather just a nice old building with some history. Rather than argue any legal point about public land, it was simply better for me to leave.
I’m often in two minds about these, thankfully rare, situations. On one hand, I understand that someone might be suspicious of a stranger coming to town and having an interest in their property. Would I also react similarly if someone was camped outside my home with a camera pointed at it? I may, though I’d likely be mostly interested in the camera gear. On the other hand, it’s certainly not illegal to photograph things from the vantage point of public land.
If the person is open to a conversation, I think it’s reasonable to explain what you’re doing and why you have an interest. I don’t think it’s helpful to start a conversation about legalities around the act of photography because this may be more likely to cause more upset. There’s an understandable emotional response involved that does cause some personal dilemma but I think it’s wise to consider both sides.
It’s certainly perfectly reasonable to photograph the world around us, yet remain aware of the private and public boundaries that are sometimes difficult to define. It’s also reasonable to consider the potentially strident reaction that a person might have to the act of photography in an area they consider, legally or not, their turf. Despite the dilemma, I remain on the side of photographing the world within legal limits, and if there’s a confrontation, explaining why I’m there in hopes this will provide context and calm the situation.
I’m not a scientist. I’m not an engineer of any sort. I’m certainly not a designer of optical devices or digital sensors, just so you know. There has been debate in some corners of the web about old cameras with CCD sensors rendering better colour and their images looking more film-like. I think a pleasing photo is a subjective thing and people are free to decide what that looks like. I’m just curious about the nature of the debate and why people might think this way.
CCD sensors were the dominant type of digital sensors at the dawn of digital photography. Around 2010 or so, CMOS sensors started to appear in new camera models. At the time, I really didn’t think about it, as I couldn’t even afford any of the better CCD cameras anyway. And believe me, there are plenty of CCD cameras that make junk photos! Interestingly, the CCD colour is better pundits rarely discuss those junk cameras, perhaps because their output doesn’t suit the argument that CCD colour is better.
Of Nikons, Canons, Pentax, and Fujifilm
When people talk about those lovely CCD colours, they usually reference the same cameras: most of the early Nikon CCD cameras, the Fuji Super CCD cameras, early Canons and compacts of a certain model, the Olympus Evolt series, the Leica M9, and a handful of compacts with excellent output. Of course, those cameras were always considered excellent. Reviews at the time of their release praised them, so it’s no surprise that they’re still great cameras today.
I used a few CCD cameras at the time, and then moved to CMOS cameras because that’s what was being sold. I don’t remember anyone discussing the merits of CCD colour versus CMOS colour. I do know that the output of many cheap and cheerful CCD cameras at anything higher than 200 ISO is pretty awful – there’s lots of chroma and luminance noise, and the colours don’t look so great. If you read reviews of those old consumer cameras online, you’ll see there was a focus on accuracy of colour. This is because camera makers saturate certain colours to make the output more attractive for consumers.
Consider the quote above about an old CCD camera. Evidence that colour reproduction has always been on the mind of the photographer and that CCD cameras, for all their current hype, have issues with accurate colour reproduction. This is not to say that inaccurate colours are less attractive. Many cameras are sold based on how their on-board JPG conversion software renders colour, after all.
What influences the colour of a digital photo?
First of all, whether it’s a CCD sensor or a CMOS sensor, the sensor itself is actually colour-blind. The sensor only sees lightness/brightness and not colour. The Colour Filter Array on top of this slice of silicon filters wavelengths of light into Red, Green, and Blue. All of this data is transferred to AD converters and the signal amplified. The on-board software takes this data and, in the case of JPG output, it does some clever stuff to render a compressed file. To achieve the Canon look or the Olympus look, or whatever, the software also applies a tone curve, temperature and tint settings, and may saturate certain colours more heavily.
The Fuji-Chrome look in digital
Fuji is pretty well-known for offering users lots of film presets in their digital cameras. These settings emulate some of the qualities of certain films, including colour, grain, and tone curve. The photo above is from an old Fuji Finepix S7000. It’s a JPG straight out of the camera on the Chrome setting. Note that there’s a slight green bias in the white balance, as well as extra contrast. Definitely a pleasing photo.
On some makes of camera, the White Balance is known to bias warmer or cooler. Nikons tend to have a cooler look to photos, and this helps to produce better colour in some scenes where a warmer bias would create unnatural colours, such as in some types of skin tones. But these things largely matter only when JPG file output is needed.
Choice of lens also has some influence on how a photo looks. People talk about the Leica look, for example, noting that there’s some mystique about it. I don’t have the money to buy a Leica of any sort, so it’s hard for me to comment on this phenomenon. What I do know is that a poor lens can produce poor output, and a great lens can produce great output. Leica have always been known for the superiority of their optics, so it’s most likely that the signature Leica look has a lot to do with the contrast and sharpness imparted by the lens.
Hype and reality
So, why are some people talking about the inherent superiority of CCD sensors and how they render colour? Is CCD colour a question of hardware or software? Here are some common reasons and assumptions, including my thoughts on them, from people who believe that CCD sensors produce better or more film-like images:
The old CCD sensors have thicker Colour Filter Arrays that separate colour better and produce stronger images: As I said, I’m no engineer, so this is tough to question. If this is true, then all a camera maker would need to do is to put a thicker CFA on a new CMOS sensor, and it would approximate all of those great colour results from old cameras. I strongly suspect that the CFAs have very little, if anything, to do with it though, given that there are other strong influences on how a photo looks, such as white balance and camera software.
Camera manufacturers stopped using CCD because CMOS was cheaper, which led to less organic images: Companies do things to save money all the time, but would they really intentionally hobble the output of their cameras to the extent that many CCD enthusiasts believe?
Camera X with a CCD sensor makes photos that look so much better than camera Y with a CMOS sensor, so therefore the CCD sensor must be superior: Let us not forget that most CCD pundits never mention all the junk CCD cameras from that era (is anyone talking about those plasticky Nikon L series compacts that produce average photos?). They mostly talk about the CCD cameras that are still good, even today. They were praised then, and they are still making good photos now. I think that some people who were too young to remember the digital transition now cultivate the mistaken assumption that old camera technology is mostly inferior to today’s technology, and that those great cameras from yesteryear make photos look great because there’s some hidden and forgotten technology in them – the CCD sensor.
CCD cameras make images that are film-like: Let us be clear – only film looks like film. I grew up with film cameras and remember the cheap cameras (I couldn’t afford anything else), powerful in-built flashes, and cheap consumer film. I think the look that many young people talk about relates to the softer quality of many film photos due to low-grade lenses and the appearance of highlights from low-priced consumer film cameras. Those old CCD cameras have limited dynamic range, often creating blown highlights. The best CCD sensors, at low ISOs, do produce less digital noise due to the chip’s architecture, and some people say that this means it’s closer to film. But modern CMOS sensors have advanced greatly in these areas and have far more dynamic range, colour accuracy, and noise control. Just look at the crappiest CCD cameras at anything above base ISO and you’ll see some pretty ugly chroma and luminance noise. The best CCD cameras from that era can make some very nice low noise images, even up to 800 ISO, but none of this means it looks like film. Plenty of people know more about it than I do, but film grain is random and organic. Digital noise is square and uniform. Where an old and highly regarded CCD camera may be useful is at the lowest ISOs and almost no perceptible digital noise. That could make for some nice black and white conversions. The low noise might also make it a better fit for overlaying scanned images of film grain. I’ve never seen much point in overlaying film grain over digital photos that already have digital noise.
You’ll have unlimited film-like images if you buy this cheap CCD camera: There are lots of YouTube videos touting the benefits of these old digicams, even going so far as to label them Y2K cameras. This is a hook to lure people in to watching the videos so that the creators can game the algorithm and snag subscribers, with a little magical thinking and potential profiteering thrown in. Growing up, I saw thousands of photos from film cameras of all sorts. The so-called Y2K camera, the moniker itself a pointer to the generational interest in digicams, doesn’t make film-like images.
If you want to read a pretty in-depth, though only loosely scientific, article on CCD versus CMOS colours, take a look at this site. Spoiler alert: there isn’t a visible difference between them for most people, and any colour output differences seem to come down to company preferences with regard to on-board software processing. CMOS also offers so much more low-light performance that it’s little wonder CCD was replaced by it in the end.
There is something curious about the Olympus E-1 I’ve been using recently, in light of this speculation about sensors. The RAW files it produces are not as flat and dull as you’d expect. They require little editing when exposure settings are nailed. Is that the sensor? Maybe. More likely a tone curve applied, though it seems odd that this can be seen in the RAW files? You can read my thoughts about it here.
Nikon Z5, when paired with sharp lenses, can produce wonderful output
Does it matter?
People love the photos they love. And I’m not an engineer, so I don’t have all the answers. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. Humans are always looking for meaning somewhere and often latch onto narratives despite the data. And that’s OK. Creating and finding greater meaning in life is what we’ve always done.
What I do find interesting is how much prices have risen for the CCD cameras that get the most attention in these online forums and social media discussions. No doubt, some people in those corners have enough interest in profits and online followers that they’ll keep pushing the CCD vs CMOS colour narrative, even unconsciously. I think this is what bothers me the most: the fact that a lot of young people are being duped into paying a three figure sum for a point and shoot from the early 2000s just because some YouTubers told them that the CCD sensor it features produces filmic photos.
In the end, whatever the truth, it’s all part of the marketing and hype cycle. It’s a snake-oil trend that will eventually fade. A generation that grew up seeing family members use those early digital cameras are now looking back to find inspiration in a world that’s over-saturated by AI and overly processed images from smartphones. They feel nostalgic about those old cameras from their childhood and that’s perfectly OK and understandable.
Are digicams worth using now?
The short answer is: yes, of course old cameras are worth using now! Admittedly, I like some of those old cameras because I can afford some of the best ones and their history interests me. And where else would they end up? In the junkyard, thoughtlessly tossed and abandoned as old XD cards and Compact Flash cards molder and rot in their plastic slots? We don’t need the latest and greatest cameras to make interesting photos, that’s for sure.
I do have one thing to thank the Y2K digcam craze for: it has provided me with the impetus to explore some of the early digital cameras I always wanted and could never afford at the time. I can now appreciate some of the great technology in some of those cameras and see how we ended up where we are now. It has also taught me something else: image-making hasn’t advanced as much as the big companies want us to believe.
In my current, seemingly endless and potentially dull, blogging about the little Sony RX100 Mark 1 camera, I’ve realised that I really enjoy using old cameras. Not exclusively old cameras, mind, but just older cameras when the mood strikes. The very idea that I’d upgrade as soon as the latest fancy-glitter-megapixel thing hits the shelves is tedious. The whole thing is exhausting, really. It’s also why I’m excited to receive an old Nikon D70 in the post.
The sunny edges we miss
There’s some science behind the nurturing properties of spending time in nature, with reports that subjective well-being is elevated, even for people with depression and anxiety. Many people report feeling recharged when they spend time in nature, be it walking through the local forest or walking along the beach. The Biophilia Hypothesis posits that humans are innately attracted to natural places and living areas filled with biodiversity. By seeking out this connection, we truly get back to who we are as living beings.
A world of green
Have you ever wondered why stress levels are so high in urban environments? The further away we are from nature and our natural selves, the greater our risk of developing a wide range of physical and mental health problems. Even something as simple as exposure to natural light each day can promote better sleep and improved subjective well-being. And the addition of green spaces to urban areas is linked with lower levels of stress.
Bamboo in the sun
We all need connection
What would it be like to see our planet from the deep cold of space? Some astronauts report their lives being significantly changed and their views transformed after seeing earth from this unique angle. The Overview Effect is a transformative state of mind that affects some astronauts. They report that after viewing our planet suspended in the depths of space, they develop not just a new appreciation for beauty, but a deep connection to all life.
Our small blue planet, from this point of view, is incredibly fragile and special – an oasis in a cold, black vacuum. There may indeed be billions of planetary star systems out there, but we’ll likely never reach them as even the closest is impossibly distant, and beyond the reach of the best rocket science, unless there’s a sudden shift in our understanding of time and space. So, rather than pollute the sea and soil beneath our feet, we should imagine our planet as a tiny blue speck, teeming with life, finite and fragile.
The Rusty Ruin Journal 