Have I become a Nikon fan, unwittingly?

When I look in the cupboard, I see lots of cameras and lenses – some would say, rather too many! Plenty of my film cameras are still piled up in boxes, so they barely add to the shelved pile. Poring over my digital cameras and lenses specifically, I see a growing number of Nikon branded things. I wonder if I’ve become brand loyal? I’d certainly not describe myself as a person overly concerned with brands!

Coober Pedy – Nikon Z5

Identifying with brands

There are lots of people who adore certain brands. By identifying with a brand, we express something of who we are. We recognise some characteristics in the brand that strike a chord within us. We announce to the world: “This brand expresses who I am or who I want to be!”. Perhaps the brand expresses qualities we aspire to demonstrate in our own lives? Perhaps it reinforces a self-perception that we’d like others to notice? Brands are symbols that can be important to our identities, and the most successful brands resonante more strongly with larger numbers of people.

You could say that brand Nikon is doing something right after being so long in operation. The Nikon Corporation has been around since 1917 and has become a household name in that time. They know how to make great cameras, but that’s not to say that Canon or Sony don’t also make great cameras. They certainly do! And they have their own branding and marketing. Truthfully, I’ve often felt that Nikon have been pretty terrible at marketing their gear. It’s great engineering, but companies like Canon and Sony often seem to have had more attractive marketing campaigns over the years.

So, I guess I’m wondering why I open up my cupboard and see a growing bunch of Nikon cameras staring back at me – what does it say about me? Am I now a brand fan?

Through the pass – Nikon D70

How I got started

The truth is that I never thought I’d be much good with a big pro-looking camera. I was convinced that small and simple cameras would be my fate, seeming to fit better with my self-perception of not being very technically minded.

Despite this, I decided some years ago to push my limits, so I purchased a Nikon D5100 in hopes of finding a way to express myself more creatively. It was either the Nikon or the equivalent Canon, but the D5100 just seemed to have some better tech-stuff inside – a marginally bigger APSC sensor, a well-regarded sensor also featured in the D7000, and the fact that I could use so many F Mount lenses. For about the same price as the Canon, it seemed to be a slightly better camera.

Waiting after a tiring day – Nikon D5100 with Nikkor 55-200mm DX

I wasn’t at all disappointed with the D5100. On the day I received it, I set about educating myself on how to use a DSLR. I’ll be honest – it was a bit intimidating. It was a very different and more complex camera than I was used to. After reading a lot and watching a lot of how-to and exposure triangle videos, I went out and did some night photography. I can highly recommend this practice if you want to learn about the importance of light in photography. You very quickly learn that light is everything when you’re running around at night with a cheap tripod and a shutter remote that only works half of the time!

For the Nikonians and other interested parties

I don’t have the D5100 anymore, but I do have a growing bunch of Nikons that many Nikonians would be familiar with:

  • Nikon D40 – It’s an old and small DSLR from Nikon, featuring a 6.1 megapixel CCD sensor. I’ve written more about it here. Paired with Nikon’s older kit kens – the Nikkor 18-55mm – it’s a great lightweight camera.
  • Nikon D70 – My copy is a bit on the used side, but it still makes great photos with the CCD sensor. Some say it has a definite cool bias, but that can be perfect for many types of scenes.
  • Nikon D7100 – This was my workhorse Nikon DSLR for a long time. I upgraded to it at a good price after selling the D5100 and what a difference it felt like upon opening the box! Unlike the D5100, it has more external controls and solid ergonomics that don’t feel plastic. It feels like a professional camera when contrasted to the D5100 !
  • Nikon Z5 – After a long time, Nikon finally entered the mirrorless game. The Z5 is every bit a modern mirrorless camera for a good price, considering the 35mm digital sensor. After using my mirrorless Olympus OMD EM5 cameras for so long, this feels both familiar and a huge upgrade in capability. As much as I trust my D7100, the Z5 is my new workhorse.
  • Nikon D200 – Released in 2005, the D200 features a well-regarded Sony-made CCD digital sensor. I regard it as one of the best early DSLRs from Nikon, as the camera market was shifting from film to digital.

I know that my Nikons aren’t exactly heavy enough to bow the shelving. It just feels like they outnumber my other cameras by a long way! Maybe it’s because I use them a lot, so I feel like I’m a brand loyal Nikonian? I’ve used my share of small junk cameras over the years, so it’s nice to pick up a big-name camera that just works when I want it to. I’ve had a few cameras die on me now – I’m looking at you, Sigma DP1 and Sigma DP2M ! I still don’t think I’m a brand loyalist, but I do like my Nikons.

A calm night rudely interrupted

One warm night on the ourskirts of Darwin, we pulled the car to the side of a busy road. The marina had caught our eyes. I grabbed my camera bag in a hurry, threw open the car door, looked both ways, and made a dash to the other side. I could see the water more easily from there, but there was no wide walkway offering protection from the speeding cars, so I was stuck close to the concrete siding that formed the road’s crash barrier. The driver, beating even my swift movements, carried his drone and launched it with some excitement.

A calm night near Darwin – Nikon Z5

I’m not one for a tripod even though I have one. My photos tend to be opportunistic and made in short timeframes. It’s the sort of thing you do when you travel with other people who might not have the patience to wait for just the right kind of light. Given the situation, the Nikon’s 35mm digital sensor and sensitivity to low light proved fortuitous ~ I didn’t need to push ISO beyond 6400 and I could use slow but usable shutter speeds if I held the camera still enough and held my breath momentarily. Just as well that the Z5 also has inbuilt image stabilisation to help out in these situations!

There I was, busy making photos of the boats and the water reflections and the hazy orange-hued moon. My friend was busy controlling his drone remotely and flying it further out over the marina and the moored boats. Out of the dark, we heard someone shouting gruffly at us: “What the F*** are you doing? Are you F****** spying on us?”. I’ve encountered this kind of thing before and I’ve no doubt that the audible buzz of the little drone really grabbed the attention of the marina locals. As another stranger once said in relation to my mate’s little flying friend: “Every moron has a drone!”

A lank-haired young man on a scooter, chest puffed out and eyes wide, flanked by his eager buddy, rode up to the edge of the road about 20 metres distant. Luckily, I’d finished, and my friend had just landed his drone only moments before the gruff accusations. The young scooter-using macho-man attempted to impress his surfer-type colleague, who’d now perched himself lazily over the crash barrier to observe: “If you don’t put that F***** thing away, I’m gonna F****** shoot it down!”.

In these situations, I can get a little fired up, especially if I think I’m not doing anything wrong. We were on a public road near a publicly accessible marina. In this heavily surveiled world of security cameras and manufactured fear, people sometimes overreact. And a drone flying overhead may provide the paranoid with an excuse to resort to threats and violence, especially if they have something to hide. Of course, we all know that only morons have drones, so it’s no surprise that someone would take offence!

We started back to the car under the watchful eyes of the two young aggressors, offering them jaded jibes on the way: “What are you gonna shoot it down with? Go ahead and try it, mate!” These are the kinds of words that older men say to younger men sometimes, having undergone the trials of similar testosterone surges once upon a time. But nowadays, we pack our cameras and drones and wonder at the world…

Framing the sunset

How do you feel about sunsets? What do you think about when you’re watching the sun dip slowly below the horizon line? Are you an avowed opacarophile? I think most of us love a good sunset!

Fiery water – Nikon Z5

How do you go about framing a sunset? What decisions do you make when you compose? The so-called rule of thirds can be useful when framing landscapes like this. Typically, I’ll keep two thirds of the photo as sky, since this is usually where the most interest is – beautiful clouds and shifting colours. But as you can see in the above photo, I decided not to do that on this occasion.

My decision here revolved around the difficulty of balancing some of the brightest sections of sky with the reflections on the water. The dark shadowy landmass serves as a strong dividing line between sky and sea. I also found the texture and colour of the water more intetresting than the sky at that moment, so I chose to include more of it.

During editing, one sticking point was the brightest section of sky, right in the middle, casung me some visual distraction. The sun breaking through those clouds is strong enough to draw the attention away from the texture of the water. To address this, I opened it in Lighroom, selected a mask over that bright area, and lowered the highlights a little more. Doing this brought out some cloud detail and minimised it as a visual distraction.

I think it works OK. What do you think?

In the space between inspiration

Lately, I’ve been exploring the idea of quiet photography: noticing the quiet corners and seeking the details. When the big moments of inspiration don’t strike, it’s important not to feel the pressure of having to make photos. But if there is the tiniest inkling of wanting to pick up the camera at such times, why not commit to the small photos of everyday moments? Isn’t it in the everyday that we find a fresh view of the world?

Fire Panel – Sony RX100

Oh, where would I be without my little Sony RX100? Small, black, and set to silent mode, I re-discovered the joys of using it last year after keeping it in a drawer for too long. When the big Nikon seems too hefty for the moment, I’m always happy to find some fresh detail with the little Sony camera. Somehow, it feels less serious and more fun than my Nikons when inspiration lacks. Of course, it can make great pictures, but then again, so can a 100 year old film box!

Splashes of yellow – Sony RX100

What do you do when your photos don’t inspire?

The sun was out, there was a nice breeze, and we had an entire afternoon free. A drive to Blanchetown should have provided fruitful inspiration for photographs. But it didn’t, mostly. The weather was kind, the company good, the battery charged, and the Nikon Z5 ready for anything. So, what happened? It was me…

You know those days as a photographer when things just don’t come together? There’s a disconnect between what you see and how you feel. You compose and press the shutter but the result fails to inspire you. At times like this, I do a few things:

  • Remove the pressure from myself by leaning into other moments. Not everything needs to be camera-worthy and not every moment needs to be recorded. Enjoy the day and put down the camera;
  • Take out a different camera for fun and just focus on other scenes – details, textures, shadows. There’s good stuff in the small stuff.
Peeling and rusting – Sony RX100

Finding the details again

Sometimes, it’s easy to fall into the trap of wanting every photo to make a big impact. But those magical sunsets full of great colours don’t come around too often. Those moments when the photographic mind and heart are synchronised with the wider world aren’t always available to us. At these times, it’s important to take a step back and access other areas of the photographic process: enjoying the moment, seeing the details.

Peeling and rusting 2 – RX100

Accepting fate and below average photos

Sometimes, even when we dig into another bag of tricks, the photos don’t turn out great. Over time, we develop a sense of taste and curate our photographic output, so what might please someone else won’t please us. Part of the creative journey is developing taste and deciding which photos meet our taste standards to become the ones that really make an impact.

The remaining, less than stellar, photos are still important because they’re part of the journey to get to the photos that meet a well-developed artistic taste. Some days are about honing the eye and sensibility. Not every photo is going to be a winner and that’s OK. In fact, it needs to happen, otherwise things get boring and you don’t sharpen your eye, your imagination, your taste, and your art.

Waterbirds on twisted branches – RX100

Seeing in 2025 quietly

As city revellers were ushering in the new year, we were driving with good friends through silent streets around the wharfs and docks. Earlier, we’d had dinner at a pub on the edge of the marina and witnessed a sunset full of delicate hues.

The Marina at Sunset – Nikon Z5

Once again, the opacarophile strikes! Low in the frame, the masts were like trees – but stripped back, orderly, severe, and made by human hands. Tiny streaks of boat fuel and chemicals on top of the water, iridescent in the fading light, reminded me of how these places are underpinned by our need to exploit the environment for reasons of vanity and leisure. I gazed at expensive apartments across the water, with expensive boats moored nearby, and thought about the very few who could afford that kind of life.

Some mundane reflections

I’m learning how to handle the Nikon Z5 better. I have no complaints about the hand-feel of the camera. The grip is typically nice in that Nikonian way – though not up to the high standard of the Olympus E1. The Z5 doesn’t have all the external button control of higher models in the Z lineup, but it’s the entry level camera, after all. That’s no bother to me.

I once wondered about the role my tiny Olympus OMD EM5 Mark 2 would play in the aftermath of my Z5 purchase. Admittedly, I don’t take the Olympus out as much as I used to, but on days when I want to carry less weight, it’s the better option. I’ve also become so used to using old manual focus lenses on the Olympus, just for the central sweet spot of the glass, that it seems a missed opportunity not to use it.

Reeds at Meningie, SA – Nikon Z5

I should explore the use of vintage glass on the Nikon Z5 this year. I invested in a good quality M42 adapter, so now I can use all of my old Soviet, German, and other glass. Pleasingly, the Z5 automatically detects a non-CPU lens and switches to Focus Peaking mode. No longer do I need to go into a menu and turn it on!

It’s a new year. We’ll see what happens. Some things will change and some things never will.

Two rust-buckets at Tennant Creek

Two sunsets in my previous post, and now two photos of rusty stuff for this post! Can you detect a theme here?

This old rust-bucket – Tennant Creek, NT – Nikon Z5 with Viltrox 20mm lens

Tennant CreekJurnkkurakurr to the Warumungu people who have lived in the area for many thousands of years – is located 1000 kilometres from Darwin. In other words, it’s a long way from any big city! The town features a history of gold mining and some of that equipment and the story of that time can be found in a local museum.

I daresay that many travellers pass through Tennant Creek as quickly as possible, mindful of the stories they’ve heard regarding the residents and crime. Whilst it’s true that a recent history of such social turmoil exists, it’s wise to remember that the land speaks of much older stories and times long before colonialism. As ever, visceral reactions to news stories and statistics obscures the lived experience of local people and ultimately, the real drivers behind social problems.

Another old rust-bucket – Tennant Creek NT – Nikon Z5

Making photos isolates a moment in time. Photos often lack context and tell a story that the photographer wants to tell. The idea that a viewer would have an emotional reaction to a photo drives the work of many photographers. Indeed, street photography is littered with such raw moments and reactions.

Such thoughts enter my mind as I carry the camera and stop at a street corner in Tennant Creek. Rather than lift the viewfinder to my eye, better to think on the people who have lived here for thousands of years and face the cultural whiplash of colonialism and bleak over-representation in the justice system – a system that usually protects the rich and powerful and punishes those who can least endure it.

Two sunsets for the Opacarophile

The Urban Dictionary defines an Opacarophile as someone who loves sunsets. It would be fair to say that many people find beauty in sunsets. Certainly, at the end of a day out on the road, our thoughts turn to whether we’ll find a suitable spot to witness the sunset and make a good photo. There’s always some resigned grumbling when heavy clouds obscure the sun!

The importance of the setting sun

The setting sun signals the end of the day and the turning of the earth. One might ponder our long line of ancestors, staring at the shifting hues and watching the sun retreat below the horizon. Such an event reminds us of our smallness and our place in the world.

Evolutionary science suggests that when we experience the beauty of sunsets, we tap into our evolved aesthetic faculties – brain wiring that allow us to see the rightness or harmony of something in order to judge its value and health. A healthy mate is vital to produce healthy offspring and continue the species, so beauty in this context represents a healthy mate and potential long-term survivability. A beautiful sunset stimulates the same aesthetic faculties that allow us to determine the health of a potential mate and the rightness and harmony of things.

Perhaps that theory is a long-bow to draw for many! My favourite is the Biophilia Hypothesis, which I’ve mentioned in a previous post. The idea that humans are drawn to natural areas because we have a deep-rooted connection to them, having lived in such areas for most of our history, is a compelling one.

Two sunsets, two interpretations

Sunset, Meningie SA – Nikon Z5

Having spent much of the day driving around the Cooring, Meningie provided us with the most wonderful of sunsets. A variety of colours, shifting from moment to moment, reflected in calm water. This single sunset made up for all of the sunsets we missed. Can you spot the lone duck in the above photo?

I’m glad I had my Nikon Z5 with me for this. I’d attached the excellent Nikkor 24-70mm F4 S lens after deciding that my usual lens, the Nikkor 40mm f2, needed a break. I know that many photographers prefer a tripod for such scenes, perhaps combined with Neutral Density filters, but our day-trips are about chance and hope, best represented by hand-holding the camera and moving to the next potential aesthetic wonder.

Sunset, Meningie SA – Nikon Z5

What a difference a moment makes to the colours of a sunset! I’m being a bit cheeky, as the colour in the photo above is actually a momentary interpretation of the automatic white balance in the Z5. Once I saw what white balance it had chosen, I decided to stick with it. The first photo is much more like the original sunset we saw. I simply exaggerated the blues and pinks by setting a Tungsten white balance during editing. It’s one thing I’ve noticed in my Z5: the automatic white balance is sometimes over-eager. Still, I find it’s best to grasp these chance moments and chance settings!

Lonely towns and broken dreams

When driving along the dusty Southern Flinders road into Hammond, it’s clear that it was once an important town along the formerly vital narrow-gauge rail line that fed so many settlements in the area. Whilst not completely abandoned, another decade or two may see Hammond left to the relentless heat and wind.

On the outskirts of Hammond SA – Olympus E1

I was drawn, of course, to the dilapidated ruins up the road, marking the dusty way to more ghost towns beyond. Yet another reminder that nothing is everlasting.

The E1 proved a great companion here, even on a bright sunny day. As long as I looked after the exposure compensation carefully, so as not to blow out highlights too heavily, I was rewarded with at least half a dozen photos the equal of my Nikon Z5 in all but overall size and resolution. Still, as discussed before, megapixel counts are often overrated.

A once grand entrance, Hammond SA – Olympus E1

If I have the stamina, I also pack my Z5 alongside the E1, but the bag then does tend to drag at the shoulder a little. Fortunately, such long drives into the mid-north necessitate lengthy car rides, thus allowing my shoulder to rest between destinations. As ever, my concern is for a solid shoulder-slung camera bag that allows me to pack enough gear for a comfortable day – hopefully as inexpensively as possible whilst still retaining usability and build quality. My current bag cost all of $60 AUD and allows me to pack both the Nikon Z5 and the Olympus E1, though other features are lacking, including a strap that isn’t adjustable.

Hello Trespassers! – Hammond SA – Olympus E1

The E1 still surprises me. For a camera from 2003, with limited dynamic range, it can certainly handle enough tonal range to produce some of the most attractive photos in my folders. Sure, a good subject helps a lot, but the E1 seems a good match for scenes I would have thought it would struggle with. Perhaps I’ve gelled with it to the point that I’m looking for scenes with more mid-tones and less gap between light and shadows, as this is where it shines best.

Old mysteries behind closed doors, Hammond SA – Olympus E1

Well worth the drive, if you can stand the dust and the gnawing sense of a town that has all but been forgotten. I love it, of course – the sense of melancholy is always a stern reminder of time’s vengeful movement. One interesting feature of our time there: a resident playing modern pop music loudly from inside the old town bank, drifting on the same winds scouring the bones of the empty buildings.

Flowers, trees, and Chihuly

In my previous post, I didn’t have a lot to say, other than to talk about the sculptures of Dale Chihuly. Turns out, I still don’t have a lot to say, so I’ll let the sculptures speak for themselves. Sometimes, we need the contemplative therapy that photography can provide.

Float Boat and Niijima Floats by Dale Chihuly, 2012 – 2019 – Nikon D40

How shiny are those polyvitro baubles? Even on a cloudy day those colours really pop. By now, I’ve resigned myself to the idea that old CCD cameras like the Nikon D40 just seem tuned to produce punchy and colourful photos, even when set to RAW.

Magenta Flowers – Nikon D40

As lovely as the sculptures are, the gardens are full of opportune moments for one with a camera. Luckily, the flowers were in bloom.

The Sun by Dale Chihuly, 2014 – Nikon D40

The Sun really exemplifies Chihuly’s installation – an explosion of powerful colours spreading dynamically in all directions.

The original sculpture, green in all directions – Nikon D40