A sunny day with the Nikon D200

The Nikon D200 was released to market in 2005 – a long time ago in the world of digital cameras. Everything about it screams digital retro – the hulking black body, the 10.2 megapixel CCD digital sensor, 11 auto-focus points, and 5 frames per second shooting speed. Anyone who reads this journal regularly, knows that megapixels aren’t everything. Also, I’m a sucker for old and slow technology that does a good job and has a good feel.

Yellow shed – Nikon D200 and Tamron 17-50mm F2.8

I’ve kind of concluded by now that the best of the CCD sensor cameras produce punchy and colourful images. Even the RAW files look nice and punchy. I know that some people put it down to a thicker Color Filter Array above the photosites, and this may certainly be part of it, but I also think that the limited dynamic range of the sensor and the tonal response tuned by the engineers produces photos with extra contrast. Modern CMOS sensors have a much wider dynamic range and tend to produce flatter files for editing. You’ll find that shadows can be lifted more and highlights retain greater detail. In cameras like the D200 and the Olympus E1, the limited dynamic range of the CCD sensor results in less shadow and highlight detail, making for files that have compressed tonal range – more contrast.

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The output from the Nikon D200 is reminiscent of the output from the Olympus E1 – a 5 megapixel beast I regard very highly. Of course, the lens makes a difference too, and the Tamron 17-50mm is a nice fast walk-around lens that balances well on this Nikon. It’s a bit on the soft side at 17mm in the corners, but at F8 and around the 35mm mark, it produces sharp images across the frame in my experience. It’s a great fit for the old D200.

Sand and sky and mangroves – Nikon D200

Just as with the Olympus E1, I’m not doing much editing at all with the RAW files from the Nikon D200 – minimal contrast boost if required, sharpening, and only a little vibrance for all of the photos on this page. In use, it’s a solid camera with all of the external control buttons you could ever want. This was a camera with pro features at the time, for sure. The magnesium-alloy skeleton and deep hand grip makes it feel secure and reliable, providing enough weight and heft for balancing longer lenses. Next to modern Nikon mirrorless cameras though, the D200 is an antiquated hulk! It makes the Nikon D70 seem like a cheap piece of plastic.

Shipping containers, a shed, and a caravan – Nikon D200

I received two original Nikon EN-EL3a batteries with the camera. I’d charged both of them before going out, but one of them drained to zero within minutes of fiddling with menu settings. I know the D200 had a reputation for poor battery life, but I think that particular battery may be done for! The other battery seems to have plenty of juice though. I’ve ordered some third-party replacements anyway, as Nikon don’t manufacture the official batteries anymore.

0000 – 9999 – Nikon D200

The Nikon D200 was the last Nikon camera body to feature a CCD digital sensor. The Nikon D300 featured a CMOS sensor, which enabled the use of higher ISO settings and low light photography with less noise. I’ve never used the D300, but I know it’s considered one of Nikon’s best early digitals. In my opinion though, the D200 remains a great camera and certainly scratches the retro digital itch – one of Nikon’s best cameras in the market transition between film and digital.

You can see more D200 photos in my follow-up post here.

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.

The Night Feeling ~ wondering and wandering in the quiet night

When the noise and dust of the day settles into quiet night, the mind turns inward. No longer are we distracted by the daily scramble. Night heralds a time when we have the opportunity to reflect on our day and ourselves.

A solitary light bulb glows dimly behind the window of a closed shop on a quiet street; leaves are rustled by a warm zephyr along a familiar laneway as distant stars shine above; during a long drive at night alone, the music on the radio synchronises perfectly with your thoughts and the world gliding by outside. Have you experienced similar scenes and feelings of melancholy, peace, serenity, deep thought, and reflection? If so, you’re likely familiar with The Night Feeling.

Crushed Ice 24 Hours – Nikon Z5

What’s The Night Feeling?

I came across a Reddit group called The Night Feeling last year. It’s dedicated to photos that encapsulate those kinds of scenes and feelings. I’d never heard it called that before, but I’ve certainly had those emotions and thoughts, especially at night. I even remember discussing this with a friend many years ago in relation to the sorts of emotions we’d sometimes experience when driving long distances alone late at night, with just the right piece of music playing in the background.

We’re usually so busy and distracted during the day that we forget how we’re feeling and who we truly are when we’re not serving others, doing our jobs, shopping, socialising, and so on. Being busy can help us endure tough times but we often forget to self-reflect and get in touch with who we are without the distraction and noise. When everything is quiet and night falls, we have an opportunity for self-reflection and thought. And there are certainly links between night and strong emotions and darker mental states. In the Mind After Midnight Hypothesis, for example, the hours between midnight and early morning are associated with disinhibition, risky behaviour, darker emotional states, poor judgement, and depression.

The end of the aurora – Nikon Z5

When the world is quiet

I associate certain kinds of scenes with the sort of calm, observational, slightly melancholic self-reflection that falls under the umbrella of The Night Feeling – walking through light rain on deserted streets that are usually busy; city lights reflected in water at night; a warm wind blowing through trees as I walk through a quiet part of town; an old machine lit up and no-one around. It’s as though the elements of nature announce themselves softly, emerging briefly through the haze of our urban environments to remind us that we need closer contact with our origins.

As nature reminds me that it’s bigger than any human-made urban environment and any trouble of my own, I feel that momentary sense of peace and calm ~ the moment that my own problems melt into the vast scale of the world and the stars beyond. In this expanded state of awareness, the small worries and quotidian tasks of daylight hours retreat and true self-reflection can occur, as one’s inner world becomes infinitely larger and more clearly focussed.

After the laundry is done – Nikon Z5 with Viltrox 20mm

Two sunsets ~ no pretensions

Things have taken a grim turn recently. I’ve been pre-occupied with thoughts of the small web / indieweb / personal web and then followed it up with some murder in the small outback town of Larrimah. It’s fair to say I probably need a sunset or two!

Looking out from The Point – Fujifilm Finepix S6500fd

This small bridge camera from Fujifilm only has a small – 7.44 x 5.58 mm – digital sensor, but it features Fuji’s SuperCCD sensor technology, which seems to have some special sauce about it. Can you believe the electronic viewfinder even has a nice live histogram so that you can alter exposure compensation quickly? It even looks like a mini-DSLR. Along with the clunkier Finepix S7000, I think the S6500fd is one of the best bridge cameras from the 2000s era between film and digital.

The moody golden spill – Olympus E1

These aren’t great light conditions for an old CCD-based camera like the Olympus E1 that loves more light, especially when pushing the ISO introduces the type of visible noise that 20+ year old digital cameras are known for. My steady hand and the vestiges of bright sunlight helped keep the shutter speed usable. I still love what this camera can do even more than 20 years after market debut! It can make very painterly images.

Murder in Larrimah

When you drive through Alice Springs and head further north on the Stuart Highway, the landscape changes not long after leaving town. You see termite mounds on the side of the road, often dressed up in bras, hats, and high-visbility fluorescent vests – something of a cheeky tradition in the Northern Territory. Other things change too – the red rocks, boulder formations, and rough-hewn ranges that are such an iconic part of the Australian outback give way to flatter landscapes dotted with grasses and tall trees that grow in tropical zones. Also, dusty old towns spending their slow days sinking into the red soil.

Out the back of the Larrimah Hotel – Nikon Z5 and Nikkor 40mm F2 lens

If you require toilet facilities or a beer, you might stop at the tiny town of Larrimah. You might also make a photo of the giant fibreglass Pink Panther that stands out like a hot pink beacon off the highway. The garish statue seems to be the theme of the only pub in town – the Larrimah Hotel. It has been the local watering hole for years, and the cartoonish mascot seems to stand in stark contrast to the darkness that overshadowed the town in 2018.

That year, Paddy Moriarty and his dog went missing. The subsequent police investigation shed light on a possible local murder thread after an exhaustive search, but to this day, no one has been charged. The whereabouts of Paddy and his dog remain a mystery.

Best pies in town – Nikon Z5 with Viltrox 20mm lens

There seems to have been some argument about selling pies to tourists. If the photo of Paddy’s old place above is anything to go by, he seemed hellbent on making a name for himself as a pie seller in competition with another town-dweller. Who knows? It’s a strange story. One TV documentary on the murder in Larrimah identifies multiple possible motivations, none of which have ended in answers.

One of the interviewees in the documentary said something that struck me – small outback towns like Larrimah can be filled with jealousies and petty arguments, twisted into something bigger by the slowness of time in remote places. In those distant places, where social life for a dozen inhabitants revolves around a beer at the only pub in town, I’d guess that ideas about right and wrong also change shape in tune with the long days melting into one another.

In search of rust and answers ~ what of the future?

My interest in rust is, as you might imagine, slightly more than that of the average person down the road. I don’t have data to back this up, but I’m not convinced that the idea of making photos of rusty things is of primary importance to many people as an activity. What I’m quite certain of is that people are definitely interested in the answers to big questions: Why am I here? Are we alone in the universe? Is death the end? What does the future hold?

In the middle of nowhere that used to be somewhere – Nikon Z5

Rust and ruin are symbols of decay and time passing. Some people are terrified by this idea, perhaps hoping that science will one day discover the answer to immortality. Others believe they have the answers to the big questions already. For them, perhaps, ruin holds fewer terrors. I wrote about this in a previous post if you want to have a read. I even included one of my favourite poems.

In shadow and broken steel – Nikon Z5 with Nikkor 40mm F2

Sidestepping terror to make life easy

I started this post like most others. Truthfully, I didn’t really have much direction, other than the desire to explore rust and ruins as universal symbols that remind us of our mortality in the vastness of the river of time’s relentless passing. But lately, I find myself thinking more and more about the impact that I and others have on the world. For example, my use of shaving cartridges, with all the plastic they include, isn’t just annoyingly expensive, but also destructive. All of that plastic ends up in landfill, contributing nothing to the environment but toxicity.

It’s perfectly understandable that people prefer to have easy lives where everything is mapped out and makes sense. An easy to understand narrative provides us with answers to many, if not all, of the big questions we have. It’s easier to come to terms with the idea of toxic human waste, selfish governments, and genocides when it’s part of a cosmic plan ~ the evil will get their punishment and the good will find peace. Unfortunately, human history is nothing if not a struggle between the powerful and the powerless.

Rusting in the shadow of trees – Olympus E1

I think this makes it too easy to sidestep the feeling of terror gnawing at the mind in times of quiet. What does the future hold when we know all too well that the capacity for destruction lies in the same bed as the capacity for art within every human being? I strongly suspect that we may turn quickly and desperately to solutions as a species once it’s too late. The powerful will have squeezed every last drop of value from us and we’ll have been too busy buying fast-fashion clothing from giant toxic factories where people are grossly underpaid and overworked for the benefit of the few. Where do those unsustainable fast-fashion items end up, do you think? What good do they serve, other than to appease vanity?

Living with less

One kind of response I’ve often heard from people when speaking of this topic goes something like this: “But what about the economy and jobs? If we follow environmental policies, we’ll lose jobs. And how do we keep the lights on? Maybe we should think about nuclear power?

My blunt rebuttal these days is usually along these lines: “The environment isn’t interested in your comfort. We may all need to accept the idea that we must live very differently with a lot less.”

The idea that we must not stall our economy and standard of living as we explore ways of doing less destruction to the planet is not only absurd, it is also dangerous. All this does is serve the lives of people who have vested interests in making money and living comfortably. They don’t want their lives altered and would rather continue driving big vehicles that spray minute particles of rubber into crucial waterways. Yet, nature is change. Nothing remains the same. Living a life with less money, less oil, less waste, less electricity, less gas, less cars, and less fast-fashion is not only wise, it’s likely the only path to take.

The empty house near the empty hotel – Olympus OMD EM5 Mark 2

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?

The small beauty of everyday things

Do you ever find beauty in everyday things? Seemingly mundane stuff is part of the fabric of our daily lives, existing quietly in the background. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially on days when I feel as though I lack photographic inspiration. I can’t help but think that we’re sometimes looking for the big things as photographers, hoping they’ll catch the attention of online communities often engulfed by their own search for attention and validation. I’ve touched on that before too, of course.

Gaze – Sony RX100

Seeing everyday things in a fresh way that reveals their beauty isn’t a new idea. Contemplative photography and Miksang are approaches that emphasise an unpretentious photographic practice that’s mindful and completely present in the moment. The elevation of technical perfection is secondary to the experience of being in the world – of being aware of the moment completely and utterly. In this sense, it draws parellels to mindfulness and meditation, where inhabiting the moment non-judgementally is key.

Draped colours in strong sunlight – Olympus OMD EM5 Mark 2

There’s an interesting tension in this approach – maintaining a mind that’s open to details without becoming overly distracted by them.

When I inhabit the moment in photography, I pause momentarily to make a photo when a scene tugs at my attention gently enough that it doesn’t completely dislodge my middle-focus. Middle-focus occurs when attention hovers between soft and intense – when it’s non-judgemental and simply observational – when we focus on a thing without placing too much value on it or too much thought into it, and don’t allow it to draw us too close. In this state, we recognise something as being of value photographically, but our attention only skims across it – like a small boat floating lightly on clear water.

If this middle-focus state is dislodged and derailed, if the small boat sinks, the mindful journey will stop like a train pulling into the station to accept noisy passengers. This is the moment where mindfulness is thwarted and attention inhabits the distraction too fully, too intensely, and with an overburden of thought and judgement of value.

Morning delivery – Sony RX100

What defines this gentle pull at the edges of attention? What qualities in a scene are important? This is likely different for every photographer. For me, it’s important that such photos inhabit a space somewhere between details normally unnoticed and scenes that communicate meaning softly and quietly.

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