Sometimes I wish days could have oh… I don’t know… Eight, ten more hours? Of course I’d then need the physical capacity to actually use those extra hours for more than just sleep.

Sleep. Now there’s a nice thought…

I’m out of the social loop right now. Ten days, three projects & a little over 11000 shutter actuations will do that to you. I’m knee deep in editing and processing, leaving me very little time for blogging or sharing anything substantial. Or even replying to recent comments and emails - for which I do apologize.

The obvious takeaway from this recent work is my unfortunate need for DSLR gear. I say unfortunate because when used side by side with an X100 two things become immediately clear:

1. I prefer by far the images from the Fuji.
2. The Nikon kit feels like a tank sitting on top of an aircraft carrier shooting giant guided missiles. Loud & heavy you say? Uh, yeah.

It does work though. And until I can get an X series camera with a fast 200mm that can track moving subjects… I’m stuck with the aircraft carrier. But it’s also clear to me I won’t be investing further in that platform. I’ll just be keeping what I need for the time being and unless something important comes up to change the situation, I won’t be looking for an upgrade. Truth be told, everything about this kit now feels cumbersome & archaic, even though I’m well aware of how subjective this is. There’s nothing wrong with it per se - in the end it’s still a tool that fills its purpose - but I find myself longing for another way.

Some of my favourite pictures from last week were taken in silence, crouching in shadows, waiting for the right moment while a scene evolved on its own. Shooting this way fills me with tremendous joy. It removes me from the hard, mechanical reality of the gear, leaving only the motions of life waiting to be stopped, to be frozen and held as something out of time, contemplated.

With every thundering smash of a DSLR’s shutter I’m brought back to earth, the spell broken.

I had an X-Pro1 last night. Almost. Dreamt I’d received it as a gift, second-hand (as if!). It makes me sound a bit obsessed doesn’t it? But I believe my obsession isn’t so much with technology as it is with a new way - some would say an old way. An obsession with disappearing, with becoming this soundless, wisp-like creature that exists only to see.

More and more I’m finding myself pulled towards adaptation in lieu of control. A voyeur instead of a director. Then again, that might just be the truly impossible dream…

Later

UPDATE: I realized last night that I’d already posted the first image of the series below in a previous blog post - I’ve now switched it to a new one. I guess I’m more tired than I thought ;)

UPDATE: The culprits appear to be Fuji’s supplied triangular rings. Reader Jim Stanley had this to say via email:

“Concerning the lug wear, just use round clips. After 13 months of at least 2 hours EVERY day with my x100 around my neck or on my shoulder, my x100 shows no signs of lug wear. I have used the Artisan and Artist strap with round metal clip rings since day 1. It looks to me that the triangle clips ride on the sides of the lug and not directly on the inside center of the lug.”

He uses an Artist & Artisan strap.

—-

This is something I didn’t see coming. I woke up Saturday morning to the following email from reader David White:

“Hi Patrick
I wrote to you from here in Sydney back in August of last year. Anyhow, I thought you might be interested in the following link on X100 lugs wear: http://forums.dpreview.com/forums/read.asp?forum=1020&message=40754091

My lugs have also worn, and I’ve since switched to a non-weight bearing wrist strap (other than if I inadvertently dropped the camera, as far as weight goes). You may wish to check your X100’s lugs.
Cheers

David

Sydney, Australia”

The linked thread is getting quite long and contains several pictures of the problem in question. Of course I took a look at mine as soon as I could and lo and behold:

Not good. The metal is quite worn out and obviously on its way to eventually being cut all the way through as time takes its toll. I’ve been using either Fuji supplied strap or my father’s old Yashica strap with the camera since day one. In both cases they were attached to the lugs using Fuji’s own triangular metal rings. So this isn’t due to using a third-party strap or attachment. It unfortunately appears to be a bad design choice.

As you can see from the pic, I implemented a very crude temporary fix: tie-wraps. At least the plastic won’t do any more damage until I get a better solution.

I don’t know if the X-Pro1 uses the same type of design or material. But if you own one, it might be a good idea to keep your eyes open just in case.

Many thanks go to David for alerting me to this potentially serious situation.

When I decided to shoot JPEG only with the X100 some time last year, I made a point of equating this to shooting a film camera - in the sense that I needed to nail exposure et all and not rely on the possibilities of error correction afforded by raw files. I think I may have come full circle on this. I’ll be damned if I can find a single file that would’ve benefited from shooting raw in this series. Some of these would’ve turned out differently… Very differently. But better? i don’t think so.

It’s amazing how easily we fall back into patterns. The fact is that adding raw to the X100 mix makes me second-guess myself. It forces me to check the raw file “just to see”. And then it forces a decision: which one is better? 99% of the time it comes down to esthetics. I usually don’t mess up while shooting so it just becomes two variations on a same theme, both equally worthy.

So… mea-culpa. While I stand by my assessment of raw files as added security, as digital negative with all the future-proofing these provide, I do believe I’m going back to JPEG with this camera. It’s faster, more responsive and I was using the JPEG files 9 times out of 10 anyway. 

To hell with insecurities.

P.S You win Derek ;)

Our parents used to take us to Montreal’s Chinatown when we were kids. For children of the suburbs, this was Pluto. I remember the smells, the ducks hanging in the windows, the tiny restaurant where we’d always stop for lunch, all red and black and bathed in bright neon light. We were in a new land then, everything alien and mysterious - beautiful. 

Eventually Chinatown was choked by the city’s evolution. What used to be an entire district became relegated to a couple of streets and alleys, given a plaque and a few token statues where tourists pose for snapshots. The Peking ducks dangling in the shop windows were deemed unsanitary by the type of stupid bylaws professing to move us forward, only really stifling identity and uniqueness. And yet… The community is still present, surviving between the high rises, hotels and congress center. The smells are more timid but still there, floating on a spring breeze like an old dream. Like a child’s reverie. 

Last Friday, I needed oxygen and carbon dioxide all at once. I needed streets around which to wrap my camera and gather my thoughts. I needed regeneration. Without thinking I gravitated to those old foreign quarters. Before even taking a single shot a retired photographer came up to me, having spotted my X100. Soon, we were talking shop and Josef Koudelka, right there under a bright April sun. The tone was set.

I walked and walked, drinking as much images as I possibly could. And it felt like a dance, forever moving, like cinema and theater, scenes unfolding, screaming to be captured and remembered. A freakin’ multitude waiting for the eyes of the world. Such a flow, such waves washing over me. The streets.

I stood on corners, sat on new lawns hunting for movement. I walked into a modern art fair and out again, wanting more. I watched and learned and reached for air in the lungs of the city.

Man, if I could only frame everything.