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Sony RX1, A User Report
Image by kern.justin
Sony RX1 User Report.
I hesitate to write about gear. Tools are tools and the bitter truth is that a great craftsman rises above his tools to create a masterpiece whereas most of us try to improve our abominations by buying better or faster hammers to hit the same nails at the same awkward angles.
The internet is fairly flooded with reviews of this tiny marvel, and it isn’t my intention to compete with those articles. If you’re looking for a full-scale review of every feature or a down-to-Earth accounting of the RX1’s strengths and weaknesses, I recommend starting here.
Instead, I’d like to provide you with a flavor of how I’ve used the camera over the last six months. In short, this is a user report. To save yourself a few thousand words: I love the thing. As we go through this article, you’ll see this is a purpose built camera. The RX1 is not for everyone, but we will get to that and on the way, I’ll share a handful of images that I made with the camera.
It should be obvious to anyone reading this that I write this independently and have absolutely no relationship with Sony (other than having exchanged a large pile of cash for this camera at a retail outlet).
Before we get to anything else, I want to clear the air about two things: Price and Features
The Price
First things first: the price. The 00+ cost of this camera is the elephant in the room and, given I purchased the thing, you may consider me a poor critic. That in mind, I want to offer you three thoughts:
Consumer goods cost what they cost, in the absence of a competitor (the Fuji X100s being the only one worth mention) there is no comparison and you simply have to decide for yourself if you are willing to pay or not.
Normalize the price per sensor area for all 35mm f/2 lens and camera alternatives and you’ll find the RX1 is an amazing value.
You are paying for the ability to take photographs, plain and simple. Ask yourself, “what are these photographs worth to me?”
In my case, #3 is very important. I have used the RX1 to take hundreds of photographs of my family that are immensely important to me. Moreover, I have made photographs (many appearing on this page) that are moving or beautiful and only happened because I had the RX1 in my bag or my pocket. Yes, of course I could have made these or very similar photographs with another camera, but that is immaterial.
35mm by 24mm by 35mm f/2
The killer feature of this camera is simple: it is a wafer of silicon 35mm by 24mm paired to a brilliantly, ridiculously, undeniably sharp, contrasty and bokehlicious 35mm f/2 Carl Zeiss lens. Image quality is king here and all other things take a back seat. This means the following: image quality is as good or better than your DSLR, but battery life, focus speed, and responsiveness are likely not as good as your DSLR. I say likely because, if you have an entry-level DSLR, the RX1 is comparable on these dimensions. If you want to change lenses, if you want an integrated viewfinder, if you want blindingly fast phase-detect autofocus then shoot with a DSLR. If you want the absolute best image quality in the smallest size possible, you’ve got it in the RX1.
While we are on the subject of interchangeable lenses and viewfinders...
I have an interchangeable lens DSLR and I love the thing. It’s basically a medium format camera in a 35mm camera body. It’s a powerhouse and it is the first camera I reach for when the goal is photography. For a long time, however, I’ve found myself in situations where photography was not the first goal, but where I nevertheless wanted to have a camera. I’m around the table with friends or at the park with my son and the DSLR is too big, too bulky, too intimidating. It comes between you and life. In this realm, mirrorless, interchangeable lens cameras seem to be king, but they have a major flaw: they are, for all intents and purposes, just little DSLRs.
As I mentioned above, I have an interchangeable lens system, why would I want another, smaller one? Clearly, I am not alone in feeling this way, as the market has produced a number of what I would call “professional point and shoots.” Here we are talking about the Fuji X100/X100s, Sigma DPm-series and the RX100 and RX1.
Design is about making choices
When the Fuji X100 came out, I was intrigued. Here was a cheap(er), baby Leica M. Quiet, small, unobtrusive. Had I waited to buy until the X100s had come out, perhaps this would be a different report. Perhaps, but probably not. I remember thinking to myself as I was looking at the X100, “I wish there was a digital Rollei 35, something with a fixed 28mm or 35mm lens that would fit in a coat pocket or a small bag.” Now of course, there is.
So, for those of you who said, “I would buy the RX1 if it had interchangeable lenses or an integrated viewfinder or faster autofocus,” I say the following: This is a purpose built camera. You would not want it as an interchangeable system, it can’t compete with DSLR speed. A viewfinder would make the thing bigger and ruin the magic ratio of body to sensor size—further, there is a 3-inch LCD viewfinder on the back! Autofocus is super fast, you just don’t realize it because the bar has been raised impossibly high by ultra-sonic magnet focusing rings on professional DSLR lenses. There’s a fantastic balance at work here between image quality and size—great tools are about the total experience, not about one or the other specification.
In short, design is about making choices. I think Sony has made some good ones with the RX1.
In use
So I’ve just written 1,000 words of a user report without, you know, reporting on use. In many ways the images on the page are my user report. These photographs, more than my words, should give you a flavor of what the RX1 is about. But, for the sake of variety, I intend to tell you a bit about the how and the why of shooting with the RX1.
Snapshots
As a beginning enthusiast, I often sneered at the idea of a snapshot. As I’ve matured, I’ve come to appreciate what a pocket camera and a snapshot can offer. The RX1 is the ultimate photographer’s snapshot camera.
I’ll pause here to properly define snapshot as a photograph taken quickly with a handheld camera.
To quote Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” So it is with photography. Beautiful photographs happen at the decisive moment—and to paraphrase Henri Cartier-Bresson further—the world is newly made and falling to pieces every instant. I think it is no coincidence that each revolution in the steady march of photography from the tortuously slow chemistry of tin-type and daguerreotype through 120 and 35mm formats to the hyper-sensitive CMOS of today has engendered new categories and concepts of photography.
Photography is a reflexive, reactionary activity. I see beautiful light or the unusual in an every day event and my reaction is a desire to make a photograph. It’s a bit like breathing and has been since I was a kid.
Rather than sneer at snapshots, nowadays I seek them out; and when I seek them out, I do so with the Sony RX1 in my hand.
How I shoot with the RX1
Despite much bluster from commenters on other reviews as to the price point and the purpose-built nature of this camera (see above), the RX1 is incredibly flexible. Have a peek at some of the linked reviews and you’ll see handheld portraits, long exposures, images taken with off-camera flash, etc.
Yet, I mentioned earlier that I reach for the D800 when photography is the primary goal and so the RX1 has become for me a handheld camera—something I use almost exclusively at f/2 (people, objects, shallow DoF) or f/8 (landscapes in abundant light, abstracts). The Auto-ISO setting allows the camera to choose in the range from ISO 50 and 6400 to reach a proper exposure at a given aperture with a 1/80 s shutter speed. I have found this shutter speed ensures a sharp image every time (although photographers with more jittery grips may wish there was the ability to select a different default shutter speed). This strategy works because the RX1 has a delightfully clicky exposure compensation dial just under your right thumb—allowing for fine adjustment to the camera’s metering decision.
So then, if you find me out with the RX1, you’re likely to see me on aperture priority, f/2 and auto ISO. Indeed, many of the photographs on this page were taken in that mode (including lots of the landscape shots!).
Working within constraints.
The RX1 is a wonderful camera to have when you have to work within constraints. When I say this, I mean it is great for photography within two different classes of constraints: 1) physical constraints of time and space and 2) intellectual/artistic constraints.
To speak to the first, as I said earlier, many of the photographs on this page were made possible by having a camera with me at a time that I otherwise would not have been lugging around a camera. For example, some of the images from the Grand Canyon you see were made in a pinch on my way to a Christmas dinner with my family. I didn’t have the larger camera with me and I just had a minute to make the image. Truth be told, these images could have been made with my cell phone, but that I could wring such great image quality out of something not much larger than my cell phone is just gravy. Be it jacket pocket, small bag, bike bag, saddle bag, even fannie pack—you have space for this camera anywhere you go.
Earlier I alluded to the obtrusiveness of a large camera. If you want to travel lightly and make photographs without announcing your presence, it’s easier to use a smaller camera. Here the RX1 excels. Moreover, the camera’s leaf shutter is virtually silent, so you can snap away without announcing your intention. In every sense, this camera is meant to work within physical constraints.
I cut my photographic teeth on film and I will always have an affection for it. There is a sense that one is playing within the rules when he uses film. That same feeling is here in the RX1. I never thought I’d say this about a camera, but I often like the JPEG images this thing produces more than I like what I can push with a RAW. Don’t get me wrong, for a landscape or a cityscape, the RAW processed carefully is FAR, FAR better than a JPEG.
But when I am taking snapshots or photos of friends and family, I find the JPEGs the camera produces (I’m shooting in RAW + JPEG) so beautiful. The camera’s computer corrects for the lens distortion and provides the perfect balance of contrast and saturation. The JPEG engine can be further tweaked to increase the amount of contrast, saturation or dynamic range optimization (shadow boost) used in writing those files. Add in the ability to rapidly compensate exposure or activate various creative modes and you’ve got this feeling you’re shooting film again. Instant, ultra-sensitive and customizable film.
Pro Tip: Focusing
Almost all cameras come shipped with what I consider to be the worst of the worst focus configurations. Even the Nikon D800 came to my hands set to focus when the shutter button was halfway depressed. This mode will ruin almost any photograph. Why? Because it requires you to perform legerdemain to place the autofocus point, depress the shutter halfway, recompose and press the shutter fully. In addition to the chance of accidentally refocusing after composing or missing the shot—this method absolutely ensures that one must focus before every single photograph. Absolutely impossible for action or portraiture.
Sensibly, most professional or prosumer cameras come with an AF-ON button near where the shooter’s right thumb rests. This separates the task of focusing and exposing, allowing the photographer to quickly focus and to capture the image even if focus is slightly off at the focus point. For portraits, kids, action, etc the camera has to have a hair-trigger. It has to be responsive. Manufacturer’s: stop shipping your cameras with this ham-fisted autofocus arrangement.
Now, the RX1 does not have an AF-ON button, but it does have an AEL button whose function can be changed to “MF/AF Control Hold” in the menu. Further, other buttons on the rear of the camera can also be programmed to toggle between AF and MF modes. What this all means is that you can work around the RX1’s buttons to make it’s focus work like a DSLR’s. (For those of you who are RX1 shooters, set the front switch to MF, the right control wheel button to MF/AF Toggle and the AEL button to MF/AF Control Hold and voila!) The end result is that, when powered on the camera is in manual focus mode, but the autofocus can be activated by pressing AEL, no matter what, however, the shutter is tripped by the shutter release. Want to switch to AF mode? Just push a button and you’re back to the standard modality.
Carrying.
I keep mine in a small, neoprene pouch with a semi-hard LCD cover and a circular polarizing filter on the front—perfect for buttoning up and throwing into a bag on my way out of the house. I have a soft release screwed into the threaded shutter release and a custom, red twill strap to replace the horrible plastic strap Sony provided. I plan to gaffer tape the top and the orange ring around the lens. Who knows, I may find an old Voigtlander optical viewfinder in future as well.
28c - Johnson Residence - 2241 S Hobart Blvd (E)
Image by Kansas Sebastian
West Adams Heights
“Nowadays we scarcely notice the high stone gates which mark the entrances on Hobart, Harvard, and Oxford streets, south of Washington Boulevard. For one thing, the traffic is too heavy, too swift; and then, again, the gates have been obscured by intrusions of shops and stores. At the base of the stone pillars appears the inscription “West Adams Heights.” There was a time when these entranceways were formidable and haughty, for they marked the ways to one of the first elite residential areas in Los Angeles. . . In the unplanned early-day chaos of Los Angeles, West Adams Heights was obviously something very special, an island in an ocean of bungalows—approachable, but withdrawn and reclusive—one of the few surviving examples of planned urban elegance of the turn of the century.”
- Carey McWilliams, “The Evolution of Sugar Hill,” Script, March, 1949: 30.
Today West Adams Heights is still obviously something special. The past sixty years, however, have not been kind. In 1963 the Santa Monica Freeway cut through the heart of West Adams Heights, dividing the neighborhood, obscuring its continuity. In the 1970’s the city paved over the red brick streets and removed the ornate street lighting. After the neighborhood’s zoning was changed to a higher density, overzealous developers claimed several mansions for apartment buildings. Despite these challenges, however, “The Heights,” as the area was once known, has managed to regain some of its former elegance.
The West Adams Heights tract was laid out in 1902, in what was then a wheat field on the western edge of town. Although the freeway now creates an artificial barrier, the original neighborhood boundaries were Adams Boulevard, La Salle Ave, Washington Boulevard, and Western Avenue. Costly improvements were integrated into the development, such as 75-food wide boulevards (which were some of the first contoured streets not to follow the city grid), lots elevated from the sidewalk, ornate street lighting, and large granite monuments with red-brass electroliers at the entrance to every street. These upgrades increased the lot values, which helped ensure the tract would be an enclave for the elite.
One early real estate ad characterized the neighborhood stating: “West Adams Heights needs no introduction to the public: it is already recognized as being far superior to any other tract. Its high and slightly location, its beautiful view of the city and mountains make t a property unequaled by any other in the city.”
The early residents’ were required to sign a detailed restrictive covenant. This hand-written document required property owners to build a “first-class residence,” of at least two stories, costing no less than two-thousand dollars (at a time when a respectable home could be built for a quarter of that amount, including the land), and built no less than thirty-five feet from the property’s primary boundary. Common in early twentieth century, another clause excluded residents from selling or leasing their properties to non-Caucasians.
By the mid 1930’s, however, most of the restrictions had expired. Between 1938 and 1945 many prominent African-Americans began to make “The Heights” their home. According to Carey McWilliams, West Adams Heights became known “Far and wide as the famous Sugar Hill section of Los Angeles,” and enjoyed a clear preeminence over Washington’s smart Le Droit Park, St. Louis’s Enright Street, West Philadelphia, Chicago’s Westchester, and Harlem’s fabulous Sugar Hill.
West Adams Heights, now also known as Sugar Hill, played a major role in the Civil Rights movement in Los Angeles. In 1938 Norman Houston, president of the Golden State Mutual Life Insurance Company, and an African-American, purchased a home at 2211 South Hobart Boulevard. Legal Action from eight homeowners quickly ensued. During that period, other prominent African-Americans began to make Sugar Hill their home – including actress Hattie McDaniels, dentists John and Vada Summerville, actress Louise Beavers, band leader Johnny Otis, and performers Pearl Baily and Ethel Waters, and many more. On December 6, 1945, the “Sugar Hill Cases” were heard before Judge Thurmond Clark, in LA Superior Court. He made history by become the first judge in America to use the 14th Amendment to disallow the enforcement of covenant race restrictions. The Los Angeles Sentinel quoted Judge Clark: “This court is of the opinion that it is time that [African-Americans] are accorded, without reservations and evasions, the full rights guaranteed them under the 14th Amendment.” Gradually, over the last century people of nearly ever background have made historic West Adams their home.
The northern end of West Adams Heights is now protected as part of the Harvard Heights Historic Preservation Overlay Zone (HPOZ). The Historic West Adams area of Los Angeles (which includes West Adams Heights) boasts the highest concentration of turn-of-the-century homes west of the Mississippi, as well as the highest concentration of National Historic Landmarks, National Register of Historic Places, National Historic Districts, State Historic Landmarks, Los Angeles Cultural-Historic Monuments, and Historic Preservation Overlay Zones in the city. The entirety of West Adams Heights should be nominated as a National Register Historic District, for the quality of homes, the prominence of the architects, notoriety of the people who lived in the neighborhood, and the role it played in civil rights.
Perhaps a quote adapted from a fireplace mantle in the Frederick Rindge mansion best symbolizes the optimism which exists in West Adams: “California Shall be Ours as Long as the Stars Remain.”
19 – James G & Rose Ganahl Donovan Residence – 2179 W 20th St, Moved from 2202 S Western Ave – 1903 – Robert Brown Young
James Donovan began as an apprentice to a watch maker in Aurora, IL, working his way up to Lead Mechanic and an eventual partner in the company, before branching into jewelry on his own. Accompanied by his sister in 1894 he came to Los Angeles for a month’s long vacation. At the end he decided to stay one more week – then three more months – and then founded to stay. He began Donovan & Seaman’s Co on Spring St, near Temple, when it was the heart of the LA’s shopping district. He later moved the store to 3rd & Spring St, then 7th & Broadway. When he built his residence, he chose a prominent location, placing it directly in front of the Berkeley Square gates, on the southeast corner of Western Ave and 22nd St. The home was designed by R B Young in a Transitional Victorian/Craftsman style, leaning more toward the Victorian. Young was a prolific architect in Los Angeles, designing many homes and office buildings, including the Vickery-Brunswig Building, San Fernando Building and Clifton’s Brookdale. The house was moved to its present location in 1929 as Western Ave transitioned to a commercial thoroughfare and the street was widened.
20 – Paul W Hoffmann Residence – 1926 S Western Ave – 1904
Charles Albert Rockwell was a partner in the building firm Martin & Rockwell, and through his company built several houses in West Adams Heights, on Western Avenue, including: 1926, 1962 and 2020 S Western Ave. He himself lived at 1962 S Western Ave before moving down the street to 2020 S Western Ave. This Transitional Craftsman/Victorian house he sold to Paul Hoffmann, dealing in loans and real estate. While most of the houses along the commercial corridors have vanished, this house and a few others, have managed to survive mostly intact.
21 – Ellis Doughl and Alphonso Barmann Residence – 1934 S Western Ave – 1905
A 1905 property permit to the building firm Pool & Jones suggests this is one of the few properties in West Adams Heights built on spec (speculation of a perspective buyer). The home was purchased by Ellis Doughl – who may or may not have lived on the property. In 1911 Newton H Foster, a junior clerk for the Santa Fe, appears to be renting the property, and in 1912 the property is sold to F Barmann for ,500. The 1915 City Directory shows Alphonso (Gen Contr), Herbert (Mach), Natalie (Tchr) and Walter (Mach) Barmann at the property. They had moved from their house on the other side of the Heights at 2047 La Salle Ave. Alphanso Barmann was given the general contract for construction of the 10 story Higgins Building in 1909. The house is Transitional Craftsman/Victorian with strong Colonial influences.
22 – Hans B & Ethyleen Nielsen Residence – 2010 S Western Ave – 1911
Built in the “Elizabethan Style” common at the time, this large Transitional Craftsman/Victorian incorporates half timbering and pebble-dash stucco into the design. It appears to have been built for Hans B and Ethyleen Nielsen.
23 – The Santa Monica Freeway – 21st to 22nd Streets – Originally called the Olympic Freeway – 1964
Like a river cutting through the heart of West Adams Heights, the Olympic Freeway as it was first called claimed approximately one-third of the homes, and some of the most significant. The entire block between 21st and 22nd Streets, on Western, Harvard, Hobart and LaSalle were demolished for the project. The prestigious “Harvard Circle” part of West Adams Heights was completely wiped off the map, with only vague and cryptic references left in newspapers and books. This canyon creates a permanent barrier in a once cohesive neighborhood. Plans for the Olympic Freeway were laid out in the 1947, coincidentally occurring a year after racial covenants were determined to be illegal and African-Americans gained the rights to live in the neighborhood. For almost 20 years, until the freeway’s completion in 1964, black leaders called on the city and the State of California to move the path of the freeway to Washington, Venice or Pico, to spare West Adams Heights, or Sugar Hill as it was becoming known. However, the commission overseeing the project ignored them. Even Mayor Bowron participated in efforts to spare Berkeley Square and West Adams Heights, but members of the commission were unmoved. In the early 1960’s the construction equipment arrived, the houses were removed, and one of LA’s most prestigious enclaves was divided.
24 – Kate A Kelley Residence – 2205 S Hobart Blvd – 1905 – Sumner P Hunt and Arthur Wesley Eager
The architecture team of Hunt & Eager designed this home for Kate A Kelley, the widow of John Kelley. She lived there with her sister Jennie MacKay. By 1915 the house was owned by Abram C Denman, Jr., th vice president and general manager of the Southern California Iron and Steele Company. As a boarding house run by the Agape Mission, the house has fallen on hard times, with stucco, an enclosed porch and aluminum windows. But with some time, money and love, the house could be restored.
25 – John & Gertrude D Kahn and Norman O & Edythe Houston Residence – 2211 S Hobart Blvd – 1911 – Milwaukee Building Company
The Kahn-Houston Residence is arguably one of the most important houses in West Adams Heights. It deserves to be a National Register of Historic places. Unfortunately, at this time (2014) its fate is uncertain. The Agape Mission, which has run an illegal boarding house from the property and from 2205 S Hobart, has recently been closed and both properties appear to be in receivership. This house is so important to the historic fabric of the community because it was the home of Norman O Houston, President of the Golden State Mutual – an insurance company for black Americans who could not obtain insurance from white-owned companies at an affordable price. See the Wikipedia article: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norman_O._Houston In 1938 Houston (then Vice-President) purchased the home. Wealthy white owners of the neighborhood prevented him from living in his home by re-establishing the “West Adams Heights Improvement Association,” and attempting to codify the rule preventing non-Caucasians from owning or renting property. In 1945 Norman Houston and the other black property owners won the right in court to legally live in the neighborhood. The house had been originally built for John Kahn, an early pioneer to Los Angeles who first came to Oakland, CA, around 1889 with his brother and opened a dry goods store. John moved to Los Angeles 3 years later and opened a large store in the ground floor of the Nadeau Hotel at 1st & Spring. Around 1897 he sold the enterprise and in 1899 incorporated with Jakob Beck to form Kahn-Beck, manufacturing food stuff, including: “All kinds of candy, macaroni and pastas of all kinds.” The company then grew into one of the largest biscuit making companies as the Kahn-Beck Cracker Company, or Kahn Beck Biscuit Company, and Angelus Biscuit Company. John Kahn passed in 1919. The house built in 1911 by the Milwaukee Building Company is in an avant-garde Spanish/Prairie style.
26 – James D & May C Smith and Louise Beavers-Moore & LeRoy C Moore Residence – 2219 S Hobart Blvd – 1904 – Frank M Tyler
For his first home in West Adams Heights, pioneer real estate developer Richard D Richards commissioned Frank M Tyler to build a 16-room English-styled mansion in 1904. Richards sold the property to James D Smith two years later, moving to another Tyler mansion at 2237 S Hobart Blvd and then to 2208 S Western Ave, where the Richards family lived until 1925. James Smith was proprietor of the James Smith & Co, a clothing store of the finest “ready-made” Franklin Brand clothing for men, established in 1902. For years the company operated from the Bryson Block, before relocating to the more fashionable Broadway. In the early 1940’s Louise Beavers joined Norman Houston (2211 S Hobart Ave) and Hattie McDaniel (2203 S Harvard Blvd) in the Heights. Louise Beavers was a talented actress, acclaimed for her role in Imitation of Life as Delilah. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louise_Beavers Louise was married to her second husband, LeRoy C Moore in 1952. LeRoy was a well-known interior decorator. Together the two lived at this house until Louise’s death in October, 1962, and LeRoy’s death four months later in February, 1963. At first glass the Smith-Beavers Residence appears to be completely remodeled, but comparing it to original renderings little has changed. The front left dormer is missing and at some point someone thought it would be a good idea to cover the house in Sears siding (the original siding is probably underneath). But other than having been divided, the house’s integrity remains intact.
27 – Ellen H (Mrs. Melville Morton) Johnston and Curtis & Ellen Williams Residence (Demolished) – 2237 S Hobart Blvd – 1906 – Frank M Tyler
The second residence in West Adams Heights built for Richard D and Cynthia J Richards, in 1906, has been replaced with a 1950’s apartment building. The first Richards home was located at 2219 S Hobart Blvd (the Smith-Beavers Residence). They lived at this house less than two years before relocating to 2208 S Western Ave, where the couple lived out their lives. This home was sold to Ellen H Johnston (Mrs Melville Morton). Melville Morton Johnston may have died April 3, 1892. If I’ve researched the correct person, he was originally from Clifton, Stanton Island, New York. (I mean, how many men named Melville Morton Johnston can there be? Right?) In 1911 Mrs. Johnson sold the house to Curtis Williams. Curtis died at the home in 1959, at the age of 89. Curtis Williams was a pioneering lumberman who came to Los Angeles in 1895. He was born in Oakland and reared in San Diego. He was an early member of the Los Angeles Country Club, the Jonathan Club, and University Club. The house was a rustic Transitional Victorian/Craftsman, having both elements, designed by Frank M. Tyler. It was a perfectly balanced house, whose presence looks more like it would have been designed by John Austin.
28 – Benjamin Johnson Residence – 2241 S Hobart Blvd – 1909 – G A Howard, Jr.
In 1909 Benjamin Johnson commissioned G A Howard to build this charming Transitional Craftsman/Victorian in an English Style. The cost in 1909 was a mere ,000. As president of the Los Angeles Public Market Co (a company owned by Pacific Electric), he could well afford the cost – as well as a domestic, cook and chauffeur. What he could not afford, however, was a scandal involving his under-aged rebel daughter Estelle. In 1914, on a return trip from finishing school in Washington, DC, after a brief visit to her grandfather in Chicago. For eluded reasons, she was hastily married to Mr. Terrance Ryan. To employ his new son-in-law, Mr. Johnson purchased a produce company and gave Mr. Ryan a position and a promise of a bungalow. This appears not to have been enough, and the Johnsons were forced to petition the courts for the divorce of their daughter and Mr. Ryan on grounds he could not provide. The Johnsons must have been scandalized when the entire affair was laid out in the Los Angeles Times society pages.
29 – John Newton & Annie Berdella Evans Russell Jr. Residence – 2263 S Hobart Blvd – 1906
Above the portico of this residence is the address “2249” S Hobart Blvd, however its legal address (according to the tax assessor’s maps) is actually 2263 S Hobart. The confusion is understandable. The property sits on three lots from what would have been 2249 (where the house actually sits) to the actual address of 2263 (which is the furthest lot south from the house). At this time the architect is unknown, but shows the adept hand of someone like Robert D. Farquar, who designed the John and Dora Haynes mansion on Figueroa in a similar style (demolished), or B. Cooper Corbett, responsible for the magnificent Denker Mansion on Adams Blvd. The house is an Italian Villa, in a Florentine style, years before the practice of designing thematic houses became popular in Los Angeles. This was the home of John Newton Russell, Jr., an insurance man. He was raised mostly in Waco, TX, before moving to Los Angeles with his father, also in the insurance business. Russell ran the Colorado branches of the Frederick Rindge’s Conservative Life Company, before the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. When the company was absorbed into Pacific Mutual, and moved to Los Angeles, Russell was recalled from Colorado to run the “Home Office.” Mr. Russell continued his success in the insurance industry, just as his wife enjoyed great social success. In 1942, their son, John Henry Russell, established the John Newton Russell Memorial Award, as a tribute to his father and mentor, recognizing the accomplishments and contributions of made by an individual in the insurance industry. This is the highest honor awarded by the National Association of Insurance and Financial Advisors (NAIFA), given each year. NAIFA is one of the nation’s oldest and largest associations representing professionals in the insurance and financial industries.
20140317_arcade_fire_063
Image by jaredpolin
froknowsphoto.com/arcade-fire-fps/
Using a Nikon 200-400 F4 VR II generally is not recommended for shooting from the photo pit of a concert where the pit has 15 photographers and no room. The original idea was that I would order the 200-400 in from BorrowLenses since I would be shooting from the soundboard. Well, that ended up not being the case and I still wanted to use this lens to shoot a concert.
I prefer shooting small to medium sized bands at smaller venues because there tends to be a lot less bs when it comes to shooting. This show was a pretty big band at one of the large venues you can play in Philly. This means a different protocol then normal.
Let me paint the picture for how a night shooting at one of these venues goes. You show up plenty early and head down to the media entrance of the stadium. You walk downstairs and you are held like cattle in a waiting area to get into the downstairs part of the stadium. Now this generally isn't to bad but with 15 photographers filling up the entire space it can get a little close.
On the flip side it's always nice to meet and converse with fellow photographers before a show. You trade war stories, talk about gear, talk about the industry and pretty much just shoot the shit.
After waiting for an hour or so a PR person and a PR intern gather you up to take you out to photograph the opening act. It's kind of like lining up in school to be walked to an assembly. There always is a new intern, these companies love hiring people that they don't have to pay.
Next they tell you how long you have to shoot the opening act while walking you backstage to out in front of the stage. After your time is up, they gather you back up and toss you back into the holding pen.
Now the waiting game happens again until 20 or so minutes before the show. Usually at a smaller venue you just hang out in the pit waiting for the show to start. You can test your settings, find your spot and decide the plan of attack. This time they waited until roughly eight minutes before the show to lead us into the pit.
We got into the pit and realized there was a partition blocking half the pit. That meant all of these photographers had to be squeezed into a much smaller space than normal. So here we are hanging around in the pit finding our spots trying to not block anyones cameras when we are told we can't be int he pit yet. The lead us out of the pit to wait by the side because there is a big curtain on the stage that will drop and has to be rushed out our side of the stage before we can go in.
Alright this makes sense but it's not ideal of course. We only have the normal three songs to shoot so now we worry that we will miss at least half a song. While this is going on we are trying to talk nicely to the five PR people and interns standing around about shooting on both sides of the pit. We are asking if half of us can shoot on one side and half on the other, mind you this is four minutes before the band is supposed to hit the stage. The PR people are yelling at us that they don't have control and are only doing what the security for the band is telling. All we simply counter with is can you please ask if we can do x y and z.
We were also concerned that we would get shorted a song since the band starts on a totally separate stage at the back of the arena before hitting the main stage we were at. If they counted that as one song than we only would have had two songs to shoot. We were told the first song would not count and we would be able to still shoot our three.
The show starts, the curtain drops, we wait and wait for the curtain to be removed and then we rush into the pit. Between 15 photographers and a video guy who is on a track there is not much room. I squeeze into a good spot, place my 200-400 on the ground near the barricade. One issue was that I still had my backpack on because I had no place to put it. I felt like I was breaking a rule because I was hitting other people with it. But I think everyone understood that there wasn't any space.
This was not an easy show to shoot, the lights were all over the place and the band is honestly boring. The stage and lighting setup was nice and would have made for better pictures from the soundboard. Starting off I had general settings set that were just a guess on my part. They were not far off but when the lights were changing or not even on the lead singer there is not much you can do.
Some people will say why don't you use Auto ISO and my answer to that is if there is no light on the singer it's not going to matter no matter what. But I can say that the auto ISO for video on the Nikon D4s is pretty amazing and maybe one day I will venture into using it.
The first lens I chose to use was the Nikon 24-70 2.8 because I figured I could get a few full body shots along with some wides showing the entire band. Was this a bad choice, not totally but it didn't work out to well. I quickly switched to the Nikon 14-24 2.8 to get me a full on wide shot that the client could use. I know that a simple usable shot will always be a wide shot showing the entire band and stage setup.
Next I switched off to the Nikon 200-400 which is way to big for a small pit. From the pit it really was not the best choice. The 70-200 would have been a better option but like I said above, I had this lens and I was going to use it. It was heavy, hard to hold and very hard to get tight focus. Even bumping my ISO to counter the F4 there was not much luck getting tight focus with that lens.
All and all this was one of the harder concerts I have shot from the pit. I am not a huge fan of shooting live shows especially with the three song limitation. I am not making excuses for not getting the best shots at this show. I am simply sharing my experience and the images I did capture. If ended up selecting five images to send to the clients and guess what, they LOVED them which is all that matters in the long run.
Not many photographers out there would show you every shot they took from the pit. I share those images with you to show you that not every shot is a keeper but there is something to be learned from every shot you take.
Colorado - Estes Park: The Stanley Hotel - Lobby
Image by wallyg
The Stanley Hotel, located at 333 Wonder View Avenue within sight of the Rocky Mountain National Park, was built and designed by Freelan O. Stanley and opened on July 4, 1909. Forced by poor health to move West, F.O. Stanley, co-inventor of the Stanley Steamer automobile, arrived in Estes Park in 1903. In 1907, he purchased 160 acres of land from Lord Dunraven and began construction on the Main Building of the hotel, one of 11 in the original complex, with timber cut from the Bear Lake burn in 1900 from land now known as Rocky Mountain National Park. The hotel, which initially included an ice pond, a water reservoir, and a 9-hole golf course, catered to the rich and famous, including early guests like Titanic survivor Margaret Brown, John Philip Sousa, Theodore Roosevelt, and the Emperor and Empress of Japan. Today, the neoclassical hotel sits on 55 acres of property with 138 guest rooms.
The Stanley Hotel is most iconic for serving as the inspiration for the fictional Overlook Hotel in Stephen King's novel, The Shining. King conceived the idea for his third novel while staying at an empty Stanley at the end of a season with his wife. Contrary to information sometimes published, King was living in Boulder at the time and did not actually write the novel at the hotel. The Shining tells the story of a writer with a wife and son who accept the job of off-season caretaker at an isolated hotel, and after a paralyzing storm becomes influenced by the supernatural presence and descends into madness. The 1997 ABC television miniseries, The Shining, was filmed at the Stanley, although Mount Hood, Oregon's Timberline Lodge, stood in as the Overlook for Stanley Kubrick's cinematic version, which is played on a continous loop on Channel 42 on guest room televisions.
Many believe that the Stanley's haunted history is not relegated to the fictional realm. It is believed that Flora, Stanley's wife, continues to play the Steinway Grand Piano, still located in the ballroom, that he bought her for the grand opening in 1901. People have reported hearing piano music, and seeing the piano keys move but someone crosses the threshold of the ballroom, the music stops. F.O. Stanley is believed to haunt the Billiard Room and Lobby. Lord Dunraven reportedly can be spotted in room 407, where he turns the lights off and on and makes strange noises. The fourth floor hallways are said to be haunted by ghost children. Kitchen staff have reported hearing a party going on in the ballroom, only to find it empty. In one guest room, people claim to have seen a man standing over the bed before running into the cupboard. This same apparition is allegedly responsible for stealing guests' jewellery, watches, and luggage.
National Register #85001256 (1985)
Lights are always on at the library
Image by Ed Yourdon
There are many libraries at MIT, but this is the only one I ever bothered to visit. I don't even know what it was called; to me, it was simply Building 14. And I have to admit that I never read any of the books on the bookshelf; we had textbooks for all of our courses, purchased at obscene prices at the university bookstore (known, incongruously, as the COOP), and that was pretty much all we needed.
Indeed, there was really only one reason to go to the library: it was guaranteed to be quiet, and there were no temptations to distract you away from your studying.
I suspect that that's still true today. With so much information available from the Internet, I wonder if anyone ever bothers looking at dusty old books on the bookshelf. But the library is still quiet, and that makes it a special place.
Note: A large percentage of my "landscape" photos (including the ones in this set, and several other related photos from this set, which I've gradually deleted from Flickr) are now copyright-protected, and are not available for downloads and free use. You can view them here in Flickr, but if you would like prints, enlargements, framed copies, and other variations, please visit my "MIT" SmugMug gallery by clicking here.
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It was a lifetime ago that I stumbled off a Greyhound bus in downtown Boston, a clueless 17 year old kid with two suitcases that held all my worldly possessions. I dragged them out to the street (no roll-aboard suitcases in those ancient times), and asked a taxi driver to take me to an address in Cambridge that I had scribbled on a scrap of paper: 77 Massachusetts Ave.
"Aye," the driver muttered, in a dialect that never did become familiar during the next several years. "SebendySebenMassAve."
When he dropped me off, I noticed two things. First, enormous stone steps leading up to the entrance to an imposing granite building. And second, a long line of scraggly, sloppily-dressed young men stretching from the building's entrance down toward the street where the taxi had dropped me. Aha, I thought: I'm not the only one who forgot to fill out the official form requesting a dorm room.
Welcome to MIT.
I waited in line for two hours before being assigned temporarily, with two other equally absent-minded, newly-arrived MIT students, to sleep on mattresses in an East Campus dorm room that had initially been assigned as a "single" room to an understandably annoyed fellow from Cincinnati. One of the other temporary misfits, whom we immediately nicknamed "Filthy Pierre," had just arrived from Paris with nothing but one large, heavy duffel bag that he dragged into the room. Its contents consisted of miscellaneous telephone parts, which he dumped on the floor and kicked under the bed before wandering out of the room to explore Boston. (He had not showered in weeks, and he was eventually expelled for burning a cross on MIT's Great Lawn on Easter morning. But that's another story.)
Thus began my four-year experience at what many still consider America's premiere scientific/engineering university. That I survived and graduated is a minor miracle; and while I'll hint at the adventures along the way, in this Flickr set, you'll have to look elsewhere for the details...
I continued to live in Cambridge for a couple of years after I graduated; took a couple of graduate courses in AI and computer science, taught a couple summer MIT classes to innocent high school students (one of whom challenged me to write the value of pi on the blackboard, to 100 places, from memory - which I did), took full advantage of MIT's athletic facilities, and 25-cent Saturday-nite movies at Kresge auditorium, which always featured the enormously popular RoadRunner cartoons, and occasionally walked through the same halls and pathways that I had first explored as an overwhelmed undergraduate student. But then I got a new job, moved to New York City, got married, settled down, and began raising family. After that, I typically travelled to Boston two or three times a year on business trips, but never seemed to have time to come back to MIT for a casual visit.
But one of the advantages of a near-fanatical devotion to the hobby of photography is that you begin to appreciate that all of the experiences you internalized and took for granted need to be photographed -- for posterity, if nothing else. Some of my most vivid memories of MIT, which we took for granted - like the huge,red, neon, flashing/pulsating "Heinz 57" sign out on the northern edge of the (Briggs) athletic fields -- are gone. Some of the legendary professors and deans have died and commemorative plaques have been erected in their honor. And there's a whole lot of new stuff - mostly new buildings and laboratories, whose specific purpose is a mystery to me - that I just have to shrug and accept.
But the basic campus is still there. And the memories are just as vivid as they were, so many years ago. I can't say that I captured them all in this Flickr set; the photos were taken at sunset one evening, and dawn the following morning. But they'll give you an idea of what it was like, a long long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away ... and what it's still like today.
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