Some weeks back I engaged in a conversation, over on the LUG (Leica User Group email list), about cameras with or as mojos. Some people in the conversation understood; others did not. Can a camera be a magic charm, talisman, or cast a spell • have magic power. I suppose not. Yet when a tool begins to feel like an extension of your own living body… well… something’s going on. B.B. King named his Gibson guitars Lucille. Willie Nelson’s Martin N 20 Guitar certainly appears, and sounds, like it has mojo qualities. For a serious woodworker this tool chest surely has magical qualities.
Certain cameras I’ve used have felt very special if not magical. It’s a short list: Nikon Fs, Leica Ms, Linhof Technikas, Deardorfs, Hasselblads, and Twin Lens Rolleiflexes. The way these cameras felt in my hands; the way they sounded; where the controls were located; essentially everything about them – felt right – dependable; served me extremely well; did everything I asked of them; and occasionally delivered magical images.
Letting go of these, let’s just call them exceptional, “tools” feels like saying goodbye to old friends — while knowing you’ll never see them again. I’m sure this sounds absurd to many people. But these “tools” are full of memories. Or at least they trigger memories when we look at them or handle them; because they’ve been places and accomplished things for us — put food on the table so to speak.
Today I said goodbye to my old Linhof Technika IV, with its 135 mm Scheider Xenotar (the Alaskan Leica). I passed it along to Forrest Herr; a young man who’s eyes showed a full appreciation for this tool; and its potential for magic. He clearly has high hopes for it; feels excited about what it can do for him. And that’s wonderful. For me it’s a tool triggering wonderful memories. For him it’s a tool triggering hope and wonderful possibilities. I’ll miss the feel of it. Like the coin purse my daughter made for me… which also carries magical memories.
Over the decades this camera has been lent or rented to a number of younger souls. The last — Alisa — see what I mean about memories? I not only remember the photographs I made with this camera. I remember the Polaroids that she created with it. And now, passing it on, I can’t wait to see the photographs that Forrest creates with it.
(click photograph for larger view)
Angie served us well and witnessed our camera dealings at Culver’s in Johnson Creek,
half way between Forrest’s home in Madison, WI and my home in Mequon, WI.
Leica M8, 28 mm Summicron Asph