All I write is negative as of late, so I will share something positive instead.
One of the great things about old cameras is the feeling of them. They have a certain weight, a certain way they fit in the hand. Some have a certain quality that can just be understood by the tactile cues given. This definitely extends to the digital realm as well, such as my lovely Olympus E1 (old skool four-thirds).
The Olympus Pen EE-S is the kind of camera I expected to hate. I would never shoot with a scale focus, half frame, autoexposure point and shoot. It was a free camera, so it was probably worth about as much. But holding it felt different. Everything was precise. You could feel how well it was constructed and how well it held up over the 50 years it took to get to me.
I don’t know why I decided to take it with me on a trip, mostly as a wide coverage/ informal camera. So I shot it as such, just framing any shot that came to mind. 72 shots to a roll means that I can shoot forever and take every opportunity.
And that is the precise difference for this camera. The ability to shoot more in a digital style, shooting every idea I have and trying things I ordinarily wouldn’t on film. Plus it’s quiet and discreet. A soft shutter you’d never notice, small size. A friendly appearance. It’s a camera that somehow became incredibly special to me after that first roll. The kind I like to just hold in my hand and look at, to feel, to have with me. It feels representative of the kind of photography I’d like to do, introspective but friendly. Based in the wonder of the real world around us. Personal and quiet. Observational to a fault perhaps.
I took it out on a 2nd trip and ran two more 36 exposure rolls through it. My devotion to this little gem grew only stronger. At the beginning of the trip I was in quite a mood. Unhappy does get to the root of it. I felt unable to achieve my photographic goals for the trip. But I just started shooting with the Pen instead of shooting the expensive Fujichrome in my OM4. It did seem to help.
Unfortunately the shutter is sticking. It appears this is typical of Pens. I am quite broken up about it, it feels like loosing a wonderful thing that I expected to have forever. I do hope to fix it, and certainly can (although I expect I’ve messed up the focus already, so I would have to reset that once it’s all said and done). But until that time comes I still hold it fondly. I can imagine the dreams it let me dream, of the style and the feeling I wanted it to represent. A desire to live the kind of life where I had such a camera with me always, and I could capture all those interesting, typical moments and distill them down into one frame.
Is it the camera or the memories that attaches me? It must be both, right? They work with each other to enhance the effect. If you are comfortable and feel that sort of connection, perhaps the wonder and the kindness translates to the shots you pick.
Lucky for me I own *goes to count their cameras* 35 cameras right now, so I always have options. And I even have other small friendly cameras, including a half framer under test right now. But the intangible factor can’t be identified before hand, you have to try. One must be open to the new experience first, then you can fall in love.
-DrMundane