Fuck People, Fuck Their Opinions, and Fuck Their Ideals by Michael Jin

You that saying about opinions being like assholes? It’s true. Everyone has a god damned opinion about everything—myself included. Sometimes, such as in the case of your employer’s opinion of you, these opinions matter. Other times, such as in the case of the opinion of some random passerby you don’t know, they just don’t. Regardless of whether they matter or not, we work so hard to cultivate our self image so that people form positive opinions of us, don’t we? Be it our personal image or business image, managing social perception is a very real thing that we all engage in on some level.

We buy certain clothes, we cut our hair in certain styles, we listen to certain music, we drive certain cars, etc. Businesses conduct focus groups to determine which shade of purple gets the most positive reactions or which programs get aired. The fucked up thing is that it all makes a great deal of sense to manage your image because you never know what kind of situation might arise and there’s no second chance to make a first impression. That random passerby that you flipped off might be the person conducting your job interview later in the day. Some guy you pulled up to and swore at might end up being the waiter at a restaurant that you visit. It’s only natural, then, that we would hedge our bets and try to be the best version of ourselves that we can be at all times—or at very least the most socially acceptable version of ourselves.

I’d like to preface the rest of this by saying that I don’t believe that we ought to be complete assholes to one another. There’s room in this world for civil discourse when it comes to areas of disagreement and whenever practical, I believe that physical conflict is something that should be avoided. That having been said, I do believe that this practice of social image management has led to the repression of something very critical to all of us: our very humanity.

Somewhere along the line, we’ve decided that this ideal social image that we’ve created for ourselves in the process of managing our social images is the way people ought to be rather than understanding that far from our default human nature, it’s merely a facade that we construct as an act of enlightened self-interest. We then denounce those who deviate from this fabricated ideal as crude, rude, crass, unenlightened, or whatever other negative term we can come up with to codify them as lower forms of the human creature. Then we apply social penalties in the form of hiring practices, housing practices, boycotts, etc.

Of course there certainly exists a contingent of people who probably belong in these categories and certainly deserve to be demonized. I’m not going to argue that everyone is somehow good in their own fucked up way. Some people are just horrible human beings and a blight to society. This is not meant to be an apology for murderers, rapists, burglars, or drug dealers (that deserves its own post). This is about people who might swear, make an off-color joke, or hold views that are not popular. It’s about the guy on the football team that likes to sing Taylor Swift songs in the shower or the cheerleader that wants to get a face tattoo. It’s about people being who they are and accepting reality for what it is rather than the idyllic vision of it that we hold in our minds.

You see, we are not these perfectly manicured creatures that we expect ourselves to be. The fact that we so often have to suppress our urges to gain social acceptance means that we are effectively being told that we are not good enough for society as we are. Our anger is not acceptable for society. Our lust is not acceptable for society. Our greed is not acceptable for society. Hell, we have 7 Deadly Sins that are codified that pretty much cover the gamut of our base urges. Whether it’s by parenting, a religious institution, the legal institution, academic institution, or just the confluence of plain old everyday interactions, we are told that the person we desire to be is unacceptable and that we must, instead, desire to be somehow “better” than our real selves. So we create these masks for ourselves and we become chameleons, adjusting out behavior and language to different situations. In the process, we often lose sight of who we are on the inside and, in doing so, lose the ability to empathize with those that choose not to play this game.

How does any of this relate to photography? There are a number of ways, but I suspect that if you think about it, you’ll know them. Photography, like fashion, has its trends that come and go. Photographers, like country club members, have their own manners of interaction. Photography communities, like political parties, so often become echo chambers of people voicing the same ideas, patting each other on the back, and hounding anyone who dares to disagree. As for why I started to think about this issue, I’ll leave you with this.

Recently I began to handle some rudimentary social media posting for a company. A big part of the company identity and branding involves embracing the heritage and spirit of New York City. There wasn’t much going on in terms of prepared content so I decided to put up some photos that I wasn’t really doing anything with to fill any void. I was told that the black and white film photos that I was posting were “too depressing” and that I should remove the hashtag “#thirtyfivefuckingmillimeter” that I had attached to one of the 35mm film photos that I took. Obviously this is a case of paid work so I went ahead and made the requested adjustments, but it really got me thinking….

I am a photographer who captures real moments that exist in front of my eyes. The fact that the vast majority of my photography is some form of street photography means that these are moments that happen in front of not just my eyes, but the eyes of hundreds or thousands of people everyday. I am not a painter, creating imagery on canvas that only exists in my mind. While we can argue to what degree the scenes that I capture depict reality and how they are presented further affect the narrative, if there is a store with its gate down because it went out of business in my photo I think we can all agree that it’s highly likely that it’s a store that’s out of business.

Yes, New York City has many beautiful sights. It has a beautiful skyline, beautiful bridges, beautiful parks, etc. But for every fucking derivative copy-cat photo of the Manhattan Bridge from DUMBO, there are a million photos of graffiti on walls, buildings in disrepair, homeless people on the street, bustling outdoor markets, people waiting for a subway, etc. The real New York City is not the shit that you see in post cards. It’s the fucking Halal stand underneath the 7 Train. It’s the guy walking down a row of cars stopped at a red light asking for spare change. It’s some dumbass kid doing his little hat/pole dance on a moving subway car. It’s people buying fake Prada bags from some shady street vendor with a cardboard sign. It’s a crowded subway platform filled with sweaty people that look miserable after a day of work and just want to get the fuck home. The New York City that most New Yorkers experience is not the well-manicured greenery of Central or Prospect park. It’s not the pinks and purples blanketing the beautiful Manhattan skyline. New York City is people often cramming themselves into dirty century-old apartments, being dwarfed by gigantic gray buildings, being surrounded by blinking lights and tacky advertising, and endless construction sites. For others, it’s living on a residential street not unlike plenty of featureless suburbs with plenty of parking and not an ounce of character to distinguish it as anything close to what comes to mind when people think of the city.

So if my photography in this city is depressing and it’s nothing but a reflection of things that we walk by everyday, maybe the problem isn’t my photography, but the city that I’m photographing. Or maybe, it’s depressing because the reality of our city doesn’t match the glamorous image that most people have of it. To me, New York City is not glamorous and beautiful nor is it dark and depressing. It just is… No, I don’t find East New York to be a particularly pleasant place to walk around, but it’s no less a part of our city than the Upper East Side. The thing is that I’m a lazy person by nature so I just photograph the shit that I see. I can’t be bothered to fabricate something that isn’t there for me. I don’t live in Central Park. I live near Jamaica Avenue. I don’t drive down Madison Avenue. I drive down Queens Boulevard. I don’t visit Prospect Park. My travels take me to Nostrand Avenue. So I’ll take my photos in color, but fuck if I’m going to run around taking pictures of a city that, for me, doesn’t exist.

So fuck people, fuck their opinions, and fuck their ideals… because people are fucking twisted and have lost sense of reality, whether it’s the reality of themselves or the reality of their environment. Be honest with yourself and accept the honesty of others. Maybe when we stop being a species of fake Ken and Barbie dolls, we’ll start being human again.

Apparently a really depressing image. | #thirtyfivefuckingmillimeter  © 2018 Michael Jin. All Rights Reserved.

Apparently a really depressing image. | #thirtyfivefuckingmillimeter

© 2018 Michael Jin. All Rights Reserved.

Me and Mother Fucking Nature by Michael Jin

© 2018 Michael Jin

I'm not a morning person. I'm also not really a "nature" person. Don't get me wrong. I heart the environment and all, but I'm generally most comfortable with my feet on pavement and the elements outside some sort of barrier that I can choose to close.

For some stupid reason, I decided to wake up at 5AM to go out and shoot photos. It appears that Mother Nature might be hinting at me to just sleep in and leave photographic the pretty stuff for all of the people that actually appreciate getting up early in the morning to see it.

Anyway, the sunrise shot that I was thinking of wasn't looking like it was going to work so I turned my camera is the other direction and this is pretty much the fruit of my effort. Yeah... Should have stayed in bed.


Lesson of the day: Before you decide to wake up at some ungodly hour to go out and take photos, check a fucking weather app.

Thought of the day: Sunsets and sunrises look the same... maybe I should move to the West Coast...

Struggling with Depression, Anxiety, and Low Self-Esteem as a Photographer by Michael Jin

© 2018 Michael Jin — Ilford HP5+ 35mm Developed in Rodinal 1+50

A while back, my wife asked me why I never submit any of my images to gallery exhibits at my school. I certainly believe that while my work may not "wow" anyone, it doesn't really fall short when compared to the peers that I've had in my photo classes so far. My response was to put on a bit of an arrogant act and say that I felt that it would be a waste of my time (I do actually believe this, but for different reasons.) because I don't care what anyone in school thinks of my work anyway. In truth, however, the bigger reason is that I seriously struggle with low self-esteem and I tend to be my own harshest critic. Couple this with fear of failure or fear of rejection, and the thought of displaying my work for others to see fills me with complete dread. This dread and anxiety is one of the reasons that it took me this long to even create this website for myself and if I'm honest, I feel that it helps to know that nobody is really visiting it.

A while back, I wrote an entry about Impostor Syndrome and it's something that I do suffer from a lot. The fact that I suffer from clinical depression probably doesn't help the cause either because I have a tendency to get stuck in some deep ruts that either hinder or outright derail my efforts at consistently producing work. These are the times I tend to spend on the web endlessly reading articles or tutorials about this or that—all the while lying to myself that I'm just looking for new techniques or inspiration.

© 2018 Michael Jin

For those that suffer from these issues, the grind to be productive is very real. Once I get into the swing of things, it tends to be fine, but building that initial momentum up is incredibly difficult. One thing that I think helps this somewhat is picking up my Nikon FM2n.

I know tons of people talk about how shooting film forces them to slow down or some shit like that. For me, shooting film is not about slowing down so much as it's about being able to shoot and avoid the instant feedback loop. I can shoot a roll of film and develop it a month later. I'm not constantly looking at the back of my LCD screen and scolding myself for producing shit photos while I'm out there. It lets me just enjoy the process without worrying too much about the results. Yeah, the vast majority of them do suck, but I can deal with that when I'm in a better state of mind. For me, it's just building up the routine of going out and pushing frames.

 

© 2018 Michael Jin | Adox CHS 100 II Developed in XTOL 1+0

It could just be shooting random scenes on my commute or walking around my block or something. Regardless of what ends up on the negative, I can definitely say that it helps. Of course while I'm shooting I try to take it seriously, whether it's people standing around waiting for a subway or a random flower in someone's garden. I'm not saying that a person should just go out and waste film just for the sake of wasting it, but just loosen up a little and allow yourself to enjoy the craft without the burden of results. If you can do it with digital, then great. For me, the temptation to look at the back of that LCD is just too great so I turn to film. Besides, the development process really is it's own therapy for me as well.

This was a bit of a ramble on my part, but if there is anyone out there who suffers from depression, anxiety, or low self-esteem, I do encourage you to find a way to change the mentality with which you go out to shoot. It's not like you have to show anyone the results anyway.

For me, I think the next hurdle really will be to create some prints and put them out for people to see—not just people that I know, but complete strangers. I enrolled for Advanced Photography this coming semester and it seems like at least some of the students' work ends up on the bulletin boards in the hallways so it's entirely possible that I might just not have a choice in the matter. Regardless, it would be a nice step to be able to do something like this of my own volition. Maybe I'll enter a photo or two when I see the flyers asking for submissions... How bad can it be, right?

© 2018 Michael Jin | Adox CHS 100 II Developed in XTOL 1+0

Test and Review of the Nikon ES-2 Adapter Set w/ Nikon D850 and Nikon Micro NIKKOR 55mm f/2.8 AI-S Lens on Ferrania P30 by Michael Jin

I came home tonight to find a box from B&H waiting for me. I was very confused at first because I don't recall having ordered anything from them in the past week. Upon opening the box, however, I discovered that my Nikon ES-2 Film Digitizing Adapter Set had finally arrived! I had pre-ordered this thing a while ago! What a pleasant surprise!

Before I go further, however, I would like to bring attention to something.

This is the box right after opening.

This is the box right after opening.

This is the box with all of that air shit removed...

This is the box with all of that air shit removed...

What. The. Fuck?

Anyway, without getting into a whole thing about unnecessarily large packages, the contents are pretty straight forward. There is the ES-2 Adapter itself, which serves to hold the film carrier in place in front of your lens with a piece of plastic on the opposite side to diffuse any light so that you get even illumination.

The ES-2 Adapter can also telescope back and forth, allowing you to adjust the distance of the negative carrier to your lens. This is a pretty important feature as it lets you essentially set your lens to focus for 1:1 reproduction and then adjust your adapter itself to come into proper focus. The ES-2 Adapter has a 52mm thread diameter, meaning that it will mount directly onto any vintage Nikon macro lens that has a 52mm filter thread such as the Nikon Micro NIKKOR 55mm f/2.8 AI-S which I intended to use.

In the box are also two adapters that convert that 52mm thread to 62mm in order to mount onto Nikon's newer 60mm lenses. Depending on which version of the 60mm lens you own, you will have to use the corresponding adapter due to the different minimum focusing distances. There are also two negative carriers. One is a two-slot carrier for 35mm slides, which I will not be testing as I do not have any slides and the other is a 6-slot carrier for 35mm negative strips.

 

This is pretty much everything that comes in the box minus the bubble wrap.

This is pretty much everything that comes in the box minus the bubble wrap.

One thing that doesn't come in the box, quite obviously, is a light source. You have to provide that yourself. I've seen some people use flashes, but I prefer the continuous light of a light pad or light box. Since I was already set up for digitizing negatives, I decided to use the light pad that I already owned.

Here is the set-up I used. Basically a  copy stand  and a  light pad . You don't actually need either of these things, but I used them just because I happen to have them.

Here is the set-up I used. Basically a copy stand and a light pad. You don't actually need either of these things, but I used them just because I happen to have them.

As I mentioned before, the lens that I own is a Nikon Micro NIKKOR 55mm f/2.8 AI-S. It's a pretty old manual focus lens, but when it comes to macro photography manual focus is just fine more often than not and the optics of the lens seem fine so I didn't feel a need to upgrade. The only real weakness of using this lens or any other of Nikon's 55mm lenses is the fact that the maximum reproduction ratio is 1:2 so I used a Nikon PK-13 extension tube to allow the lens to reach a 1:1 reproduction ratio.

After initially attaching the adapter directly to the lens, I felt that it needed a little more distance so I also added a Nikon K4 extension between the lens and the ES-2 adapter to make the whole thing work to my satisfaction. Enough about the setup, though. It's results that you really want to see, right?

Since I wanted to test not only the adapter, but really put the old Nikon lens to the test on my Nikon D850’s sensor, I decided to use some Ferrania P30 film that I developed in Kodak HC-110 (Dilution B). It's about the finest grain film that I have that isn't Ilford Pan F+, but I couldn't find an image taken on Pan F+ that I was willing to put out into public for this review. I will go take some later, but for now, Ferrania P30 will have to suffice. I also decided to do two tests. The first test was with the Nikon D850's built-in "Digitizing" function, which automatically spits out a JPEG image and the second test was to take a straight RAW shot and process it in Adobe Lightroom.

Without further ado, here are the results.

Image straight out of the D850 using the built-in "Digitizing Mode"

Image processed from RAW file taken with the D850

So obviously there are some stylistic differences right off the bat, but I can say that I'm not incredibly fond of Nikon's built-in "Negative Digitizer” Mode both in the fact that you can only get a JPEG from it—they should have very least allowed it to produce TIFF files—and the fact that it seems to produce a very flat image out of camera that most people will probably want to process in some manner. Doing so with a lossy JPEG format, however, will result in degradation of quality so I would highly recommend that you just ignore the automatic function on the D850 (at least for black and white film) and shoot RAW to process the images to your own tastes.

Obviously, the files on Squarespace are compressed and won't do justice here so below are the full files that you can examine yourself. I've provided both JPEG files, the NEF file from the D850, and also a DNG file for those of you who might not be able to process D850 NEF files. You can fiddle with the files as you please, examine them as you please, and draw your own conclusions.

JPEG from Nikon D850 "Negative Digitizer" Mode

JPEG processed from RAW file.

NEF from the Nikon D850

DNG File converted from Nikon D850 NEF via Adobe Lightroom

 

Conclusion

In truth, the Nikon ES-2 adapter is just a thing that goes in front of a lens. It has no intrinsic ability to do anything nor is there anything that would suggest that it is only compatible with Nikon cameras. Theoretically, with the right combination of adapters and extension tubes, anyone with a macro lens should be able to use this with any camera system.

Obviously doing so will require you to shoot in RAW and process the files manually, but I believe this will lead to the best results anyway as I found nothing special about the Nikon D850's built-in "Negative Digitizer” Mode that would warrant going out and purchasing a D850 just to use this adapter.

The quality of the resulting file will be entirely dependent on your camera's megapixel count, its dynamic range, and your lens's ability to resolve detail so in this sense, I would try to use a high megapixel camera and the best optics possible to get the most out of this system.

All in all, the ES-2 is pretty well designed and it makes digitizing 35mm film so much easier and quicker than scanning or using a DIY solution. Is it worth the price? I guess it depends on how much film you have to digitize and how much the convenience of the ES-2 is worth to you.

As for the lens, I think that the old 55mm f/2.8 AIS performed pretty admirably and I'm not really sure if the newer 60mm G-series lens would have resolved more. Given the price difference between the two lenses, I would say save yourself a couple hundred bucks and pick up the older lens, but that's just me.

I hope this little test and the files above will help you in making a decision as to whether the ES-2 is right for you. I wish I could have done it with a more modern lens and also tested some slides, but I guess I'll have to leave that to other people who have these things.


*UPDATE 07/24/2018

I got around to doing a quick test on Ilford Pan F+ that was developed in Rodinal 1+50. I wanted to not only test the ability to resolve granular detail, but since this was an exposure with a good amount of dynamic range, I thought I'd also do a 9-Exposure HDR capture of the negative.

JPEG (D850 In-Camera Conversion)

Original NEF File from D850

DNG File from D850 (Converted in Lightroom after Tone Curve Inversion)

9-Exposure HDR DNG File from D850 (Exported after Tone Curve Inversion)


*UPDATE 08/19/2018

Since the last two files were from fairly high contrast negatives, I'm adding a DNG file from something with more subtle tonal values. This is Adox CHS II 100 developed in Kodak XTOL (Stock).

DNG File from D850 (Converted in Lightroom after Tone Curve Inversion)

Enjoy!

What If I Have Nothing To Say With My Photography? by Michael Jin

© 2018 Michael Jin. All Rights Reserved.

I was recently listening to Episode #1096 of LensWork Podcast and the host, Brooks Jensen mentioned someone that he knew that had poured so much of his life mastering the craft of taking photos and turning them into beautiful prints. Mind you, this was back in the days of the wet darkroom where creating a print wasn't just a matter of hitting CTRL+P (or CMD+P for you Mac users out there) after doing some edits in Lightroom or Photoshop.

As someone that is still in the early stages of learning how to print in the wet darkroom, I can relate to the frustrations of trying to produce amazing prints. Not only is there a mountain of knowledge to absorb about the different films, papers, chemicals, temperatures, interactions, etc. but there's the physical component that you simply do not have in digital photography. Once you have done all of the tests and determined that you need to expose your paper for 20 seconds, the game is on the moment you hit that timer switch and you need the dexterity and coordination to perform all of your dodges within those 20 seconds. Once you've determined your burning times after that, you need to hit that light and be able to skillfully maneuver your burn cards to hit the areas you want for the duration you want without fucking up the rest of the image that you've gone out of your way to properly expose. Quite frankly, for something that suffers from anxiety such as myself (and takes medication for it), it's pretty stressful because one point of failure can mean that you've just wasted time, paper, and chemistry. There is no UNDO button or History Module that you can go back to. A fuck up effectively means nearly starting over from scratch. Then after all that, you get to developing the paper in the chemistry and I'm sure you can image that's another beast to wrestle with. I think a large part of why I am able to do it is simply because I am, by nature, not a super particular person and for my personal work that I don't intend for others' eyes, I'm OK with a print that isn't meticulously worked to perfection.

As I was listening to Brooks talk about this person—let's just call him Bob—I could empathize with the struggle and what it must feel like to finally master the entire craft to the point where one could produce a pre-visualized result on a consistent basis. Then came the big hit out of nowhere. Brooks talked about how once Bob got to this phase in life, he (Bob) just quit photography completely...

WHAT!? Are you fucking kidding me? That should be where you photography BEGINS, not where it ENDS! Up until that point, you're just dicking around doing the best that you can and trying to get the best results that you can, but isn't it precisely when the barrier of technical mastery is no longer a limitation that you ought to be free to finally bring your vision to life? I guess Brooks felt the way I did upon hearing this and asked Bob why he would choose that point to quit. Bob's response struck me in a way that simply froze me up. Paraphrasing just wouldn't do it justice so I replayed the episode to transcribe this part of the podcast exactly:

"... and I asked him why he had walked away from this craft that he had so exquisitely developed, and he explained to me quite simply that after he had established the skills and the ability to make a print pretty much at will, he realized that he had nothing to say and therefore all of that technological challenge was meaningless..."

FUCK... That's the word that immediately came to my mind. You see, I have a tendency to get so caught up in everything else about photography that I tend to pay little mind to WHY it is I do what I do and WHAT it is that I'm trying to put out into the world. Sure, I have my personal projects that I'm working on and on some level, they do feel a bit contrived if I'm to be honest. Of my projects, the one about Queens is definitely the one that's closest to my heart, but more than anything, my personal projects exist to give me focus as I'm developing my craft rather than serve as something that I feel is contributing to the world in a meaningful way. It has become so easy to walk around searching for interesting scenes, getting lost in the little details of my projects, culling photos, learning new techniques, and buying more books on photography to glean more information from. In short, the complex nature of the craft makes it extremely easy to take a myopic view, focusing on all of the little details, while completely ignoring the greater picture and the question of purpose.

What does my photography say? What do I intend for it to say? What if, after all of this, I find that I have nothing meaningful to say through my photographs? I won't go so far as to say that it has all been meaningless because I am obviously deriving some joy and therapeutic benefits from practicing it. At the same time, however, I do have this desire to create things that speak to people—not in a manipulative way, but in a way that conveys honesty and truth. I'm not sure how capable I am of saying something that hasn't been said a million times before, but I feel that there must be something about my unique human experience that can edify the global discussion in some manner.

Maybe some of this is my own frustration with myself from dealing with depression and whatever the photographer's version of "writer's block" may be. Despite living in one of the great cities of the world—a city that's ever changing and host to millions of untold stories—I have just been very confused and uninspired as of late. I'm still pushing frames, but I haven't felt that spark of excitement when I feel like I've captured something truly special or something that speaks to me. If feels really wrong to be able to live here and struggle like this to find that spark of inspiration. I guess why this story hit me pretty hard. Maybe my inability to find something to say in the midst of all of this is just evidence that I just don't have anything within me worth sharing.

For now, it's something I'm working through and there's at least the continued journey toward mastering the technical elements of the craft that can serve as a motivator while I ruminate on this greater question. I'm hoping to add more photos to the projects on the website by summer's end and I'll also be looking to replace a few of them with what I hope will be stronger images. In the meantime, thanks to the few of you that have seen the website and had encouraging words, it means a lot to me.

Why I Traded In My Zeiss Milvus 50mm f/1.4 by Michael Jin

© 2017 Michael Jin. All Rights Reserved.

The Zeiss Milvus 50mm f/1.4 is an absolutely superb lens. For those of you who follow this stuff, it was one of the two lenses that received a new optical design when Zeiss migrated from their now CLASSIC series to their current MILVUS series. For many, it is a lens that they aspire to one day own due to its solid build, sleek design, razor sharp rendition even wide open, and bokeh that completely obliterated backgrounds. I will grant that I've yet to experience any of Zeiss's OTUS series lenses, but the Milvus 50mm f/1.4 was flat out THE BEST NORMAL FOCAL LENGTH LENS THAT I HAVE EVER USED. With very little distortion and vignetting, its rendition of scenes was absolutely clinical in every way imaginable.

I remember the day I ordered the lens. I can't say that I was the proud first owner of it, but whoever owned it and sold it to KEH took good care of it and it looked absolutely mint the day it arrived. I remember attaching it to my Nikon D810 and having my jaw drop at the files it produced. Sure, manually focusing with a DSLR was a complete bitch, but when I was able to slow things down, it made for some fantastic imagery. I even attached it my Nikon FM2n and gleefully pushed frame after frame of film using a lens that was sharper than anything available back in the days when 35mm film was commonplace.

© 2018 Michael Jin. All Rights Reserved.

But alas, as time went by and the novelty wore off, I found myself leaving the lens at home more often than not. First of all, it was pretty heavy and added a bunch of weight to my bag. Secondly, while the size of it felt right on my D810 and my later Nikon D850, it felt awkward on my FM2n. This might have been mitigated somewhat if I purchased an F2AS or F3HP, which are larger bodies, but the FM2n is what I had and it just felt strange attaching this lens to this camera. I suppose the biggest reason I stopped taking it out, however, is that the lens was just "too perfect" in a way.

This might sound incredibly stupid, but bear with me. Sharp, accurate, and clinical are certainly very good qualities for any lens and the Milvus 50mm f/1.4 checks all the boxes. The problem for me is that it's pretty rare that I'm looking for really clinical rendering out of a 50mm lens. Certainly for my wider lenses that I might use real estate, I want as sharp, accurate, and clinical as possible, but for standard focal lengths and telephoto lenses, I've come to focus more on interesting (maybe "painterly) aesthetics. In this regard, the Milvus 50mm f/1.4 becomes a pretty boring lens to use. Don't get me wrong, I'm not obsessed with swirly bokeh, soap bubble bokeh, or similar gimmicks (I have already gone through that phase and have since traded in my Helios 44M and Helios 40-2). Honestly, I'm not sure how to describe what it is that I'm looking for in a lens, but I definitely know it when I see it and the Milvus 50mm f/1.4 simply wasn't cutting it for me, which discouraged me from carrying it around even more than the weight of the lens. In a sick twist, I ended up actually purchasing a NIKKOR 50mm f/1.4 AIS which I started using far more than the modern Zeiss lens.

I'll never say that the old NIKKOR lens is better than the Zeiss—at least not in any quantifiable aspect. The decision to finally part with the Zeiss lens was a difficult one for me because it defied all logic that I should let go of one of the finest lenses that I've ever had the pleasure of using, much less owning. In the end, however, I decided that a lens sitting in my cabinet would be better served going to someone that is actually going to use it and the money I get for it better served by purchasing something that I will be more encouraged to carry around at this stage in my photographic development.

After some long nights of reflection, I finally made the trip to Adorama today, traded in the Zeiss Milvus 50mm f/1.4 and picked up a Voigtlander 58mm f/1.4 Nokton SL II S. It's a lens that I've been looking at for a while now and I've seen many photos taken with it. While it may not be as technically competent as the Milvus, it is smaller, lighter, and most importantly, I find the way that it renders scenes to be more to my personal aesthetic tastes. Coming back home and attaching the lens to my D850, I can say that I'm definitely pleased with how things have turned out and I'm looking forward to using this lens for a long time.

If there's a take-away that I've learned from all of this, it is that expensive gear is not always the best nor is it necessarily going to provide the qualities that you're looking for. I dreamed about owning Zeiss lenses for so long and even now, I still have several Zeiss lenses on my Amazon Wishlist, but more important that the cost of a lens, its stature, or ratings, is whether you are personally happy with it. 

Photograph Mundane Things by Michael Jin

© 2018 Michael Jin

In photography, there's a constant temptation to look for the fantastic. We search for unique features, interesting compositions, juxtapositions, or notable events in hopes that it will create visual interest to draw the viewer in. While I don't discount the value of these principals in creating interesting images, I also believe that the constant search for these things can, at times, give us tunnel vision where we stop observing the otherwise mundane world.

At some point last year, I went out to take photos near my house and I took a photo of some graffiti on the wall.

© 2017 Michael Jin

It wasn't anything fancy—a throwaway shot, really. I was just pushing frames and wasting film. I didn't give any real thought to composition or anything else when I took it and frankly, I forgot that I had taken it for some time. There was nothing particularly special or notable about it since I walk by graffiti everyday and as you can see, we're not exactly talking about a Banksy here.

One day, however, I noticed that it was gone. Someone had put a fresh coat of paint over it to cover the graffiti, as happens so often in this city. I drive by this wall on my way home from work everyday and I cannot for the life of me tell you how long after the wall was painted that I finally noticed that this graffiti was gone.

It's so easy to get so focused on finding the different that we lose sight of the familiar. When we get on the bus, we put our heads down into our phone or close our eyes to sleep. When we leave the house, we just walk right by all of the perfectly ordinary scenery with nary a thought about it. On some level, however, that scenery is constantly in flux. On a smaller scale, it's a bit of graffiti being erased from a wall. On a larger scale, it's the gradual transformation of neighborhoods.

Take a moment once in a while to look around and occasionally photograph the mundane things because before you know it, they might not be there to capture anymore. The bit of graffiti that I took a photo of that day is gone, but it still exists on a film strip in my negative binder serving as a visual document of a tiny piece of my neighborhood's history.