An alarm goes off.
It’s not the first one on this particular morning, more than a dozen calls to action have been ignored and the recipient is showing no signs of completing the task at hand. Grumpy, under-caffeinated and very behind on his daily obligations, a late twenty-something stubbornly rises to his feet half an hour later and the challenge is on: 10 minutes to get out of the house and on his way.
Annnnnd GO.
But not so fast! The first hurdle has presented itself as a work uniform scattered across the universe in a manner that would intrigue Goku himself. The timer ticks on past the 4 minute mark as the last of those puzzle pieces fit into place. A stomach growl raises the question of breakfast during the second scramble to find the contents of newly acquired pockets, but is quickly shot down. 8 minutes: on time for goodbyes. 9 minutes: Am I forgetting anything? Phone, Pen, Knife, Wallet, Flashlight, Keys, Laptop. Check.
Oh, right. The other thing: Which camera do I take with me?
The audience gasps! This is a roadblock no one could see coming at the end of a near perfect routine. There’s greater than two dozen options to consider with mere seconds on the clock. With a smirk I remind everyone that this is the easiest part of the morning. I grab my Minolta X-700 and head out to the car.
My reintroduction to film photography as an adult began with a Pentax K1000 and a Canon AE-1 Program. Both of which are outstanding SLRs that I absolutely love. But therein lies the problem, both were a gift with sentimental value. This is not to say that these cameras will never be used, but the idea of taking highly cherished vintage cameras on long trips, through security checkpoints, or adventures to destinations of uncertain weather conditions did not sit well with me. I would not feel great about throwing Mom’s Pentax in a backpack and hiking rocky terrain. So the problem arose quickly when I got into film, what do I buy as a utilitarian camera for every day carry duties?
If you have experienced this yourself, or if you read my post A Beginner’s Guide to Choosing Your First 35mm SLR and Why It Should Be The Nikon FM, you understand the market is vast and choices are not easy for a new shooter. Nonetheless the hunt for my first SLR purchase began, a few options in a price range I was comfortable with were saved and sellers were contacted.
An older gentleman was the first to respond. His item was a vaguely described 35mm film camera called a Minolta X-700 listed with several lenses and a flash for $60. Considering photography wasn’t my first choice passion during my adolescence while Minolta was actually relevant, I had no idea what quality of camera I was about to purchase, but had heard a few good words about the X-700 so I set up a meeting. What the hell, it’s only $60.
A short trip after work found me at this gentleman’s door step, who was waiting with a medium sized black bag. Under the dim light of his front porch he briefly explained the top few items of the bag in between talking about photography itself. He even threw in two 35mm point and shoot cameras. Seems legit. Shortly after, I was home and tore into the bag on my desk to find the X-700 body, 6 lenses, 3 teleconverters, a flash, motor drive, Pentax UC-1 and a Nikon L35AF2, all in working order (save for the motor drive, everyone forgets the batteries in those for decades). Wow, not too shabby.
Initial inspection of the camera’s body seemed lackluster. My first two SLRs were mostly of metal construction with a weighted feel that shouted vintage quality from the rooftops, but the X-700 was mostly plastic. The frame advance lever didn’t have the same pleasing mechanical stroke as the others, the dials were plastic as well with mildly dull incremental points. And the rewind lever! Again, plastic, felt as though I could snap it off without knowingly doing so at any moment and the mounting doubt made me consider possibly reselling. But before I could do that I gave it a shot and popped a roll of film in it. I’m here, it’s here, why not try it out.
(This is important because of the chain reaction it would later cause, but that’s yet another story for yet another time)
The first choice out of my new MD mount arsenal was a Sigma 28mm f/2.8 Macro. Both of my previous SLRs had been clad with 50mm primes, standard wide at full frame, so to finally have a 28mm was exciting. It’s mid-week which means day job obligations so I can’t get away to shoot anything cool. Looks like it’s first day on the job will be exactly for what I bought it for, and in the carry case it goes. The next morning I take a few test shots of the sunrise on my way down the stairs. Simple enough: point, meter, shoot. Hmm. I get out to the car and toss it lightly on the passenger seat.
My commute always wowed me at that time of the morning. Massachusetts is truly a beautiful state and I always meant to stop for photos along the way but never had the time. But now I had an SLR with automated modes that I didn’t have to baby, which meant less time setting up shots and more time actually commuting because I’m late a heckin’ lot, friend. Of course I could have stopped with my iPhone like any Instagram photographer, but the allure wasn’t there.
Twenty minutes into Minolta & Chill and I’m starting to catch feelings for this plastic camera.
Part of the long drought I had with digital photography came from the stress of shooting for perfection. I had to dial in settings myself. I would not rely on Shutter, Aperture or Program modes. Which is a big mistake among new photographers. So as a result I speak fluent Manual Mode at the cost of a less desirable experience. But film encompasses a rebellion for me, to let go of how I thought about my approach before and to put FUN as a priority. I’m a punny guy, I know.
The X-700 was fun, and very pleasant to use. It fits in my hand quite well, lens changes are smooth, the viewfinder is bright and the LED light meter is a great improvement over the matchstick style I learned on. Every function is exactly where I would expect it to be. All of this makes for a great shooting experience, where I don’t have to come out of my element for minor adjustments. Keeping your head in the right place creatively is important.
Although this might be a collectors item for some, the remaining factor to this experience is that it was purchased as a tool and I had nearly written it off upon delivery. So all the worry of keeping it pristine was lifted from my shoulders. Minolta sold a metric shit ton of these cameras, so they can be found rather inexpensively just about everywhere. If I broke it I wouldn’t be killing off an endangered species and I myself wouldn’t be destroyed over it. Yeah it felt cheaper than my 70’s cameras, but the snap of the shutter was catchy the way a radio tune you hated secretly becomes your guilty pleasure. I was beginning to use it the way it was designed, as an amateur camera with pro-level features. Which was, in fact, why I even bought it in the first place. Funny how you can get so caught up in doing something that you don’t realize you’ve done it quite well.
Soon the build quality was irrelevant, like when a younger sibling finally gets old enough to be cool. Every frame advance thereafter brought me closer to understanding the hype behind the X-700, and by the end of the roll, despite my initial criticisms it became a permanent part of my collection. And even now after all the other purchases, it’s still the first one I reach for when I leave the house.
-S