Looking at the latest crop of advanced cameras from the big makers, festooned as they are with buttons, dials, and multi-coloured menus, I can't help but feel a certain pining for the good old days of unencumbered simplicity. Of course, I use the word, "unencumbered," purposefully here. When one considers the camera, one cannot lose sight of the goal: to produce excellent photos. In holding to this goal, we must ask, what factors need to be considered in the pursuit of that result? From the photographer's point of view, things like composition, framing, point of view, shooting angle, subject matter, and balance within the frame are omnipresent considerations. That is the art of photography. The science is really pretty simple, how to get the right amount of light into the camera in the right way to capture the desired image (not including gathering and focusing the light, which is the job of the lens, and is beyond the scope of this article).
There are essentially three ways to control the amount of light that enters a camera: 1) shutter speed; 2) aperture, and; 3) ISO sensitivity. If you're using a flash, add to this some options to control flash power, flash groups, etc., but it’s those first three variables that really count, controlling the amount of light that impacts the film or the sensor housed within. That’s it!
Accessing these essential controls on your camera should be as seamless and natural as operating a car. In fact, this is a good analogy given that we are dealing with essentially the same number of primary inputs: three. In the case of an automobile these are steering, braking and acceleration as provided by the steering wheel, brakes and accelerator. Like a camera, the car will have all manner of optional extras such as a radio or stereo system, air-conditioning and electronic windows that make it more desirable, but none of these are essential, and more importantly, none of them can in any way compromise access to steering, brakes and acceleration or the car will be an unmitigated failure.
Modern cameras come with extras that often make a luxury car seem under specked. GPS, electronic filters, face detection, and anti-shake facilities to name a few. But unlike a good car, it would seem that designers sometimes put so much emphasis on these “extras” that the essential controls, aperture, shutter speed and ISO, get submerged. When this happens, the camera becomes more difficult to control in day to day use, and begins to “get in the way of the photograph” as it were.
Perhaps camera designers need to start at the right place, with the essential inputs, and then add the extras. A number of years ago, I imagined a camera design with three prominent wheels, one for each of those essential controls. No need for a top mounted LCD panel, no need for a complicated menu system. Everything controlled from those three wheels. It really isn’t radical thinking, there already exist good examples from the past for this approach.
In the heyday of the single lens reflex camera, when film was still king, in the 1970s and 1980s, the aperture ring almost always fell naturally to hand no matter what the make or model, because it was where one would expect to find it, on the lens. The aperture is, after all, a function of the lens. The shutter speed dial was similarly well positioned, on the camera body, which contained the focal plane shutter, characteristic of the SLR type. The dial for this usually also included the ability to adjust ISO (ASA/DIN). Although the positioning of these inputs wasn't exactly the same on every camera, Olympus OM cameras for instance, placed the shutter speed dial on the camera body at the base of the lens rather than on the top plate, they were always easily accessible and obvious to the user. Once you became comfortable with your particular camera, changing shutter speed and aperture could be easily managed without even removing your eye from the viewfinder. A simple match needle light meter, inside the finder, ensured that your adjustments didn’t result in over or under-exposed images. In short, the designers were producing elegant tools that worked as intuitively as a good automobile. Today, such obvious placement of the primary inputs seems to be the exception rather than the rule.
Another thing that has changed over the years is the sense of value that one used to expect from something as personal as a camera. Nikon, Canon, Minolta, Pentax and Olympus, among others, all produced reliable metal bodied masterpieces that also felt solid. The same could be said for the lenses. Slapping down $500.00 for a good camera was never all that easy, but you always felt as if your hard earned money was being exchanged for something solid and lasting.
Today, while cameras are more advanced in terms of electronics, which are often intrinsically reliable, the camera bodies and lens barrels often feel cheap and toy like compared to their predecessors. This impression is furthered by the plethora of plastic buttons, and dials which may have only dubious relevance to the primary inputs described earlier. Most perplexing of all, while SLRs in the 1970s and 1980s were often mechanical masterpieces with hundreds of widgets, pins, springs, gears and oddly shaped stainless rods or arms held together by miniscule screws, the complete camera was often smaller than modern dSLRs whose internal workings are almost entirely electronic.
Consider the Nikon FM and FE, the Canon AE-1 and A-1, the Minolta SRT-201 and X-700, Pentax ME and MX. They were all solid representatives of an age when the camera was a truly valued acquisition. Also consider the Olympus OM-1 and OM-2, in my opinion, the pinnacle of design in single lens reflex cameras. If you have any doubt, find one in a used camera store and hold it for a few moments. Incomparable!
Fortunately, after years of plastic cameras, it looks as if the industry is beginning to learn. Fujifilm’s success with the Finepix X100 has certainly not gone unnoticed. Here we have a camera that in all but technology could have been created in 1978. Form, as a product of function, may be on its way back. Likewise Sony’s newly announced NX-7, and Samsung’s NEX-200 seem to be getting back to a more minimalist formula where solid build, access to basic inputs and compact design are once more being considered. I was especially pleased to see Sony adapt a dual control wheel design on the body of the NX-7 that suggests a more careful analysis of the camera as an extension of the photographer. Hopefully, there will be more of the same to follow from all of the major manufacturers.
In my opinion, big sensor, sturdy construction, simple controls, exceptional image quality, and compact form factor is the formula that makers should be leaning towards. Pentax was certainly on the right track with its K-3 and K-5 designs. Unfortunately, most cameras seem to offer only part of this formula in any one package. Walks through the local big box store, especially past the camera counter, fill me with dread. Picking up the latest consumer dSLRs or super zoom is a regular disappointment. Their incredibly light plastic designs, especially their featherweight lenses, scream disposable! It's not the impression one wants from any consumer device costing more than a couple hundred dollars, and it certainly wouldn't have sufficed for any of the serious brands of the past. Even many entry level SLRs in the 70's felt impressive. The K1000 from Pentax is a case in point. It was notoriously robust, a first choice for art school and photography students, and often used continuously for decades after. Surely this is the better approach, especially in an age when we are supposed to be more, rather than less, environmentally aware.
A good camera should function like an extension of the photographer. It should speak care in design and strength in execution. It should be a product that one keeps, not only because it works well, but because it has become a friend. Ultimately, I think this is what people want.
