Zhao Zhenguo, Author at i35mm

Konica Recorder: The Camera That Whispers to Time

The Joy of Imperfection

In an age where cameras sprint after specs like greyhounds chasing robot rabbits—panting for more megapixels, more frames per second—the Konica Recorder lounges in the corner, unimpressed. It’s a dog-eared paperback, slightly yellowed, sitting smugly amid a library of glossy 4K e-readers who whisper, “Upgrade me.”

This 1984 relic, half plastic, half metal—a haiku interrupted by a hiccup—weighs less than a barista’s latte spoon (390g). It costs about as much as a week’s worth of avocado toast (180–180–220 in 2025 USD), which is to say: not much, unless you’re the toast.

It doesn’t strut around promising perfection, doesn’t care for your Instagram likes. Instead, it offers a shrug and a truth: “To record life, let the light sneak in through the cracks—neatness is overrated, darling.”

Design: The Art of Casual Elegance

Unapologetic Plastic: Not Leica’s cold brass, but the warm texture of a kindergarten’s well-loved building blocks. The slide-open lens cover clicks like a librarian’s favorite stamp—functional, nostalgic, irreplaceable.
Battery Zen: Two AAs hum where others demand boutique cells. A fifth of its body is power storage—fitting for a camera that outlasts trends like mountains outlast rain.
Hexanon Soul: The lens hides Konica’s secret—optical clarity sharper than a Parisian’s wit, yet gentler than dawn light through lace curtains.

The Zeiss Jena 35mm f2.4: Shadows That Play – A Vintage Lens Adventure

I shot a utility pole once, stabbing up into a blue sky so loud it practically buzzed. My Zeiss Jena 35mm f2.4 did the work—a scrappy little lens, older than my best boots, with a vignette that sneaks into the corners like a cat curling up for a nap. It’s not perfect. It’s better than that.

This thing’s a DDR relic, a Flektogon design with a heart sharp at f2.4 and edges that soften like a half-remembered song. At 35mm, it’s your go-to for wandering—wide enough to catch the world, tight enough to keep it personal. Slap it on a mirrorless body (you can snag one for under $200), and it loves a bright day, painting colors bold and true. That blue sky? The vignette showed up uninvited, darkening the frame’s rim, nudging my eye to the pole’s rough spine. I tried wiping it out in Lightroom—sky all flat and bright, pole like a textbook sketch. Clean, sure, but dull as dishwater. The shadow had been doing the heavy lifting, giving the shot a little swagger, a little depth. I let it stay, but dialed the shadow back—not all the way, just enough.

Then there’s this other shot: a winter tree, naked as a promise, with a bird’s nest perched like a secret. Same lens, same f2.4. The vignette crept in again, but here it felt like a bully—squashing the air, crowding the nest till it looked trapped. I ditched it in post, and bam—the sky stretched wide, pale and chilly, letting the branches breathe. The nest popped, fragile against the sprawl. No shadow needed.

Here’s the trick: this lens doesn’t shove vignette down your throat. It’s loudest under a blue blaze—light hits the glass hard, and the edges duck out. On a gray day, or stopped down to f5.6, it’s more a murmur than a shout. You decide when it plays. Wide open at f2.4, it’s got that creamy falloff; crank it tighter, and it behaves.

The Zeiss Jena 35mm f2.4 isn’t for the pixel-polish crowd—grab a Sigma Art or Zeiss Milvus if that’s your game. It’s for tinkerers, the ones who’d rather dance with a quirk than iron it flat. Pole got the shadow. Nest got the sky. Both got the shot.

Black-and-White Photographers

Photographers in this world always see things differently. But those who embrace black-and-white photography are, without question, set further apart.

In this world, some people don’t understand black-and-white photography and can’t grasp how to capture it. Others understand it but lack the courage to explore its depths.

White Balance: The Soul of Light in RAW Photography

On the left is in JPG format, and on the right is in RAW format.

Light carries its own fingerprints. Morning sun etches cool silver into shadows, while dusk dips everything in amber—yet cameras often misinterpret these whispers. This is where RAW files grant us grace. Like a painter’s palette holding pure pigments, they preserve light’s true temperament, letting you redefine “neutral” with a click. Adjusting white balance isn’t merely fixing colors; it’s resurrecting the moment’s essence—the golden-hour glow on a dog’s fur, not the camera’s clumsy guesswork.

Consider this winter riverscape: afternoon sun dancing on steel-blue currents, bare birch branches stretching skyward like nature’s calligraphy. An uncorrected RAW might render the scene lifeless—water as artificial turquoise, trees as ashen skeletons. But shift the white balance, and watch the river reclaim its mineral depth, birch bark warm into honeyed textures, while the slender path beneath reveals its earthy russet tones, as if the land itself sighed in relief.

Or consider the white rabbit—its fur initially rendered as chalky monotony. With calibrated warmth, subtle shadows emerge between strands, transforming a flat silhouette into a creature you might feel stirring. The magic lies not in saturation, but in restoring light’s gentle gradients.

Even dawn’s first blush suffers in JPG’s haste. That rooftop sunrise, raw and uncorrected, might reduce the sun to a faded blood orange. But tease the white balance, and watch it ignite—a molten sphere bleeding crimson into the urban silhouette, its rays now textured like rippling silk.

And in humble moments: a cabbage cradled in hands under cool light. The JPG’s bluish cast turns its leaves to washed-out jade, flattening veins and folds. Yet in RAW, a nudge of warmth coaxes out its verdant truth—crinkled leaves regain their crisp topography, dew drops catching sunlight like liquid emeralds.

JPGs lock light in a rushed interpretation, like a scribbled note. RAW, however, keeps the conversation open. Whether you seek the crisp truth of midday or the warmth the scene deserved, white balance becomes your quiet dialogue with light itself—a chance to honor how the world felt, not just how the sensor saw it.

These images were taken with Sony A7s and Contax 40mm-80mm f3.5.

Sony Alpha DSLR-A300 Review: Finding Joy in Photography’s Simple Pleasures——A Relic That Reminds Us Why We Shoot

Happiness over Heroics

Photography, at its core, is about capturing joy – not chasing mythical “masterpieces”. Let’s face it: becoming the next Henri Cartier-Bresson requires more luck than skill, and an obsession with gear elitism robs the craft of its magic. True fulfillment lies not in mocking the gear choices of others, but in the thrill of creation itself.

Enter the Sony A300: a humble, outdated APS-C CCD warrior that proves you don’t need a Leica-level budget to taste the sweetness of photography. As the mirrorless marvels of 2025 sprint ahead, this 2008 relic whispers a timeless truth-sometimes imperfection has more soul than perfection.

Leica M9 with Yellow Filter: A Monochrome Alchemist’s Guide——Unlocking Analog Soul in a Digital Body

The Yellow Filter Primer

In black-and-white photography, yellow filters are the unsung heroes of contrast. By blocking blue wavelengths (450-495nm) while passing red and green, they transform bland skies into brooding canvases and elevate skin tones to marble purity. For the Leica M9—a CCD-powered time capsule—this analog trickery bridges the gap between digital convenience and darkroom artistry.

Exposure Algebra: Light as Poetry

1. The Golden Rule

Sunny 16 Adjusted: f/16 @ 1/250s → f/16 @ 1/125s (+1 stop)
Blue-Dominant Scenes: Add 1.5 stops (e.g., f/11 @ 1/125s)
Tungsten Lighting: Neutralize orange cast with +0.5 stops

2. M9’s CCD Quirk

The inherent warmth of the Kodak sensor magically combines with yellow filters. Overexpose by 0.3-0.7 stops beyond the calculated values to preserve shadow detail – the CCD’s limited dynamic range demands mercy.

Leica Summicron-M 50mm f/2 v4/v5 Review: The Eternal Classic—Where Walter Mandler’s Legacy Meets Timeless Craftsmanship

The Mandler Miracle

In Leica’s constellation of 50mm lenses, the Summicron-M 50mm f/2 v4 (1979–present) shines as Polaris—unchanging, reliable, and eternally luminous. Designed by the legendary Walter Mandler in 1979 and still in production today, this 240g aluminum oracle blends Bauhaus pragmatism with optical sorcery. Priced at 1,800–1,800–2,500 (used), it’s the “gateway drug” to Leica addiction—and often the final destination.

Voigtländer VM 28mm f/2 Review: The People’s Lux—Where Budget Meets Bauhaus Ambition

The Rebel’s Bargain

In the kingdom of M-mount optics, where Leica’s 28mm f/1.4 ASPH reigns at 6,000+,Voigtla¨nder’sVM28mmf/2emergesastheRobinHoodofrangefinders.This6,000+,Voigtla¨nder’sVM28mmf/2emergesastheRobinHoodofrangefinders.This500 aluminum haiku—crafted by Cosina’s optical samurais—delivers 85% Leica performance at 20% cost. For digital shooters craving f/2 drama without M-Aspherical tax, it’s the ultimate gateway drug to wide-angle addiction.

Leica Elmar 35mm f/3.5 Review: The Pocket-Sized Time Traveler—Where Vintage Minimalism Meets Modern Grit

The Berek Legacy

Born in 1930 under the genius of Max Berek—Leica’s founding optical shaman—the Elmar 35mm f/3.5 is a 30g brass haiku that predates WWII, color film, and the concept of “GAS.” This uncoated Tessar-design relic (1930-1960) proves great photography demands neither megapixels nor f/1.4 bravado. At 400–400–800 (well-loved), it’s a gateway drug to analog purity.

“This is Elmar.”

“This is cookie.”

“This is a Cookie Elmar.”

“You may think I’m small, but I have a big world inside me.”