When Nikon D200 Meets Leica R28mm f/2.8: A CCD Love Story
As housing prices dip, so do DSLR values – and I say that’s a beautiful thing. True photographers never abandon gear just because it’s affordable. Like beer: you don’t dismiss a great lager simply because it’s reasonably priced.
To me, CCD sensors are that frosty-cold craft beer on tap, and street photography? That’s pure jazz.
So when I stumbled upon these streetball players lighting up a neighborhood court, I knew what to do: my Nikon D200 (CCD glory) paired with a manual-focus Leica Elmarit-R 28mm f/2.8 (≈42mm equiv.).
Shot on Standard JPEG straight out of camera.
The results? Crisp. Gritty. Soulful. Like that first sip of a perfectly poured German pilsner.
When Nikon D200 Meets Leica R28mm f/2.8: A CCD Love Storynikon d200 with leica r28mm f2.8
In the world of 35mm photography, I’ve searched high and low for lenses that might replace Leica glass. The truth is, nothing truly does. Leica’s control over highlights and its unique way of rendering backgrounds are irreplaceable. Zeiss can’t do it. Nothing else can.
Secondly, the Nikon AF 50mm f/1.8 (non-D version, made in Japan) is the cream of the crop within the Nifty Fifty lineup.
However, I’ve also realized something else: often, any lens can replace Leica. Because photography isn’t just about a lens’s “character,” nor is it solely about scrutinizing highlights and bokeh. Ultimately, it comes down to content and presentation. This hit me after comparing the Leica Summicron 50mm f/2 and the Nikon 50mm f/1.8 (Japan, non-D). The D version is reportedly good too, but there are whispers that the non-D is better due to slight differences in the glass formulation. I snagged an almost mint, boxed non-D version for about 500 RMB years ago and barely used it. Hearing about its reputation recently is what prompted me to pit it against the Leica.
Sometimes, It’s Even More Pleasing Than Leica
At the same f/2 aperture, and sometimes even without zooming in to 100%, the Nikon gives me an impression of being sharper and cleaner than the Leica. It’s crisp, even wide open at f/1.8 (within 5 meters). But if you keep pixel-peeping, you see the Leica still resolves more fine detail. So, if you’re not scrutinizing huge prints, this 500 RMB Nikon lens can actually look more pleasingly sharp than the Leica.
A weakness of older Leica lenses is that they can get soft when shooting distant subjects wide open, and strong highlights can produce a “glowing halo” effect (“圣光” sheng guang). Even the highly-regarded Summicron isn’t the best choice for distant landscapes wide open. The Nikon Nifty Fifty? Well… it actually holds up better than the Leica at distance…
When Are They Most Similar?
I find that in simple, even lighting – flat, uncomplicated light without high contrast – it’s incredibly hard to tell them apart, both in focus and out of focus. They look like dead ringers. Only in subtle color tonality might seasoned veterans spot the Leica’s characteristically stable and nuanced rendering.
Sometimes the Nikon “Blows It”
Yep, sometimes, for no apparent reason (not metering error), it just blows highlights terribly. This happens roughly once every 300 shots or so – not super frequent. If you’re not comparing directly to Leica, you might just trash that shot and move on. But in a direct comparison, the Leica’s consistency shines through.
Low Light Shows the Real Difference
The legend about Leica excelling in low light? It’s absolutely true. Frankly, many people avoid shooting in dim light because the results are often muddy, dark, and unpleasant. But Leica pulls out distinct layers from the shadows. The transitions between highlights and deep shadows are smoother, richer. Photos taken in these conditions aren’t just viewable; they can be captivating.
It’s Not About the Camera Body
Sure, camera bodies make some difference, but in the digital age, the lens’s impact is far greater. The difference between CCD and CMOS sensors is nothing compared to swapping lenses. While the Nikon Nifty Fifty can sometimes stand in for Leica, it can never fully replace it.
Think of it like the NBA during Yao Ming’s era: If the Leica Summicron 50 was Tracy McGrady, then the Nikon Nifty Fifty would be Bonzi Wells – the super-sub off the bench who could light it up.
Can you guess which lens took the left and right shots?
1. The Pentax KM: A Love Letter to the Anti-Cool Kids
Let’s get real: owning a Pentax is like joining a secret society where the password is “I don’t care what you shoot.” My Pentax KM? It’s a brick-shaped time machine to 2008—a CCD-sensor relic that weighs more than my emotional baggage and smells like nostalgia and stale camera bags.
Is it cutting-edge? No. Does it make my Leica-owning friends sneer? Absolutely. Do I adore it? Like a Labrador loves mud.
pentax km
2. Pentaxians: The Unspoken Brotherhood of Weirdos
Pentax users aren’t photographers. We’re custodians of chaos. We’re the folks who:
Still shoot M42 lenses with duct-taped adapters.
Argue that screw-drive AF is “vintage charm,” not “glacial slowness.”
Own cameras in mustard yellow and call it “aesthetic.”
Fact: If you meet a Pentaxian, befriend them. They’ll remember your name in 20 years. Sony shooters? They’ll forget you before you leave the parking lot.
pentax km
3. The “Pentax Slow” Manifesto
While Nikon and Canon raced to mirrorless, Pentax did… nothing. Gloriously. Predictably. On brand.
2005: Everyone ditches M42 mounts. Pentax: “Hold my vintage Takumar.”
2010: In-lens motors are standard. Pentax: *“Screw-drive AF 4eva!”*
2023: Full-frame mirrorless dominates. Pentax: *“APS-C DSLRs are the future… of 2006.”*
Why? Because Pentax moves at the speed of a sedated sloth. And we love it for that.
pentax km
4. The K-01 Incident: When “Ugly” Became a Flex
In 2012, Pentax released the K-01—a butter-yellow brick designed by Marc Newson. Critics called it “the world’s ugliest camera.” Pentaxians called it “perfect.”
Why? Because it wasn’t trying to be pretty. It was a middle finger to sleek minimalism. A clown car in a world of Ferraris. A camera only a Pentaxian could love.
Lesson: If your gear doesn’t make strangers point and laugh, you’re doing it wrong.
5. Buttons That Teach You Photography (No Degree Required)
The KM’s genius? Its controls are a photography textbook in physical form.
Green Button Magic: Set exposure like a wizard.
Trap Focus: For manual lenses, it’s cheat codes for perfection.
Menu Logic: So intuitive, even your cat could use it.
Meanwhile, Sony menus:“Enter password and retinal scan to change ISO.”
6. That CCD Fairy Dust
The KM’s CCD sensor doesn’t take photos. It bottles sunlight and whispers secrets.
Colors: Like Kodak Gold on antidepressants—warm, fuzzy, and slightly rebellious.
High ISO? Grain like “artistic intent,” not “sensor failure.”
Night Shots: With a tripod? Sharp enough to cut glass. Without? Abstract expressionism.
Fun Fact: My KM’s JPEGs from 2011 still glow brighter than my future.
7. The Vivitar Lens That Shamed My Wallet
Paired with a $20 Vivitar 135mm f/2.8 (bought for “Leica-like focus throw”), the KM became a low-light monster. Tack-sharp? Check. Creamy bokeh? Check. Street cred? Off the charts.
Take that, $2000 G-Masters.
8. Why I (Almost) Betrayed Pentax
I sold my KM for a Sony NEX-5C. I regret it daily. The Sony feels like a spreadsheet. The Pentax? Like a warm hug from your weird uncle.
Proof: Pentaxians don’t upgrade. We mourn.
Final Confession: I Miss My Brick
The Pentax KM taught me:
Loyalty > Megapixels.
Character > Spec Sheets.
Community > Clout.
So here’s to the slow, the stubborn, and the gloriously uncool. To the screw-drive AF and the mustard-yellow K-01s. To the CCD glow that outshines modern sensors.
Pentax isn’t a camera brand. It’s a cult. And I’m drinking the Kool-Aid.
pentax km
The Pentax K-m is a compact, entry-level digital SLR released in September 2008, designed for first-time DSLR users transitioning from point-and-shoot cameras.
Sensor: 10.2-megapixel CCD sensor (same as the K200D, similar to Nikon D60 and Sony A200), delivering rich, film-like colors.
ISO range: 100–3200.
Lenses: Ships with the smc Pentax-DA L 18-55mm f/3.5-5.6 AL and/or smc Pentax-DA L 50-200mm f/4-5.6 ED (lightweight kit lenses). Fully compatible with all Pentax K-mount lenses, including manual lenses with adapters.
Autofocus: 5-point SAFOX VIII AF system with cross-type sensors for accuracy, though simpler than the 11-point system in the K200D. Supports trap focus for manual lenses (more below).
Body: Compact (122.5 x 91.5 x 67.5 mm) and lightweight (525g without battery), with a stainless-steel chassis. No weather sealing, unlike the K200D.
Shutter: 1/4000s to 30s, with a bulb mode. Continuous shooting at 3.5 fps (4 RAW or 5 JPEG buffer).
Viewfinder: 0.85x magnification, 96% coverage. No focus-confirmation points, a minor drawback for manual focusing.
Power: Runs on 4 AA batteries (rechargeable NiMH recommended), offering long life but adding weight compared to lithium-ion competitors.
Let’s settle this debate once and for all—with a mix of history, optics, and a dash of vintage obsession.
The “Afghan Girl” Lens: Myth vs. Reality
The iconic 1984 photograph by Steve McCurry was shot with a Nikon FM2, Nikkor 105mm f/2.5 AI-S lens, and Kodachrome 64 film. This specific AI-S version (released in 1977) features a 5-element/4-group Xenotar-type design, optimized for sharpness, color fidelity, and improved close-range performance with Nikon’s multicoating technology.
But here’s the twist: My beloved Auto-era 105mm f/2.5 (officially AI-converted by Nikon) is not the “Afghan Girl” lens—yet I love it even more.
Why the Auto-to-AI Conversion Matters
In Nikon’s golden era (when Leica was their main rival), Auto lenses were built like tank engines: all-metal construction, buttery focus rings, and optical formulas designed for black-and-white film. However, they lacked compatibility with later Nikon SLRs due to missing aperture indexing (AI).
Nikon’s official AI conversion service (now rare) transformed these classics into hybrid gems:
Mechanical upgrades: Added AI coupling for accurate metering on modern film/digital bodies (like my D700/D800).
Cost efficiency: Back in the day, converted AI lenses cost barely $20–30 more than unmodified Auto versions.
Pure nostalgia: That factory-modified serial number feels like a seal from the Nikon gods.
Auto vs. AI-S: A Tale of Two 105mm Lenses
Let’s break down why my “non-Afghan Girl” Auto-converted lens steals my heart:
1. Optical Soul
Auto (Pre-AI, Sonnar design):
5 elements/3 groups (1959–1971).
Single-coated for softer contrast—perfect for rendering creamy bokeh with a painterly glow.
Lower sharpness at close distances but delivers a “vintage haze” that digital lenses can’t replicate.
AI-S (Xenotar design):
5 elements/4 groups (post-1977).
Multicoated for punchier colors and clinical sharpness (ideal for McCurry’s Kodachrome).
Linear aperture control for seamless shutter-priority modes.
My take: The Auto version’s lower contrast isn’t a flaw—it’s a time machine. Portraits feel like they’re wrapped in 1960s film grain, even when shot digitally.
2. The JPEG Test (Zero Editing)
[Insert your unedited JPEG example here]
Shot wide open at f/2.5, the Auto-converted lens delivers:
Tonal subtlety: Skin tones avoid the “plastic” look of modern lenses.
Bokeh alchemy: Backgrounds melt into watercolor washes, not busy “nervous” swirls.
WB accuracy: Nikon’s vintage coatings handle mixed light like a seasoned film lab technician.
Why Bother with a “Non-Afghan” Lens?
Character over clinical perfection: Modern AI-S/Zeiss lenses are technically superior, but they lack the Auto’s imperfect charm—like preferring a vinyl record’s crackle to a sterile Spotify stream.
DIY history: Using a factory-converted AI lens feels like driving a restomod classic car—vintage soul with modern reliability.
Collector’s thrill: Finding an official Nikon AI-converted lens today is like unearthing a mint-condition first-edition book.
Final Verdict
Is my 105mm f/2.5 the “Afghan Girl” lens? No. Is it better? For my style—yes.
While McCurry needed the AI-S’s precision for Kodachrome’s unforgiving palette, my AI-converted Auto lens gives me something no algorithm can replicate: the joy of shooting through a 60-year-old optical formula, tweaked just enough to dance with digital sensors.
1. Introduction: When “Point-and-Shoot” Meets “Point-and-Giggle”
Let’s get real: the Minox GT-E is the Tamagotchi of film cameras. It’s tiny, it’s plastic, and it’s so delightfully German, you’ll half-expect it to lecture you about efficiency while brewing espresso. Released in the ’90s as Minox’s swan song, this pocket rocket proves that good things do come in small packages—especially if those packages say “Made in Germany” in Comic Sans.
Is it perfect? No. Is it the most charming way to burn through Kodak Gold? Abso-freaking-lutely.
2. Design: “Plastic? More Like Passionate”
Specs:
Weight: 185g (or “lighter than your last Tinder date’s personality”).
Materials: Space-age plastic that somehow feels warmer than a hug from your grandma.
Aesthetic: A soap bar with a lens. A calculator that takes photos. A vibe.
The GT-E’s secret weapon? Ergonomics that’ll make you weep. The grip molds to your hand like it’s been waiting decades to meet you. It’s the only plastic camera that won’t make you mutter, “Should’ve bought a Leica.”
Pro Tip: If your camera doesn’t double as a stress ball, you’re overpaying.
3. Optical Performance: “Zeiss’s Cheeky Cousin”
Specs:
Lens: MC Minoxar 35mm f/2.8 (the “Little Engine That Could”).
Coatings: Multi-coated like a Tesla Cybertruck, with a built-in skylight filter because Germans plan ahead.
Special Sauce: Aperture priority mode that’s smoother than a Berlin techno beat.
Sharpness:
Center: Crisper than a pretzel fresh out of the oven.
Edges: Soft enough to make your photos look like they’re dreaming.
Minox GT-E with Kokak C200
Bokeh:
At f/2.8, backgrounds melt into a watercolor haze that screams, “I’m artistic, but I also do taxes.”
Fun Fact: This lens resolves details like a nosy neighbor—subtle but thorough.
4. The “Anti-G.A.S.” Therapy
The GT-E is photographic methadone for gear addicts. Shoot one roll, and suddenly your eBay cart full of $3,000 Leica M6s feels… silly. Why? Because this plastic wonder delivers 90% of the joy for 1% of the price.
Side Effects May Include:
Sudden disinterest in pixel-peeping.
Urges to actually finish rolls of film.
Grinning like a fool while holding a camera smaller than your phone.
5. Real-World Use: “The Invisible Photographer”
Street Photography: Silent shutter? Check. Discreet size? Check. Ability to disappear into a crowd like a ninja in a tracksuit? Double check.
Late-Night Reading Buddy: Use the viewfinder as a makeshift mirror to check for popcorn in your teeth.
Emotional Support Camera: Fits in your pocket, warms your hand, and never judges your life choices.
Pro Tip: Shoot a roll of Cinestill 800T at dusk. The GT-E’s color science will make gas stations look like Kubrick sets.
6. Quirks & Quibbles: “Charm Offensive”
Pros:
Portability: Fits in a jeans pocket, a fanny pack, or a squirrel’s cheek.
Aperture Priority: Lets you focus on seeing instead of fiddling.
Built-In Filter: Because UV filters are for peasants.
Cons:
Plastic Fantastic: Feels like it’ll outlive you, but still triggers existential dread in Leica snobs.
No Manual Focus: But let’s be real—you’re here to shoot, not to play surgeon.
7. The “Leica Heaven” Clause
Minox knew what they were doing. The GT-E’s lens is so good, it comes with an unspoken promise: “When I die, Leica will adopt me.” Until then, it’s content being the underdog that punches up.
Fun Fact: The “Germany” engraving on the lens isn’t a label—it’s a threat to lesser cameras.
8. Final Verdict: “The Cure for Consumerism”
The Minox GT-E isn’t a camera. It’s a philosophy. It’s for photographers who’d rather make images than buy gear, who think joy shouldn’t require a second mortgage, and who believe the best camera is the one that’s always in your pocket.
Buy it if:
You want Leica vibes without the Leica debt.
You’re tired of cameras that weigh more than your childhood trauma.
You enjoy confusing Instagram influencers with “What’s THAT?”
Skip it if:
You need EXIF data to validate your existence.
Your hands are bigger than a toddler’s.
Rating: 5/5 stars (minus 0 for anything, because nostalgia).
Now go forth and shoot. Or just cradle it like a baby hedgehog. We don’t care. 📸✨
Let’s get real: the Carl Zeiss Jena 35mm f/2.4 is the unicorn of vintage glass. It’s a Cold War relic that somehow outshines modern lenses, a socialist-era gem that laughs at capitalist logic, and a pancake lens that’s somehow also a macro beast. Released when disco was still cool, this little DDR darling proves that East Germany did more than just build the Berlin Wall—they built a damn fine lens.
Is it perfect? No. Is it ridiculously fun to shoot? Abso-freaking-lutely.
ziess jena 35mm f2.4 + sony a7s
2. Build Quality: “Chunky Charm with a Side of Nostalgia”
Specs:
Weight: 248g (or “heavy enough to feel German, light enough to avoid chiropractor bills”).
Materials: Metal, glass, and a dash of communist stubbornness.
Aesthetic: A brushed-metal brick that whispers, “I survived the ’70s, and I’ll outlive your mirrorless camera.”
The Flektogon 35mm f/2.4 is built like a Trabant—quirky, indestructible, and weirdly lovable. The focus ring turns smoother than a Bowie vinyl, and that M42 mount? Pure retro flex.
Pro Tip: If your lens doesn’t double as a self-defense tool, you’re not holding it right.
3. Optical Performance: “The F/2.4 That Out-Bokehs F/2”
Specs:
Focal Length: 35mm (the “Goldilocks” of street photography).
Aperture: f/2.4 (because East Germany loved almost breaking rules).
Special Sauce: Magic dust stolen from a Wes Anderson film.
Bokeh Sorcery:
This lens defies physics. At f/2.4, backgrounds melt into a watercolor dreamscape that’s creamier than a Bavarian latte. It’s like Zeiss said, *“Who needs f/1.4 when you’ve got socialist engineering?”*
Fun Fact: The bokeh is so smooth, it could convince a Leica fanboy to defect.
Sharpness:
Center: Cuts through reality like a Stasi agent interrogating a capitalist spy.
Edges: Soft enough to make you question capitalism… but who looks at edges anyway?
4. The “Swiss Army Knife” Superpowers
Macro Mode: Focuses down to 0.19m—close enough to count a ladybug’s freckles.
Street Photography: 35mm lets you capture life’s chaos without getting punched.
Portraits: f/2.4 serves just enough blur to make your subject pop like a strudel at a bake-off.
Pro Tip: Use it for everything. Literally. Flowers, faces, UFO sightings—this lens doesn’t care.
ziess jena 35mm f2.4 + sony a7s
5. Color Science: “The Rainbow Factory Called Dresden”
Straight-out-of-camera JPEGs: Cold-war cool with a dash of Ostalgie (that’s “East German nostalgia” for you capitalists).
RAW Flexibility: Desaturate it, and it morphs into a moody poet. Crank the vibrancy, and it’s a disco ball.
Golden Hour Glory: Turns sunlight into liquid amber.
Warning: Shooting with this lens may cause sudden urges to wear Adidas tracksuits and hum 99 Luftballons.
6. Quirks & Quibbles: “Love Letters from 1975”
Pros:
Versatility: Does macro, street, and portraits like a caffeinated octopus.
Character: Delivers that “I shot this on expired film” vibe without the expired film.
Price: Cheaper than a weekend in Berlin (if you avoid eBay scalpers).
Cons:
Aperture Blades: 6 straight blades make bokeh balls look like ninja stars at f/2.8. Embrace the chaos.
Flare Drama: Shoot into the sun, and you’ll get artistic ghosting. Or just call it “Soviet ambiance.”
7. The “Leica vs. Zeiss” Cold War (Spoiler: Everyone Wins)
Leica Comparison: Sharper than a Leica Summicron in the center, but with 10% of the pretentiousness.
Modern Zeiss: Less clinical, more “let’s drink schnapps and write poetry.”
Verdict: This lens is the lovechild of Leica’s soul and Zeiss’s brains—raised behind the Iron Curtain.
8. Final Verdict: “The People’s Lens”
The Carl Zeiss Jena 35mm f/2.4 isn’t a lens. It’s a time machine. It’s for photographers who crave character over perfection, who think bokeh should be felt, not measured, and who’d rather shoot than flex their gear on Instagram.
ziess jena 35mm f2.4 + sony a7s
Buy it if:
You want vintage charm without the vintage price tag.
You enjoy confusing millennials with “ancient tech.”
You’ve ever wondered, “What if Wes Anderson designed a lens?”
Skip it if:
You need autofocus (or basic human patience).
Your idea of fun is pixel-peeping at 400%.
Rating: 4.7/5 stars (minus 0.3 for the ninja-star bokeh balls, because priorities).
ziess jena 35mm f2.4 + sony a7s
Spec Sheet for Geeks (Because We Know You’re Reading This):
1. Introduction: The Unlikely Lovechild of Precision and Rebellion
Let’s get real: the Leica R 35-70mm f/3.5 E67 is the power couple of the lens world. It’s half German tank, half Japanese anime mech—sturdy enough to survive a nuclear winter, yet sleek enough to make your hipster friends weep into their pour-over coffee. Born from Leica’s obsession with perfection and Minolta’s “hold my sake” innovation, this zoom lens is proof that opposites attract… spectacularly.
Is it perfect? No. Is it the most interesting lens in your bag? Abso-freaking-lutely.
2. Build Quality: “Built Like a Mercedes, Priced Like a Porsche”
Specs:
Weight: 450g (or “light enough to lift, heavy enough to bludgeon a thief”).
Materials: German metal, Japanese pragmatism, and enough heft to double as a dumbbell.
Aesthetic: A brushed-metal brick that whispers, “I’m here to work, not to accessorize.”
The E67 is built like a Bavarian bank vault—over-engineered, indestructible, and slightly intimidating. Minolta might’ve designed the optics, but Leica slapped on enough Teutonic polish to make even a Rolex feel insecure.
Pro Tip: If your lens doesn’t leave a dent in your coffee table, you’re not Leica-ing hard enough.
Leica Vario – Elmar – R 35 – 70mm f/3.5 E67 with Nikon D700
Some say that Minolta-designed lenses lack a bit of the Leica magic, but looking at this lens – the Leica R 35-70mm f3.5 E67 – I think it still has some Leica characteristics, especially in black and white. Both highlights and shadows retain a remarkable amount of detail and smooth transitions. It still has that Leica magic.
Leica Vario – Elmar – R 35 – 70mm f/3.5 E67 with Nikon D700
No wonder they say Nikon’s old masters excel at capturing landscapes—its scenery shots brim with an exhilarating vitality. Take Nikon’s 58mm f1.4 Auto lens, the first f1.4 large-aperture lens crafted for the formidable F-mount. Its lineage traces back to the rangefinder 50mm lenses, yet the reflex mirror of SLR cameras nudged it to 58mm. In truth, apart from a slightly narrower field of view compared to a 50mm, it transcends the standard in the ethereal realm of bokeh and that elusive, almost mystical quality. Heehee, here’s a little secret few know: when it comes to background blur, early standard lenses with focal lengths between 50mm and 65mm—think 58mm, 55mm, or 60mm—are truly exceptional. They share a deep kinship with that German flavor, steeped in a certain metaphysical allure.
Oh, and by the way, Leica’s 50mm lenses? They’re all ever so slightly larger than 50mm 😉—a subtle truth Leica kept quietly to itself back in the day.
