Okay, I’ll admit—post-processing can make photos pop with vibrant colors or punchy contrast that grabs attention. But, you know what? The more I look at heavily edited shots, the more I’m drawn to the simplicity of straight-out-of-camera images. There’s something about those less “in-your-face” JPGs—more natural, less flashy—that just feels so refreshing. The Leica M8’s built-in JPGs? Yeah, the white balance can be a bit off, and the colors might not be textbook perfect, but somehow, I can’t stop loving them. It’s like a little bit of magic.
Let’s be real—sticking to your own path and not bending to please others is no easy feat. Leica’s big-aperture lenses, like the Summarit 50mm f/1.5, were kind of rushed into the ring to keep up with the heavy hitters from Zeiss, Canon, and Nikon. But even under pressure, Leica stayed true to its vibe. That signature micro-contrast? It’s still there, making every shot feel timeless and captivating, whether you’re using it on a film or digital camera. The Summarit 50mm f/1.5 might be one of Leica’s more affordable lenses, but trust me—it’s got that unmistakable Leica flavor, no compromises.
Only a Leica Elmar deserves the name Elmar. It’s the OG of 135mm format, the pioneer of 135mm lenses, and forever the gold standard for 50mm. Take its backlight sharpness—even today, it’s pure artistic magic. No other 50mm can nail that mix of dreamy flare, misty glow, sharpness, and detail all at once. It’s like how your eyes feel in backlit moments. The most legendary 50mm lens? Yup, it’s the Elmar, hands down!
Is an f3.5 aperture big enough? For street photography, I say it’s plenty! I often crank my Leica M8’s ISO to 1250, which gives a cool, film-like grain. Sometimes I shoot at f3.5, sometimes even smaller. On bright daytime streets, f3.5 handles any light just fine.
What’s that? Background blur? Okay, the Leica Elmar 50mm isn’t exactly a bokeh champ at f3.5, but hold up—can you say it lacks depth? That lens has a killer sense of space, something even f2 or f1.2 lenses from other brands can’t always nail for that street vibe. Maybe the Elmar was born for the streets!
When I saw this photo, it hit me why the Leica M8’s black-and-white shots pull me in way more than the M9’s. In my mind, only black-and-white film with a yellow filter could come close. The M8’s black-and-white portraits? They make faces pop with brightness. It’s because there’s no infrared cut-off filter, giving those photos a unique charm—like an invisible spotlight lighting up people’s faces on the street. Pretty awesome, right?
I never snack while strolling because my hands are busy with a camera, not food. What I’m feasting on? Light. Yup, out on the streets, every shadow and glow is my buffet. You savor your tasty bites, and I savor my photography. Street photography? It’s never a chore—it’s a treat!
No matter how much you spend or how fancy a photographer you hire, nothing beats the raw magic of a street photographer’s candid portrait. Why? Because it’s real, it’s pure, and nobody’s putting on a show. It’s like that Taoist idea of “doing nothing” — when you stop trying, everything just flows. The only downside? The person in the photo might never see their own raw truth. But don’t go thinking you’re some one-of-a-kind snowflake either! If you see authenticity in a photo, that’s you staring back — and that guy in the picture? Yeah, that’s you too. Meet street photography, meet the real you.
Armed with another relic—Nikon’s 58mm f/1.4 “AUTO” lens—I returned to the asphalt court. Fresh off the Afghan Girl lens’ triumph, I wondered: Could this vintage pancake lens, older than my dad’s mixtapes, handle the chaos of pickup basketball?
The f/1.4 Gamble Let’s get technical (but only for a sentence): Mounting this 58mm on a Sony A7S was like teaching a vinyl turntable to stream TikTok dances. The massive f/1.4 aperture promised buttery bokeh, but manual focusing through an EVF felt like threading a noodle through a keyhole mid-game. Shots were either “Wow, that sweat bead looks like a diamond!” or “Did I accidentally photograph a ghost?” Compared to the 105mm’s surgical precision, this lens rendered scenes like a jazz painting—all mood, no maps.
From Sidelines to Starting Five Then came the plot twist: The 2v3 underdog team, tired of losing, shouted: “Yo, camera guy—get in here!” I hesitated. My basketball résumé includes:
Accidentally dunking on a 6th-grade hoop (it was 7 feet tall).
Once tripping over my own shadow during a layup.
But pride (and peer pressure) won. I swapped the Nikon for a water bottle and became the world’s most confused sixth man.
The Stat Line That Wouldn’t Impress ChatGPT Let’s be clear: My game was less LeBron, more “LeBarelyFunctional.” Highlights included:
3 steals: Achieved by wildly flailing at passes like a caffeinated octopus.
2 assists: Both were accidental passes to the opposing team, rebounded by allies.
1 block: A miracle swat that left me sprawled on the concrete, questioning life choices.
6 shots, 1 make: The lone basket? A desperation heave that banked in off a pigeon’s ghost.
Yet somehow, we won. Turns out, hustling like a raccoon at a dumpster party has its merits.
Post-Game Takeaways
Lens Lessons: The 58mm f/1.4? Gorgeous for static drama—think benchside tension, sneaker tread close-ups. For action? Stick to the 105mm.
Athletic Humility: Nothing kills ego faster than airballing a free throw while teens yell “It’s okay, Uncle!”
Photography ≠ Spectating: Stepping into the frame—literally—reminded me why sports photography thrills: it’s about kinetic energy, not just light.
As I limped home, camera strap denting my shoulder, I realized: Manual focus and pickup basketball have the same core rule—embrace the chaos, forgive the misses, and chase the next shot like it’s your last.
Let’s talk about taking a vintage lens to a modern playground.
Why Not the Obvious Choice? When I decided to photograph a casual half-court basketball game, the “logical” gear choice would’ve been a sleek 70-200mm f/2.8 sports zoom—the kind that whirs like a obedient robot. But here’s the thing: I was literally sitting on the edge of the court. Why lug a telephoto bazooka when an 85mm f/1.8 prime could do the job?
Except… I didn’t own an 85mm f/1.8. Buying one just for this felt like renting a tuxedo to walk my dog. Then I remembered: *Wait, isn’t the “Afghan Girl” lens a 105mm f/2.5?* Yes, that legendary Nikon relic—the one that captured the National Geographic portrait—was gathering dust on my shelf. Sure, f/2.5 isn’t f/1.8, but it’s brighter than f/2.8! Plus, my trusty D700’s ISO performance could handle the rest.
Manual Focus: A Dance, Not a Battle Let’s address the elephant in the gym: manually tracking basketball players sounds about as practical as threading a needle during an earthquake. But here’s my logic:
Embrace the JPG gamble: I switched from RAW to JPG, trusting quantity over perfection. Missed focus? Delete and move on.
Predict, don’t chase: Manual focus forced me to anticipate movements—leaning into shots, pivots, that split-second hang time. It felt less like photography and more like jazz improvisation.
Black-and-White Grit (Zero Filters Needed) Surprise MVP? The lens itself. Wide open at f/2.5, it delivered biting sharpness and contrast that made post-processing feel redundant. Converting shots to black-and-white took one click—no tweaking curves or fighting murky shadows. The tonal depth? Like the difference between a vinyl crackle and a Spotify algorithm.
And let’s be real: hauling a DSLR with this chunky 105mm prime still beats fiddling with a rangefinder patch mid-game. Some call it “vintage hassle”; I call it “forced mindfulness.”
The Real Score Did I miss shots? Absolutely. But the keepers had something no f/1.8 autofocus lens could replicate: texture. Every dribble, every sweat droplet, every strained tendon felt raw—like the images themselves were breathing.
Maybe next time I’ll try that 70-200mm. Or maybe not. Sometimes, “outdated” tools remind us that photography isn’t about control—it’s about conversation.
