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Is My Nikon 105mm f/2.5 AI-Modified Lens the Legendary “Afghan Girl” Lens?

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.

Day 2: When the Photographer Became the Point Guard

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.

Shooting Hoops with a Legend (No, Not Michael Jordan)

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.

Street Photography Never Gets Old

Some critics claim street photography is outdated—”overdone,” “irrelevant,” and “just a shrine to dusty legends.” They dismiss HCB as a privileged dilettante, reduce Frank to a “hipster cliché,” and sneer: “Why buy photo books? Scroll online!”

But Time Doesn’t Exist, Does It?
By their logic, history itself is obsolete—a moldy artifact unworthy of study. Yet to me, the “old” ways of seeing feel endlessly fresh. What’s so groundbreaking about the critics’ beloved “contemporary” or “avant-garde” photography? If anything, their worship of novelty reeks of insecurity. You mock my reverence for classics? I’ll laugh at your cult of ignorance.

Street Photography Isn’t Performance Art
Flipping through a photo book—the texture of pages, the thrill of stumbling upon a frame that electrifies your nerves—is a ritual as intimate as losing yourself in a favorite song. It’s not about dissecting techniques or flexing intellectual muscles. If critics mistake this joy for pretentiousness, maybe they’ve forgotten what raw connection feels like. Sure, performance gets stale—it craves shock value. But street photography? It’s never been about the show.

Street Photography Is Photographic History
A great street photo acts like a visual time capsule. It jolts you into pondering humanity’s quirks—the fleeting fashions, the quiet rebellions, the collective anxieties baked into an era. Take masks post-2020: imagine a kid in 2077 staring at these images, bewildered by our faces half-hidden. That’s the magic.

Street photography doesn’t just document life—it smuggles questions across generations. And if that’s “outdated,” then let’s stay gloriously behind the times.

The Minox GT-E: A Pocket-Sized German Wizard That Cures G.A.S. (Gear Acquisition Syndrome)

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.

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. 📸✨

Every Photo Says: Don’t Tell Me How to Shoot

Nikon D700 with Leica R 35-70mm f/3.5 E67

Some things in life don’t require you to know every detail—just believing you’ve got it figured out is enough. Photography is one of those things. Without a spark of confidence, you’re stuck before you even start. Forget about listening to other people’s advice or so-called “wisdom.” The moment you start doubting yourself, thinking you’re not good enough, you’ve already lost. Your past photos, your future shots—they’ll all crumble if you let self-doubt creep in. So, when it comes to photography, you need unwavering confidence in yourself. Whenever someone tries to talk to me about the art of photography, I pivot the conversation to gear. Why? Because the real drive to create, the true passion for photography, has to come from deep within you. It can’t be sparked by external opinions or tips.

Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not here to discuss photography techniques—just talk to me about cameras and lenses. Gear and the art of photography are like oil and water; they don’t mix. When it comes to gear, though, it’s smart to listen to others, especially those who’ve spent years testing and using it. You don’t have to take their word as gospel, but keeping an open mind and learning from their experiences can save you from costly mistakes.

Here’s my personal mantra: Trust your gut when it comes to photography, but when picking gear, check out the reviews. Just don’t get those two mixed up!

Beijing’s Hidden Gems: The Warmth of Urban Villages vs. The Hustle of High-Rise Living

Beijing is a fascinating city. While it’s now filled with skyscrapers over 20 stories tall, you can still find pockets of “urban villages” – neighborhoods where humble residents maintain a simple, neighborly lifestyle. I’ve grown fond of these communities where clean alleys echo with friendly greetings, radiating warmth and camaraderie. In contrast, the concrete towers with their constant noise and commotion have left me weary of high-rise living.

Whenever I use a Leica lens, I just can’t help but switch to black and white

Whenever I use a Leica lens, I just can’t help but switch to black and white. For some reason, while with Zeiss lenses, I always feel compelled to preserve their original colors…

The Leica R 35-70mm f/3.5 E67 (often called the Vario-Elmar-R) is a legendary zoom lens from Leica’s R-series, known for its compact design, high optical quality, and distinctive rendering. Paired with the Nikon D700, a 12.1MP full-frame DSLR with excellent dynamic range for its era, this combo likely enhances your inclination toward black-and-white due to the following factors:

Micro-Contrast and Tonal Richness

Leica’s Optical Signature

The D700’s raw files have a robust tonal range

Street Photography: Art or Offense?

Candid shots might feel brash or intrusive, but they capture raw, unfiltered truth. Posed shots seem polite and composed, yet they often hide behind a polished mask. It’s like life’s paradoxes—sometimes what seems “wrong” reveals deeper authenticity, while what’s “right” can feel staged. Could it be that society’s ideas of “proper” or “improper” in photography actually miss the heart of what makes a moment real?