So my third “new” lens arrived this morning, bought from local ebay-alike Trademe. It’s an old piece of hardware, hailing from the early 90s. It’ll work rather well on my rather new, fancy DSLR.
For the most part I only own and shoot old lenses. I have nothing bought new, nothing that doesn’t have its own history, scratches and warts and problems.
So much of modern photography seems to be about the narrative of sharpness, of technical perfection of the image. I don’t find that to be a particularly interesting discussion.
My eyes are unique; only I own them and only I can see through them. I can never describe how the world may look to anyone else; their eyes are their own. Because it’s so individual, I think reproduction must be equally individual. One may guide the eye through composition and technical perfection, but what should be seen when they get there? Perfect focus, perfect clarity?
Or something individual, the blur and aberrations that can only be had by a unique construction, history and scars, giving the union of my vision and its story?
So far, I prefer the latter.