Black beauty
The Olympus PEN-FT is the most advanced member of the PEN half-format family that flourished in the 1960s. The Pen-F is, all appearances to the contrary, an SLR, but its designers avoided the characteristic hump and bulk of other SLRs by using a Porro prism and fixing it sideways. This required some creative engineering of the shutter design, but the camera's designer, the ingenious Y. Maitani, came up with a brilliant solution there.
All film Pens use 35 mm film but the image only takes up half a frame and is exposed sideways, so if you hold the camera horizontally, the picture will be taken in the portrait mode.
Olympus offered a large line-up of high quality lenses, but in my opinion, the standard 38/f.1.8 Zuiko lens is also far and away the best choice. Almost always, I find that the field of view is exactly what I need. The lens is fast enough too. Come on. Who needs more aperture than f/1.8?
The FT offers off-the-prism (and thus, implicitly, through-the-lens) metering, which makes the viewfinder image a bit darker. Focusing still is a breeze, however, thanks to the microprism focusing screen. The light meter is not coupled - it indicates which f-stop to use, albeit using a proprietary numbering scheme.
The web abounds with detailed descriptions of the panoply of technology used in this camera, so I won't talk about that,
On a personal note - I find this camera a pure joy to use. There are no frills. It does what it's supposed to do, no more. So I'm not distracted and can concentrate on composing your picture, which is what I should be doing instead of fiddling with controls and menus.
You feel, hear and see that it's a brilliant piece of technology. A lot of complex engineering went into making it as simple as it is. Unlike modern computerized DSLRs which appear to be following the tenet that "if it was difficult to engineer it should also be difficult to use."
People react to it. Not like they'd react to a high-end DSLR or medium format behemoth. This camera doesn't elicit envy, it just pleases people with its looks. The reaction of the technician in the camera shop today was typical: A small gasp, followed by "Wow, that's a stunner. Let me hear the sound of her." That's right. He said "her", not "it". And then I fired her and his eyes lit up with joy and he went "Ahhhhhh ....yes!"
See what I mean? Everyone who sees her walks off with a smile on their face.
This is not a silent camera. But her sound is pure music to anyone who loves cameras. Granted, she has drawbacks.
Though she's rather heavy (which is good), the manufacturing quality isn't comparable to, say. a Leica. You see that when she twists and flexes slightly in your hands and you feel it most of all when you advance the film. That has a grindy feel to it.
But still. This baby was made in 1966, and I'd say she's in a very admirable state, given that she'll turn 50 next year.
Black beauty
The Olympus PEN-FT is the most advanced member of the PEN half-format family that flourished in the 1960s. The Pen-F is, all appearances to the contrary, an SLR, but its designers avoided the characteristic hump and bulk of other SLRs by using a Porro prism and fixing it sideways. This required some creative engineering of the shutter design, but the camera's designer, the ingenious Y. Maitani, came up with a brilliant solution there.
All film Pens use 35 mm film but the image only takes up half a frame and is exposed sideways, so if you hold the camera horizontally, the picture will be taken in the portrait mode.
Olympus offered a large line-up of high quality lenses, but in my opinion, the standard 38/f.1.8 Zuiko lens is also far and away the best choice. Almost always, I find that the field of view is exactly what I need. The lens is fast enough too. Come on. Who needs more aperture than f/1.8?
The FT offers off-the-prism (and thus, implicitly, through-the-lens) metering, which makes the viewfinder image a bit darker. Focusing still is a breeze, however, thanks to the microprism focusing screen. The light meter is not coupled - it indicates which f-stop to use, albeit using a proprietary numbering scheme.
The web abounds with detailed descriptions of the panoply of technology used in this camera, so I won't talk about that,
On a personal note - I find this camera a pure joy to use. There are no frills. It does what it's supposed to do, no more. So I'm not distracted and can concentrate on composing your picture, which is what I should be doing instead of fiddling with controls and menus.
You feel, hear and see that it's a brilliant piece of technology. A lot of complex engineering went into making it as simple as it is. Unlike modern computerized DSLRs which appear to be following the tenet that "if it was difficult to engineer it should also be difficult to use."
People react to it. Not like they'd react to a high-end DSLR or medium format behemoth. This camera doesn't elicit envy, it just pleases people with its looks. The reaction of the technician in the camera shop today was typical: A small gasp, followed by "Wow, that's a stunner. Let me hear the sound of her." That's right. He said "her", not "it". And then I fired her and his eyes lit up with joy and he went "Ahhhhhh ....yes!"
See what I mean? Everyone who sees her walks off with a smile on their face.
This is not a silent camera. But her sound is pure music to anyone who loves cameras. Granted, she has drawbacks.
Though she's rather heavy (which is good), the manufacturing quality isn't comparable to, say. a Leica. You see that when she twists and flexes slightly in your hands and you feel it most of all when you advance the film. That has a grindy feel to it.
But still. This baby was made in 1966, and I'd say she's in a very admirable state, given that she'll turn 50 next year.