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Just for comparison and also because I think they look nice together. Most of the time they'll run as a lashup.
Hard to believe that these two German classics are separated by 19 years. The elder of the two, the IIIa, was manufactured in 1939, The IIIg is from 1958.
Yes, there was a war in between. Even taking that into account, it's surprising how small the changes are. There are many of changes, all of them rather insignificant.
Both cameras have a fastest exposure time of 1/1000 seconds. Both have a separate dial for long exposure times, long meaning everything above 1/20 s (IIIa) or i/30 s (IIIg) and up to 1 s.
Both require the first 10 cm of the film leader to be trimmed with a scissor. And both require unmounting the bottom to load the film, which has to be fumbled onto a metal spool. That used to bother me, at first. I doesn't any more, I'm used to it now. No point in grumbling about such things. If you don't like it, a Leica isn't the right camera for you. No problem with that - there are plenty of other cameras.
No thread-mount Leica really is a rangefinder camera. The finder is physically separate from the range measurement. You peer into the little viewport that's more to the left, which gives a magnified image of the scene, focus, and then switch other other viewport to do the image compo. With the IIIa, the two viewports are about 3 cm apart. With the IIIg they're right next to one another (this can be rather tricky if you use them alternatingly).
Yes, that is ante-diluvian. It was obsolete in 1939 and it certainly was obsolete in 1958. No question about it. I mostly don't even use the range-measurement. I guess the distance and use hyperfocal DOF for focusing.
Zeiss-Ikon offered a real viewfinder in 1936 on Contax II that Leica introduced only with the M3 in 1954. In terms of ergonomics, the Contax ran rings around the Leicas. Apart from the rangefinder with a much longer baseline, the Contax offered a back-opening body, and a bayonet for fast lens exchange.
But hey, the reason why people use Leicas is the reason why I use Leicas. Because they are so well engineered that they just go on working, every single bit of them, decade after decade after decade.
Both of these two ladies make a wonderful, round ker-lick sound on shutter release. The sound of a well-made mechanical device. And both feel good in your hand, really good. The almost 80 year old IIIa even more than her younger sibling. Two good reasons for me to go on taking pictures with them.
The IIIg has a larger viewfinder and shows a parallax-corrected frame for a 50 mm or 90 mm focal length. The IIIa doesn't offer that feature, and its finder is rather arbitrary anyway. It's calculated for a 50 mm lens, but I use her with a 35 mm Summaron, so what I want to be in the frame mostly is in the frame, erratic finder notwithstanding.
The IIIg has a self-timer. It works fine, but I never use it. The IIIg also offers an M-sync for a bulb flash unit. I never looked into how to sync the flash because I only do available light.
My latest experiment is redscaling Fujicolor C200, which I then rated at ASA/ISO 12. "Overexposing" by four stops really tones down the reds, which is what I was trying to do; I prefer these yellows and browns. Rating at 12 also meant I was able to shoot on really sunny days between f/1.4 and f/2.8 to get some shallow depth of field.
Pentax ME Super
SMC Pentax-M 50mm f/1.4
Fujicolor C200 redscaled and shot at ASA/ISO 12
Home Developed in Unicolor/Argentix
Scanned with Pakon F135
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Taken the same day as the previous post, this is the view behind me.
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España - Ciudad Real - Viso del Marqués - Palacio del Marqués de Santa Cruz
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ENGLISH:
It was built at the end of the 16th century by Álvaro de Bazán, first Marquis of Santa Cruz. It is currently the headquarters of the General Archive of the Navy.
It is one of the two palaces built by this sailor, knight of the Order of Santiago, captain of the Ocean Sea and admiral of the Spanish Navy. It is located next to the church of Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, and since 1948 it has been rented by its owners, the Marquises of Santa Cruz, to the Spanish Navy, who first used it as a Museum of the Spanish Navy and later expanded its functions by also establishing the General Archive of the Navy.
The building was frequented by the first marquis thanks to its location, halfway between Madrid, where the Court was, and Seville, whose port he often went to as the Spanish Navy was anchored there, of which he was admiral during the reign of Philip II.
The palace was nearly destroyed by the Austrian troops of Edward Hamilton during the War of the Spanish Succession at the beginning of the 18th century, but was saved by the actions of the Marquis's chaplain, the poet Carlos de Praves, thanks to whom we can admire it today. It suffered some damage due to the Lisbon earthquake in 1755, which collapsed the ceiling of the hall of honour, where the great fresco depicting the Battle of Lepanto had been painted, and toppled the four corner towers, which the chronicles of Philip II described as magnificent.
In it we can find maritime objects from the period. A figurehead belonging to a ship commanded by the Marquis is noteworthy. During the War of Independence, the French razed it, and by the time the Civil War came it had served as a granary, school, stable, prison and hospital, until in 1948 and at the request of Julio Guillén Tato, director of the Naval Museum, Mrs. Casilda de Silva Fdez. de Henestrosa, descendant of Álvaro de Bazán, rented it to the Navy for 90 years as a museum-archive, which is its current function. Also, in the adjoining parish church there is a 4m long stuffed crocodile attached to one of the vaults, which was offered by the Marquis as a votive offering upon his return from one of his voyages.
Between March and April 1823, King Ferdinand VII spent the night there, after leaving Madrid for Seville, before the entry of the French contingent called the Hundred Thousand Sons of Saint Louis, about whose stay Ferdinand VII did not write a word in his travel diary. The palace was declared a National Monument in 1931 and was restored from 1948 by the Navy under the direction of Admiral Guillén.
The palace was built between 1564 and 1586 with subsequent modifications. It is a square-shaped building in the Renaissance style, built around a Renaissance atrium with a recumbent tomb. The walls and ceilings are covered with frescoes with two themes: mythological scenes on the one hand and naval battles and Italian cities related to the military career of the Marquis and his family on the other. The frescoes are by Italian Mannerist painters, the Péroli family. Upon seeing them, Philip II commissioned them to do work for El Escorial and the Alcázar of Toledo.
For its construction, the Marquis hired a team of architects, painters and decorators who worked on the building from 1564 to 1586. For some, the design of the building was due to the Italian Giovanni Battista Castello, known as the Bergamasco, who later worked in El Escorial; for others, it was designed, at least in its original plan, by Enrique Egas el Mozo.
The architecture is perceived as typically Spanish, without Italian arches, with smooth walls and square towers at the corners, influenced by the austerity of El Escorial and the Alcázar of Toledo, within the harmonious relationships characteristic of the Renaissance. The central space is occupied by a porticoed courtyard that, together with the staircase, forms a typically mannerist ensemble understood as an elegant and courtly style that goes beyond the merely architectural framework.
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ESPAÑOL:
Fue construido a finales del siglo XVI por Álvaro de Bazán, primer marqués de Santa Cruz. Actualmente es la sede del Archivo General de la Marina.
Se trata de uno de los dos palacios construidos este marino, caballero de la Orden de Santiago, capitán del Mar Océano y almirante de la Marina española. Está situado al lado de la iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, y desde el año 1948 es alquilado por parte de sus propietarios, los marqueses de Santa Cruz, a la Armada Española, quien primero lo destinó a Museo de la Marina Española y más tarde amplió sus funciones estableciendo también el Archivo General de la Marina.
El edificio era frecuentado por el primer marqués gracias a su ubicación, a medio camino entre Madrid, donde estaba la Corte, y Sevilla, a cuyo puerto acudía a menudo al mantener allí anclada la Armada Española, de la cual fue almirante durante el reinado de Felipe II.
El palacio estuvo a punto de ser destruido por las tropas austracistas de Edward Hamilton durante la Guerra de Sucesión Española a principios del siglo XVIII, salvándose por la actuación del capellán del marqués, el poeta Carlos de Praves, gracias a lo cual hoy podemos admirarlo. Sufrió algunos daños a causa del terremoto de Lisboa en 1755: el cual hundió el techo del salón de honor, donde se había pintado el gran fresco que representaba la batalla de Lepanto, y desmochó las cuatro torres de las esquinas, que las crónicas de Felipe II describían como magníficas.
En él podemos encontrar objetos marineros de la época. Llama la atención un mascarón de proa perteneciente a una nave que dirigió el marqués. Durante la Guerra de la Independencia, los franceses lo arrasaron, y para cuando llegó la Guerra Civil había servido de granero, colegio, establo, cárcel y hospital, hasta que en 1948 y a instancias de Julio Guillén Tato, director del Museo Naval, doña Casilda de Silva Fdez. de Henestrosa, descendiente de Álvaro de Bazán se lo rentó a la Armada por 90 años como museo-archivo, que es en la actualidad su función. Asimismo, en la iglesia parroquial aledaña hay un cocodrilo disecado de 4m de largo adosado a una de las bóvedas, que fue ofrecido por el marqués como exvoto al regreso de uno de sus viajes.
Entre marzo y abril de 1823, el rey Fernando VII pernoctó allí, tras abandonar Madrid rumbo a Sevilla, ante la entrada del contingente francés llamado los Cien Mil Hijos de San Luis, de cuya estancia Fernando VII no escribió ni una palabra en su diario del viaje. El palacio fue declarado Monumento Nacional en 1931 siendo restaurado a partir de 1948 por la Armada bajo la dirección del Almirante Guillén.
El palacio fue construido entre 1564 y 1586 con modificaciones posteriores, y se trata de un edificio de planta cuadrada y estilo renacentista articulado en torno a un atrio renacentista con una tumba yacente. Los muros y techos se hallan cubiertos de frescos de doble temática: por un lado, escenas mitológicas y, por otro, batallas navales y ciudades italianas relacionadas con la trayectoria militar del marqués y de sus familiares. Los frescos se deben a unos pintores manieristas italianos, los Péroli. Al verlos, Felipe II les encargaría trabajos para El Escorial y el Alcázar de Toledo.
Para su construcción, el marqués contrató a un equipo de arquitectos, pintores y decoradores que trabajaron en la obra desde 1564 hasta 1586. Para algunos, el diseño del edificio se debió al italiano Giovanni Battista Castello, conocido como el Bergamasco, que más tarde trabajó en El Escorial; para otros lo trazó, al menos en su plan original, Enrique Egas el Mozo.
La arquitectura se percibe como típica española, sin las arquerías italianas, con paramentos lisos y torres cuadradas en las esquinas, influidos por la austeridad de El Escorial y el Alcázar de Toledo, dentro de las relaciones armónicas características del Renacimiento. El espacio central está ocupado por un patio porticado que junto con la escalera forma un conjunto típicamente manierista entendido como estilo elegante y cortesano que desborda el marco meramente arquitectónico.
bringing water from below to above. One, self replicating.
The other ceases to duplicate the moment thoughts about it disappear.
What are we to make of the difference between things that manifest without thought, and those that manifest only with thought?
One could answer: "Thought itself is a thoughtless manifestation, i.e., thought grows into existence through no effort of its own."
To put it more clearly, a mind that thinks, grows into existence before it can think.
Would this be right?
Lesley and I had arranged to meet and have some photos and then go for lunch. Unfortunately Lesley had to call of from lunch due to family commitments ( more about lunch later). So we made the most of our short time together with as many photos as we could manage.
I have been invited by The Huffington Post to post my images regularly to their photography blog. This is my third post: Rust and Roll on Route 66
Nigran, Galicia, Spain
CONVERSACIONES EN SILENCIO-TALKING IN SILENCE
SERIES
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