Just for fun, a fairly quick line art version of this photo.

I bought this old beauty several months ago after stumbling upon it in a thrift store. Even though I had no Nikon body and thus no way to use it at the time, I knew that a prime macro lens was, even in the worst-case scenario, worth ten times what they were asking (the truth is, in this case, more like 20 or 30 times). This is why thrift stores and junk shops are so wonderful for a person with knowledge of a niche market like photography: to the owner it probably looks like a bunch of old camera crap they bought in a pile at an estate sale, but to someone who knows what they’re looking at it can be a treasure trove worth hundreds or thousands of dollars.

Fast-forward to a couple weeks ago, and what should I happen to find sitting on the shelf like a present just for me? A Nikon D40 that some jackass had managed to mount a lens onto by twisting it in the wrong direction! How, I don’t know, but I rescued it and nursed it back to health (by the application of a frankly scary amount of torque on the cheap plastic kit lens). If it took that much force to dismount the (now perfectly functioning) lens, I can only wonder at the force needed to jam it on there in the first place, and at the state of mind needed to just… keep… twisting…

But I digress, because this was supposed to be about my original find and not about my horror at the kind of moron who could traumatize an innocent and unsuspecting D40 like this. So onward and upward, and let’s try to put it out of mind. Since I now had a Nikon, I was free to play around with my sweet, sweet “Micro” lens.

Nikon made two models of their 105mm f/4 Micro lens, and this is an example of the later model as evidenced by the small knob used to prevent “focus creep” when pointing the lens straight downward, as well as having a slightly narrower body. Optically and mechanically, however, I believe the two versions are practically identical. I am not any kind of a Nikon expert, though, so please correct me if I’m wrong. This particular lens has serial number 252832, indicating it was one of the last four thousand or so produced before Nikon discontinued the lens in favor of the 105mm f/2.8 Micro-Nikkor in early 1983.

Sadly this lens required an extension tube, which I don’t have, to achieve full 1:1 magnification, and without that will only focus to 1:2 (on full-frame, of course). Even with that slightly underwhelming magnification, though, this lens is simply a joy to use. All metal, with a silky focusing mechanism that is so smooth you just don’t want to ever put it down. Modern autofocus lenses are always a little less solid and smooth-feeling than old manual ones, but even taking that into account this lens is a standout – it simply feels perfect in the hand.

All that solid construction and attention to detail is useless, of course, if the glass doesn’t perform. And this glass isn’t just a performer – it’s a showman, it’s an artist, it’s a virtuoso. Hyperbole aside, it’s the sharpest lens I’ve ever used to date. And I got it for ten bucks.

It’s winter now, light levels are low and almost all the flowers and bugs and lizards are long gone, so my subject choices for macro shots are pretty dismal. I’m also not really patient enough to haul out a tripod and focusing rail unless I already know exactly what I intend to shoot, so these examples were all shot handheld (one-handed in fact, holding my light source in the other hand) in about ten minutes. As a topper, the Nikon’s sensor is really really dirty and I haven’t gotten around to cleaning it. Despite all that, the results from this lens still make me want to spend all day stooped over, face two feet from the ground, destroying my back just for the privilege of seeing the world through this 27-year-old hunk of steel and glass. If you happen to find one, just buy it, period.

That being said, I still feel it’s a pretty compelling and technically strong portrait especially when you consider that I took it myself, on timer, using a lens with no focus markings. I started out by identifying what I could about what was going on in and out of frame.

First, the ubiquitous blown-out white background intended to separate the subject and remove them from all familiar context. It takes people out of the real world and allows even the utterly mundane and otherwise overlooked aspects of a personality to jump out and build a narrative. Secondly the intense, eye-bleeding detail of Enos’ shots and the exceeding sharpness of most of his images gives rise to the feeling that this is a man who has fallen inescapably in love with visual texture.

Finally the quality of his lighting is just sublime — immense sources, either the open sky or large, close-up diffusers, give many of these images an ethereal quality. The minimal shadows and crisp detail build a sense of unreal perfection, while the big diffuse light allows the catchlights in the subject’s eyes (almost exclusively looking directly at the camera) to turn liquid and shockingly vivid. Add a dash of post-processing and you have what basically amounts to a magic spell.

Not entirely satisfied with my first result, I decided to give it another shot the next day with more controlled light and more depth of field to keep as much detail as possible. I set up my camera and two flashes (which I didn’t use before due to a shameful lack of batteries in the house) in a narrow hall, bungeed to my tripod and aimed to bounce off the white walls and wrap me in wide, even light. I also included a fairly powerful continuous light trained on the background to give me more separation. This time I used a mild yellow filter, as the strong blue filter from my first shot made my freckles seem prominent to the point of distraction.

And 30 minutes of futzing around later, I ended up with this:

In terms of useful content, if we’re all (very) lucky I am going to start trying to post some tutorials and in-progress examinations of the projects I am working on as I do them. Additionally, the occasional review and in-depth photograph dissection whenever I find something interesting to say or explain.

I love this strange sad little man.

These first few images were all taken a few years ago using a homemade reversing ring to mount a regular 18-55mm lens backwards on the camera. As you can see, details are strong, and quality is near that of the original lens at very high magnifications. For a few weeks after making the ring, I carried it with me every time I had the camera out, either actively using it for macro shots or as a small hood to keep a little flare away at 18mm (maybe. I didn’t test it or anything.)

These two pictures of candy were made with the Pringles can extension tube written up on Photocritic. Obviously, this method has benefits and drawbacks. A tube like this is capable of drastically higher magnification than the former technique — look at the individual grains of sugar — but not without compromises. As you can see, light scattering within the tube can be a real problem, even lined with black velour. Additionally, the distance added by the extension tube can eat up enough light that exposure times grow long enough for lens shake to become a factor, even rigidly mounted.

Additionally, this is a certain way to get your camera dusty in short order — if you look closely you can see the shadows of dust floating around in the tube.