RezaLoghme
Member
In this anonymous GAS self-help group, I have to confess: I'm not a "one lens, one film, one camera" kind of person.
I have a deep love for certain cameras. They remind me of specific moments in my life and evoke powerful memories. Sometimes, I catch myself wandering around my home, simply looking through one of my cameras. I even find joy in assembling and disassembling my Hasselblad. Right now, as I sit at my desk, I'm gazing at one of my cameras, dreaming about where and how I might use it.
I've always wanted a Hasselblad, but they were out of reach when they were new.
I adore the Bauhaus design language of the Leica M Digital, and the old black R series takes me back to the wonderful 1990s, a time of great industrial design, like the BMW E32.
The Rolleiflex TLRs bring out my inner Helmut Newton, making me feel like that slightly weathered, super-cool fashion photographer whose world is all about black, white, and silver.
At this point, I almost have everything I've ever wanted. But - An M2, silver and sleek like a cocktail shaker with beads of condensation. A Rolleiflex SL66 for the chest-haired 1970s photojournalist with a white 350SE with black "MB Tex" leatherette. Something Japanese—perhaps a 124G or C330—for the inner mid-century architect-cum-IBM-executive in me.
But after that, I promise, I'll be done.
I have a deep love for certain cameras. They remind me of specific moments in my life and evoke powerful memories. Sometimes, I catch myself wandering around my home, simply looking through one of my cameras. I even find joy in assembling and disassembling my Hasselblad. Right now, as I sit at my desk, I'm gazing at one of my cameras, dreaming about where and how I might use it.
I've always wanted a Hasselblad, but they were out of reach when they were new.
I adore the Bauhaus design language of the Leica M Digital, and the old black R series takes me back to the wonderful 1990s, a time of great industrial design, like the BMW E32.
The Rolleiflex TLRs bring out my inner Helmut Newton, making me feel like that slightly weathered, super-cool fashion photographer whose world is all about black, white, and silver.
At this point, I almost have everything I've ever wanted. But - An M2, silver and sleek like a cocktail shaker with beads of condensation. A Rolleiflex SL66 for the chest-haired 1970s photojournalist with a white 350SE with black "MB Tex" leatherette. Something Japanese—perhaps a 124G or C330—for the inner mid-century architect-cum-IBM-executive in me.
But after that, I promise, I'll be done.
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