Going Wide – A One Shot Story

This photo is from my first roll with a new camera, a 1985 Hasselblad SWC/M that just arrived here last week. Given my love for my Rolleiflex, I have long been curious about how Franke & Heidecke tackled wide angle photography, though the somewhat mixed reputation and the stratospheric prices of the 55 millimeter Rollei-Wide have kept me on the fence. As an alternative, about two years ago I began researching the SWC, the “Super Wide” Hasselblad purpose-built starting in the mid-1950s around the storied 38mm Zeiss Biogon f4.5 lens. (Thirty-eight millimeters on a 6×6 cm camera is roughly equivalent to a 20mm lens on a 35mm system). The camera has been a favored tool of photographer Neal Rantoul among many others and also perhaps most famously later in their careers by Harry Callahan and Lee Friedlander.

I began with a classic chrome version from 1961 from a Midwestern photography shop, but that camera arrived with its Compur shutter frozen—an issue that unfortunately persisted even after the camera went back, had a CLA, and came back again (I gather some mismatch with the film back may have been at issue the second time around). For my next attempt I went with a more reliable mid-1980s black SWC/M from a different dealer. I’ve read that the Prontor shutters of these recent SWCs are more robust than those on earlier versions, and are easier to repair when such things are needed. So far, the camera is working as expected.

Although the camera is functioning well, after my first roll I have some questions about whether it will be right for me over the longer term. With the Rolleiflex it’s second nature at this point to identify my subject, set up the frame and pull in enough context to ground it. The SWC, on the other hand, is a camera where—as the advertisement says—absolutely everything is in focus edge to edge without visible distortion. A selling point for sure, but one that raises the question: how does one tell a story without the built-in hierarchy a more standard lens creates?

My first outing was disappointing. I was too far from my subjects and too up in my head to lean into most compositions. The featured image, the only decent frame on that roll, nonetheless hints at the possibilities. I’m blown away by the immersive effect the Biogon creates. Looking at the photo, it feels like I’m back out there on the curb in the middle of that intersection, looking past crowds and traffic and the tall buildings that suggest the Manhattan skyline rising in fact just out of sight in the distance.

Yet in an optical world where everything pops from horizon to horizon, there’s a danger that nothing does. Working with the SWC is already forcing me to assemble my photos differently.

One small annoyance is the bubble level on the top of the camera. It’s a feature which every commentator since 1954 insists is essential if you want to make the most of the Hasselblad’s spectacular glass. Tilt the camera off-axis, they warn, and your perfect Biogon geometry will bow and distend. As of today, it is the one aspect of the camera that I seem utterly incapable of using. I find myself standing there in the street, jiggling the camera like a snow globe, trying to nudge that little bubble into the center of the bullseye. It’s not a good look. If I want to use this camera in public on a regular basis, I’ll need to practice.

Still, I’m optimistic. I’ll keep on with the SWC/M—a year should be a good trial interval—in the meantime bearing in mind the advice of nearly every photographer who’s ever sung its praises:

“Take a few steps closer…and then closer again!”

Addendum

While waiting for this article to appear, I’ve continued using the SWC/M, and to my surprise got one worthwhile couch portrait with my Mom, husband and dog. The wide view feels appropriate here and not gimmicky, and the depth of field is impressive  (I shot this in natural light at f5.6 with the camera set on a tripod about 6 feet / 2 meters away). The large crazy quilt behind us was made in 1880 in Bethany, West Virginia by my maternal forebear, Lavinia Pendleton (my 97 year-old Mom’s great-great aunt). Lavinia P. could scarcely have imagined the plexiglass mount it currently occupies, made in 1994 by a textile conservator at the American Folk Art Museum (some of the fabrics are worn gossamer-thin and easily shredded…hence the protective enclosure).

Thanks for having a look.

You can see more of my work at my website, leica1933.com

FEATURED IMAGE: Downtown Brooklyn. Hasselblad SWC/M, Yellow Filter, Kodak Tri-X 400.

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