Showing posts with label retro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label retro. Show all posts

Thursday, 6 November 2014

Asus Eee 701: They Travelled by Train

An Asus Eee 701, with an orange for scale

You're supposed to use a banana, but I don't have any bananas at the moment so I've decided to use an orange instead. There were other things I could have used, but oranges are a global constant and I've always liked the colour. Orange (the colour) is dynamic, futuristic, and at the same time retro, because it was very popular in the 1970s. Oranges (the fruits) were also very popular in the 1970s, according to this article at the University of Florida, or at least orange juice was popular; by the 1970s over 90% of Florida's orange crop was being used to make orange juice concentrate, breathe in. The oranges themselves were vessels for their juice, just as our bodies are vessels for our souls.

Vessels, and prisons. Orange juice concentrate was developed in the 1940s as a wartime measure, and obviously it must have done the trick because we won. It became extremely popular in the 1950s; Americans drank ever-increasing amounts of it, up until the 2000s, at which point it started to fall out of favour. How come? A mixture of rising prices, competition from smoothies, the decline of the American breakfast, a general shift from acidic, sugary drinks towards bottled water, the list is quite literally finite.

Do you remember smoothies? When people write history books of the 2000s, the rise and fall of smoothies will fill up one chapter. It will be the story of how Innocent sold millions of gallons of liquefied banana and orange at a premium price, because the company had a halo - even though smoothies were no good for you or for the environment or anything - and then the brand was sold to McDonalds or Coke or one of those big companies, because it was just a cynical money-grabbing exercise all along. Who would have thought that a fruit juice company would be driven entirely by money?

Now, this is my blog, and I can write what I want, so subsequent paragraphs will be interspersed with poems that use ORANGE as if it was an acronym, and later on I will use other fruits. It pleases me to write the word "fruits". I enjoy writing that word, and saying it out loud, perhaps because I have to make a kissing-shape with my lips when I say it. Fruits.

Ocelot, retreat!
And no
gummy eatmurder


For people of my generation orange juice is inextricably linked with the 1983 comedy Trading Places, in which orange juice futures played a pivotal role. Almost as pivotal as Jamie Lee Curtis' breasts, which left a very strong impression on boys who grew up in the 1980s. I've written about netbooks before, but not specifically about the original Asus Eee 701, the machine that started the netbook craze. Having dug mine out of storage I decided to tinker with it. At this point the camera pans along and we see John Cleese at a desk, and he says "and now for something completely different", and the "it's" guy appears and then the music.

There isn't a Kindle App for Linux, but Amazon's cloud reader service works with Firefox running on Puppy Linux. The machine's tiny screen isn't really cut out for long reading sessions, though.

And now we're in an office. John Cleese sits behind a desk. Michael Palin walks in. My Eee originally came with Windows XP. Over time I replaced this with the short-lived Netbook Edition of Ubuntu, and then a stripped-down installation of lightweight Linux distribution Lubuntu. But this almost filled up the on-board SSD, and after seven years I worry about the SSD's durability. So I decided to install Puppy Linux, viz the images above and below. Specifically Slacko Puppy 5.7. It leaves almost three-quarters of the 701's 4gb SSD empty, even with Firefox and a smattering of applications.

Oiled, raw asses
naked garmonbozia*

everywhere

* pain and sorrow

I've always felt sorry for Puppy Linux. On the whole Linux is not a sexy operating system for sex people, and Puppy Linux is the least sexy. It consistently works on even the most unpromising hardware, and in the present case it recognises the Eee's function controls - brightness, volume etc - plus it seamlessly uses a second monitor, it even controls the Eee's fan. And yet Puppy is always overlooked and spurned as the poor person's Linux, the council house Linux, the public transport Linux. NHS spectacles Linux.

An Eee sitting on top of an Asus TF101 tablet, which has a similar footprint but a much larger, higher-resolution screen (1280x800 vs 800x480). The TF101 was sold as the Eee Pad Tablet, and is technically the Eee 701's distant successor, although they are conceptually very different machines.

The 701 was launched here in the UK in late 2007, with reviews appearing in October and November of that year. It was trailed with a price of £150 or so but actually launched at £220-ish, depending on spec. In 2007 the typical laptop cost anything from £550-1,200 and up, depending on spec and accessories, with anything higher than that generally not worth the extra money. Laptops from that period were carry-able, desktop-able, train-table-able, Starbucks-able, but not generally restaurant-able or walk-able or stand-up-able. For truly portable computing your choices were Blackberries and Symbian Nokias, which didn't necessarily have wi-fi, or Apple's new iPhone, which did have wi-fi but was very expensive, and of course none of these options had a proper keyboard and x86 compatibility. They weren't proper computers.

We know now that the iPhone was the future, and that it and its ilk would eliminate Netbooks, but it wasn't such a clear-cut thing at the time. For a short while the press tried to spin the iPhone as a flop, mocking Steve Jobs' goal of selling ten million of the things in its first year. Since then Apple has sold almost half a billion iPhones, and historians of the future will write of the mobile phone revolution in terms of the pre- and post-iPhone eras. Every mobile phone platform released before 2007 will be dismissed just as we dismiss silent films or pre-hip hop popular music today. There was pop music before Jay-Z's The Blueprint, but history will not recall it. Nobody kissed and nobody touched.

It's amusing to look back at coverage of the iPhone. I've done this before - it was a blog craze a while back - but it never ceases to put a smile on my face. The expert analysts are no more knowledgeable than you or I. They deflect attention from their shortcomings and spin their fluke triumphs, but in general they are just space-fillers. According to one of Engadget's "noted analysts" it wasn't actually a smartphone and would flop because it didn't have 3g and you couldn't change the battery. According to this clown it was going to fail because it was too functional, too hard to use, and "users will detest the touch screen interface due to its lack of tactile feedback". It was "nothing more than a luxury bauble that will appeal to a few gadget freaks" according to Matthew Lynn, a man who has a girl's name. According to Todd Sullivan, who is called Todd - his profile bigs him up as a big swinging dick, a ten-bagger, a mover and shaker - "the introduction of the iPhone will be the first miscue for the company and send its shares, priced for perfection, tumbling".

In a way he was semi-right; Apple's share price rose in the early iPhone era, but fell again over the next year. Nonetheless if you had bought $1,000 of Apple shares on the day of the iPhone's launch and sold them at the five-year mark you would have made a profit of about (mashes buttons on calculator) about $3,800, is that right? Does that look right? And you would forever regret not buying more shares in Apple. You would look at your $3,800 - that would have been about £2,300 - and you would think "is this it? five years and... the one time in my life I hit a goldmine on the stock market, the one time I will ever hit a goldmine, and all I have is $3,800?". Is that what it feels to be a Master of the Universe? For the rest of your life you'll sit there and think about all the people in the world who would commit murder for $3,800, trying to make your rotten empty triumph seem impressive. For a brief moment you were Warren Buffett. A pathetic, low-rent Warren Buffett. A fairground Caesar. There is nothing more melancholic than a brief glimpse of heaven.

The average price of a laptop had been steadily heading downwards for several years by the time the Eee came about, and the state of tech in the Core II Duo era was such that even a cheap laptop was competent enough to be your only computer, provided you didn't want to play the latest games. 2007 wasn't so far away. Wi-fi was well established although public wi-fi was by no means ubiquitous. It's hard to remember now, but we were supposed to have widespread free public wi-fi fourteen years ago, but for various reasons it didn't happen, and the dream of having an uninterrupted internet connection wherever you go has still not happened.

Oliver Reed -
angry noises;
grotesque energy


That BBC report I have just linked mentions The Cloud, which "wants to go large and install wi-fi terminals in thousands of pubs", comma, "but analysts disagree whether such ambitious roll-out plans will deliver the broad wi-fi coverage needed to attract customers in larger numbers", and that was in 2003. Circa 2014 The Cloud still exists - not to be confused with the cloud, which is something else - but it is still only one wi-fi solution of many, and it isn't much use in the outdoors or on a train. It depresses me that wi-fi coverage is still so poor on trains. Trains have ample power and are restricted to a small number of captive routes. And it's 2014, fourteen years into the future.

Automatic pea-pod;
lesbian ecstasy


The average British man and woman in 2003 had not heard of wi-fi and had no use for it. As with so many technologies I surmise that the average British man and woman of today still doesn't know that there is such a thing as wi-fi. These people, these happy people just turn on their tablet and it works. It takes an enormous level of transparency before a technological gadget can penetrate the mainstream.

An Eee 701 (top), on top of a TF101 and an Asus Eee 1005HA (bottom). Some versions of the 701 had a 56.6k modem, mine is blanked off. The 701 was also available in black.

By 2007 mobile computing and mobile internet had reached a general level of competence that has only improved incrementally. Which led to a problem whereby the computing market began to stagnate; people no longer needed to buy a new computer every couple of years. In this respect the Eee benefited from fortuitous timing. People were looking for something to fill in the gap between their laptop and their smartphone. Furthermore the Eee was released just as people were becoming sick of the profligacy of the age. It rode on the publicity surrounding the One Laptop Per Child's $100 Laptop, and although it was devised as a miniature productivity machine it worked brilliantly as a smartphone complement. Especially if you wanted to read and reply to emails whilst on the move using wifi or a 3G dongle, and you weren't fussed about nasty old unhygenic voice communication. It was cheap but surprisingly well-made, and it was cute rather than naff, almost classless. I can't recall ever seeing an advert for one. News of it spread by word of mouth and reviews, because there was pent-up desire for it.

Its success, and that of the Netbook as a whole, was a rare burst of sunshine in the computing market, and over the next couple of years there was a Netbook glut, as everybody tried to get their Netbook into the shops. Amazon and eBay added Netbook sections to their listings, which they presumably un-added a few years later. Last year there was a generic Android tablet glut, no doubt in a few years there will be a glut of something else. It's hard to see what will come next; the idea of a computer that is just a flat screen has been around since science fiction of the 1940s. Sci-fi anticipated that we would eventually have computers built into our heads, but that is decades away.

Bastard, asshole, nonce,
asshole, nonce
asshole


Although, if you think about it, we already have computers in our heads. Our brains. They are computers. They use solid state storage and have limited read/write capacity before they wear out. They probably do not support wi-fi, although some people claim otherwise. Brains run much cooler than electronic computers and do not need fans. They have a number of I/O ports. Brains.

Historically the basic concept of the Eee was devised by Asus CEO Jonney Shih, essentially as a brand-building exercise. Until the Eee, Asus was mostly famous for its motherboards and components; now it is the third or fourth-largest tablet manufacturer depending on whose statistics you believe, behind Apple, Samsung and Lenovo. The Eee's packaging was executed by Jerry Shen - for which he seems to have been promoted to CEO - with a case drafted by chief designer Jimmy Chu, who based it heavily on his earlier Asus U1F subnotebook, scaled down by 75%. It was originally to have used the new Intel Atom, but the Atom was delayed, and so in the end the Eee used a 900mhz Celeron underclocked to 650mhz. The wi-fi module and sound chip were stock, the screen an 800x480 panel borrowed from an in-car satnav unit.

The original Eee 701 had more or less the same connection options as a full-sized laptop, and compared to a modern tablet it's surprisingly well-equipped, with three USB ports, an SD card reader, Ethernet, and VGA out. The 701 drives external monitors to at least 1440x900, and with three USB sockets you can in theory use it as a headless PC with USB keyboard and mouse, with one USB socket free.

Puppy Linux on a 701, running at 1440x900 on an external monitor. It is often opined that we are due for another massive economic crash, and I wonder which giants will fall first; Tesco seems to be doing poorly, Virgin will surely lose money from the space tourism business. Will Britain have any businesses at all, five years from now?

In 2007 the Eee seemed very fresh and new. It came as standard with either 2gb or 4gb of SSD storage, at a time when SSDs were just starting to become feasible as desktop drive replacements. 4gb was tiny even then, and perhaps the Eee's most forward-thinking element was the decision to generally ignore onboard storage. In that respect it was a close ancestor of the Chromebook concept. The Eee post-dated YouTube by two years, predated Dropbox by a year, and as a cloud-orientated machine it was on the cutting edge, which hurt it a little bit because the cloudy infrastructure we take for granted today was in its infancy back then.

The £220-ish price point was just cheap enough to make it an impulse purchase. There had been small laptops before, and cheap internet appliances, but there had been no small, cheap laptops - or cheap, small internet appliances that were x86 compatible. The Celeron's x86-ness meant that the Eee was a proper laptop rather than a big smartphone, but the use of a Celeron rather than an Atom is also the Eee's Achilles heel. The machine runs hot, and despite having no moving parts except for a small fan, the stock battery only lasts a couple of hours. This was irritating even at the time. Extended replacement batteries are still available on eBay, but they're bulky. Nowadays Asus would have used an ARM chip running a version of Android, but Android didn't exist in 2007. It was a very different world back then. The Eee would have been fundamentally different if it had been designed today.

God respects
and praises
elephants, foxes, rabbits -
universe is true


Originally the Eee came with a version of Mandriva Linux, a Linux flavour of which I know little. Within eighteen months Linux was banished from netbooks and replaced by XP, but that's another story. In 2007 XP was supposedly on the way out. Microsoft wanted to abandon it in favour of Vista. But the netbook became one of the few growth segments of the PC market, and Vista turned out not to be the marketing triumph Microsoft expected. Its high system requirements would have been a poor fit for netbooks, and so Microsoft was driven by pragmatism to keep XP in production. In fact official support for XP didn't end until early 2014, and so in a way the 701 and its Netbook brethren essentially brought XP back from the dead and doubled its lifespan.


The keyboard is faster than an on-screen keyboard, but still awkward - the return, backspace, and right shift keys are very small. One legacy of the Eee's Linux heritage is the lack of a Windows key. The tiny trackpad has scroll regions. It is surprisingly difficult to photograph a computer such that the case and screen are evenly lit - you have to turn the screen brightness down or use fill-flash.

For a year or so after launch they were very hard to come by in the UK. Asus had been surprised by the demand, and stocks sold out as soon as they arrived, especially the more desirable 4gb model. There was also a 2gb model which nobody wanted. I was initially skeptical of the 701, but in the end I was won over by it, although looking back the slightly later, Atom-powered 901 was the apotheosis of the concept. The 901 filled the Eee's lid with a 9", 1024x600 screen, which could display contemporary webpages at full width.

Later Netbooks fell into the trap of being too bulky for comfort but not powerful enough for general use, and furthermore 12" laptops had fallen in price to match them. Nowadays my "netbook" is actually a used ThinkPad X61, which is just about the perfect form factor and much more powerful than any Netbook.

Men, and narwhals
go - oh!

My Eee tends to go through long periods of disuse with occasional resurrections. As of 2014 it has survived surprisingly well. Nothing about the machine is fundamentally obsolete. It doesn't have USB 3.0, and the wi-fi doesn't support 802.11n, but the Eee probably wouldn't benefit from it anyway. Seven years later the hinge is still strong, nay stiff. Take that, Titanium G4 PowerBook. The case has no large gouges, the keys are still present. It's made of thick white plastic and feels a bit like a durable toddler's toy. The internals are very simple and the 701 didn't have any notorious design faults. As a news reader / email terminal it's functional. The screen and limited battery life are still the major limitations, just as they were in 2007, and whereas I can leave my tablet in standby for days and activate it with a swipe, I have to turn the 701 on and off, which takes precious seconds. The SSD has essentially the same performance as a Compact Flash card, e.g. it's not much faster than a 5400rpm hard drive. The SSD apparently consisted of four 1gb cells, and I have no idea if the Eee was smart enough to spread data evenly over the cells; and my hunch is that if one cell fails, the machine becomes a brick. The SSD is soldered to the motherboard. The later 701SD had an 8gb SSD, and later models used conventional hard drives.

Netbooks are no longer manufactured; the Chromebook concept essentially continues the idea of a small computer with non-local storage, tablets do the job of checking email and the internet, and I suppose Windows Surface covers the x86-in-a-small-package base. x86 compatibility isn't the draw it was in 2007, because for every human need there is now an app. In my earlier piece on the Netbook I argued that the concept was badly hit by the lack of a Netbook infrastructure, and that x86 compatibility turned out to be a dead end. It did nothing to encourage developers to produce software specifically for the Netbook concept, and so Netbooks ended up running applications developed for larger, more capable computers, which made Netbooks look bad. Now that Office is a cloud service the need for x86 compatibility is slowly fading, and perhaps one day the infamous Windows-Intel duopoly will simply evaporate, and people will forget why they hated it.

Is there a direct modern equivalent of the 701? Chromebooks tend to be laptop-sized; they tick all the 701's boxes except for the tiny form factor. The 701 is so small that it can easily be held one-handed and carried rather like a paperback book. Modern tablets are roughly the same size, but I would be wary of carrying a tablet with its keyboard dock connected. The 701 is two inches narrower and an inch shallower than the smallest MacBook Air, and slightly lighter, although much less capable. Bearing in mind my hypothesis above, I conclude that there isn't a modern equivalent of the 701, because there doesn't need to be one. In 2007 the Eee made sense; in 2014 the concept belongs to a bygone age. The Eee opened up the floodgates and was, in the end, swept away.

Captive! Held inside
prison ships 

Sunday, 16 December 2012

Olympus OM-2N: Hot Black Heart

Olympus OM-2N / Zuiko 50mm f/1.4 / Adox CHS 25 / Kensington & Chelsea
R09 / an hour

With the end of the world only a few days away, I went for a stroll with my OM-2. The old Olympus OMs were occasionally described as the Saab of cameras, which is to say that they were technically clever, a little bit quirky - in a clever way - but geeky and not at all sexy. Not like Nikon.

For proof, here's Muhammad Ali posing with a Nikon. And here's Michael Jackson, also posing with a Nikon, back when he was still Michael Jackson. Serge Gainsbourg, no doubt photographing a very young girl, with a Nikon. Benny Andersson of Abba - Abba! - short pause Nikon. Joey Ramone, Nikon. Marilyn Monroe, Nikon. And so on. Going over this post two years later I'm struck by the unwisdom of linking to Tumblr blogs. They're transient and trivial and for the most part consist of the same small pool of photographs passed around endlessly; and a few months later the owners get bored, or they're hit with a copyright infringement notice, and then they're gone, leaving nothing behind, comma, comma, full stop.


I think it's supposed to be Kanye West (the sign gives it away)

Yeah, some of those photos predate the OM system, and of course I'm being selective. And those people are actors and musicians, not photographers. But still. Nikon is the sex camera of sex people. Rolleiflex was for the gentleman or lady. Polaroid for the artist. Pentax for Ringo Starr. Olympus had David Bailey, but only because the company were paying him to appear in their adverts, and I can't find a single picture of him holding an OM-1.



The OM range was popular with astrophotographers and photomicroscopers, because it had a good range of macro accessories and the shutter didn't require power during long exposures. You can imagine that it was popular with radio enthusiasts and solderers and model aeroplane builders. Stamp collectors. These people are irritating because they seem so happy. Why should they be happy?



Still, the OM system has had a strange kind of afterlife with the in-name-only OM-D, a good-looking modern digital camera that attracted favourable reviews last year. I was always curious about the older OM cameras so I decided to find out what they were like. I shall now present to you my findings. Unlike other, smellier blogs, this one has actual pictures taken with the camera itself. By a photographic genius e.g. me. Not just a lot of pictures of the camera.


The OM system was formally launched in 1973, although it was originally going to be called the M-System; the first camera was launched as the Olympus M-1. Leica was not happy with this - from the 1950s their own cameras had been M-something - and so Olympus agreed to change the name. The M1 is also a motorway, it connects Leeds with London so that the people of Leeds can escape.


The OM-1 was very late to the SLR party. During the 1950s and 1960s Olympus had been a lone wolf hunting away from the pack, its mouth stained with the flesh of its prey as it dove through banks of snow, driven by a satanic lust for warm blood; it had long since filled its belly, now it hunted in a futile quest to discharge the mounting howl of rage that swelled within its hot black heart.



The first manifestation of this sadistic exercise in brutal power was the dainty half-frame Pen F, which Olympus had sold throughout the 1960s. The Pen F was followed by the anonymous Olympus FTL, an M42 stopgap that no-one remembers much nowadays. By 1973 the competition had been in the game for over a decade, but there was a constant influx of new buyers who were not wedded to an existing system and the OM-1 was very popular with first-timers. Olympus' SLRs were good value, slightly more expensive than Pentax, but cheaper than Canon and Nikon, and looking through old issues of Popular Photography with Google Books it seems that the magazines liked them as well.




They were clever, too. Olympus knew that they couldn't compete at the high end of the market - Nikon had that sewn up - and churning out rebadged, OEM-designed bodies would have been a shameful admission of defeat. Furthermore they had the great brain of Yoshihisa Maitani to hand, so they decided to compete with cleverness. Maitani was perhaps the only superstar Japanese camera designer of the 1970s - at a time when some people in the West still thought of Japanese people as interchangeable units, Olympus was happy to put him in their US adverts.


Mir.com already covers the minutiae of the OM system in mind-numbing detail and so I won't duplicate their work. The OM-1 was smaller and lighter than the competition (in particular, it was noticeably shorter). This was achieved by some clever engineering and sheer force of will, and by moving the shutter speed dial so that it went around the lens mount, which freed up space on the top plate. Nikon had used a similar arrangement with the Nikkormat FT-N of the late 1960s but seemed uninterested in the idea and never used it again. Apart from the camera body, the system as a whole was designed for compactness. The lenses were tiny and the winder was half the size of competing designs. An OM-1 body with a couple of lenses was not much larger than an equivalent rangefinder setup. The OM also had an unusually voluminous viewfinder, which was impressive given the small size of the body.

Conceptually the OM-1 was much more conservative. It had a mechanically-powered shutter and used battery-powered match-needle metering with centre weighting. Unfortunately the meter uses the long-discontinued mercury PX625 battery and so it's not an ideal choice nowadays. Which is why I bought an OM-2 instead.


The OM-2 was launched in 1975, at a time when the OM-1's influence was starting to be felt. Small was the in thing, but the OM-2 added something new to the mix - electronics. It had aperture-priority automatic exposure and a stepless, electronically-timed shutter that needed batteries to work properly, although fortunately it uses SR44 silver oxide cells, which are still being made. Without the batteries the camera is useless, which was a controversial issue at the time. When Nikon launched the battery-power F3 in 1980 there were howls of protest from professionals worried that they would run out of batteries in the middle of Afghanistan or El Salvadore; the consumer marketplace had fewer qualms, and in the wake of the OM-2 there was a wave of electronic cameras. Late-70s post OM-2 cameras such as the Canon AV-1 and Pentax ME tended to use microprocessor-controlled digital electronics, whereas the OM-2N is in contrast analogue. Olympus didn't introduce a microprocessor-controlled professional-level SLR until the OM-4 of 1983 (the OM-3, launched the following year, was essentially an OM-1 in an OM-4 body, with a mechanical shutter and uncoupled meter).




The OM-2 had an off-the-film metering system that had a little cell inside the camera body pointing directly at the surface of the film; it measured the amount of light hitting the film during the exposure, and closed the shutter accordingly. For ordinary daylight exposures this was overkill, but it transformed flash automation. Until the OM-2 came along, a camera's flash system had to estimate the correct exposure before the shutter opened and then hope for the best. The OM-2 could measure flash exposure as it happened, and the basic concept of measuring the surface of the film was quickly adopted by the rest of the industry.


My OM-2 is an OM-2N, which has a few minor refinements that smoothed out the flash system. Here it is, sitting next to a Leica R8, being small:


It's ironic that Leica's SLR designs were so anti-Leica. The early, in-house Leicaflex was blocky and anonymous; the Minolta-Leicas of the 1970s and 1980s were just anonymous; the later in-house R8 and R9 are distinctive but blocky. It's a shame that Leica didn't dump Minolta and climb into bed with Olympus instead. The OM system was more Leica than Leica.



On a technical level the OM-2 is simple by modern standards. Compared to the R8 above it has a slower top shutter speed - 1/1000 vs 1/8000 - and there's no mirror lock-up. It only has full-frame averaging aperture priority metering, no spot or multi-spot, and the viewfinder is not illuminated, so it's hard to see what shutter speed the camera has chosen in low light. It's neat the way that the viewfinder display changes when you switch from automatic exposure to manual; the transparent shutter speed overlay slides out of the way and is replaced with a +/- match needle tab.

"Self-portrait with sticker"


The OM-2 remained in production until the mid-1980s, when it was replaced by the OM-4, which had a tougher body and a more versatile metering system. There was also the OM-2SP and OM-2S, which were product-engineered mid-level models based on the OM-4. They added a spot meter and program exposure but were bedevilled by electrical problems that drained the batteries quickly, even when the cameras were sitting unused. The OM-2S and SP were only in production for a couple of years in the mid-1980s. The OM-4 remained on sale until 2002, by which time it was an anachronism.



There was also a lower-cost range, starting with the OM-10, which was launched in 1979. The double-digit OM cameras were very popular in their day and mirrored the features of their single-digit counterparts. The OM-10 parallels the OM-2, with aperture-priority autoexposure, although the manual speed control was an optional extra. Here's an OM-10 body sitting in front of an OM-2:


The OM10's hot shoe is fixed in place, the winding lever is simpler, and there are a few more plastic parts. The insides are apparently not as robust, although mine still works. In some respects the OM-10 is more advanced than the OM-2 - the viewfinder has a larger, LED-illuminated shutter speed display - and the shutter has the same top speed. Physically the two bodies are almost exactly the same size. On the used market OM-10s are staggeringly cheap, because Olympus sold lots of them.


Ah, but what's the OM-2 like as a camera, as a means of expression; as an extension of my senses? It's wonderful, to be honest, small enough to carry around all day without becoming a burden - it thrashes the R8 in that respect - and easy enough to use that it doesn't become fussy. With a 50mm f/1.4 it's ready for anything, provided that thing isn't very large or very far away. A small lens kit consisting of 50mm and a 21mm, 24mm, or 28mm takes up less space than a single zoom lens.




Olympus' lens range mirrored Leica's rangefinder line-up, with a lot of wides and very short telephotos, and a few longer telephotos that no-one bought, with an overall emphasis on prime lenses. The OM system dates from a time when entry-level cameras came with a prime lens, and by the time zoom lenses had become the default choice the OM range was aimed at a slightly higher market segment. My 50mm f/1.4 is one of the older models, and it's no great shakes at f/1.4, but good enough. I have seen better bokeh.



I used Adox CHS 25 for most of the black and white images in this article. I had some rolls lying around. It has a great look - very moody - but it's a nightmare to use, because it's very fragile. Contemplate the following:


Bear in mind that for every white speck you see in this thumbnail, there are a dozen smaller white specks that only become apparent at full size. If you have OCD it's the worst film in the world.

Well, perhaps not; if you actually do have OCD, you probably wash the negatives thoroughly and develop them in a dust-free environment. The following picture was brought to you courtesy of the number nine, plus Photoshop's spot healing and clone brushes. In fact I often have to do so much cloning and spot healing that the film's supposed resolution advantage is cloned away (brickwork or anything with a regular pattern is horrendously time-consuming to retouch):



And that's the OM-2. More versatile than a point-and-shoot, far smaller than an elephant, more dangerous than a two-horned narwhal. I took all these pictures with mine, but remember that it's the genius behind the camera that matters, i.e. me.

Me and London. London matters. Because every genius needs something to feed his mind, and London has a lot of things to look at and think about. And eat, too. It has shops as well. An integrated transport network. Staggeringly expensive houses, filled with people who are not there.