I had the privilege to contribute to two distinct features, "Pafos: Off the Beaten Track" and "Let it Snow", found in the pages of Welcome Magazine (issue n.11 winter 2023-2024). It's the former that's special to me, mainly due to my collaboration with my wife, Vasiliki Anastasi. Our joint effort on "Pafos: Off the Beaten Track" allowed us to delve into the hidden beauty of the Xeros Valley in Cyprus. It is a place that holds a personal significance and where we have many memories. Together, we aimed to showcase this lesser-known gem and potentially help local businesses by attracting more visitors.
This magazine feature adds to our collaborations, including the 'Red Soil - Kochinohoma' project and the upcoming 'Aspelia Naturalis' coffee table book. Looking ahead, we're excited to continue sharing stories and capturing the essence of unique places, like the Xeros Valley. It is always a joy to work together and share our passions with others.
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I thoroughly enjoy delving into lens reviews, particularly those of older lenses—by "old," I mean not the latest ‘hot’ models, spanning from modern but outdated to truly ancient, adapted, or rediscovered lenses. What captivates me about these reviews and blog posts is their departure from the technical minutiae, focusing more on the lens's tactile qualities and, more importantly, the unique perspectives of individuals recounting their personal experiences. Now, let's talk about lenses. Why the fascination? Well, for photographers, lenses are the windows through which we choose to perceive the world. Each lens, whether subtly or dramatically, distorts reality. Even among identical copies of the same lens, nuances emerge, and this, to me, is utterly fascinating. This isn't a lens review; rather, I want to take you along on my journey with the Fujijon GF45mm F2.8 R WR. Consider it less of a formal review and more of a storytelling experience, where I share my impressions and fondness for this lens by letting the images it has enabled me to capture speak for themselves. After all, at the core of it, I'm a photographer, not a writer hahah! My chosen companion is the GF45—an everyday lens in the truest sense. I bought this lens exactly one year ago, and instantly became my photographic companion, it has never ceased to amaze me. This lens has been with me through countless moments, freezing in time the beauty and intricacies of the scenes I've encountered. It accompanies me everywhere, be it dinners, nights in or out, leisurely walks—essentially, my pocket camera. While I admire those with multiple cameras, I find myself tethered to the one I use professionally at any given moment. They have become an extension of myself, for better or worse. Let's address the elephant in the room—GF lenses, especially when compared to X series or full-frame counterparts, tend to be on the larger side. They're not something you'd casually sling over your shoulder for a hike or a family trip; "lug around" seems more fitting for the GF series. However, there are individuals wandering around with large-format film cameras, so go figure. This is what I do, this is the way. The lens provides a field of view equivalent to around 35mm on a full-frame camera, but I often find this a bit perplexing due to the GFX's 4:3 aspect ratio, in contrast to the 3:2 ratio on most other cameras. Consequently, everything seems a tad different, it feels wider to me. I find it challenging to articulate discussions using equivalences, so let's simplify and call it what it is—a 45mm on the GFX. I absolutely adore the 45mm field of view on the GFX. When traveling for leisure, I find myself not missing any of my other lenses. It's a complete package, allowing me to capture moments, portraits, landscapes, and details without feeling the need for more. This sentiment extends to my professional work; while not my most used lens professionally, it serves as my starting point—a reference. Its "standard" rendition of the world with a slightly wider perspective resonates with me. The autofocus, while not the fastest, satisfies my needs. For a 2.8 aperture lens, it delivers beautiful bokeh—tack sharp at the point of focus with a silky transition to the out-of-focus areas. One of the sharpest and most pleasing lenses I've ever used, which holds true for many GF lenses; Fuji certainly pushes the envelope with this series. Now, the comparison with the GF55mm 1.7 eludes me, as I don't own it. However, owning the GF80 1.7, while admirable, it can't be my everyday companion due to its size. The GF55mm 1.7 isn't vastly different in this regard. The GF45 2.8, with its added brightness and quality, remains my clear choice. Despite potential future acquisitions, the GF45 will always have its place. In terms of image rendition, the colours produced by this lens are truly exceptional. The images boast striking contrast and vividness, I often find myself having to reduce the contrast and saturation settings. Chromatic aberrations are virtually non-existent. While there is a noticeable vignetting at f2.8, I personally find it rather pleasing. This characteristic adds to the lens's appeal, especially when shooting wide open and aiming to focus on a specific subject. However, it's worth noting that the lens falls slightly short in one aspect — its minimum focus distance of 45cm. While not a significant issue, I've found it limiting as it doesn't capture the close-up images I often desire. Yes, the lens is weather-sealed, and I can attest to its efficacy. As an outdoor photographer, my gear faces rain, dust, snow, and everything the mountains throw at it. The GF45, with its compact size and design, feels secure. In conclusion, I believe the GF45mm F2.8 R WR is a must-have lens for both professional and hobbyist photographers, especially those who venture outdoors. It stands unwavering against the elements and captures the world beautifully, ensuring it never lets you down.
Oh, and a final note, currently I'm immersed in a project slated for release by the end of 2025, entirely crafted using the Fuji GFX Xpan ratio. I must emphasize my genuine pleasure in working with this lens within this panoramic view; it feels like a perfect match. However, I'll delve deeper into the nuances of this ratio and its compatibility with the GFX in a dedicated post soon. Stay tuned for more on that! Is this the early 2000s? Haha, I know it’s not. Having a blog might sound a bit like something from past decades. With all these social media platforms, it might seem like I get to share my thoughts and what I am doing, but in reality, it doesn't quite hit the mark. None of it feels like my own or, for a lack of a better word, 'comfortable' enough for me to have the confidence to truly be myself and share what I'd like to. I've reached a point where, even though a blog might sound anachronistic, it feels like a necessary outlet for me. There's so much I want to express and share, from the most basic things like the behind-the-scenes of a photoshoot to a review of a piece of gear that I've been using for years and absolutely love. I would very much like to delve into why I even take photographs and the challenges of living a creative life in a place that can often feel hostile to creativity, always ready to drain it out of you and make you conform to its ‘norms’. I'm not entirely sure who will be reading this blog, or if anyone will, but one thing I'm certain of, for those few of you who do read this, is that I'll strive to convey my experiences and thoughts as truthfully as possible. In this space, I aim to not only share my thoughts, experiences, and technical insights but also engage in discussions with other creatives or people I collaborate with. So please, watch this space for more to come, starting with: The ‘Memory box’ If I were ever to ask myself which of the images I took are the most important to me, my favourites, it would definitely be images from my life, my friends, my family, my experiences. Growing up in the 80s and 90s, perhaps a shared experience for many, we used to become intimately acquainted with our family photo albums, sometimes knowing them by heart. At a time when perhaps not everyone had a camera, or not one at hand all the time in any case, people took photographs with more deliberate thought. They were aware of the limitations of film, making the photograph worth their while, and then diligently printed and preserved these photos and carefully arranged them in albums found in almost every household. Today, we find ourselves in the digital age, where nearly everyone has a 'camera', usually in the form of a mobile phone, and social media platforms encourage us to snap thousands of photos each year. We send them to one another, share them in texts or on social media, and keep them stored on our devices or in the cloud, making them subject to the whims of technology, trends and companies that may one day vanish. Where will all these images be when our grandchildren reach our age? Will they forge the same deep connection with their grandparents' photographs as I did with mine? Do people take all these images with a sense of purpose? Do they ever actually sit and enjoy them? Or are they just ephemeral tools of communication, fleeting as they get exchanged in a message and then forgotten? Throughout the history of humanity, long before photography came along, there existed tangible ways to pass down memories. Moments were preserved in time through items, artworks, letters and diaries. Photography, a relatively recent development in human history, actually brought the ability to freeze a moment in time forever, yet we are still managing to lose it. In my conversations with people, I often hear a shared sentiment, that they’d like to create albums, like the ones we created in older times, or to have photos hang on their walls, but the either don’t find the time to do it or they feel they don’t possess meaningful photographs of their families and themselves to fill these, even though we live in times where virtually everyone carries a ‘camera’ in their pockets. It is a curious conundrum - how a century ago, with limited resources, people managed to have photographs that held profound meaning for them, while today, despite all this technology that surrounds us, so many people struggle to do the same. A ‘Memory box’ may be a figure of speech, but in my case, it quite literally started with a green, wooden, empty ammunition box I stumbled upon during my teenage years goofing about near the UN-controlled buffer zone in old-town Nicosia. This box, that I took home, started feeling up with photos, notes, cinema tickets, and an assortment of knick-knacks, that today I am grateful I saved. As I grew a bit older, I started taking photographs, at about the age of 16, my subjects being my friends, my family, my hobbies. Over the years I’ve made it a point to carry my camera with me wherever I go, trying not to miss life’s moments. This commitment, however, comes with its own expectations from others sometimes, but the rewards far outweigh any burdens especially when I take a retrospective look. So this is how the literal ‘Memory box’ slowly became a digital one, and I am now circling it back by trying to print real albums that I can hold - much like I used to hold my grandmother’s albums. I now witness the impact that this ‘Memory box’ album tradition has on my three-year-old daughter. She loves the moments when she gets to pull these albums out, asking about the people she sees, recognising even those friends who live far away and whom she rarely gets to see in person, all thanks to our albums. I have no clue how this shapes her, but I can only imagine positively. By the same token, albums are also a confrontation. Some of these images in our albums may stir up emotions that me or other friends or family looking at them may have wished to have kept buried, as people don’t tend to look at images from the past that often anymore. Some images force us to remember relocations, breakups, relationships that drifted apart, the passage of our youth marked by greying hair and wrinkling skin and the sombre reality of faces of people who are no longer among us. Witnessing the passing of time through these pages is both a curse and a blessing. Funnily enough, this isn’t a new revelation. It brings to mind my grandmother’s wedding album, where certain individuals were literally “deleted” from it, their images scratched away with a pen (an act I hope to explore further in a future blog post). I’ve heard similar tales from friends whose relatives, in their own way, cut people out from photographs. There's something to be said in the act of editing the past to align it with one's current state of being, a testament to how a frozen moment in time can be reflected against the backdrop of the present.
For me, the essence of documenting our lives lies not in resting picture-perfect postcards from our travels, the kind you can buy at a souvenir shop. It’s about capturing the unique way in which we personally experience these moments. After all, you can’t buy memories, but you can certainly preserve them, in the highs and the lows, whether we would like to revisit them in the future or not - even in an old ammunition box. |
Welcome!"Storing Light" is my personal blog, where I share my photography insights, thoughts, experiences, and gear choices. Join me on this captivating journey into the world of visual storytelling, where I'll also feature guest contributors discussing their thoughts and ideas. Archives
February 2024
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