“I really want to get the light meter fixed,” my dad told me once, years ago. “It’s been hard, I don’t think they make the parts anymore.” By the late 2010s, my dad had given up on ever getting his Nikon Photomic FTn ever working again. This past summer, though, his beloved camera was brought back from the brink.
This is a continuation of a series of stories about my late father, Thomas Schneider. Writing about his camera and returning to shooting film with it has been my way of processing the grief of his passing. Part one and part two are not required reading to enjoy this segment but it is recommended.
My father’s FTn restored and back in working order, I had this dream of taking it back out into the world — a world it had not seen in more than 40 years — and recapturing the same places my dad took it way back when, and perhaps some new places, too.
Last month, Chris Niccolls, Jordan Drake, and I visited Japan so that we could see Nikon’s new headquarters and museum as well as spend some time with the company’s new Z50 II camera. Since my father spent a large portion of the 1960s and 1970s traveling the world — Japan included — I decided it was a perfect opportunity (and rather fitting given our reason for being there) to bring the FTn along.
I’m a novice when it comes to classic cameras. I know how to operate them from a purely photography sense, but I am very unfamiliar with the technology of the time. As such, while KEH’s report noted that the Photomic light meter had been fully repaired, I wasn’t sure exactly how to start using it. Nikon created a couple of different versions of the Photomic, too and I was unsure which I had.
Luckily, I happen to work with an outstanding teacher with an encyclopedic knowledge of cameras: Chris Niccolls. We sat together in the dining room of our Airbnb in Japan and took the camera apart and examined the Photomic FTn light meter. Excitedly, Chris explained that it was the version that used a battery, not a solar cell, and was thus quite usable today. Well, with a catch.
You see, battery technology of the 1970s is quite different from the tech today. Even though the battery type that the FTn takes is still available — Type 675 batteries — the voltage of modern batteries is higher than the voltage of the past. Higher voltage means the light meter has too much power and is therefore not accurate. There are a couple of ways to solve this, such as getting a voltage reducer, or using Zinc air batteries (which famously die ridiculously quickly), but we luckily realized that the amount the Photomic is inaccurate is predictable: just two stops. By setting the FTn’s film ISO setting to be two stops slower — from ISO 100 to ISO 25 on the dial — it would work just fine.
And it did. The little dial in the viewfinder sprung to life and suddenly I could see why my dad loved this camera so much. Having shot with the base Nikon F for the previous few months with a pocket light meter, suddenly the Photomic FTn greatly sped up my ability to shoot. I could capture fleeting moments and change settings on the fly. How very much like a modern experience!
I felt my dad’s joy in this camera. And, thanks to the invitation from Nikon Japan, I would be able to take it home.
Home Again
While touring Nikon’s new headquarters, we met with multiple people from Nikon and all of them expressed surprise and joy at seeing the FTn around my neck. We sat down and spoke with multiple executives, but spent a lot of time talking with Takashi Aihara, Manager Video Business Department, Marketing Department, and UX Planning Department. When we finished, I asked him if I could take his photo in both film and digital (I had a Nikon Z8 with me as well). He agreed and we walked out into the atrium of the new headquarters.
The spot is really nice for photos as the light is bright but soft and indirect — basically the whole premise of the building’s architecture.
Looking at these two photos, it’s funny how similar they came out. I used two very different lenses (a classic 105mm f/2.2 and a new 28-75mm f/2.8) and two cameras were made by the same company, but separated by more than 50 years. Yet, aesthetically, they feel very much in line. It mirrors how I feel about my life and that of my father’s.
Sitting out on the terrace of Nikon’s new headquarters, I took a moment alone with my dad’s camera.
“You’re home,” I told it. “I wish dad was here too, but this will have to do.”
A few moments later, I picked it back up, slung it around my shoulder, and walked back inside. There is much more for Tom’s Nikon F Photomic FTn to see.
