The Life of a Fujifilm x100 Original
In 2012, I was calling Southeast China home. I was living out of a suitcase, traveling, and living my life as a photographer — that is until I had everything stolen from me. Multiple camera bodies, a bag of lenses, and so on were all gone overnight. In the months that followed, my anger took hold of my passion for photography. I did not want to even touch a camera let alone buy a new one.
Nevertheless, when my friends invited me on a spontaneous trip to the jungle in the Philippines, I knew that this trip needed to be documented. Therefore, on a whim and with little to no research, I randomly purchased a Fujifilm x100. I vividly remember sitting in the cab on my way to the airport trying to figure out this curious-looking portable camera. And so, my journey into the world of Fuji had begun.
Coming from a world of Canon DSLR’s and lightening-fast prime lenses on the Mu43 system, I struggled to understand the humble x100. It was slow and sluggish; the auto-focus was near impossible to use in low-light; and shooting the lens wide open created Vasaline-like images. However, I started to notice something that went beyond the technical aspects of a camera. I found that this little retro-looking camera sparked people’s curiosity. It also started friendly conversations. Ultimately, it brought people’s guard down when I tried to photograph them — a uniquely different experience from the intimidating feeling people tend to get with a hefty Canon.
But mostly, it was fun to use. It was so much fun that I wouldn’t leave home without it. The friendly camera came with me to nightclubs in Shanghai, bike rides in the Longjing tea fields, and rainy nights in Taiwan. It was my trusty comrade. Hanging over my shoulder with a couple of spare batteries in my back pocket, I felt like nothing could stop me from making meaningful images with this uncomplicated and intuitive setup.
Today, Fujifilm’s x100 series turns 10 years old — a lifetime in dog years. And while a lot of changes and upgrades have been made to the newer models, some things remain equally as great with the original: the Bayer sensor renders colors that are nothing short of fantastic, the controls are effortless, and, personally, it remains a camera that simply inspires to create. Although it is full of technical limitations, it forces me to put more thought into the images I make. It’s not for everyone, but there is perhaps not a better representation to the faithful camera than the classic proverb: “Necessity is the mother of invention”.
Today my trusty worthy partner in crime rests on a shelf and does not get a lot of usage anymore. Part of me is sad it has become a relic of the past but the other part is proud that I have managed to wear a camera out. The aperture won’t stop down beyond f/5.6. The viewfinder switch is lost so it’s permanently in optical mode where haze appears. The exposure dial is unresponsive. Oh! Don’t even try to manually focus — the dial is broken as well. My father-in-law, who is a skilled technician, managed to pull it apart and diagnosed it with water damaged in the motherboard. Sigh.
And yet, with patience and experience, it will still snap away. The Fujifilm x100 simply won’t give up and neither will I. After all, it is my forever camera.
All images were made with the original x100 with homemade film recipes.
