Sony PCM-M10 portable audio recorder

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Doing as I say, as well as as I do.

The Long Version: I've been using a Sony PCM-D50 audio recorder for ages, so whenever someone asks me for buying advice, I've suggested its newer sibling, the PCM-M10. It's 80% of the D50 for half the price, and even exceeds the abilities of the bigger unit in some ways. My arguments in its favour were so compelling, in fact, that after a few years of recounting them I eventually succumbed and bought one myself.

The Sony M10 is a hand-size audio recorder with excellent electronics and supernatural battery life. Yes, you can use it with $500 monitor headphones if you want to, as long as they have a 3.5mm jack, but that's not really the point. Its pair of omnidirectional microphones are very tolerant of suboptimal use, at the expense of some soundstage crispness, so it's perfect for people who just want to record good audio without fussing over the minutia.

I'm primarily interested in field recording ambience and environments in the city, so I have different requirements than musicians or videographers. A low noise floor is always good, but an effective limiter that can handle loud transients is much more important. Stereo imaging matters, but so do forgiving microphones and quick startup times. And there's simply no way that I'm going to walk the streets with a blimp on a boom. For me getting the sound is more important than being able to record the highest possible fidelity, and that's where the Sony M10 comes in.

The PCM-M10 is, at its heart, consumer electronics. It doesn't have the metal heft of its higher-end siblings, and cuts some corners in its controls. The worst of this is the LCD backlight being set through the menu, rather than being toggled by a dedicated button, as it's hard to see the meter display when the light turns off. It's also brutally difficult to see the numerals on the levels dial, which are only stamped on its side without any contrasting markings – although I must note that some allegedly “serious” handy recorders lack a levels dial at all. The switches on the back of the unit are easy to move accidentally, which I've resolved with some gaffer tape. And the small size of the recorder makes it particularly ill-suited to having a wind screen, with nothing much to hold one in place and no way to avoid it obscuring the LCD display or LED metering guides. The M10 is not nearly as nice or as easy to use as my bigger Sony PCM-D50.

The PCM-M10 is, on its surface, consumer electronics. It's available in black, burgundy, or white plastic; all have a wide contrasting silver band around them. My burgundy model even has little metallic flecks in the plastic, although the Black is described as matte. The microphones are hidden within the body of the unit, with small grills to cover them and no protrusions. Only the track mark button is silver, with the tape-deck transport controls being body-colour, and a black row of secondary buttons is tucked into the black surround of the LCD bezel. No casual observer is going to mistake the M10 for A Serious Piece Of Gear, which most recorders come across as, or for a stun gun, which is a real danger with the Zooms. Instead it's just another hand-sized electronic gadget of no clear purpose, and even if it is recognized as a recorder, it looks like something a student might use to hold their place while they sleep through a lecture. The M10 is not nearly as noticeable or remarkable as my bigger Sony PCM-D50.

In my life "nondescript" and "inoffensive" are goals to be aspired to. The M10 fits in perfectly.

The best feature of the Sony recorders are their built-in limiters. These clever devices record a secondary track at a lower gain, -12dB for the M10 and -20dB for the D50 and D100, which they normalize and cut in seamlessly to avoid clipping. The M10's levels will just read "OVER" instead of giving a positive reading like the D50 would, giving less indication of if and how the levels should be adjusted, but the magic still works well enough.

The M10 also has the Sony five-second preroll buffer, and even comes with the wired remote that lets it start recording without any handling noise. That's great when lying in wait for sound, but enabling the buffer has another enormous practical advantage. Like many recorders, hitting record doesn't actually start the recorder recording. This is a solid opportunity to set the levels, but it's really easy to not notice that the pause button is still flashing and think that sound is being captured when it isn't. With the buffer turned off the display looks about the same whether it's paused or rolling, but with the preroll enabled the zeroed time counter is replaced by bold blocks that look vastly different. And that's why I keep the preroll enabled: it's an obvious indicator of the recording state right under the meters that I'm devoting my attention to.

Another Sony quirk is that there's no way to change the file name format in the recorder. It's always YYMMDD_XX, so my being in a multi-Sony environment means that using both recorders on the same day creates identical file names. (Although the M10 starts incrementing the _XX portion from _01, while the D50 starts at _00.) To get around this I've set the M10's date two decades into the future, which it accepts somewhat gullibly, even though that annoys my computer's 'list files by most recent' function. This may not be much of an issue for anyone else, anywhere, ever.

One of the strengths of the PCM-M10 is that its omnidirectional microphones are relatively immune to wind. Well, gentle breezes. Maybe immune to slight drafts is a better term. Outdoors it does need a screen on all but the calmest days, but when wind does hit the M10, the effect is relatively mild. And unlike the Sony D50, which loses its mind if someone walks past its unshielded microphones too quickly, the M10 can go naked indoors with near-impunity. This is another huge advantage in the effort to be nondescript and inoffensive.

When the M10 does need a hat I'll use the Røde Dead Kitten, which is originally designed for their Stereo Videomic, but also fits the D50 and similarly-sized recorders. This is pretty heavy-duty protection, and attenuates the high frequencies somewhat, but I haven't felt the need to add a lightweight screen. Sony's own M10-specific design costs almost as much as the recorder.

As an aside, I'm also a big fan of Joby's tripods. I can highly recommend their low-profile Micro 250, which permanently lives on the bottom of my M10, and the recorder still happily fits in a pocket or small camera case. This makes it easy to position it away from the surface of a table; for the brave it can even be used as a stand to prop up the recorder vertically, as it has for some of these photos. And it doesn't block the battery door, so I don't need to remove it when I swap the M10's two AA cells – which I do out of habit, not necessity, since I've never had the patience to actually run a set down.

The M10 has about the same footprint as a small phone – that's an iPhone 5 in the photo above – and weighs about as much as a large unpeeled banana. There's just no reason to not have it nearby. Its absurd battery life means that I keep it locked on 'hold' instead of turning it off, so it only needs a quick flip of the power switch to be instantly ready. I've lost count of the number of good sounds that I've caught with the M10 that I would otherwise have missed.

I bought the Sony M10 because I thought I would use it more than the on-paper-superior D50, and I was absolutely right. It's true that I will choose to carry and use my bigger D50, with its better stereo imaging and somewhat lower noise floor, when I know that I'll be dedicating significant time to audio recording and have the comfort level to use it. This is exactly the same as choosing when to carry and use a big DSLR instead of a smaller camera. And like having multiple cameras, there have been times when I've used the little M10 even though the D50 was also in my gear bag. I'm wincing just a little to say this, but if I could only keep one audio recorder – a horrible thought – I'd be better served by the versatile and inoffensive M10. Not that I'm known for making rational choices, but hopefully it never comes to that.

last updated 12 oct 2014

Nikon D810

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Behold with cautious optimism.

Counter Opinion: I know what I'm risking by saying this, but I'll say it anyway – Nikon has gotten the D810 right. Sadly it's a truism that Nikon has the ability to screw up the most surprising and basic things, even on simple model refreshes, so that sound you hear may indeed be the other shoe dropping. But, for now, I'm going to call this a win.

When I first saw the D810 details, my initial thought was that Nikon had improved the D800, but that not being good enough was never that camera's problem. Now I'm thinking that Nikon has taken the D800 and done what Canon did to the 5D2: there are no huge headline-grabbing changes – except to the price – but everything has been made better. The price is high, yes, but to some people it will be worth it. There's nothing better for even close to the same amount of money.

Some noise has been made about the D810 being made in Thailand instead of Japan. I can't say that there's any deficiency in its build quality when compared to the D800 that I've been using for years. The grip is a big improvement over the D800, being at least as nice as the D700, with a deeper finger groove and a real thumb ridge. Even the button that's used to change AF mode has had some extra texture added to make it easier to find and press.

The control interface has been tweaked and loses nothing in the process. The bracketing button, which was removed from the cloverleaf, has found a new home near the flash controls. The OVF information display is a friendlier pale blue instead of LED Green. The LCD is better, and manually focusing in Live View is easier. The left-side port covers have been improved and the port placement has been rethought. The shutter sound is strikingly quieter and much more subdued. Everything is better.

There are lots of features that I can't evaluate but are still very promising. Nikon's metering has always been good, so the highlight-priority weighting could be very useful. Being able to magnify two different parts of the scene to check for focus and composition would have made my most recent series almost too easy to photograph – most of my best work is done with a tilt-shift lens. The electronic first-curtain shutter for Live View and Mirror Up mode is also a very positive change for extracting maximum quality from a camera that's designed for it.

The D700 was a great and much-loved camera, but the D810 replaces it for everything except the very fastest frame rates that it could hit with the EN-EL4a or AA batteries in its grip. Hard drives are cheap. The D810 is simply the best camera out there right now south of the Pentax 645Z – we know this because the D800 was the best sub-10K camera last week, and the D810 is better than that.

The D810 is still only a mid-cycle update, so I wouldn't consider it as a replacement for working D800/E cameras, despite my being slightly jealous of how nice the new machine is. If I photographed events I might be tempted to spend the extra money just for the quieter shutter, though – it really is a big difference. But even without being a D810 buyer I'm incredibly pleased that Nikon seems to have this one figured out. After watching them fumble through the V-series and Coolpix A I had my doubts about their abilities to design and make cameras, and I may want to replace my D800 with another Nikon some day.

But then again, that other shoe still hasn't been heard from yet.

Counter Opinions are quick "sales counter" product reviews.
As always, viewer discretion is advised.
Last updated 18 july 2014

Sigma DP3 Merrill First Impressions

Concept: 5 out of 5
Execution: 2 out of 5
Yeah, but: Pixel = Picture Element. Sensel = Sensor Element.

The Long Version: This is not a review of the Sigma DP3 Merrill. It has already been scrutinized by some of the best and there's really not much to add; these cameras are not creatures of nuance and subtlety. The DP series, and the 75mm-e DP3 in particular, is so unambiguous that anyone who has looked into it should have no doubts about whether or not it's a suitable camera for them. Anyone who hasn't looked into them already should probably stop reading now, because nothing good will come of it.

As I said, there are already some great reviews out there. But I'd like to single out their essence, which comes from Lensrentals: "if you want some amazing images, but not a lot of them and never very close together, this camera is a blast."

But there is a question I can address: Why not hold out for the recently-announced Quattro?

There is value, both financial and personal, in being a late adopter. This is something that I learned from Bill, although naturally it has taken me time to appreciate his wisdom.

Sigma's Merrill generation is a known known – none of its many flaws or strengths should surprise any purchaser with an internet connection. (Any purchaser without an internet connection is in for a nasty shock when they learn that the necessary raw-processing software is download-only.) But despite being superseded by the Quattro the DP3M can still have its age measured in months. So why hurry to pay the highest price for an early production unit of an unproven design? Cameras are invariably rushed to market with insufficient testing, and problems can strike anyone. Canon, Fuji, and Sony have all had light leaks, Nikon had the D800 autofocus misalignment, Sigma had the SD1 Merrill pricing, and so on.

Yes, I'm sure the Quattro will be a better device with less mid-iso noise and slowness, but it doesn't add what I miss most with the Merrill. There's still no EVF or tilting LCD screen, and there's still no cable release or even WiFi triggering option. And some of the dpQ's improvements don't help me: the bigger batteries will let it record more rolls of film per charge to its memory card, but the Merrill takes the battery that I already use in my pair of Ricoh GRs. Synergy matters.

Besides, the dpQ doesn't have that old Foveon three-sensels-per-colour nostalgia – I've wanted a Foveon camera since I first tried an SD9 a decade ago, so the Quattro sensor design feels like a very very small betrayal. And in another generation or two the technology pioneered in the dpQ will be even better, making the upgrade more significant when a cable release or EVF finally make an appearance.

For what it's worth, the DP3M reviews are absolutely right, but it still takes some experience with the camera to really appreciate them. The battery life is dreadful; I exhausted one by taking six photos and going through the initial setup process. Autofocus is at least as slow as any compact camera made in the past few years. Shadow noise at iso500 in indoor lighting requires countermeasures. And yet when it all works the files really are amazing.

The Sigma DP3 Merrill is a best-case camera. What's wrong with that? When I have worst-case needs I'll pick up my D800 and its suite of excellent prime lenses. If I want a more normal pocket camera I have the ultra-sharp wide-angle GR. And when I need versatility over image quality I have my Nikon V1, which is perfectly capable of producing mediocre results across an expansive range of focal lengths. The DP3M is a city-friendly camera that can produce exceptional results when used appropriately, and it just so happens that its comfort zone and mine are almost identical.

I just need to buy more batteries.

last updated 2 may 2014

Built Slim Neoprene Sleeve

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Of course this is about the Ricoh GR.

The Long Version: It's a little odd that I've wanted to buy something made by Built NY for almost a decade, but it took until now to find something that I both needed and would spend the money on. They've made the neoprene rectangle with bulgy corners into something of an icon, and it tends to be priced accordingly. But one recent day I was wandering through the clearance bins of the happiest place on earth – Staples / Business Depot – and found their slim sleeve designed for the Kindle Fire. This will fit any generic 5" tablet, but more importantly, fits a Ricoh GR with an optical viewfinder attached.

The sleeve is nicely made, with cushy neoprene, the wetsuit material, and a soft liner. Its shape is designed to catch and hold a tablet, so that they won't slide out accidentally, and it's also quite effective at holding a camera. I dropped my sleeved GR onto a marble sidewalk – viva Las Vegas! – and not only was the camera protected, it didn't move within the sleeve at all. Yet the camera is still easy to remove whenever I want it, even though it's never a one-handed operation with any sleeve that I've used.

I almost always carry my small cameras inside of other bags, making a zipperless, flapless, velcroless sleeve the most convenient and lowest-bulk carrying option. This Built sleeve is at least as protective as the more customary nylon-and-padding compact camera pouch, has nothing that can scratch or make noise, and costs about the same as a good pouch even when it's not on clearance. This 5" size is a good match for larger compact cameras, and would be my choice for the Canon G-series, which is a perennial problem to house. There are smaller models designed for phones that should fit other cameras, too.

But there'a a broader lesson here that goes beyond this specific case: us photographers need to get away from photography every now and then. The solutions to the problems that we face, both practical and artistic, may already exist in another genre.

And it's worthwhile to browse the clearance bins from time to time.

last updated 19 oct 2013

Hipstreet Pandora Standing Sleeve (iPad Mini)

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Perhaps all the good names were already taken.

The Long Version: The point of having a small tablet is that it's small. I knew I would be buying an iPad Mini – MiniPad – at the end of the summer, so I had been looking at cases for a while. But most of the cases on the market are big: multi-layer folios, snap-on plastic backs with 'smart cover' integration, and crash-boxes designed for use by paratroopers. All I wanted was something that I could hold in my hand easily, protect the tablet when travelling, and let me prop the thing up when I wanted to regard it from afar.

I found the Hipstreet 'Pandora' sleeve in the clearance bin at Staples. It's a clever design with folding seams and stiffener panels that both protect the tablet and let the case be folded into a wedge shape to let it be used as a stand; magnets along the opening locks it in place as a stand and snug the sleeve closed when it's flat. There's a little sewn-on tab that catches the bottom of the tablet for use as a stand, and it will hold it in both landscape and portrait orientation.

The material is a not-unpleasant leather-like plastic, which provides plenty of grip for carrying the case, with a soft lining inside. After having mine for a couple of days I went back to Staples and bought a second one, which was lucky timing since the clearance bin was almost empty. It's fairly utilitarian, but it does a good job and has a very clever design. I may still buy something a little more colourful, but I'm glad that I have a spare in case I wear the first one out.


Updated: I've turned my miniPad into a little netbook by adding one of those Logitech Ultrathin keyboards to it. I'm pleased to say that the whole assembly is still able to squeeze into this sleeve.

last updated 3 nov 2013

Victorinox Small Tinker

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Small is good.

The Long Version: The Victorinox Tinker, August's SAK of the Month, is a very useful knife. It's a two-layer knife with the basic utility toolset: philips driver and awl, small and large blades, and the cap lifter and can opener. The small Tinker is exactly the same knife, except 8% smaller. That's enough to make it the SAK of the Month for October.

The 91mm standard-sized Tinker isn't my favourite two-layer knife; March's SAKOTM, the Compact, offers more versatility for the same size, with few drawbacks. But the simple little knife from February, the Bantam, is my favourite of all of the cellidor-handled knives I own. I bought the Small to see if that smaller form factor would still be as charming with a slightly thicker knife.

Tinker, Small Tinker

The Small Tinker is the same length as the Bantam, but is wider to accomodate two tool layers that split out the functions of the Bantam's two tools. The blade becomes the large and small blade layer, the combo tool becomes the openers layer. While I could have stopped there and saved a few dollars by buying the Recruit, the Small Tinker's backside tools don't add much to the size and weight of the knife.

Having both 91mm and 84mm Tinkers has let me do some direct comparisons between the tools. The large blade, cap lifter, and can opener are all scaled down on the smaller knife, but the screwdriver tips of the openers remains the same size. The small blade, backside T-handle Philips driver, and awl are the same between both knives.

Mechanic, Tinker, Small Tinker, Bantam

A perfectly valid question would be why anyone would own both the small and standard tinker. Frankly, I'm having a hard time answering that one. My suggestion would be that the Small Tinker would be nicely paired with the Mechanic, an Alox knife for utility tasks, or the Compact for variety. For those who want just a single knife, though, the Small Tinker remains an excellent choice.

The strength of a Swiss Army Knife isn't that it has the best tools for the job, but that it's the tool that's most likely to be available. The Small Tinker is smaller enough that it's a bit easier to carry than the 91mm variant, but its tools remain just as useful. That makes it pretty easy to recommend.

last updated 4 oct 2013

1 Nikon 30-110mm

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: A very useful addition.

The Long Version: The Nikon 1 system isn't exactly a bastion for high-IQ photographers – "image quality", what did you think I meant? – but the 30-110 lens makes it all make sense. It leverages the smallness of the sensor to give a long reach from a little lens, creating a combination that I simply wouldn't use a bigger camera for. Even my GH1 with its bigger 14-140 lens, that has about the same long end, is bigger-enough that it stays home when my V1 and 30-110 gets carried about.

None of the three CX lenses that I own – the 10-30 and 18.5mm are the others – are stellar for image quality, but even superb Nikkor lenses on the FT1 adapter don't resolve a huge amount of detail on the V1. Within those limits I find the 30-110 perfectly acceptable, although software correction for its various optical distortions are mandatory for me. It's a little sad that a sub-4x long zoom needs it, but it's cheap and small. Life's a barter.

I'm not much of a long-lens person, but a big part of that is the physical size of the lens. The days when I would happily carry an Olympus E-3 and 35-100/2 on the streets of Toronto are gone; to think of the 30-110 as a replacement for that legend is a sad statement on both our changing society and my own revised priorities. But for website-fodder and the occasional small print the 30-110 on the V1 is enough, and it's an important tool for an ongoing documentary project that I'm working on.

The 30-110 isn't my favourite lens for the V1, but it's the one that genuinely does something that my other camera systems don't. It's not particularly expensive, which makes it fairly easy to recommend. I bought this one just a couple of days after my V1+10-30 kit, and it's the lens that convinced me that the V1 could be the basis of a system.

last updated 27 july 2013

MEC Duffel Bag

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: A simple thing done (almost) perfectly.

The Long Version: The MEC Duffle Bag is a very simple thing that's done well. Available in four sizes, they're basically just heavy nylon barrels with a strong zipper and straps. There's one side pocket and grab handles on both ends, and the construction is absurdly good for the price. I have the Small (pictured) which is $30, as well as the more expensive ($42) Large. No, they aren't waterproof and won't rival the Base Camp duffel, but I've used them for years and they've never let me down.

The Small duffel is what I use whenever I don't need an actual suitcase, so it's been thrown in the luggage compartment of more Greyhound buses than I can count. It's capable of handling a few days' worth of clothes and an extra pair of shoes, and the small side pocket is all I need for stashing a few odds and ends that I don't want getting lost in the cavernous interior. If I'm just going to be away for a couple of nights then I can usually tuck my shoulder-slung camera bag into it as well, although that comes out and rides with me instead of being treated like cargo.

The zippers on the bag are massive, have never shown signs of being strained, and all of the metal hardware is robust. The wide nylon strap handles are sewn all the way around the circumference of the bag; the grab handles on the end are folded and stitched to make them easy to use. The strap is the sole weakness of the design: even adjusted to its longest length, it's just a bit too short to easily sling when the bag is full.

The Small bag is capacious without being too unwieldily, and the Large bag is huge. In fact it's so large that I hardly ever have a reason to use it, and I no longer remember when or why I bought it. But there was a six-month period, many years ago, when I needed to use a laundromat some distance from my apartment. The large duffel was instrumental in that, and would have no problem handling the week's worth of groceries that I'd pick up while the machines were doing their thing. In fact, I think it was probably insulted by how lightly loaded it was.

Seeing my Small duffel in action over a couple of weekend trips even inspired Penny to pick one up for herself. That was about five years ago, but these days hers doesn't see nearly as much action as mine. She finds her large backpacks are easier to carry than the Duffel, and also has a really good four-wheeled carryon suitcase. Eventually I might inherit her MEC duffel bag, but since that would mean I've worn out and retired mine, I just don't see it happening.

last updated 21 july 2013

Innate Heliograph Camera Case

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Wowser.

The Long Version: I made two mistakes when I bought the Innate Heliograph camera case. The second was that I didn't pay attention as it was being scanned at the register; the first was thinking "how much could a compact camera case possibly cost?" when I found it on an unmarked peg at Mountain Co-op. Boy howdly, let me tell you, I'm not going to do that again. At $50 retail, this little thing costs double or triple what most pouches do, and is one-sixth the price of that god among shoulder bags, the Billingham Hadley Pro.

I bought the Heliograph case because it manages to hold my Ricoh GRDIV with the optical viewfinder attached. On retroactively seeing just how much it had cost I set the case aside, along with the receipt, intending to return it to the store. Somehow it just never made the trip back, and now I'm glad that it didn't.

The unique selling point of the Innate Heliograph is that it's made from a rubberized fabric with welded seams and a shielded zipper, making it weatherproof without needing a rain cover or any additional precautions. It lacks a belt loop, but it comes with a shoulder strap and has a rugged attachment point for a biner clip. The pouch also has a rather clever strap attachment method, which makes the strap both removable and secure without needing bulky hardware.

Inside the case is a removable padded pocket to hold the camera, which is stitched with a battery-sized sub-pocket that I didn't even try to use. While the interior is just about big enough to house my Girdiv, the stiff and boxy zippered opening makes its insertion and retrieval difficult enough without the added challenge of additional contents. But as a larger-than-average case it should work very well with sensibly-sized cameras, and even the Panasonic LX7 and Canon G15 can fit without too much difficulty.

I'm not someone who typically needs a rugged and outdoorsy camera case, but a trip to Niagara Falls meant that I wanted better photos than my two waterproof jpeg cameras could manage, and a ride on the Maid of the Mist tourist boat meant that my dry-weather camera couldn't be too big. After longingly looking at the massive impracticality of carrying my D800, I finally separated my Heliograph case from its packaging and put it to use.

I prefer to carry compact cameras in protective sleeves inside of other bags, so this is actually my first time using an external pouch. I did carry it inside my MEC Pod for the trip to and from Niagara Falls, but it was clipped its strap the rest of the time. This actually worked very well – as opposed to a belt loop – leaving the case free to move as required, making both carriage and access much easier.

A ride on the Maid of the Mist is like fast-forwarding through a temperamental storm. At times the airborne water is a persistent fog, and other times it comes down as heavy streaking rain. The wind is something else, gusting and eddying and taking water everywhere. I've certainly seen harder rainstorms, and the time near the falls only lasts a few minutes, but it's a soaking that's impossible to shelter from.

Having the Heliograph case meant that I was able to use my superior Ricoh on the approach to the Falls and only put it away when keeping it out was risking its safety. The case was at my side, outside of my iconic blue poncho, where it stayed throughout the ride. These action photos were taken with the waterproof cameras – first from the Olympus 770SW, second two via the Panasonic TS3 – and give some idea what the Heliograph went through.

Inserting and removing the camera isn't as easy as it would be with a nice soft Lowepro pouch, but it's much easier than using a roll-top drybag. The storm-covered zipper is a bit harder to open and close than an unprotected one, but it's no challenge at all compared to the zippers that are impervious even without the rubberized shield. All told the case strikes an appropriate balance of compromises.

There are times when waterproof storage is vital. Years ago I brought my then-new $1000 Sony F828 to photograph a 5K run, which happened to include a torrential downpour around the half-way mark. Being prepared, I wrapped the big camera in a couple of plastic shopping bags, put it in the bottom of my weather-covered backpack, and kept going with a compact Canon in a diving case. Hours later I pulled the Sony out of its soaked-through nest to find it sitting in an inch of water that had been trapped in my makeshift protection.

Formative experiences have long echoes, and drenching my first 'serious' camera was a big reason why I prioritized a weatherproof SLR system when it came time to make that jump. These days I'm not quite as eager to be out photographing in the pouring rain, but the Heliograph case will give me a lot more confidence to carry my impending Ricoh GR – when it finally arrives – as an SLR-quality camera that I can safely transport from awning to awning. That, ultimately, is why I never quite brought myself to take the Innate case back to the store: waterproof protection is going to become much more important once the value of the camera that it carries doubles.

This camera case certainly comes at an impressive cost, but it also does an impressive job. I wouldn't hesitate to leave it exposed to conditions that would likely destroy its contents, freeing up space inside my main bag and keeping the camera handy for the nice after-storm light. I wouldn't have bought it if I had seen its price on the store peg, but then I already would have missed a lot of the photos that it enables. As with everything, there are compromises to be made.

last updated 9 july 2013

Swiss Bianco Victorinox Carver

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 5 out of 5
Yeah, but: Pick a theme and stick with it.

The Long Version: Swiss Army Knives are such paragons of multi-functional virtue that searching with Google for exact matches to "the swiss army knife of" produces over ten million results. Audio codecs, shovels, fighter jets, forensics, filmmaking, public health, portable grills, smartphones, snowmobiles, bank accounts, barn equipment, business agreements, workbenches, window treatments, tube amps, telecom equipment, essential oils, Linux, Listeria: if something has existed long enough for there to be a blog post about it, someone's called something The Swiss Army Knife Of it.

This makes June's SAK Of The Month, the Swiss Bianco special Victorinox Carver, especially perverse. Equipped with five tools in three layers, all it does is cut.

The 93mm Carver is essentially an Alox Harvester that has had its cap lifter swapped out for a second large blade. That gives it two identical large blades, one pivoting from each end, and a hooked small pruning blade. The middle layer houses the exceptional Victorinox wood saw, and the fifth tool is the in-line awl. While that's technically more of a poking tool than a cutting one, it's an excellent rough-duty blade, and I wouldn't want to mess with one in a dark alley.

The automatic question about the Carver is "why bother?" Why bother with a multi-tool that only does one thing, and why carry a knife the size of a three-layer 93mm Alox SAK when it has blades that open with nail-nicks and no pocket clip? Well, did I mention that it's a special with a limited (but unspecified) production run that was made with Copper-coloured Alox scales in addition to the unadorned-aluminum version?

I have too much invested in Beanie Babies to keep track of Swiss Army Knife resale values, but I suppose novelty value must count for a lot.

I'm an accumulator, not a collector, so even though I appreciate that it's an uncommon bit of cutlery my Carver is a working knife. The hooked pruning blade is excellent for breaking tape, although straight out of the box it verges on being too sharp and aggressive. Having a pair of large blades, while odd, does mean that the Carver can cover a lot of miles before needing to be resharpened. And the wood saw is simply unbeatable for any softer material its length can span. While I haven't used my Carver for this task yet, the SAK saw is my tool of choice for rough-cutting PVC or ABS plastic pipe as well as wood.

While the all-blades all-the-time approach of the Carver is amusing and thematically appropriate, it would have been nice to see a metal saw in place of the second main blade. That would be a first for this size, as far as I can tell, which makes this dream configuration highly improbable – but by extension, accomplishing this remarkable feat would create a very desirable knife if Swiss Bianco could pull it off. I know I'd buy one, for whatever that's worth.

About the only odd quirk of the Carver, aside from its existence, is that the second large blade sits higher in the handle when it's closed. This means it's an easier blade to open, and a more comfortable knife to hold when it's in use, so it's the one that I use for most tasks. I consider this a feature rather than a bug, since I always prefer to use one blade for the majority of the work, leaving the other freshly sharpened for critical tasks.

The Carver is an easy knife to carry. Its weight rides securely in a jeans' watch pocket, the smooth tool-free back makes it easy to draw, and the thickness of its third layer gives it a square profile that's comfortable to use. While the Carver is thinner than the Mechanic, and so falls within my range for pocket carry, it wouldn't look foolish in a belt pouch, either.

As a Swiss Bianco special, the Victorinox Carver is only available directly through the regional Swiss Bianco distributors, and not through Victorinox or other third-party retailers. I'm pleased to say that the Canadian dealer that I purchased from was helpful and easy to deal with, despite the lack of a traditional e-commerce website, and my Carver arrived promptly with reasonable shipping costs. I have no doubt that I'll be ordering from them again.

last updated 4 dec 2010

Joby Gorillapod Focus

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Third time.

The Long Version: The Focus is the third Gorillapod, and sixth Joby product, that I've bought. Obviously I like them, but I've managed to decommission both an SLR and SLR Zoom, so I decided that stepping up to the heavy-duty metal model was a sensible thing to do.

It's nice to know that the Focus can easily hold my D800, but I rarely use it – or any tripod – for cameras. Instead it's part of my audio kit, where it does an exceptional job of keeping my Sony PCM-D50 field recorder exactly where I want it to be. The various Joby Gorillapods are such an excellent tool to have for audio recording that I consider them a mandatory-extra, just like proper wind protection.

The Focus is offered with or without a ball head. I went for the Without version and installed a Manfrotto 484RC2 head, which is heavier and larger than the Joby "Ballhead-X", but keeps compatibility with my existing heads and plates. If I was using arca-swiss gear then the X-head would have been perfect. Or almost perfect, at least – the included plate is square, but only has mounting grooves along one direction, giving visual but not operational symmetry. That's one of those things that would bug me for the life of the product, which in this case would be a very long time indeed. And yes, I do hate USB ports as well, thanks for asking.

While hanging a camera from a chain-link fence might not provide a lot of stability for long exposures or multi-shot brackets, it's something that works very well for audio gear. My method is to feed the legs through the fence, hooking the leg joints across the wire, and then snug the top two legs inward to give a secure hold. Then I can walk away and leave the recorder to do its thing for ten or fifteen minutes unattended and have no worries about it coming loose or letting me down. I'm also quite happy to hang the Gorillapod from the tops of signs or wrap it around posts, knowing that it won't work its way loose or slide.

I've been amazed at the places where the Focus has been happy, such as perched on the narrow bottom of an I-beam girder that's part of a highway overpass. I do occasionally use a full-sized tripod or light stand to hold my recorder, but proximity is everything, and the Focus is hard to beat for unusual perspectives.

And there are plenty of times when carrying larger objects simply isn't an option, whether it's for matters of convenience, access, practicality, or departure speed. I'm able to carry the Focus inside my nondescript backpack, so it's the heavy-duty support that I'm most likely to have with me.

While part of me wishes that I was a minimalist, it's usually beaten into submission by the larger part that wants the best available option to handle the widest range of contingencies, and that's what the Gorillapod Focus is. It's far stronger than I need for my Sony D50, but it's ready to do camera-duty with my Nikon D800, and that makes me happy. While the Focus is too heavy to carry for no reason – the lighter Joby head would help here – it's an indispensable part of both my day recording kit and the only tripod that I would consider travelling with. It might not do everything, but it's the most flexible tripod I know.

last updated 6 june 2013

Ricoh GR Digital IV

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Three cheers for clearance pricing!

The Long Version: No offense, but there's really only so much you can learn from reading about cameras online. Sooner or later the time arrives: back away from the forums, pick up a camera, and GTFO – get the film out, if only metaphorically.

The New Ricoh GR digital – V, but who's counting – is coming. I've read just about everything I can find as I await my preorder, including GRD-era reviews to learn more about the Ricoh GR paradigm. After a dozen days I was completely saturated and there was only one sensible thing to do: I bought a Ricoh GR Digital IV, GRD-IV, pronounced "Girdiv", that was on clearance at the local camera chain.

Well, I suppose "stopping" also would have been a sensible thing to do, but that wouldn't have given me much to write about. So this review is about what I've learned in the time that it's taken me to work the kinks out of the Girdiv's camera strap.

The first thing I've learned is that the reviews that look like fawning adulation aren't as over-the-top as they seem. This is easily the best-designed digital camera that I've used. The GR design language stretches back farther than the Canon G-series, all the way into the film era, where the GR1 was the contemporary of the Nikon F5. Combined with a clear design intention about how the GR would be used, the result is an uncommon clarity of purpose. The GR is a scalpel that makes a Leica look bloated and self-indulgent. I mean, different focal lengths? Who needs that kind of superfluity?

The GR Digital IV, at its core, is a camera with an incredibly well-honed design housing a sensor and processor that were already dated when it was launched in late 2011.

I suspect that the sensor is the same as the one in the Canon S90, which debuted two years before the GRDIV came along; this sensor also appeared in the Canon G11 and Samsung EX1. It's a perfectly respectable choice as long as you don't like high definition video, but it wasn't cutting edge even when the Girdiv first came out. Its contemporaries – the Canon S100 was announced on the same day as the IV, September 15 – offer slightly better DxOMark performance, but more significantly the shot-to-shot time and buffer on the Girdiv has a distinct lag.

For a 'street photography' camera the noticeable delay in shot-to-shot time is either critical or irrelevant. Film cameras from the rangefinder aesthetic school wouldn't be able to take a burst of photos, so the decisive-moment timing purist won't even think about the followup delay. Those of use who are a little more digital in our thinking, especially those used to SLRs, may initially be frustrated by the press-and-pause method.

It's important to point out that the GRD-IV is perfectly snappy taking that first shot. Not only is the AF system fairly quick, sometimes it's not even necessary.

A feature of the GR Digital line – and the film GRs before them – is the ability to take a shot focused at a preset distance by skipping the shutter button's half-press AF-seeking pause. Jab and done. The Girdiv even allows Snap Focus to over-ride the current iso sensitivity and use the cameras' user-set auto-iso range. It's a pretty cool customization ability.

I'm not usually too concerned with the image quality of compact cameras; I choose them for their smaller size so I'm not going to be too picky. But the GRD-IV is a tremendous low-iso small-sensor compact, and holds up reasonably well into the mid-iso range as well. The majority of all of my photography is done within an iso range that can be comfortably handled by film, so I'm not too worried when iso1250 shows some noise. I'm impressed when it doesn't, to be sure, but it's not something that my personal expression depends on.

The 28mm-equivalent prime lens is excellent, both sharper and more flare-resistant than the zoom on the Canon S100. Point light sources within or just outside the frame can cause some unpleasant ghosting, but veiling glare is minimal.

Working with the 28mm-e field of view has taken some adjustment, but that's partly because I haven't used a compact camera since the end of my Five Thousand Photos project six months ago. Half of the 11,000 photos that I took for that series – I'm bad at math – were taken either at the cameras' widest angle or with just a quick tap of the zoom toggle to improve their lens quality. So the GR's prime lens is the natural extension of that priority, and while I occasionally missed the zoom in the first few days, now I don't think about it at all.

Some might call the GRD-IV a niche (rhymes with quiche) camera, but most photos these days are taken with cell phones. Wide and ultra-wide prime lenses dominate social media. While spending actual money on a stand-alone camera that can't take closeup photos during Billy's baseball game might still be a hard sell for most consumers, the entire compact camera market is imploding anyway. Ricoh (et al) don't have much to lose by swinging for the fences.

Physically the GRD-IV is exceptional. The build quality of the camera rivals any other that I've owned, including the Nikon D800, and, dare I say it, the legendary Olympus E-1. It doesn't claim any weather sealing, which is too bad, but it has an excellent control layout and is extremely comfortable to use.

I can quibble with the best of them, but my only little nit with physical design of the Girdiv is the SD card position. Why camera makers put the SD card slot up against the hinges for the battery door is beyond me; this makes it harder to remove than it should be. Using an Eye-Fi card solves that problem, but the extra WiFi power drain means that the battery compartment is going to get a workout regardless.

In an emergency the GRD family can be powered – briefly – by a pair of AAA batteries. This is done with an extra set of contacts and a flap to reduce the size of the battery compartment, which the regular DB-65 just pushes aside, so there's no need for an adapter. For what it's worth the DB-65 looks to be cross-compatible with the Sigma BP-41 and Pentax LI106, but the Ricoh-branded one is consistently the cheapest of the three.

Now, have a look at the next photo, and check out where I've attached the wrist strap: this is so much more comfortable and convenient than the usual method that other makers should be embarrassed. Naturally, mounting the strap on the top right or left is also an option.

The LCD screen is the best one I've ever used, and it really is visible in Toronto's interpretation of direct sunlight. I do sometimes prefer using the GV-1 viewfinder to frame images, and the camera has a handy green AF-confirmation lamp to support it, but it's really just a matter of working style and personal preference rather than overcoming any sort of deficiency.

Th GV-1 includes both 21mm and 28mm frame lines, and there's also a much smaller GV-2 viewfinder that only shows 28mm. But with my glasses I'm only barely comfortable with the 28mm lines on the GV-1, so I'm glad I chose the bulkier one.

Aside from its approximation of framing, there are two advantages to having the shoe-mounted viewfinder, and they're both that they make the Girdiv look even more harmless than the typical point-and-shoot camera that it superficially resembles. The big GV-1 OVF makes the GRD look like a toy camera, perhaps from the 'Lomo' family, and less like a serious black rectangle. Also, the GR Digital cameras can turn off their LCD – a feat the sparkly new Nikon Coolpix A can't accomplish, not that it's a competition – making them look inert and drawing less attention to themselves.

The OVF downsides, of course, are substantial: they're expensive, easily smudged, and good luck finding a case that will fit the complete assembly.

When the LCD is off hitting a control button can be set to turn it back on momentarily to review the settings change. Unfortunately this involves a bit of a breakdown in the Girdiv's control logic, as the first button press only activates the screen instead of changing the settings. Making adjustments without looking at the camera means remembering if the LCD is on or off. But naturally it's not even that straightforward, as exposure compensation always uses the first button press to call up the adjustment scale and a really good histogram display, regardless of whether the screen is on or off.

Overall I consider the EV control quirk a positive, since exposure compensation is one of the two controls I use the most, so it's good to have it behave consistently regardless of the LCD status. It also makes it easy to call up the histogram without actually changing any settings. But the other control that I use a lot is aperture, and that does behave differently when the screen is off. For everything that isn't EV comp I would vastly prefer it if the first button press would change the intended setting as well as call up the control display on the LCD.

This is a small thing, but it does make a difference in practice, even if the subtlety of this UI quirk is so far beyond the level of competence that other makers strive for. Did you know that the $1100 Coolpix A can't even turn off its LCD screen?

Sadly the LCD display is the source of more of my UI quibbles with the Girdiv. It cycles through in five steps: Info - Info with Histogram - Grid Display - Image Only - LCD Off. I'd really like to be able to take some of those out of the rotation. The display with the histogram is somewhat redundant, as using the exposure compensation rocker automatically calls up an even better histogram. I also don't find the information overlay distracting, so I can live without the info-less screen setting. Being able to choose which screen views to include in the rotation, which in my case would be "Info - Grid - Off", would be a big improvement.

The Grid View screen is worth special mention in its own right, and not in a good way. It's the only view mode that doesn't show which AF areas are active, which is unsettling, and doesn't include the excellent dual-axis level indicators from the two Info display screens, which would be really, really useful to have in conjunction with the grid options. Granted, my D800 can't simultaneously display its grid and level in the viewfinder either, and my V1 doesn't have a grid screen or a level, but the Ricoh interface really does aim higher than those two.

The mode dial on the Girdiv has a safety interlock so that it can't be changed accidentally; this is a design consideration that's reserved for high-end SLRs from the leading national brands. The GRD can embed copyright information into the EXIF information, disable the power LED, and has an intervalometer. It's a little odd that a camera that lets its owner recalibrate the electronic levels doesn't include pixel mapping, but it does have little rubber feet on the bottom to stop the camera from sliding when it's set down.

I check the manual for the GRD-IV more than any camera that isn't a Nikon SLR. Some of this is simply due to the different way that Ricoh thinks and writes compared to the bigger brands – 'white saturation display' means blinking highlights on the LCD – but it's mostly because there are so many interlocking options. Not all of these are readily apparent or grouped in the menus, but with a bit of perseverance it generally works out in the end.

There's an entire menu section devoted to how the function buttons can be set, paired, and changed. Most menu options are confirmed simply by choosing them from the pop-out options list and then navigating away; there's no need for a separate "OK" button-press before moving on to something else. Touching the shutter button can also be set to confirm changes, making for a quick and responsive camera to navigate. I'll say it again: this is the best-designed digital camera that I've ever used. It somehow manages to simultaneously rival my D800 for customization and my Zeiss Icon for operational elegance, which is an unlikely combination to hit.

The Girdiv is unlike other cameras in how it chooses its own settings, too. I typically use aperture priority and allow its iso to run as high as 640 without supervision, and it really seems to enjoy it. The selection of these values is unusually granular: the EXIF data shows it using iso values such as 168, 176, 183, and 192; I have more photos taken at a shutter speed of 1/130s than at 1/125. If nothing else it makes for an interesting Lightroom catalog.

Buying a camera so that I could learn to use another camera seems a little odd, even to me. But Ricoh uses the same battery in the New GR, and the 2013 camera doesn't include a stand-alone battery charger, so I can almost believe that owning both of them makes sense. And given that I sold my Canon S100 for about what the Girdiv cost, it worked out fairly well for me.

I prefer the small-sensor Ricoh to its Canon counterpart, giving me a camera that I enjoy and use in exchange for one that I had stopped using, so the trade is a win-win. The Ricoh is more satisfying, offers few real limitations in actual practice, and its image quality is better enough that I can use it for prints that the Canon compact couldn't do. Maybe, just maybe, the GRD-IV will continue in active use even when there's a GRD-V in the house. Time will tell.

I've been interested in the GR family since I saw a GR1v years ago, but the cost of the small-sensor digital versions just seemed too far out of line with the rest of the market. Cutting the price in half has fixed that problem for the old model, and I'm very pleased to see the New GR with its 1.5x sensor being priced quite aggressively compared to other high-end compacts. The camera industry could definitely use a little more Ricoh.

updated mere days later: I've been able to take a New Ricoh GR for a spin, and wrote about it.

Updated again, 15 May 2013: My, My, My.

I know it's time to move on, but I've been spending some time with the "MY" modes, and they're worth reopening the review for.

Many decent cameras, such as my now-departed S100, can store a particular settings state in a custom memory mode. For the Canon camera I used this for my long exposure preferences, which were wildly different from my usual values, but having a single user-set mode made made it more of a party trick than something that was useful on a day-to-day basis. That's probably why I didn't rush to set up the "MY" positions on the Girdiv's dial, and that was a mistake.

The GRD4, like the upcoming GR that I'm practicing for, has three "MY" shooting modes, so there's no need to reserve them for exotic contortions. And just about everything can be remembered, such as the LCD display mode and permitted auto-iso range, along with more typical things like exposure mode and settings. Making the camera even better, there's a menu that lets just about every camera setting be edited after the mode position is registered. If you later want a different custom self-timer configuration, noise reduction threshold, or grid display, the process to change the saved settings is just as easy to use as everything else on the camera.

I've set "MY2" to my preferred all-around settings: aperture priority, f/1.9, auto-iso authorized to 640, LCD on, etcetera. This way it doesn't matter if I was last taking macro photos at f/8, or landscapes at iso80, the camera always starts up the same way. I know exactly what the camera will do just by looking at the mode dial it when I turn it on, and predictability is a good thing.

The settings I've saved to "MY1" are identical to "MY2", except the LCD is turned off. A minor difference, perhaps, but this fixes one of my few nagging UI quibbles. No more cycling through the different view modes with the display button, just push-and-turn and done. Similarly, "MY3" holds my 'street' settings. The LCD stays off, the camera moves to shutter priority at 1/500s, and auto-iso can run as high as 1250: perfect for catching grab shots when I'm on the move. Having this programmed into a MY mode makes 'snap focus', a distinctively Ricoh feature, vastly more useful for me.

The GRD4's amount of customization would be pretty impressive even if it stopped right there, but of course it doesn't. I've still only just started to understand the different ways the camera can be configured and changed from moment to moment. And to reward all of this hard work, the Girdiv can even store additional inactive "MY" settings in its memory. These stand ready to be called into service with fewer button-presses than it takes for me to change the iso setting on my Nikon V1.

Not bad for a point-and-shoot.

last updated 15 may 2013