Ode to my Rokinon 35

     This is a farewell post. On Saturday, November 23, 2013, I sold my beloved Rokinon lens to a fellow photographer in Seoul. Laugh (or chuckle) if you must, but I will genuinely miss it.

From the last day with my Rokinon 35mm f/1.4 (left). Fun with lightpainting on the 2012 anniversary of 9/11, at Waterfront Park in Louisville, KY (right). I spent around 30 minutes trying to write out "We Remember" and "USA" above these flags.

     I got into photography in 2009, and spent the first couple of years playing with my dad's lenses and figuring out how the whole camera thing works. Then I got to a point where I wanted something a bit different and I started reading about Rokinon's 35mm manual lens. It was getting great reviews because it was a third the price of Canon's 35mm f/1.4 but just as good optically. The only problem was that nothing on the lens is automatic. There is no autofocus and the aperture doesn't stop down (hole doesn't get smaller) automatically when you press the shutter; you actually have to twist a ring at the base of the lens to close the aperture, which also makes the viewfinder darker. Those two things are automated in newer, more expensive lenses with similar specs.
     Things didn't start out so swell with us. I wanted a change and I got one.

I was roaming around the Bernheim Arboretum in Clermont, KY, when I saw this beautiful car driving up the entrance road. I had almost no time to mess with settings, so this was shot at f/1.4. It's not tack sharp, although I somehow managed to get the car mostly in focus.

     I purchased my first copy from Amazon on August 8, 2011, and had to exchange it for a new one due to a focusing issue. My first photos were out of focus and frustrating. Everything was slow. I wasn't used to manually focusing or stopping down. I forced myself to shoot in manual mode, which meant I was also choosing my shutter speed and ISO. The only thing my camera did for me was tell me if my choices would result in a shot that is too dark or too light. Off-the-cuff shots were rarely good. Photos that I could take my time with would turn out to be out-of-focus when I put them on my computer later.

This photo from the Brooklyn Bridge (left) is now a 20x30-inch print hanging in my room in Kentucky. One of my favorite photos from my first year as a teacher in Korea is from Seosan Birdland (right), and is now a 20x30-inch puzzle on my shelf, courtesy of my girlfriend.

     It was frustrating, but I learned patience and I became a much more efficient photographer. I learned the relationships between all of the settings and how to balance them to produce something that I could hang on my wall and be proud of. The time it took to focus and adjust forced me to take a few extra seconds, every shot, and find my composition, look for background distractions, and think about taking a second or a third look at something before even bothering to raise my camera.

An image I took while heading towards a hiking trail for Gayasan, in Yesan, South Korea.

     All of this could have been accomplished with a different lens, but I decided to take a gamble on this one and it became a valuable teacher. From Louisville, KY, to South Korea and Vietnam, my Rokinon was my trusted go-to lens for over two years, and I have taken some of my most favorite photographs with it. The ones featured in this post are just a few.

     Next up for me is a Sigma 35 f/1.4. The main difference between the two is that the Sigma is automatic. I know I just spent a decent amount of your time talking about how much I loved and will miss my Rokinon because it wasn't automatic and then I turn around and tell you I bought a lens that is, but bear with me. Regardless of how much I have grown as a photographer, there are still countless photos that I have missed because of the few seconds it takes to focus and change the aperture, and especially when taking photos of people, those seconds see gestures and reactions disappear.  By automating those processes, outside of making selfies much easier, I'm hoping to build on what I'm already capable of doing and become a more effective photographer. As to what that means or where that will take me, only time will tell.