All GAS and Gaiters: A reflection on a distressing condition affecting some photographers

Laughing GAS

My father, “The Reverend” happened to find the TV comedy “All Gas and Gaiters” hilariously funny as it mocked his chosen profession. While the TV series dates from the late 60s, the expression has been used to mean “a satisfactory state of affairs” or sometimes “nonsense”. For us at Macfilos, we know it refers to “Gear Acquisition Syndrome”, an affliction from which many of us suffer that can be both satisfying and nonsensical.

The frustration of GAS: Braun Paxette

My father, “The Reverend & Missionary” had developed an interest in photography when he was sent to Cote d’Ivoire as a missionary. Somehow, he afforded a Braun Paxette camera along with a Western Master light meter.

Being parsimonious by both nature and income, he never allowed me to experiment with his camera, much to my frustration. This was my first experience of GAS with the camera as an object of mechanical beauty; not necessarily because of the images I might produce.

I really wanted a camera, but had no idea of what I wanted to do with it. I also couldn’t afford one. Instead, I bought a nice mechanical watch. (I suspect there’s quite a close correlation between cameras, cars, and watches, but that’s for another day.)

Someone else’s GAS (Mike’s): Pentax ES

It wasn’t until I was at boarding school, that I discovered what you could do with a camera. My friend Mike owned a Pentax SLR and had an art project that allowed me to tag along. “The Fading Image” was intended to capture as many of Bath’s painted advertising signs as possible before the crippling effects of progress and modernity destroyed them forever. In the warm red glow of the darkroom, I could finally see and get excited about what I might be able to produce if I had a camera.

Now I had real GAS for an SLR like the Pentax, but still could not afford a camera.

Small GAS: Minox 110 S

Years passed, and I mean years, before I could afford the diminutive Minox 110 S. The pictures were OK, but I knew I “needed” something bigger and better.

Zen and the art of GAS: Olympus OM2

Working in advertising and receiving a serious bonus meant I could afford a decent camera, and, moreover, I also had a sense of what I wanted to shoot. I suspect those of us with GAS enjoy that first phase of obsessing about what to buy and making the right choice before a burst of emotions and the remorse of a bent credit card close the deal.

The OM2 was a wonderful example of Maitani compactness and lightness – I marvelled at how all that goodness could be packed into something so handy that you could take it everywhere with you. I had stumbled upon nirvana.

The photographs that people like Jane Bown (The Observer) took with it were proof positive that it could deliver emotions and simplicity. The OM2 took magical shots on Greek islands, the coast of Turkey and in every corner of France and England. I loved the crispness of the shadows and the contrast, of the perfectly captured colours of those Greek and Turkish doors and window frames in the late afternoon light. But I wanted more, as usual…

Old GAS: Canon FTB

The next phase of GAS was the hope that the simplicity of vintage could satisfy. I became fascinated with older cameras and bought a Canon FTQL, an FTB, and a few lenses. But all that did was make me realize that I wanted to explore a different and more exciting branch of photography, which required a complete gear switch.

Fast GAS: Canon A1

Enter the Canon A1, the novelty of shutter priority, and the thrill of motor racing. I bought a second body, a motor drive, and a couple of zooms from Vivitar. Perched on the infield barriers of various racetracks, I practised my panning technique and learned to accept that high-speed cars are difficult to capture. And then came a lucky break that fuelled the next GAS-filled ascent and masked the inadequacies of this photographer.

The gift of GAS — something borrowed & something new: Canon F1n

I had a French client who published a beautiful glossy international Formula 1 magazine. It was the perfect coffee table magazine, using the best of F1 photographers at the time. But what my client really lacked was the kind of circulation needed to attract advertisers and grow his business. In his financial state, he could either spend money to advertise the magazine or use top quality photographers to illustrate it, but not both.

I suggested that a joint promotion with Amateur Photographer about how to take pictures at the British Grand Prix at Silverstone could help raise his circulation. It required me to write the article explaining how to get great shots at the track without a press pass. That article was published in both magazines. The winner got a Canon AE1 camera, and their photographs were jointly published.

The sadness of parting

For my labours, I got a weekend press pass to the Grand Prix, which meant I could borrow any kit I wanted from Canon. Now that’s (almost) free GAS! Though, when all’s said and done, it will pain you to have to hand all this wonderful gear back just as you were starting to enjoy it. You can call it a brief fling or affair that leaves you wanting more, but the camera bag went home much lighter with an even stronger desire for more kit.

That Grand Prix coincided with the launch of the new Canon F1n. At the Canon press tent, I asked what happened to the demo cameras once their work was done. I learned that staff could buy them at a significant discount. But, there was no reason why I could not put my name down for some of that kit at the same discount level. A couple of months later, my “Christmas” GAS list of F1n x 2, prisms, screens and assorted lenses was ready to pick up from JJ Silber.

Anxiety from excess GAS

It didn’t take long for several dominoes to begin to fall. I might love cars and motor racing, but that didn’t mean I was any good at photographing cars at high speed, despite practising. The 10,000-hour rule still applies. I also realized that all this kit in a Billingham bag the size of a four-bedroom semi was going to cripple me if I took it all with me.

But leaving any of it at home caused anxiety about that one dreamt-of prize-winning shot I might have captured if only had brought the 200mm f/2.8 rather than the 35mm f/2.0.

I never really learned to focus on the essentials until much later in life. (There’s a moral in there somewhere.) As we know from school physics, GAS has a tendency to expand (ask Mr. Boyle) until all the molecules, or lenses if you prefer, are so numerous that they no longer make any logical sense.

Five loaves and two fishes

I gave it all to The Reverend and hoped it would bring him as much joy as the miracle of the Feeding of the Five Thousand. And that Billingham bag would certainly have been capable of holding all the multiples of five loaves and two fishes you could possibly want.

The lightening of the burden also coincided with an important lighting of a flame for a camera that has never been extinguished — a bit like the girl you saw from across the room and never forgot. I had crossed paths at work with Peter Suchet (you certainly know of his brothers and who his grandfather was) and he explained how James Jarché got THAT picture of Edward and Mrs. Simpson out in the wild. He explained how the shot had been captured and shared other shots Jarché had captured using a Leica rather than a Pressman. I wanted one! Could I afford one? No!

Bonsai GAS: Olympus XA

In exchange for all the kit I gave my father, I went minimalist as an antidote and returned to Maitani buying a little Olympus XA and then a new XA2 and a new XA4. Brilliant cameras, all of them, as everyday carries with great lenses. Despite having three at one point, it never felt like GAS, maybe because they occupied such a small space.

Pseudo GAS: Canon Ixus

That was followed by a Canon Ixus as the world turned digital. It followed in form the size of the XAs, but never felt like a “real” camera. I recently rediscovered it hiding in a drawer with old USB and RS232 cables…

GAS with a substitute label: Leica DL-5

That flickering Leica GAS-fuelled flame never went away, and was finally captured in a badge- engineering exercise with a used DL-5. As everyone knows, it was a great camera with terrific capabilities, but it was still a Panasonic behind the red dot.

A step closer to a different kind of GAS: Leica DL-109

After The Reverend passed away all that Canon F1n kit came home, though the Billingham bag had mostly been turned to shredded canvas and rubber, courtesy of years of aggressive English mice treating it like a bag of Doritos.

After I sold it all to an overjoyed film enthusiast, I saved some money for future outbreaks of GAS and bought a lovely used DL-109. It also allowed me to get into processing RAW in Lightroom and all the joy that brings. It’s a wonderful camera with such a broad footprint of capabilities that I think it’s a shame that the line stopped with the DL7, never to be continued. However, it still gets regular outings when I need something as small as the old Olympus XA gang.

GAS partially requited: Leica CL

Finally, a camera with a red dot that’s made by Leica! This is another gem that fits Maitani’s Goldilocks principles of compactness, lightness, and the adaptability of a “Swiss Army Knife”. GAS quickly developed with the acquisition of lenses from TL 11-23 to TL 55-135 and a number in-between. The sadness is that yet again that Leica has driven my choice into a cul-de-sac with no future APSC development planned. It’s still a brilliant camera that gets almost daily use. But it’s beginning to fade a little but is nowhere near taking its last gasp.

GAS distilled: Leica Q2

Another of those obsessive Menoporsche-like hot flashes that melts the credit card. I love the Q2 both for the sharpness of its 28mm lens and despite its fixed 28mm field of view. Yet again, it’s compact, if not so light, and has many “Swiss Army Knife” qualities to it. I’m so enamoured by this package that I’m on the list for a Q3.

Classical GAS: Leica M11

There is still the unresolved and unrelenting crush on the M, dating back to the early 80s and that conversation with Peter Suchet. Is it time to push all the various bits of CL kit into the centre of the table, (along with a kidney) and buy a classic M with a 35mm or 50mm lens? Is this where the GAS finally peters out, or will it continue to expand in new directions?

These are just some of the many ways you can experience GAS. But none of them could be described as a laughing matter. Unless you’re the person selling the kit, of course.

New GAS laws

So, what are the suggestions?

1. Listen to what your heart is telling you, not your head.
2. More is rarely better: better is more.
3. Bragging rights rarely equal happiness.
4. Accept no substitutes – focus on what you really want and wait until it’s affordable.
5. Expensive doesn’t mean happiness.

With thanks to Central Camera Co. in Chicago, who allowed me to photograph versions of the cameras that I had sold over the years. Their store has been in business since 1899 and is like the last scene in “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. The shelves are packed with an assortment of vintage cameras as far as the eye can see. They are all seeking good homes with those of us who suffer from GAS.

Gas and gaiters

The title is a pun, deriving from a comic expression — “all is gas and gaiters”, meaning “all is well” — uttered by an eccentric old gentleman clad in small-clothes and grey worsted stockings in Charles Dickens’s 1839 novel Nicholas Nickleby. It was later employed by such writers as P.G. Wodehouse, Agatha Christie, and Powell and Pressburger (spoken in the film, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp). The phrase “all gas and gaiters” has had different meanings. Sometimes it has been used to mean “a satisfactory state of affairs” and sometimes it has had the meaning of “nonsense”. The relevance of this phrase to Anglican clergy is that gaiters (worn over shoes) were part of the traditional dress of bishops and archdeacons.

Wikipedia

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