more and less - a couple of years with the Minolta P's
The concept of doing more with less is nothing new; in many ways, it’s a fundamental principle of good design. That fact is readily apparent when it comes to the tools we use in our daily lives, be they physical or digital.
When it comes to cameras, the consequences of getting this wrong– of doing less with more– range from simply inconvenient to downright counterproductive. Every choice that a manufacturer makes has the potential to fundamentally make or break the user experience.
It’s with this idea in mind that I’m writing about the Minolta P’s (also known as the Freedom Vista and Riva Panorama), a point and shoot camera that’s unusual in both name and purpose. Despite its unassuming looks, there’s a real sense of ambition here– one that distinguishes the P’s in a way that isn’t just different, but meaningful.
If you love the idea of seeing and shooting a world written wide, this is an effective and economical way of doing so– so long as you’re willing to pay the price in terms of image quality and flexibility.
in theory
format
Note that rather than trying to find the ruler hiding in my apartment, the height measurement below was derived by examining the pixel dimensions of several scans and using the resultant ratios.
The P’s uses standard 135 film, with each exposure measuring about 36x13.29mm. If you’ve got an instinct for mental math (I do not), that ratio may sound a bit familiar; it boils down to roughly 2.71:1.
| "Inspection" - Minolta P's |
This is a panoramic aspect ratio, one that is decidedly more wedded to the concept than the cinematic 16:9 (1.77:1) or even 6x12 (2:1), which for some is the starting point for the format.
It also happens to be the same aspect ratio used by the Fujifilm TX-1 / Hasselblad XPan, launched seven years later.
Because the P’s uses a permanent, vertically-restricted film gate to mask incoming light, the resultant images still use the same amount of film as a standard 36x24mm shot– they’re just sandwiched between thick black bars.
| An uncropped scan of a P’s negative showing the reduced film area used to produce a panoramic image |
physical
The camera pictured here is my personal camera, and its already-fragile finish was recently damaged on a trip due to poorly planned packing. Samples in better condition can be found online, though most show at least some sign of wear.
At its core, the Minolta P’s is a compact 135 point and shoot. Launched in 1991, it uses a design language familiar to its era, with a slightly bulbous silhouette shaped from painted plastic.
Design considerations allow the camera to be small and lightweight. The slow, 24/4.5 lens is completely housed within the body, and is shallow enough in its construction to add little in the way of thickness. By and large, this camera’s size is dictated mostly by the dimensions of the film inside of it.
A standard 135 cassette measures roughly 32mm in diameter and 50.8mm in height; the Minolta P’s is about 110mm long by 25mm wide by 60mm ta11.
A typical ~350mL (12oz) canned drink has a mass of around ~380g (give or take some– based on beverages in the United States); the Minolta P’s comes in at just 205g (loaded, film and batteries).
| The Minolta P’s from the front. 135 cassette for scale |
The back of the camera has a transparent cutout that displays the currently loaded film cassette (and its label, if there is one). The viewfinder is centered along the top edge of the camera, and a focus confirmation light is set to its right. Below these are the quartz date back display and controls– though given that the settable date range cuts off in 2019, these are essentially defunct.
Both the camera back and battery door use the same hinge, located towards the right edge of the camera.
The back of the Minolta Ps, showing damage to its finish from abrasion |
| The top of the P’s, showing a simple set of controls |
The bottom of the camera is relatively bare, but does have a tripod screw mount and a recessed button to rewind the film cassette.
controls
True to its point and shoot heritage, the Minolta P’s has controls that could generously be described as “minimalist”.
As a fully autofocus / autoexposure camera, there are no inputs governing exposure parameters. Film speed is detected via DX coding (specifically limited to 100 or 400 ISO, defaulting to 100 ISO if no code is detected), and there is no manual override for uncoded cassettes.
The buttons mounted atop the camera reflect the only choices the camera affords: the shutter release (when to take the shot) , a recessed self-timer button, and a flash suppressor (to force a slower shutter speed instead of firing the built-in flash).
A switch just beneath the lens moves a protective cover between open and closed positions. On the left side, a second switch opens the camera back; this one requires a slight push inwards to help prevent accidental film exposure.
Three buttons (Mode, Select, and Adjust) program the quartz date back, with a small LCD to show what will be imprinted on each image (if the back is disengaged, —- – will show instead).
viewfinder
Given the importance of framing in photography, a camera’s framing aid(s) is one of the two most fundamental interaction points between operator and machine. This is often a make-or-break issue with cameras at every specification and price point.
That’s not an issue with the Minolta P’s. For a small and cheap point and shoot, the viewfinder delivers– and crucially enables the camera’s entire raison d’etere.
| The viewfinder of the Minolta P’s as viewed from the back |
Many comparable cameras have dim finders that offer poor coverage. Worse, most models that offer a panoramic crop mode only have hash marks to indicate the smaller frame.
Given that the P’s can only shoot panoramas, its finder is designed with that in mind. Bright and expansive, it natively offers a rangefinder-like view of both the final frame and an area around it. A central spot indicates the autofocus target, and horizontal hashes that flank both center spot and frame help level the camera.
There is no other information whatsoever presented in-finder. Even the autofocus confirmation light is set into the back of the eyepiece; all you can do at the moment of capture is trust the camera’s focus and exposure settings.
in practice
composing
The common perception of panoramas is that they are predominantly reserved for landscape photography. Although excellent for capturing sweeping vistas, they also afford the opportunity to add valuable context to any scene by presenting a wider (and in some ways, more natural) view of the world.
While the framelines on the P’s are only so accurate, they still largely delineate what will and won’t be in the final image. There is no parallax correction (or even static close-focus marks), but the lens’ wide field of view somewhat mitigates this factor.
Rangefinder-style viewfinders broadly trade precision for awareness; showing what is just outside of the frame can make it easier to predict the motion of a subject, impending interference, or an interesting detail that a photographer may not have initially noticed. This is more pronounced when taking more spontaneous photos, but can be helpful in a variety of contexts.
| "Intersection gaze" - Minolta P's |
Though physically compact, the finder is bright and projects a surprisingly wide view that makes composition as straightforward as possible. Paying attention to the horizon guides is critical given the camera’s elongated, yet small film format. It’s also worth remembering that pitch correction in post rapidly chews up resolution; the more you can get right in camera, the better.
| An example of perspective correction and leveling reducing available resolution |
As a practical matter, a larger frame is also harder to take in at a glance, especially if you’re shooting something that is in motion. Given the importance of selectivity in photography, this is not insignificant.
In general, successful panoramic compositions leverage the long axis of the image in a way that a squarer crop cannot. Although vertical positions still matter, arranging focal points horizontally (or vice-versa in a portrait image) is paramount to achieving an engaging result.
| "Odd pic" - Minolta P's |
The extra room afforded by this format is a double-edged sword: the intrinsic “lateral” way that viewers are likely to traverse the frame can easily guide the eye out into compositional voids, which are are more liable to appear given the larger field of view. These undesirable spaces do not have to be empty; pointless clutter can be just as distracting.
Panoramas are ultimately about managing a viewer’s perception, which involves a substantial amount of subjective judgment. Ultimately, there’s no substitute for experience, both in-camera and in post, for getting the results you want.
technical considerations
Minolta produced the P’s with a fixed aperture of f/4.5 and limited shutter speed range of 1/4 - 1/200s, limiting flexibility in challenging lighting. Given this, the P’s requires some degree of attention to exposure conditions to avoid (or at least reduce) blocking highlights and shadows.
This lens is not one of Minolta’s finest, with notably poor performance at the corners. This combines with the small film format’s struggles to hold fine detail at a distance, making certain compositions notably more difficult (though not impossible).
| Smudging and distortion increase approaching the corners |
Keeping important subjects and details as close to the camera as possible and as far away from the edges as the scene allows will help preserve usable image quality; this is worth keeping in mind to avoid rendering a good capture muddied and smeared.
Vignetting can also create trouble, since the ability to reduce noise when lifting exposure is radically reduced when the source image is smaller.
| A photo of a flat brick wall demonstrating falloff towards the edges and corners of the frame |
Additionally, the slow, wide lens means that depth of field is extensive, making it practically unable to create background blur to make a subject stand out.
| A photo taken at relatively close focus demonstrating lack of subject isolation |
Given this, the more that you can make depth work for you– leading the viewer into and out of the scene– the better.
compositional considerations
Included below are a few observations made while selecting sample images for this article. I hope that these will provide a good starting point to guide anyone starting fresh with panoramas– but do not consider any of these “rules” or “must-haves”.
Placing counterweighted subjects on opposite sides of the long axis can produce a strong sense of motion as the eye tracks from one side to the other.
| “Snap” - Minolta P’s |
On the other hand, grouping two subjects facing outwards in the frame center makes good use of the room on both sides by giving purpose to the negative space flanking the middle.
| “Surround image” - Minolta P’s |
An unbalanced single subject is perfectly acceptable if there is a directional element to the scene that justifies it as a starting or ending point.
| “Seated and sloped” - Minolta P’s |
Repetitive elements establish a rhythm, particularly along the long axis, that can be used to bring the viewer in a predictable way through the photo.
| “Travel” - Minolta P’s |
Long lines, particularly leading lines that fall away into the distance, convey depth in a natural and convincing way.
| “Repair” - Minolta P’s |
Splitting the frame can have a dramatic impact on your ability to contrast different scene elements.
| “Across the street” - Minolta P’s |
Thematic subject isolation can be emphasized by the expansive feel of a wide field of view.
|
“Crowded seats” - Minolta P’s |
operation
In theory, a camera like the P’s should be exceedingly simple to operate: point at the subject, frame appropriately, then press the shutter release.
That description is mostly true.
The real devil is in the camera’s flash behavior– which is to charge by default and be quite liberal in firing. Given its harsh characteristics and limited range, it’s often more hindrance than help.
Instead of providing an easy way to permanently deactivate the flash or to disable it for as long as the camera is powered on, Minolta created a flash suppression button that must be held down to override usual operation. This is pretty egregious, as it necessitates holding the camera in an awkward two-handed grip in even moderately dim conditions to use slower shutter speeds.
| “Loom” - Minolta P’s |
Outside of this, the P’s functions as expected. There is a weak detent to the shutter button that activates the autofocus; a half-press causes the focus LED next to the viewfinder to blink, then light steadily upon obtaining focus. A little more pressure trips the shutter.
As far as I can tell, the camera will never report that the autofocus has failed to lock on– even when pressed directly into a blank wall within the ostensible minimum focus distance of .9m. Given the lens’ enormous depth of field, the designers likely felt that it would be hard to miss focus by enough to justify blocking a shot.
The camera will not fire if the integrated lens cover is closed. If you notice that the AF indicator does not light up when the shutter is half-pressed, this is likely the culprit (or a dead battery)– but otherwise, there’s no indication that the camera is actually off.
Film advance is automatic; given the diminutive size of the body, even the small motor is able to prepare the next exposure within about a second of firing. The wind is about as loud as snapping with both hands at the same time.
| “Boxed in” - Minolta P’s |
routine tasks
Loading and unloading the camera is extremely straightforward. A spring-loaded pull-down switch on the left-hand side pops open the back, with the cassette chamber on the left and take-up spool on the right. There is no need to thread the leader into a notch or catch; so long as enough film covers the motorized advance rollers, the camera will handle the rest.
Once the camera is loaded and the back is closed, the exposure counter will automatically wind to one. At the end of the roll, it will fully rewind the cassette, leader and all.
Given the traditional orientation of the film spools, frame order is as usual, advancing upwards with any markings.
Replacing the camera’s single CR123A battery requires prising up a cover using a notch cut into the right side of the camera. The plastic is somewhat flimsy, so a light touch with a pry tool (I use the C-shaped tabs that hold bread bags closed) is your best bet for safe handling.
| “Pictures of coffee” - Minolta P’s |
stowage
The P’s is tiny, light, and compact, without any protruding bits to catch or snag. The lens cover switch is stiff enough to make accidental activation unlikely, and the whole thing can fit easily into jacket pocket (and some pants pockets).
That’s about where the good ends. The glaring ‘bad’ is that the camera’s finish is so fragile that placing it next to anything hard at all is liable to rub or scratch some off. Even if you don’t especially mind how the camera looks, getting paint flecks off of something you do care about is annoying.
So long as you have a separate compartment in your bag for the P’s (or a dedicated bag or pocket altogether), you’re generally good to go.
| “Selfie center stage” - Minolta P’s |
thoughts
The single biggest failing of the P’s is the flash mechanism.
While there are a number of other ‘flaws’– from the flimsy plastic construction to the low optical quality of the lens– everything else fits the camera’s purpose. This is not an top-shelf design by any means: it’s a cheap, easy-to-use device made with the intent to make panoramic photography accessible.
Because there are no indicators that show if the flash is going to fire or not (and given its penchant to activate at the drop of a hat), the only way to know what you’re getting is to hold the camera with both hands and squeeze. It’s an awkward thing to do, especially if you’re spontaneously whipping the camera up to your eye.
I can forgive just about everything else, but this operational decision makes me a lot less inclined to use the camera when I’m out and about. I have no desire to pop the flash while shooting city life, especially given that that decision is almost entirely in the camera’s hands.
Setting that aside, the P’s is a charming camera that fulfills its humble purpose. As someone devoted to the panoramic format, it satisfies my requirements for an easy-to-use and extremely portable tool for when a larger camera is unwieldy or inappropriate.
Autofocus and a deep depth of field mean that it’s much easier to try for unusual angles or heights, even if the viewfinder is completely unusable. Considering that most photos are taken straight-on at eye level, the ability to change perspective can be quite refreshing.
| “Look back” - Minolta P’s |
rationale
As with the Fujifilm TX-1, the biggest question facing a would-be P’s owner is:
“Why do it this way?”
Unlike the TX-1, which exposes the full width and height of each exposure, the Minolta crops down on a standard frame, throwing away an enormous amount of image area for ‘nothing’.
To be honest, there are really only two defenses I can muster– but they’re certainly not nothing.
the case for seeing what you get
While I’m not a big believer in the whole “get it all right in camera” creed, I do think that it’s best to get as much right at time of capture as possible.
That sounds patently obvious, but there is an important factor here that needs to be called out: intent.
Intention is important. It’s the impetus behind every conscious (and subconscious) decision that goes into a creative work. Clarity of intent can make all the difference between having something to work with (even if it’s difficult) and going home completely empty-handed.
The purpose of a camera is to channel intent into action. Having a native panoramic viewfinder facilitates taking panoramic images because it literally shapes your vision of a scene in real time. It removes the mental step of estimating what will and won’t work within a given frame, leaving your attention for more important considerations.
I really don’t think that the importance of this can be overstated. When you’re working with an extreme aspect ratio like 2.7:1, you really need to be thinking with your end product in mind. Having your tools get out of the way matters, however menial or minor the differences may seem.
less to do in post
People have wildly differing attitudes when it comes to how much post processing is enough, too much, and fun. For people who hate post on principle (or who just find it incredibly unfulfilling), having one less step between capture and result can be a big deal.
Cameras that get left at home– no matter the reason– are cameras that take no photos. A more enjoyable overall experience means more images, and that means more chances for success (whatever that may mean to you).
| “Reading with friends” - Minolta P’s |
conclusion
It’s easy to write off the P’s as a silly and throwaway camera. For some people, that conclusion is perfectly valid and the matter ends there.
Yet there is a real allure to panoramic aspect ratios, and the P’s offers a cheap and easy way to give it a try. It can help enforce discipline by providing a fixed starting point for each shot, while also helping train your eyes and mind to see the world in these wide and sweeping frames.
Personally, I think this camera is worth a try if you have any interest in the format. It has notable shortcomings (especially technical ones), but nothing showstopping.
Whether you’re trying to make art or memories, the technical details tend to matter a lot less than content. To that end, the P’s is worth your consideration, be it the start of your panoramic journey or the end of it.
postscript
I imagine that many people who find the P’s do so in the context of the Fujifilm TX-1/Hasselblad XPAN. The comparison is natural in many respects, but there’s no point in denying the vast gulf between these cameras when it comes to optical quality, handling, and price.
With this focused review complete, I intend to write a head-to-head comparison piece for those interested in the panoramic experience (and who don’t write off books based on their covers).