Bringing My Father’s Nikon FTn Camera Home: A Personal Journey

Remembering My Father: Bringing His Camera Home

My father, Thomas Schneider, owned a Nikon Photomic FTn. He long wished to fix its light meter but believed the parts were no longer available. By the late 2010s, he had stopped hoping to repair it. This past summer, however, the camera was restored.

Using this camera has helped me cope with my father’s passing. I dreamed of taking the FTn out into the world after more than 40 years of inactivity. I wanted to revisit the places my dad had photographed and discover new ones.

Recently, I traveled to Japan with Chris Niccolls and Jordan Drake. Our trip included visiting Nikon’s new headquarters. Since my father had visited Japan in the 1960s and 1970s, it felt fitting to bring the FTn along.

During the trip, I learned more about classic cameras. Although I knew the basics, I was unsure about the technology behind my father’s camera. Fortunately, Chris, with his extensive knowledge, helped me understand the Photomic FTn light meter.

We inspected the light meter together in our Airbnb. Chris explained that my FTn used a battery rather than a solar cell, making it usable today. However, modern battery voltage is higher than what the FTn was designed for, which could lead to inaccuracies. We found that adjusting the film ISO setting by two stops allowed the light meter to work correctly.

With the settings adjusted, I experienced the ease of using the FTn. Its light meter made photography faster and more intuitive, just like modern cameras. I could capture fleeting moments and adjust settings quickly, feeling the joy my father had with this camera.

While touring Nikon’s headquarters, many staff members expressed surprise and delight at seeing the FTn. I even took photographs of Takashi Aihara, a Nikon executive, using both the FTn and a modern digital camera.

The photos from the two different cameras had surprising similarities in aesthetics, despite being decades apart. This connection reflected my feelings about my father’s life and my own.

As I sat on the terrace of Nikon’s headquarters, I held my father’s camera and said, “You’re home. I wish dad was here too, but this will have to do.” I knew my father’s beloved Nikon had many more moments to capture.