Preemptive annoyance tinges my whispered words because I know this rabbit is going to run. There is no threat. I just want a photo or two. But rabbits don’t know a camera from a gun, nor a lumbering human with good intentions from a ravenous coyote, apparently.

“Stop being so twitchy and just relax, so that I can relax, and then we can both relax together, for Christ’s sake!”

But then the pea-sized brain in the animal’s skull screams the existential warning, “DANGER! DANGER!” It bounds away chaotically, and one of its half-dozen leaps brings it three feet into the air, its hind legs flailing pointlessly against the snatching predatory jaws that it has entirely imagined. It flees approximately twenty feet, stops when it realizes it’s not dead, and turns its head to look at me, a blade of half-eaten grass dangling stupidly from its lip.

“Wow. Very impressive. You escaped.”

I wearily push myself up and stalk toward the creature once more. I wonder about those enormous black eyes. Placed as they are on the side of its skull, does it see ahead of itself when fleeing? Or can it only see to its sides like a deer? When panicked, is it prone to career into a tree?

I’ve apparently approached in an acceptable way this time, since I’m allowed to get about ten feet closer than the time before. I stoop once more to sit in the grass alongside the rabbit.

“Alright.” I sigh. “Let’s try it again.”

Photography has been a good friend. A way to chill out. A salve for anxiety and worry. At times in my life I’ve used cameras and lenses and film and tripods to philosophically refocus. As I’ve written in previous articles, even the worst cameras end up pointing at what’s important. I could add to that observation that even if the camera points at nothing of particular importance, the act of pointing it at anything can itself be important.

This rabbit is important enough. A small living thing with the same hopes and dreams as all living things (though we humans tend to complicate what is so fundamental); to have food to eat and a place to live, for our kids to live lives that are happier, healthier, and longer than our own. That’s all most of us want. Sometimes we don’t get it. At those times, photography has been useful. As it is now.

I raise the camera and feel the weight. It’s not insignificant, because I’m using a Sony A7 mirror-less camera fitted with a ten-dollar Nikon F mount adapter and a sixty-dollar Soligor 90-230mm F/nothing-to-write-home-about telephoto zoom lens from, like, 1971. The lens weighs more than the camera, but it’s all-metal and glass and feels, surprisingly enough, wonderful. The focus throw is long and gentle and the aperture clicks into its detents beautifully.

In addition, because the lens was designed to operate uncoupled to the mechanisms within the camera (Nikons in the 1970s and Sonys in the 2020s alike), it features a second aperture ring which stops the lens down in a progressive way. The iris is circular and beautiful, and before I’ve ever mounted it to a camera I’m sure it will make interesting, if not creamy, bokeh.

The lens.

The rabbit.

So anyway, there I am sitting in the grass peering through a viewfinder and fiddling with an aperture ring and a focus ring, and zooming in and composing and framing, and remembering which button on the mirror-less Sony activates “close-magnification focus assistance” or whatever they call it, and the worries are sloughing off.

No, that’s not entirely accurate, if I’m honest. They’re not sloughing off. But maybe they’re out-gassing, dissolving at a molecular level, becoming ever so slightly lighter. I suspect that another two hours of shooting this rabbit might get me to a point where I feel like everything is going to be just fine. But this rabbit has got shit to do, and it hops away after about three minutes.

“Well, let’s see what we’ve got in Lightroom.”

The thing about photography, for me, is that I’m sort of adrift. I don’t exactly know what I’m doing anymore. My whole photographic life has been taking pictures of my children and trying out cameras that I think look neat. I still like my children, so that’s fine. I take pictures of them, same as always. But as far as the “cameras that look neat” thing is concerned, I’ve tried them all.

I love film cameras. Always have, always will. I’ve shot every film camera I care about, and hundreds about which I’ve cared very little. Plus, film is expensive and getting pricier every year. And then I have less time to do it, and more bills to pay, and personal situations to work through, and oh, boy, we are going down this hole again, Jimbo? Where’s that rabbit when I need him.

Let’s get back to cameras and photography.

My pictures of the rabbit are pretty good. They contain a rabbit, and some grass, and nice colors and sharpness most of the time, when I’ve focused right. The shots made at wide-open aperture have strong subject isolation and interesting bokeh, as I suspected they might. The shots made with a tighter aperture are sharp. Not as sharp as would be with a modern lens, naturally, but sharp in that old fashioned way which lacks of clinical perfection. A good thing.

In Lightroom I’m able to turn my decent RAW photos of a rabbit into whatever I want. I can make these pictures look like clean digital photos, or Ilford HP5 film or Kodak T-Max 100, Kodak Portra, Delta 3200, all by sliding a few sliders and knowing what I’m doing. I’ve even managed to create a pre-set which makes a shot look very much like images made with the long-ago discontinued Fujifilm Natura 1600 color film, which is my favorite film I’ve ever used. (And wouldn’t you know it, there’s a picture of a rabbit in that article, too!)

I love using old lenses on new cameras. I love it more than I love shooting film cameras or shooting the newest digital Leica, or instant film, or anything else. Old lenses adapted to new mirror-less cameras; nothing is better. We get the more interesting imaging characteristics of old cameras and film, without the hassle and cost of actually shooting film.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the rabbit.

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After six months with the lens, I realize that no matter if I expected the lens to be terrible, mediocre, or even great, I would’ve been wrong. Somehow, the Nikon Series E 75-150mm f/3.5 seems to exist beyond those descriptors. Even though it’s unglamorous and completely utilitarian both in its design and its imaging characteristics, it has somehow delivered all (read: ALL) of my favorite images taken this year. It has since outlasted the now-dead FA it came packaged with, pulled me away from my beloved Olympus Pen FT for most of the year, and has somehow found a near-permanent home on my Nikon F3. I’d call it a sleeper lens, but it’s a bit more special than that.

Unbeknownst to me, the Nikon Series E 75-150mm f/3.5 was, in its day, a truly special and renowned lens. It was a true classic back then (most notably used by Galen Rowell for his most famous photo), and was made for the consumer market but beloved by professional photographers for its unassuming versatility and quality. Today, it could represent the best value for money in the Nikon lens catalog. It was, and still is, one of the rarest objects in photography – a lens made for everybody.

The Background

The Nikon Series E 75-150mm f/3.5 was set up for success early. Even though it was formulated for Nikon’s budget-minded Series E line, it was designed by one of Nikon’s best minds, Yutaka Iizuka. Iizuka’s pedigree leading up to the design of this lens was impressive; he most notably helped design the groundbreaking Zoom-Nikkor 50-300mm f/4.5, one of the very first high-powered zooms made for 35mm still cameras. So when the company came calling for an inexpensive, but high-quality zoom lens, the brilliant Iizuka answered.

“Inexpensive” was certainly the most important word in the design brief for all of the Series E lenses, but this didn’t necessarily correlate to a drop in quality, as many people repeat in modern times. Quite the opposite – Nikon believed that good design would be able to withstand and overcome the cost-cutting measures put in place for the Series E line. This philosophy guided Iizuka through the lens’ design, which featured a simplified (for zoom lenses, anyway) twelve element in four groups structure optimized for a shortened zoom range of 75-150mm and a constant aperture of f/3.5. If the lens was any bigger or more complicated, it would be unwieldy and expensive; any smaller and it would be too demanding to manufacture and more expensive still. This specific design ensured that Nikon could save money and increase manufacturing volume while still having a lens which performed to their incredibly high standard.

The narrower zoom range also ensured high image quality. Its design could have been stretched to cover a greater focal range, but it was limited to 75-105mm to make sure that the lens didn’t sacrifice image quality at its extreme ends, as zooms often tended to do. The Series E 75-150mm’s uncommonly clean, sharp visual signature at every part of its zoom range as well as a versatile constant maximum aperture of f/3.5 gave credence to the claim that zooms could conceivably replace an entire set of prime lenses without sacrificing image quality.

The lens became a cult favorite among professional photographers seeking an easy-to-use, compact, and cheap short telephoto solution. It was portable in comparison to the big boppers of the day like the famed Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm f/2.8, and could conceivably cover portrait photography, landscape photography, sports photography, and general photography duties due to its stellar all-around performance.

Time, however, hasn’t been particularly kind to the reputation of the Series E 75-150mm zoom. Vintage zoom lenses have never had a particularly good reputation in today’s film photography renaissance, mostly owing to the vast improvement in zoom lens technology in the last twenty years, and because of the glamor of shooting prime lenses. The estimation of the Series E 75-150mm seems to be that the lens is simply Good Enough these days, and that its stellar reputation in professional photography circles is outdated. After using it extensively for the past few months, I can see where these arguments come from, but can’t disagree more about its utility. Although it doesn’t immediately dazzle, it is absolutely still one of the most usable, convenient, and dare I say high-performing short telephoto lenses out there, zoom or prime.

The Details

If there’s any prevailing strength of the Series E 75-150mm f/3.5, it is Yutaka Iizuka’s original design. The design was good enough to endure the initial cost-cutting, but it was also good enough to stand the test of time. To this day, the lens possesses a truly remarkable sharpness from corner-to-corner at every focal length that holds up even under heavy cropping. Distortion is minimized at either end of the zoom range, with minor pincushion distortion at 75mm and minor barrel distortion at 150mm. And I really do mean it when I say “minor” – in practice this really doesn’t affect most images barring critical architectural work, and even then a quick Lightroom adjustment will eliminate the distortion altogether.

The other strength of this lens is something uncommon to zoom lenses – bokeh. The proclamation that zoom lenses do not create good bokeh is usually one parroted by prime-lens obsessives, and while somewhat true, the repeated assertion does not apply to the Series E 75-150mm. Iizuka intentionally designed the lens to create smoother bokeh by reducing the amount of spherical aberration correction at close focusing ranges, a technique also used in the fabled Nikkor AI 135mm f/2 lens. This lens can paint bokeh with the best of them, which makes it usable for portraiture and close-up photography in ways that even many modern zooms cannot replicate, which makes the lens that much more versatile.

The beauty of the Series E 75-150mm is that all of its features come in service of practicality. Its compact design, good bokeh, and sharpness at every part of its focal range makes it an obvious choice for any shooter, professional or casual. I can see why professional travel photographers loved this lens back in the day – it’s a far more sensible choice if you’re not sure about what kind of image you’ll be running into. You simply don’t have to swap lenses as much, nor do you have to compromise by lugging around a heavy albatross of a zoom lens. All zoom lenses have this inherent advantage, but the Series E 75-150mm’s quality and practicality ensures that you’re also just as satisfied with the result as you would be with a prime lens.

While the lens is stellar in nearly every department, it does leave a little to be desired in a few key areas.

Optically, the lens suffers from pretty bad flare. Flare resistance is quite weak despite the design’s attempts to mitigate it, and images will tend to lose a huge amount of contrast if there is any amount of light that glances off the front element (note: this can, of course, be remedied by use of the Nikon HS-7 lens hood).

Build-wise the lens suffers from zoom creep, a problem that sometimes plagues “one-touch” zooms which feature a push-pull zoom action. Lenses which suffer from zoom creep have lost all friction over time, meaning that their barrels will tend to slide to their maximum or minimum focal length at the slightest provocation. Upon receiving my lens, the zoom creep was so bad that it just couldn’t hold itself at a constant focal length, so I had to remedy it by sticking a piece of electrical tape on the barrel to get it to stay put. It wasn’t a huge deal, but it was and is a major failing of the zoom design of this lens.

Barring those practical faults, there is one fault that might be a deal-breaker for some – it’s too practical. The lens’s zoom range of 75-150mm and maximum aperture of f/3.5 is respectable, but isn’t capable of the high-flying acrobatics of the Vivitar Series 1 70-210 f/2.8 or Minolta 70-210 f/4 “beercan” lens. And except for maybe its stellar bokeh characteristics, the lens’ rendering doesn’t immediately dazzle. It’s sharp and renders an incredible amount of detail at every focal length, but it doesn’t “paint” quite like other lenses, most notably prime short telephotos. The Nikkor 85mm f/2, 105mm f/2.5, and 135mm f/2 come to mind as truly beautiful lenses which have the edge on the Series E 75-150mm when it comes to image rendition.

The Bottom Line

Then again, the Series E 75-150mm wasn’t designed or produced in the name of beauty or extravagance; it was produced in the name of practicality. It’s a lens that earns its keep in the field, is made to be shot hard, and rewards handsomely those willing to learn its available focal lengths inside and out. It’s perpetually ready for you to take the next shot no matter the situation, which is something prime lenses just can’t do.

But perhaps the best thing about this lens is that it’s still inexpensive. The market hasn’t really decided how to feel about this otherwise nondescript lens from the early 1980s, so prices still range anywhere from $25-80 USD. If you see one in the wild, snap it up and don’t think twice about it. There’s really not much that can go wrong with this lens other than zoom creep, so you’re virtually guaranteed a high-quality, compact short-telephoto lens for cheap. And in my humble, totally out-of-touch opinion, I don’t think prices on these are going “to the moon,” as the kids say. Old manual focus zoom lenses are like ’90s autofocus SLRs; they’re unglamorous, utilitarian, and just dorky enough to evade the Sauron’s eye of internet influence. I don’t even think a beanie-clad, Squarespace-sponsored film photography Youtuber could make these things hip enough to be out of reach, and that’s saying something (I think).

The Series E 75-150mm could be labeled a “sleeper lens” and even a “cult classic” but I think those terms betray the original intent of the lens. This wasn’t designed to be a lens for those in the know – it was supposed to be a lens for everybody. Its greatness was on display from the start, and it was once enjoyed by quite literally every class of shooter. So if you find one, pick one up, maybe even tell a friend about it. A product this plentiful, this good, and this useful is too rare to pass up, and too beautiful not to share.

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But after finding a rather nondescript Nikon One Touch Zoom at my local thrift store for eight whole dollars and shooting it over the past month, I’ve been thinking maybe that angle, and maybe that entire conversation, misses the point. This camera has single-handedly changed my perception of the point-and-shoot camera genre as a whole, but it didn’t do it through being stellar at any one thing. It did it through being completely, remarkably average.

Befitting of the philosophy of expendability that defined consumer electronics in the 1990s, there’s not much history or information available on the so-called Nikon One Touch Zoom. It was released some time in 1997 to little fanfare, and can be seen as just another drop in the sea of blobby consumer point-and-shoots from the ’90s. A look at the specs of the Nikon One Touch Zoom basically confirms this.

It has a six-element in six-groups 38-70mm f/4.7-f/8 zoom lens that focuses down to 0.8m (2.6 ft). It’s controlled by some kind of autofocusing system and some kind of metering system, partially controlled by a DX coding system that supports ISO 100, 200, 400, and 1000 (sorry, 800 shooters). It has a built in-flash with (importantly) a built-in diffuser. Additionally it features an auto mode, a flash-always-on mode, a flash-off mode, a red-eye reduction mode, and it even supports mid-roll rewind if you wanna get freaky. It’s well-equipped, sure, but it doesn’t offer much more than any other point-and-shoot of the era.

The staleness of its specifications should look familiar to any avid Nikon user. Nikon has always eschewed using new tech in favor of stellar execution, and the same philosophy shows in this otherwise anonymous camera. The lens, although slow and prone to vignetting, is pretty sharp. Its zoom range is continuous, meaning that from 38-70mm, every focal length is available for use (great for me, as I am a 50mm die-hard). Its viewfinder zooms in along with the changes in focal length, something a Leica M wishes it could do. Even the somewhat pesky automatically-on flash system is stellar, and the built in diffuser makes even head-on fill flash look impressively natural (and I would say better than a Yashica T4). I’m convinced that, in the right hands, this camera can serve even a professional photographer well in a backup or vacation camera role, which is something I can’t say of some of the more hyped point-and-shoots out there.

It does, however, have its faults. The framelines in the viewfinder are hard to see in most lighting situations, the parallax correction lines doubly so. The AF is a little slow and the shutter lag is immense. The camera will sometimes even prevent itself from taking a picture if the flash isn’t charged, if the lighting conditions are simply too intense, or, in my experience, if it simply doesn’t feel like it. Its battery door isn’t the sturdiest, and the flexible ribbon that connects the battery to the rest of the camera is completely exposed, meaning that it could brick out if you’re not careful.

Perhaps the worst insult you can hurl at the Nikon One Touch Zoom is that it’s completely anonymous. It doesn’t have the capabilities, the looks, or the clout of the often Instagrammed luxury point-and-shoots, and is practically indistinguishable from its consumer-focused competition. It’s not some sleeper camera that’ll trounce a Contax T-series camera or render a Nikon F4 irrelevant, nor does it really punch above its weight. It’s just another little point-and-shoot that happens to make nice-enough images.

Herein lies the paradox of the Nikon One Touch Zoom, as well as many other faceless point-and-shoots – its anonymity is its identity. It’s truly just another camera. You touch a button, you get a picture. It’s that simple idea that makes point-and-shoots such great cameras in the first place, and what the Nikon One Touch Zoom AF gets so, so very right.

I’ve come to love the Nikon One Touch Zoom not because it offers anything different, but because it’s unremarkable. I’ve touched on this before with the Pentax K1000 – the beauty of a completely unremarkable camera is that you end up loving photography more than you love the camera. The lack of control afforded by a point-and-shoot encourages the shooter to just take casual, fun photos without any thought towards high art (although again, in the right hands, it certainly can make stellar photos).

What comes out on the other side are, more often than not, are memories distilled in their most basic form. When I got my scans back, I wasn’t overly impressed by the image quality (although the flash diffuser looked pretty good), but I was more taken by the memories this camera so casually captured. I remembered Tweezy the Vendor, the cotton candy vendor who heckled me for not having a bigger camera (to which I responded by holding up my F3 with a zoom lens); I remembered having dinner with my friends for the first time in over a year and singing “I’m With You” by Avril Lavigne with them at karaoke; I remembered developing cinema film for the first time in my friend’s girlfriend’s bathroom and getting grossed out by remjet runoff; I remembered taking my nephew to his first baseball game and seeing him smile when he recognized the field he saw on TV in real life. That little Nikon helped me document all of these moments without taking me out of the moments, as some complicated pro-spec cameras sometimes do. And at a time when happy experiences and memories are hard to come by, that’s worth everything to me.

I realize now that the simple joy of documenting life around you is the one thing point-and-shoots are best suited for, and the one thing I missed when evaluating them. Again, the point-and-shoot conversation online is so focused on market value (and capitalizing on that market value) that it’s hard to remember that we’re still dealing with cameras that, you know, take pictures. With this hyperfixation on cameras-as-investments, the conversation honestly starts to sound more like NBA free agency, trading stocks, or investing in crypto than it does photography. I know it’s important to acknowledge market value and that it’s a part of the hobby, but I hate that I’ve let that overtake my own enjoyment of these things as cameras or as things that could take pictures. Because when all is said and done, I’ve come to love this random little blob of a camera, no matter what it’s worth or will ever be worth.

So for those who need to know, here’s that value conversation: the Nikon One Touch Zoom cost me eight bucks at a thrift store. A quick search online has them at around twenty-five bucks. Will the price increase after the publishing of this article? I truly don’t know, and I think it would be arrogant of me to assume that it would, even though it seems to be the popular assumption in the comment sections. Nevertheless, if something happens, just find another zoom lens-equipped point-and-shoot. As James has pointed out here, there’s a billion of them. Find a working Pentax IQ Zoom, a Minolta Freedom, a Canon Sure Shot Zoom, or a Ricoh something-or-other. Doesn’t matter what it is, who shoots it, what it can or can’t do, what it’s worth or not worth. Just shoot it. Take photos of the people and places you love. After all, that’s what these cameras were made for.

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Do I need this? Is this item worth the money? How much do I need to spend to get quality results?

These are questions I frequently ask myself when looking to add new gear to my camera bag. Needless to say, in my efforts not to break the bank, I’ve never had the opportunity to shoot with any of Sony’s high-end lenses, and it’s left me curious as to what I’m missing out on. Luckily, one of the perks of writing for Casual Photophile is having the ability to test photography gear I wouldn’t normally consider within reach of my personal budget. So, with a specific goal in mind, I decided I’d test and write about the Sony E 16-55mm f/2.8 G, the company’s most expensive APS-C zoom lens, and a lens that my budget would preclude me from buying. My goal: Determine whether the results from this lens clearly justify its $1300 price-tag.

First Impressions

Let’s address the elephant in the room; the Sony E 16-55mm f/2.8 G costs $1300. At this price-point, this lens is not what I’d consider a budget-friendly addition to Sony’s APS-C platform, which I feel is generally populated by casual shooters and enthusiasts who don’t have fat wallets or high credit limits. In fact, the lens alone costs the same price as Fujifilm’s X100V (a premium compact camera) and significantly more than almost all of the interchangeable lens camera bodies in Sony’s APS-C lineup (the A6600 costs $100 more). However, Sony never said this lens was supposed to appeal to budget-conscious shooters. Instead, it’s billed as a professional-grade option.

Though I’m sure Sony utilized premium materials to create this lens, its design and build quality aren’t all that much different from other E-mount zooms I’ve attached to my A6000. Regardless, its lightly textured matte-black finish looks good and the build feels sturdy in the hand. The glass itself is big (67mm in diameter), beautiful, and treated with a couple of different fancy coatings that give it an extra edge over lesser APS-C lenses. This includes a “Nano AR” coating to reduce possible ghosting and flares, as well as a fluorine coating to resist water, oil, and fingerprints. The lens details are nicely embossed on the barrel, and the infamous “G” badge has a reflective silver finish to ensure it gleams in the sunlight.

The lens also features weather sealing against dust and moisture, which gives it another leg-up over more budget-friendly zooms and makes it that much more versatile to use in challenging outdoor conditions. However, it’s important to note that Sony chose to omit optical image stabilization (OIS) from this lens, which is a curious move. At this price point, go big or go home, am I right? But I guess with 55mm as its longest focal length and with a constant f/2.8 aperture, we’re unlikely to suffer camera shake while using this lens for stills, unless we’re taking photos during an earthquake.

The zoom functionality of the Sony E 16-55mm G is external and manual. The throw is fairly short given its wide-to-normal focal range and takes less than a second to go from one end to the other, which I really like for stills. The focus mechanism is internal and electronically controlled by the camera. The zoom ring, which sits at the back of the lens barrel, is larger than the focus ring, but they both glide along the barrel with ease. The rings are overlaid by tough, grippy rubber, are smartly spaced for easy differentiation, and nicely dampened to prevent any sort of lens creep or missed focus. In addition, the body includes an AF/MF switch and a focus hold button, which can be remapped to a custom function. These physical controls are welcome additions that add a little extra tactility and functionality to the A6-series camera experience.

Physically the 16-55mm G lens is hefty. Due to its constant f/2.8 aperture, this thing utilizes some serious glass, making it larger and longer than any of the other E-mount lenses that I currently own. It weighs in at 17.5 oz (494 g) and measures 4 inches (100mm) long un-extended, though zooming from 16mm to 55mm extends the barrel and adds about an extra inch to its overall length. I’m not used to handling a zoom lens with a constant aperture, so this lens can make the Sony A6000 feel front heavy and a bit unbalanced, especially when it’s fully extended. My guess is that this lens is better suited for the beefier A6600 or A6500 bodies.

While the lens’ 16-55mm zoom range (24-82mm full-frame equivalent) is a great option for every-day-carry, I can see this thing possibly causing some fatigue if you’re keeping it slung around your neck all day without a well-padded strap. But despite my minimalist reservations concerning its size and weight, in the grand scheme of things, the 16-55mm G lens is largely considered compact compared to other lenses in its class. And remember that its zoom range makes it an ideal choice for a one-lens travel solution, covering urban, landscape, and portrait work all in one. This has the potential to lessen our overall photography load.

Real-World Performance of the Sony E 16-55mm f/2.8 G

Once you take the Sony E 16-55mm f/2.8 G out into the wild, the asking price begins to make more sense. On the inside, the lens is made up of 17 elements in 12 groups, including two “advanced” aspherical, two aspherical, and three extra-low dispersion elements that, according to Sony, “suppress aberration for outstanding corner-to-corner G Lens resolution” and “reduce color bleeding to a minimum.” In addition, the lens features a 9-blade circular aperture, which creates “luscious background bokeh for deep, impressive imagery.”

Marketing copy notwithstanding, this lens might very well be the best E-mount lens I’ve ever used, producing some of the cleanest images I’ve ever taken with my A6000. Needless to say, everything Sony did with this lens (except for excluding OIS) ensures that we can capitalize on the full potential of Sony’s excellent APS-C sensor.

In terms of sharpness, the Sony E 16-55mm f/2.8 G is tack sharp across the frame throughout the entire zoom range, even at f/2.8. No need to stop down to get the best results, simply because it’s consistently crisp at all apertures (though I should note that I don’t typically stop down past f/11, and this lens can go as far as f/22). To add to that, those fancy lens coatings I mentioned earlier must be doing something, because in my time with the lens I only experienced one instance where flare caused some blown highlights and softness in my image and one extreme contrasty instance that produced strong purple fringing. Other than that, flare, ghosting, and chromatic aberration are virtually non-existent with this lens, even in the uncorrected RAW files, which I can’t say about images made with other E-mount lenses that I own.

The constant aperture is probably the main reason this lens is so attractive to Sony APS-C shooters, not to mention it’s the first native E-mount zoom lens to have a constant aperture this fast. For a zoom lens, f/2.8 is bright and extremely useful in all kinds of situations, especially for indoor and low-light photography. With my go-to zoom lens (the Sony 18-135mm which I reviewed here) I tend to avoid low light situations due to its slower, variable aperture. But with the Sony E 16-55mm f/2.8 G, I found myself reaching for my camera despite the sun being below the horizon. While I would normally switch to one of my f/1.4 primes for low light snaps, I really enjoyed the freedom that the 16-55mm G lens afforded me with its combination of zoom range and fast aperture. I typically don’t like to push the ISO on my A6000 as I find the results to be too noisy past 1600. But with this lens I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was able to stay at or below 1600 in low light while achieving a reasonable shutter speed with the lens wide open. OIS would have been welcome in these situations, but I was able to avoid camera shake for the most part and get relatively clean results by keeping the lens wide open (as long as the area I was in was fairly well lit).

There’s not much to say about autofocus performance as, in general, Sony’s AF technology is arguably the best of the best, even on their more mature products. But for the sake of being thorough, the AF performance of the 16-55mm G lens is fast, silent, and accurate. I honestly didn’t expect any less, especially since this is a native lens. Even in low light conditions (despite some hiccups in extremely dim light), I didn’t find this lens to struggle to a fault, thanks to that constant aperture. This lens can also focus as close as (about) 1 foot, which I acceptably close and comparable to my 18-135mm lens in this regard. This lens is not meant for macro work, but I think the 16-55mm allows for some pretty decent close-up shots.

I’m not one who fixates on bokeh performance, but I will say that the nine-blade rounded aperture Sony put in this lens produces soft, pleasing separation at all focal lengths, especially when shot wide open at f/2.8 and zoomed into 55mm. Achieving bokeh this soft with a zoom lens is a really nice perk to have when looking to isolate subjects, so I can see why this lens would be an ideal choice for versatile portrait and lifestyle photography.

Left uncorrected, images from this lens do show some significant barrel distortion and light fall-off at 16mm, but minimal pin cushioning on the long end. While zooming in to about 20mm will clear up the light fall-off, and software corrections make distortion a non-issue these days, with a price tag of $1300, I was expecting the 16-55mm G lens to be optically perfect straight out of the camera at every focal length. But I guess complete perfection is unattainable even at this price point. It just goes to show that some imperfections are to be expected when you’re considering a versatile zoom lens, even if it costs more than the camera body on which it’s mounted.

It could just be me, or the environments in which I was shooting, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that the Sony E 16-55mm f/2.8 G renders colors truer to life than I’ve come to expect from Sony optics, which (to my eye) typically lean toward cooler tones. After picking up film photography, I found that I have a penchant for warmer tones, so I’m not a huge fan of Sony’s color science, and I typically find myself messing with the colors in post-processing. However, with this lens, the colors looked pleasing straight out of the camera on most occasions (even if they still lean a bit cooler than I’d like), and I felt like I didn’t need to do much color-correcting or white-balancing in post. In fact, the majority of the sample photos in this article did not require any color corrections, which (for me) says a lot.

[The slide above shows distortion of the lens at its widest focal length (16mm at f/2.8). One shot is corrected for distortion and the other is straight out of camera.]

How Much is Perfection Worth?

It’d be discourteous to say that the 16-55mm f/2.8 G is anything but an exceptional lens. In fact, I think the performance of this lens easily puts it at the top of its class in almost all possible categories. With that said, I would highly recommend it to two types of people: Professional photographers relying on Sony’s APS-C sensors for paid work, and Sony-fanatic APS-C shooters with no budget restrictions looking for the best native standard zoom lens. If you identify as one of these people, you can close this article and pull the trigger. If you don’t, you might want to keep reading.

Like every conclusion to an article like this, whether or not a lens is worth its price tag is a matter of opinion. With that said, I personally don’t think the Sony 16-55mm f/2.8 G lens is worth the $1300 asking price. I mainly say this because (while I might be overstepping here) I think the Sony APS-C platform is best suited for shooters who enjoy photography as a hobby, looking to capture moments along their travels as well as in their everyday lives. For casual photographers like these, spending $1300 on a lens might not be an advantageous decision. And despite all the praise I’ve given the lens in this write-up, I don’t think the average enthusiast photographer shooting on an A6000-series body needs to drop an outrageous amount of cash to get Sony G-level results. This is especially true when there are other lenses for the system which cover about the same zoom range (or more), are significantly less expensive, and produce comparable results.

An excellent example of one of these greater value lenses is the Tamron 17-70mm f/2.8, which is probably the most direct competitor to the Sony 16-55mm G lens. Though it’s fairly new (released January 2021), by all accounts, Sony’s $1300 money-sink is outmatched by the Tamron’s value to performance ratio. The lens sells for just $800 but covers a wider zoom range, rivals the Sony in sharpness, and includes weather sealing as well as image stabilization. An even cheaper competitor is the Sony 18-135mm f/3.5-5.6 zoom lens, whose exceptional performance and portability I can personally vouch for. Despite its optical limitations, with a bit of care and post-processing work, you can get top-notch images for $1000 less than the 16-55mm G lens.

At the price point of $1300, you might even consider making the jump to full-frame glass (FE-mount). Luckily, APS-C sensors have the benefit of supporting both E-mount and the full frame FE-mount lenses, which basically future-proofs your photography kit should you decide to upgrade to a full-frame sensor down the line. Even with the added flexibility, some of these lenses still come in cheaper than the APS-C-dedicated 16-55mm G lens. Some good full frame FE-mount options include the Tamron 28-75mm f/2.8 and Sigma 24-70mm f/2.8, which retail for $880 and $1100 respectively.

Final Thoughts

Considering their significant market share in the mirror-less industry, it’s not news to anyone that Sony makes some of the best cameras and optics money can buy. However, it is my opinion that they tend to overprice some of their products to a fault, especially when the competition is producing similar optics and selling them at a lower price. To reiterate, I do think the Sony E 16-55mm f/2.8 G is an exceptional lens and a worthy purchase for professionals, but not necessarily for the average photographer like me. In order to consider it a viable option, I think this lens would have to be priced much closer to $1000 or less.

After trying out Sony’s most expensive APS-C lens, I’m happy to conclude that I’m not really missing out on much, other than that fast constant aperture, which isn’t worth the $1300 at this point in my photography journey. With my 18-135mm lens, I think I can get comparable results in a smaller package with some added range and OIS. But when I do finally make the decision to upgrade to a faster, higher-quality zoom lens, it’s good to know that there’s always more affordable fish in the sea.

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The same period in which autofocus was making its big splash also played host to another more quiet revolution. Zoom lenses, which had nearly always lagged behind their prime siblings in image quality, were starting to close the gap. Manufacturers like Nikon and Canon were improving their telephoto zooms year after year, while a partnership between Leica and Minolta had also birthed some high-quality zooms. Even third-party manufacturers like Vivitar were releasing surprisingly excellent zoom lenses. 

For Nikon, these two imaging trends would collide in 1987 with the release of the AF Nikkor 35-70mm f/2.8. Released in conjunction with the 80-200mm f/2.8 AF telephoto zoom, the 35-70mm was a statement to professionals. Nikon was signalling a commitment to zooms, releasing two that weren’t just convenient for the working photographer, but also delivered the quality they demanded.

This “normal zoom” would continue to be produced throughout the 1990s, and would become a staple in the kit of hundreds (if not thousands) of newsroom photographers and independent working professionals. Many of the reasons it was popular then make it valuable today; extremely high build quality, fast maximum aperture, sharpness, and lack of distortion. And while it’s true that the 35-70mm would eventually be usurped by zoom lenses with a wider focal range, this fact also means it can be bought today for bargain prices. In fact, it wouldn’t be going too far to call this the best value in autofocus zoom lenses today.

Background on the AF Nikkor 35-70mm f/2.8

The AF Nikkor 35-70mm f/2.8 debuted in 1987 one year after Nikon released its first autofocus SLR, the F-501 (or N2020). While that camera wasn’t going to win over Nikon’s demanding professional customers, it did signal Nikon’s intent to enter the autofocus market. The 35-70mm was Nikon’s first truly professional piece of equipment, meant to whet the whistle one year before they released their groundbreaking flagship camera, the Nikon F4. In it’s day, it made jaws drop. With its maximum aperture of f/2.8 it was the fastest mid-range zoom lens ever created. Canon wouldn’t release a similar lens for two more years. Minolta customers would have to wait five.

Lenses with maximum apertures of f/3.5 suddenly felt glacially slow and those with variable maximum apertures were left in the dust. It was a game changer at the time, and yet something we don’t even think about today.

The 35-70mm has 15 elements in 12 groups, with a 7-bladed diaphragm, is multi-coated and has macro capability when fully extended. It stops down to f/22 and can focus as close as two feet from the subject. The first iteration of the lens, designated “AF” was produced from 1987 until 1992, when Nikon added distance coding to assist with flash photography and therefore created the “AF-D.” (Other small changes also were made to the aperture lock and later to the distance chip.) The lens reviewed for this article is of the “AF” variety and came off the line in the early years of production.

The 35-70mm is compatible with every Nikon camera, only sacrificing autofocusing abilities on the lowest-tier DX cameras. 

Compared to the modern 24-70mm behemoths Nikon currently sells, the 35-70mm looks small and unimpressive. And while it’s true that in its most compact form, this lens has the dimensions roughly equivalent to a can of soda, picking it up belies visual impressions. The lens has more weight than expected — made almost entirely out of metal and glass, it weighs in at a not insubstantial 23.4 ounces. It doesn’t seem like much on its own, but attached to a full frame SLR or DSLR, it’s a workout. If Thor carries a massive axe called Sormbreaker, a photographer carrying this lens on an F4s would be wielding Wristbreaker. It’s hard to imagine carrying around anything bigger all day without some sort of orthopaedic miracle.

Advantages

Advantages abound for this lens. Let’s start with what we can see and feel.

Build quality is outstanding. While camera bodies and lenses were beginning their transition into overly-plasticized construction, this lens was still firmly planted in the era of metal. The AF Nikkor 35-70mm f/2.8 is built for professionals. As such, it’s designed to take a beating. The lens zooms in and out with ease, but not so loosely to ever cause worry about sliding out of the desired focal length. The rubber grip rings feel as durable as the metal body. The aperture ring clicks firmly into place, locking at f/22 with an unlocking button slightly above and to the right of the wheel.

It’s not a beautiful lens — certainly not something you would put on display. Instead it has the appearance of something begging to be out in the worst environment you can find. It’s not waterproof, and the push-pull design can allow dust inside, but the copy used for this review — among the oldest of these lenses — is pristine inside after roughly thirty years of use.

The lens’s image quality is a direct reflection of the leaps and bounds manufacturers were making with zoom lenses.

Vignetting is at its most noticeable at f/2.8 and 35mm. At that focal length, it is reduced at f4, almost gone at f/5.6 and completely gone by f/8. At the 50mm length it is less intense at f/2.8 and gone by f/5.6. At 70mm vignetting is the least noticeable of all the focal ranges at f/2.8 and gone by f/5.6. But the only time this vignetting is truly noticeable, and even then against a blank wall, is at f/2.8 at 35mm. Even then, it would actually improve environmental portraits, which is the most imaginable use for such exposure settings.

As can be expected from any zoom lens, sharpness isn’t quite on the level of any of the focal lengths as prime lenses, but matches performance in certain areas. Center-image sharpness is fantastic through the entire focal range. At 35mm results on the edge are very soft at f/2.8, and don’t sharpen to perfection until f/8. At 50mm, corner sharpness is very good except at f/2.8 and (to a lesser extent) at f/4. At 70mm, corner sharpness is outstanding from f/22 to f/8, acceptable at f/5.6 and f/4 and soft wide open.

Distortion is almost non-existent as are chromatic aberrations. To the degree that anyone would purchase a zoom lens based on bokeh, the 35-70mm isolates all subjects at f/2.8, though it couldn’t be called dreamy, creamy or even attractive. 

Sharpness samples below – click desired focal length and aperture for full size samples.

35mm at f/2.8, at f/4, at f/5.6, at f/8, at f/11, at f/16, at f/22

50mm at f/2.8, at f/4, at f/5.6, at f/8, at f/11, at f/16, at f/22

70mm at f/2.8, at f/4, at f/5.6, at f/8, at f/11, at f/16, at f/22

As already mentioned, the lens does have heft to it when attached to a big camera and would make smaller ones quite long in the nose. But compared with modern zooms, or even other zooms in this lens’s immediate family, it’s still a welterweight (though it should be considered the Manny Pacquiao of welterweight lenses.)

All the aforementioned advantages are amplified when considering one of the lenses most impressive features; its price. While the other lenses that made up Nikon’s “journalist trinity” in the 1990s — the 20-35mm and 70-200mm f/2.8 — still command prices in the $300 to $900 range, an AF Nikkor 35-70mm f/2.8 in good condition can be had (almost always) for less than $200. Often they sell at auction for below $100. The lens used in this review was purchased for $85. That looks pretty good when compared  to the $1,900 it takes to own Nikon’s newest 24-70mm f/2.8. In fact, you could buy all three of the 1990s Nikon trinity set for about $750 less than a single lens today.

Real World Image Samples

Disadvantages

There aren’t many disadvantages to this lens. The most glaring of these few is its susceptibility to flaring. 

Anyone who’s used a 24-70mm lens will immediately feel constrained by the narrower focal range. That’s not something to blame the lens or the company for, a 35-70mm was standard in the mid-eighties. But if you’re a photographer who frequently operates on the 24-35mm range, you’ll need to carry extra glass. That could be one prime lens, or Nikon’s 20-35mm f/2.8, a lens equal in quality to the 35-70mm but with a higher price.

Lens creep, or when the lens slips out of its focal position, is typical to almost every lens with a push-pull design. Creep does occur with this lens to a small degree, and it can be annoying. But it rarely happens when the lens is attached to the camera and can often be solved with a sturdy rubber band.

Lastly, the 62mm filter ring rotates as the lens focuses. It’s not really a problem until you’re using a polarising filter or an external “Cokin-esque” system where focusing and composing simultaneously quickly becomes annoying.

Macro-capability

It’s not clear whether the macro capability should be considered an advantage or a disadvantage. In the sense that it has it rather than lacks it, the feature is an advantage. To use the macro function, the lens must be extended to 35mm, at which point a button below the “AF NIKKOR” badging is pushed and the grip twisted to allow for manual focusing.

But in practical use, this macro functionality isn’t terribly useful. Most of all because getting that close to a subject at that focal length cuts down considerably on the light hitting the subject. With its 1:4 reproduction ratio, some macro purists may not even consider it a truly macro lens, which it wasn’t designed to be. Considering that Nikon had a dedicated (and quite excellent) autofocus 60mm f/2.8 Micro lens as early as 1989, adding any macro function to the 35-70mm seems more designed to make the already groundbreaking lens more remarkable. It’s not a gimmick, because it technically can be used effectively, but it’s not something anyone asked for nor, in all likelihood, will it be used very much.

Recommendation

Buying this lens should be a no-brainer for any Nikon shooter that doesn’t already have a zoom lens in this focal range. Photographers on a budget or prime lovers looking to start a journey into the zoom world need only look here for their first step.

It’s incredible that a lens with this sort of build quality, toughness and performance is available for such a low price. The same was said here of Nikon’s F100, but bears repeating; it’s downright criminal that something this good costs so little. It’s lighter than modern mid-range professional zooms while nearly matching those far more expensive lens’ image quality, and it has on-lens aperture control. To have all of that at less cost than nearly any zoom lens sold today is remarkable.

We often talk about bargains and value here, but when it comes to this lens, it’s more like a fire sale. The Nikon AF Nikkor 35-70mm f/2.8 was in the bags of thousands of photojournalists for more than a decade, and it remains an excellent addition to any Nikon shooter’s bag today.

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One third-party zoom that has always caught my eye is the once lauded and now relatively forgotten Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm f/3.5. About five or six years ago this lens was a constant sight at secondhand stores and film camera shows, often found with a compact SLR clinging for dear life at the end of its long barrel. But despite their outrageous shape and size, they never flew off the shelves. They just sat there, waiting for somebody, anybody to pay attention to them.

It wasn’t always this way. In the mid-1970s, Santa Monica based optical distributor Vivitar made a name for themselves by rebranding and marketing top tier Japanese-made lenses for the North American market. Vivitar contracted a number of Japanese lens manufacturers to do their bidding, most notably Kiron, Tokina, and Cosina (the last of these would eventually manufacture Voigtlander rangefinder lenses and cameras). The best lenses of these efforts would earn a spot in Vivitar’s Series 1 lens family, a range of lenses meant to compete with the best lenses in the world. And for the most part, these Series 1 lenses were highly regarded among photographers of the time. Prominent even among these better-than-most lenses were Vivitar’s telephoto zooms, including the 70-210mm f/3.5.

Zoom lens technology was still in its infancy at the time, but the advantages of such a lens were clear, especially to working photographers. Zoom lenses let shooters choose their focal lengths without requiring mounting of different prime lenses (lenses of a single focal length). This key feature was greatly appreciated by fast-moving, quick-thinking professional photographers. But there was a catch – the zoom lenses of the time often sacrificed lens speed and image quality for this versatility. These were compromises that most shooters simply didn’t want to make. The result was that all zoom lenses were quickly “known” to be inferior to prime lenses. The Vivitar Series 1 zooms, of which the 70-210mm f/3.5 was one, set out to change that. They were meant to combine prime-level optical performance and a quick maximum aperture with the versatility of a zoom lens.

The raw specs of the Series 1 70-210mm are encouraging; a zoom range spanning from short telephoto to medium-long telephoto, and a constant aperture of f/3.5, more than healthy for most telephoto lenses of the time. The constant aperture stat is significant; most zoom lenses are quick at the short end of the range and lose significant speed at the long end (e.g. f/2.8-5.6). This Vivitar stays quick from start to finish, which is a great feature for shooters, and impressive considering this lens was manufactured in 1975.

Dig a little deeper into the specs and we find some really impressive stuff. The lens sports a whopping 15 elements in 10 groups, which makes the constant maximum aperture of f/3.5 an even more remarkable achievement. The lens also sports the surprisingly stellar Vivitar multicoating meant to mitigate flare, increase contrast, and provide a more even, realistic rendering of color. And to top it all off, the lens features a dedicated, easily accessible 1:2.2 macro mode, making it uncommonly versatile.

It was a winning formula, and the Vivitar 70-210mm f/3.5 became one of Vivitar’s best sellers. The lens was manufactured for almost every major SLR bayonet mount of the time (Nikon F, Canon FD, Pentax K, Minolta SR, Konica AR), thus increasing its popularity. None of the major manufacturers ever quite achieved the balance of capability and ease-of-use of the Vivitar 70-210mm during its own time, and so the lens ruled the late ’70s and early ’80s.

A lens this popular and this great should have a better reputation than it does, but this isn’t the case. Outside of a few aficionados on the internet, most people just don’t care about a third party lens from forty years ago. And regardless of quality, third party lenses will nearly always come with a stigma. Like Bruce Hornsby said, that’s just the way it is.

But after using the Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm for a couple of photo walks, I can confidently say that this lens deserves the status of a classic. More than that, I happen to think that anybody who’s even halfway serious about getting into film photography should own this lens because of its versatility, image quality, and affordable price point. (And before anybody accuses me for the millionth time of trying to inflate the prices of this lens by reviewing it positively – I’m not. I’m not that smart, trust me.)

The telephoto range is one that, for most casual photographers, remains uncharted territory. Using a 105mm f/2.5 or a 200mm f/2.8 beyond the realm of portraiture is sadly uncommon, and examples of such work are few and far between. Thankfully, the Vivitar 70-210mm makes it easy to explore a very healthy range of telephoto focal lengths without compromising on image quality or lens speed.

The most immediately striking aspect of the images made by the Vivitar is its resolution and sharpness. Zoom lenses carry negative reputations in both of those metrics, but the Vivitar is stellar in both. A look at the full-resolution sample images reveals remarkable resolution (out-resolving the grain of Kodak Ultramax 400) and sharpness from corner to corner, especially closed down. Fine details and textures are rendered with surgical, accurate precision at its longest end, and full scenes at the 70mm setting are loaded with detail. But perhaps the best feature of the Vivitar is its consistency at every focal length. Usually zooms tend to falter at the most extreme ends of their range, but the Vivitar somehow avoids that pitfall and delivers fantastic images throughout its zoom range.

Images from the lens also possess a remarkable balance in the fields of contrast and color rendition. Contrast isn’t fantastically high and the color doesn’t particularly dazzle as a result, but the images avoid becoming boring and flat. Instead we get pleasantly balanced images across the range which still have a bit of character. The VMC multicoating is particularly good at rendering scenes accurately and without fuss. The Vivitar 70-210mm can rightly be considered a foreshadowing of modern zoom lenses, while thankfully lacking the sterile precision those later lenses so often exhibit.

The cherry on top of the Vivitar 70-210mm is its additional macro function. With a simple turn of a separate ring, the Vivitar 70-210mm can achieve 1:2.2 macro reproduction, which is impressive for a non-dedicated macro lens. This function is particularly useful for light macro work as well as close up portraiture, and significant considering most telephotos of the day had annoyingly long minimum focusing distances.

All this said, there are a couple of areas in which the Vivitar 70-210mm falls short. Zooms aren’t usually known for being sharp wide-open, and at its maximum aperture at f/3.5 the Vivitar softens up and exhibits some smearing, coma, and an alarming amount of chromatic aberration. There’s also some distortion at both ends, with some barrel distortion at the short end and some pincushion distortion at the long end. And perhaps the most depressing for bokeh-addicts, the Vivitar 70-210mm’s bokeh is pretty busy and smeary, and just doesn’t hold a candle to the best prime telephotos of the day.

And then there’s the size and weight. The first-gen Vivitar 70-210mm is what would be known on the internet as an Absolute Unit. At a hefty 879 grams (nearly two pounds) contained in an all-metal seven inch barrel, this lens is gargantuan compared to most every vintage lens, zoom or otherwise. Granted, the lens is incredibly well made and well designed, with a perfectly graded focusing throw, smooth and steady one-touch zoom action, and solid half stops between each f-stop on the aperture ring, but damn does it come at the cost of lightness. It’s a challenge to hold and shoot, and lacks a tripod socket for easier stationary use. Its size and weight also makes lighter, more compact SLRs tough to use since the weight easily overbalances these cameras. This lens benefits from being used on heftier, professional grade cameras like the Nikon F-series, Canon F-1, and the Minolta XK, or at the very least on a motor drive equipped compact SLR.

But for those who can handle it, the Vivitar 70-210mm f/3.5 is an overall fantastic all-purpose telephoto lens that can still do a stellar job for shooters looking to learn the tricks of the telephoto trade. Its versatility enables growth for novices and peace of mind for advanced shooters. The image quality is top notch throughout the zoom range and can stand toe-to-toe with most modern zoom lenses on offer today.

The best (and worst) part about these Vivitar Series 1 lenses is how cheap they are. A combination of a seemingly endless supply and little demand (owing to the mostly false notion that third party zooms stink) makes these lenses incredibly cheap and plentiful on the used market. Before purchasing one I’d do some research on the different versions – Vivitar outsourced the manufacturing of this lens to a variety of manufacturers over the lens’ lifetime, which resulted in slightly different configurations.

The version I tested was the first-gen Kiron (Kino Precision) version with the constant f/3.5 aperture, which are identifiable by the “22” found at the beginning of the serial number. The only other constant aperture version is the second-gen Tokina version (serial numbers beginning with 37); all other versions, including the third-gen Komine (serial number 28) and fourth-gen Cosina (serial number 9) feature an f/2.8-f/4 aperture range. There are small differences between the versions but besides the variable maximum aperture of the later versions, they all perform roughly the same. In practice, any version of this lens will give any skilled shooter great images.

Testing this lens makes me tempted to get on my soapbox and campaign to Make Third Party Zooms Great Again and bite my thumb at the snobs who say otherwise, but I think I’ll refrain from doing that. Instead, I’ll just put it out there on the internet that lenses like the Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm f/3.5 should be owned by anybody who wants to learn how to shoot telephoto lenses, or simply wants to experiment with the format. They’re cheap, plentiful, and stellar performers to boot. They are lenses that will reward handsomely those willing to give them a chance.

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