Antique brass large format lenses are tempting. They look glorious. They are often cheap (compared to modern equivalents). They come with stories: Victorian portrait studios, daguerreotype-era engineering, hand-finished brass mounts. They promise a “character” that modern lenses cannot match.
But what does that character actually look like in practice? And how do you test for it when each lens was made for a different process, in a different era, by makers using slightly different conventions for things like aperture markings, focal length notation, and even what “in focus” meant?
This article is an honest attempt to put four antique large format lenses through their paces side by side on a single shoot. The lenses range from 1895 to 1924, span British and German manufacturing, and were paired with a modern Schneider Symmar as a control. The results are mildly inconclusive, which I will explain. The wider lesson is more useful than the specific lens findings.
If you have been wondering whether antique brass lenses are worth chasing for your own large format work, this article should help you think about the question. It will not give you a simple answer.
The four lenses
In order of age, oldest first.
Perken, Son and Rayment Rapid Rectilinear 9x7 Optimus, c. 1895
The oldest of the four and a genuinely beautiful object. Around 12 inches focal length (approximately 300mm), a Rapid Rectilinear design which was the dominant lens type for non-specialist use in the late Victorian era. Uses Waterhouse stops, small slot-loaded brass plates that you slide into a slit in the lens barrel to change aperture. No iris diaphragm.
I have the original Waterhouse stops with the lens. The lens itself is in remarkable condition for its age. Some fungus, but I cleaned that out before the shoot. The glass is clear, the coatings (or rather, the bare glass surfaces, since coatings are post-1935) are bright.
Dated to approximately 1895 via the Lens Vade Mecum, the standard reference work for identifying antique lenses. This was a gift from my uncle, who had it sitting around for years and decided I would put it to better use than he would.
Emil Busch Rapid Aplanat No 2 Series D, 8 inch f/6, c. 1905
This one has already appeared on the channel in some South African landscape work earlier in the summer. Approximately 8 inches focal length (around 200mm), an Aplanat design (one of the major lens designs of the late 19th and early 20th centuries), German-made by the Emil Busch optical works.
The aperture markings on this one are unusual: 6, 12, 24, 48, 96, 192, 384. Not the standard f-number progression you would expect (5.6, 8, 11, 16, 22, 32). These older numbers correspond to a different aperture notation system used before the modern f-stop convention became universal. Some interpretation required.
Some apparent separation around the edges of the first element group, which produces a slight sparkly effect at certain angles. Not necessarily a problem for image quality at the centre. Optically clear in the middle, where it matters most.
Dated to around 1905 via the Vade Mecum.
Oscar Simon Anastigmat Casket Set No 1, c. 1905
The interesting one. This is a casket set, meaning it came in a small wooden case with multiple interchangeable front elements that screw into a single rear element. Each front element gives you a different focal length. I have several elements but used the No 1 element for this test, which is the widest in the set at approximately 7 inches focal length (around 150mm) at roughly f/8.
The aperture markings on this one are simpler, just numbered 1 through 10 (or similar). Another non-standard system that requires calibration if you want to know your actual f-number.
Oscar Simon was a German lens maker who went out of business around 1910. This was made near the end of their production run. Another gift from my uncle, with its original case and additional front elements.
The Aplanat design family produces a particular character that I will come back to in the results.
Ross of London Teleros, 9 inch f/5.6, c. 1924
The most modern of the four and the most conventional in its markings. Ross of London was one of the great British lens makers of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The Teleros is their telephoto design, genuinely long for portrait work at 9 inches (about 230mm) at f/5.6.
I have used this one before and got results I was happy with. Some twinkling around the far edge that suggests possible impact damage at some point in its history, but the central glass is clear. The lens has all its proper aperture markings in modern notation, which makes life much easier.
Dated to around 1924 via the Vade Mecum.
![PLACEHOLDER: the four lenses laid out together, showing the variety of sizes, mounts, and aperture systems]
The control lens
To compare anything to anything you need a baseline. The Schneider Symmar-S 210mm f/5.6 from around 1982 is my modern control lens: multi-coated, computer-designed, in a Copal shutter, with proper f-stop markings and reliable behaviour. The kind of lens you would actually buy today for serious 4x5 work.
If the antique lenses have a “character” that distinguishes them from modern glass, the Symmar is what they are characterised against.
The shoot
I met up with Mel in Moreton Marsh for a morning of portrait work. The plan: one or two frames per lens, varied compositions, all on Ilford FP4 Plus (which I would develop together to control for development variables). The aim was not a rigorous test (that would require shooting the same composition with each lens, which gets boring fast) but a relaxed working session where I could get a feel for what each lens produced.
A few practical observations.
Three of the four antique lenses have no shutter. They are pre-shutter-era. To take an exposure, you remove the lens cap for the calculated duration and replace it. This works fine for landscape work with stationary subjects, but for portraits it is genuinely difficult. Mel is patient and good at holding still, but even a tenth of a second exposure is hard to do cleanly with a lens cap pull. Multiple frames had visible camera shake from the lens cap operation.
I solved this where I could by working under tree cover (which reduced the light and pushed exposures into the second-or-two range, where lens cap timing is more forgiving) and by accepting a higher screw-up rate than usual.
The Ross Teleros and the Schneider Symmar both have proper shutters, which made shooting with them noticeably faster and cleaner.
Bellows extension compensation matters. Close portraits on these long-ish focal lengths involve significant bellows extension, which requires extra exposure compensation. I tried to be careful about this but my mental arithmetic was probably off on a few frames.
Aperture markings required interpretation. For the Emil Busch and the Oscar Simon, I had to make educated guesses about what aperture I was actually shooting at, based on the historical conventions. This adds another variable to the test.
![PLACEHOLDER: a shot of Mel in the bushes with the Oscar Simon lens, showing the kind of result that lens produces]
What I actually learned about each lens
With the caveats above (this was an informal shoot, not a controlled test), here are my impressions.
The Ross of London Teleros continues to be a favourite. Sharp where it should be, good contrast, none of the obvious flare or distortion that some antique lenses produce. The longer focal length (9 inches) suits portrait work well. This is the one I would reach for if I wanted antique character with reliable behaviour.
The Emil Busch Aplanat produces an interesting effect I had noticed previously in South African landscape work: the centre of the frame has strong contrast and the edges fall off softly. Not vignetting in the conventional sense. More like a soft gradient of contrast and brightness from centre outwards. It produces a portrait look where the subject in the middle pops out of a softer surround. I genuinely like this and Mel looks fantastic in the frame I got with it.
The Oscar Simon surprised me. The waist-up frame I shot with Mel in the bushes is one of my favourites from the day. Plenty of detail at the centre, atmospheric rendering of the foliage in front and behind her. The Anastigmat design family produces good resolution at moderate apertures, and the lens shows this.
The Perken Son and Rayment is harder to judge from this shoot. The long focal length (12 inches) meant the bellows extension on the Stenopeika was at its limits, and the cap-pull exposure with such a long lens was the hardest to do cleanly. I got a frame but I am not confident the frame represents what the lens can really do. This one needs another outing before I have a real opinion.
The Schneider Symmar control is the technically best frame of the day. Sharp corner to corner, even illumination, no distortion. But the frames from the Emil Busch and the Oscar Simon have something the Symmar does not, even if I cannot quite articulate what.
The character question, honestly
This is the bit that requires more honesty than most lens reviews include.
These lenses produce visibly different results from modern lenses. That is real. The character is there.
I cannot tell you precisely what the character is from a single shoot with each lens. The differences are subtle, they vary by subject and lighting, and they interact with all the other variables in the process (camera handling, exposure accuracy, focusing, film, development). One frame per lens is not enough to characterise a lens.
What I think you are getting from antique brass lenses (with appropriate uncertainty) is:
- Lower micro-contrast than modern multi-coated glass
- More varied falloff patterns (vignetting, edge softness, centre-emphasis)
- Different out-of-focus rendering, often softer and more “painterly”
- More flare and veiling glare in difficult lighting
- A general impression of depth and dimensionality that modern lenses lack
Whether any of this is better than modern lens behaviour depends entirely on what you want from your photographs. Modern lens design optimises for clinical accuracy. Antique lenses produce something more interpretive. Neither is wrong.
What you actually need to test these properly
A few things I would do differently for a real lens comparison:
Multiple shoots per lens. One outing per lens is the absolute minimum to start understanding what it does. Three or four outings (different subjects, different light) is what you need before you can speak with confidence.
Identical compositions. If you want side-by-side comparison, you need same subject, same composition, same lighting, varying only the lens. This is boring but necessary for rigorous comparison.
Controlled lighting. Studio strobes or at least consistent overcast outdoor light. Variable natural light introduces too many other variables.
Known apertures. Calibrate the antique aperture markings to actual f-numbers before testing. This is doable with a light meter and some test exposures, but requires effort upfront.
Same processing. Develop everything together in the same chemistry to remove development variation.
I did the last of these. I did not do the others. This was an exploratory shoot, not a definitive test. I am OK with that, but you should be too if you are looking at this article for shopping advice.
The wider point
There is something I want to say about antique lenses and the limits of testing.
Modern lens reviews work because modern lenses are designed to standards. You can MTF-test them, you can quantify their resolution, you can compare them on a chart, you can write a numerical verdict. The lenses are interchangeable units of consistent quality.
Antique lenses are not like this. Each one is its own object, with its own history, its own condition, its own quirks. The Emil Busch I have is not the Emil Busch you have. The Ross Teleros I have has impact damage to one edge element; yours might be pristine. You cannot really review an antique lens. You can only describe your experience with the specific copy you own.
This means:
- Reviews of antique lenses tell you what the design family does, not what your specific lens will do
- The variability between examples of the same lens is sometimes greater than the variability between lens families
- The condition of the lens matters more than the original specs
- The character emerges over multiple shoots, not in a single test
This is partly why I have come to love these lenses. Each one is its own individual. Working out what each one is good at takes time, and that time is itself rewarding. There is a personal relationship with antique glass that you do not get with modern lenses.
The cost question
A practical note for anyone interested in starting.
Antique brass lenses can be very cheap, sometimes £50 to £200 for genuinely lovely working pieces, especially less famous makers like Perken Son and Rayment or Oscar Simon. Famous makers (Cooke, Dallmeyer, Zeiss, Goerz) can be much more expensive, hundreds to thousands of pounds.
The Vade Mecum is essential if you are buying antique lenses. It is the standard reference for identifying and dating lenses, and it tells you whether the lens you are looking at is a known good design or an obscure one. Without it, you are buying blind.
Lens boards are the hidden cost. Most antique lenses need custom-made or modified lens boards to fit modern view cameras. I make my own from MDF for the Stenopeika, which costs almost nothing in materials but requires time and care.
Condition matters more than provenance. A Cooke with significant fungus is worth less than an obscure maker in good condition. Buy condition, not just names.
The Stenopeika as the right camera for this
A quick note. The Stenopeika Air Force 4x5 is the right camera for antique lens work because Samuele designed it to be flexible about lens mounting. The lens boards are accessible and modifiable. The bellows extend to accommodate the long focal lengths these lenses sometimes need. The body weight is light enough to handle with heavy brass lenses on the front.
If you are getting into antique large format lenses, the Stenopeika is genuinely the camera I would recommend.
Verdict
Worth doing. Antique brass lenses produce something that modern lenses do not, and that something is worth chasing if you are interested in interpretive rather than clinical photography.
But:
- One shoot per lens is not enough to know a lens
- Buying antique lenses requires research (the Vade Mecum) and careful attention to condition
- You need a camera (like the Stenopeika) that is flexible about lens mounting
- Several of these lenses have no shutter, which is a real limitation for portrait work
- The character is real but hard to describe and impossible to compare with modern lenses on equal terms
Best advice: buy one or two antique lenses, shoot with each of them many times across different subjects and conditions, and develop your own sense of what each one does. Lens reviews from people like me are starting points, not destinations.
For the lenses tested: the Ross Teleros is my favourite of the four for general work. The Emil Busch Aplanat is my favourite for portraits with that centre-emphasis character. The Oscar Simon is a surprise that earned its place in the kit. The Perken Son and Rayment needs more time before I can speak about it.
And big thanks to Mel for being patient through a shoot where I was as much testing my own technique as I was testing the lenses. Her PurplePort page is linked in the video description.