The uninhibited and the redundant ones: Roaming with X-A1 and X-M1 in 2024

Let me jump to conclusions this time (with elaborations further down): these two bodies are my most used cameras. They work well as a pair. Their size, ease, straightforwardness, and, most importantly, lack of customizable options, render them very suitable for my use (shooting only JPGs, with only two settings each—one is almost exclusively in black and white, while the other is for fiestas in color). If my X-Pro1 and X100 are the ideals for inspirational moments, providing me canvases to figure out and paint my own photographic visions, the X-A1 and X-M1 are my sketchpads. In my realities, the simpler and smaller pair are perfect for the real toils: daily efforts, continuous learnings, trainings, journaling, scrapbooking; an exercise in humility.

Either because the experiences they offer (these two bodies are exactly the same, for those who are wondering—separated only months in their original launch back in 2013 and holding different types of sensors—with the X-A1, followed by several younger editions afterwards until it got axed after X-A7, holds regular Bayer sensor; while the one and only X-M1, got discontinued right after its first iteration, holds an X-Trans I sensor), or how it’s narrated by Fujifilm itself, designed, intended, and marketed for the entry-point amateurs; they let me make and live with more mistakes. Hopefully, these sketches are at least as enjoyable as the images in my previous post, while for those who are interested, as promised above, the following are my stories with these two.

The X-A1 copy under my watch originally belongs to my dad. It’s red (deteriorating and becoming black on both red/silver surfaces as I’m writing) and came with the XC 16-50mm (first generation, in silver). He bought the bundle in the early 2010s, after I already invested in X-Pro1, with the intention to switch lenses between us. It has never happened. I didn’t pay much attention to it, nor did I consult any spec sheet back then, but I recall thinking to myself that besides the absence of any type of viewfinders, this much smaller camera seemed to be a more capable piece of tech than my X-Pro1 (yes, with the old firmware). More modes, more filters, more options (the cognitive effect of PSAM dial, I guess?). Under my current return to photography, I was granted access to the camera and lens by their original owner. They are under my exclusive custody for now, as during the few times my dad was thinking of using and borrow a dedicated interchangeable lens camera for his use while traveling, he always resorted to the fact that his phone is a much more suitable device for his need in the end. I understand this fully, as if it’s only to take useful images on everyday basis, nothing beats the phones in our respective grips. In my humble opinion, camera phones have become the vernacular extension of our eyes.

Nevertheless, with something like the X-A1 and putting vintage lenses on it (especially the ones I inherited from my grandpa), certain logics come full circle in my hands and head: I’m shooting with three generations worth of technologies and stories. This is partly why my go-to lens for X-A1 is the Anastigmat ‘Victar’ 50mm f2.9 triplet—a hazy M40 mount pancake lens, originally coupled with Praktiflex camera—I discovered when cleaning out my grandparents’ house, in which I’m living together with my small family these days.

The X-M1, on the other hand, is totally another story. It is a luxury, a product of desire. A present I decided to give myself. It was a redundant purchase as I already had the X-Pro1 with the same sensor, the X-T1 with the same processor, and the X-A1 with the same body. The only justification I had is that it was the only version that ever came out (not unlike an X70, XF1, and XF10 to date), and it can be considered as a bridge product: X-Trans 1 sensor with second generation processor (rendering it an ideal second body for both X-Pro1 and/or X-T1). Nothing is exactly like it. Looking back, I’m glad I jumped the gun and bought it, as, unlike its X-A twin, the price continues to go up for this camera (I bought an all-black for ±IDR2 million, or ±USD150, with a fully working LCD with no vignette—a general weak point, I found out—and a Fujian CCTV 35mm f1.6 lens as a bonus, of which many of the images I’m showing here is taken by… an impossible price today) for no apparent good reason.

After trying out several setups, my go-to lens for my X-M1 is another redundant (plus, in this case, also nostalgic) purchase: the Lomography LC-A Minitar (32mm f2.8) M mount lens. I used to take my original LC-A everywhere until around 2007, and my photographic return cannot be complete without this plastic overpriced and overhyped lens. My way out of the regret of purchasing this lens is to use a close-up adapter. It really does transform the tiny lens into something else. It really fits my scrapbooking approach this way, completing the tiniest setup in my arsenal so far.

According to commenters, this line of products (entry point, mostly Bayer sensors, LCD only without any viewfinder, PSAM dial, downgraded specs) were the kings of Fuji X products in markets such as my Indonesian ones, until the market dried up. Not surprising for me, as someone like my dad serves as a great sample. The X-A line got discontinued after X-A7 while these buyers moving on to purchase Android phones or older generations of iPhones, with sufficient MPs and multiple lenses, is my assumption. For this reason, I’m interested in touching upon the matter of buildability and ageing here. In my case, it shows that the X-A1 and X-M1 don’t age as well as the pro-range bodies (I also own an X-E1, bought used and already transformed into full spectrum, therefore incomparable and topics for another time). Although both of my X-Pro1’s and X-T1’s CMOS batteries are busted (pushing me to only shoot RAW on both as I think battery replacements will not last, so if any of them reset themselves while changing batteries and I was in the middle of a roll, I can just easily rely on the default settings, rendering the whole processes closer to how I did it when I was learning to shoot in films), their dials are still spot on and not feeling like they’re about to give up—well, scratch that, as both bodies had problems with the rear wheels and serviced professionally, now that I think about it, and the rubbers are peeling off. These entry point pairs are on a different level, nevertheless. The wheels and buttons are faulty from time to time, doing things they shouldn’t be doing (the perks of PSAM dials). The card readers err randomly, giving me the habit to check memory cards’ status before operating any cameras. They are livable for my use, but I can imagine how frustrating or unreliable they are for performing/professional photographers. I have used an X-A5 (with a touch screen that put the experience on a completely different path) but never other generations to compare with, and I can say that these first-generation bodies are faster in operation and benefit from an extra custom setting in the dial.

I’m leaving you this time with final departing words on how I set these two up: two recipes for each, one on custom setting, another for the rest of the modes (my default is aperture priority, Auto ISO maxing out at 3200, MF with rare occasions of back-button focusing).

As I said before, the X-M1 is my black-and-white body (most of the time with the LC-A Minitar on), taking the baton from my Lomography days’ favorite, the original LC-A. This setup is flat, making it a no-brainer to be taken everywhere, as it fits in almost any type of pockets. My X-A1 from the get go is intended for being uninhibited and fun. Colors, flash (my old Lomography Colorsplash gets to the equation when the situation allows. Otherwise, the built-in one is useable most of the time), and also “don’t think, just shoot” setup using the Anastigmat triplet or Voigtlander Skopar 21mm f4 (a lens that has taught me how to use apertures conservatively). I switch lenses between these two bodies a lot. The flipping LCDs render both ideal for street, shooting from the hip, zone-focusing.

It’s not too taxing to bring both cameras in one go as they’re small and discreet, but usually, I just take one based on how I’m feeling on any given day. No one took me as an image chaser using them, even if both are visible (a rare occurrence).

Last but not least is my divisive preference for putting the date stamp on. It’s my preference as it’s very useful for my scrapbooking needs (while no other bodies allow me to have this option), and with the Wi-Fi capability, I can simply transfer selected images to my iPhone and share them directly (most of the time to family members, who also really appreciate the date stamp on for their memorizing purposes, plus do not care an inch about photography beyond the objects being captured).

Of the many images I take with these bodies, most are never intended for public consumption—they’re either too private, and/or holding no value for the general public, I deem. It’s the fact that they make it possible for me to keep on taking photos every day, training my eyes, reflexes, muscle memories, and quickly calculating for correct exposures plus composition that made these entry point bodies irreplaceable in my world. Rumor has it in the past few days that this type of cameras might be resuscitated again by Fujifilm, and I’m taking it as a good sign. I’m betting on the return reigns of the (Asian) kings, as if the referred past era was a thing to begin with.