Minolta XG-1 review

By Kelli Hardin

“For my next camera, I’d like a Minolta,” I told my friend Zach as we meandered about a large antique shop, rummaging through the messy piles of slightly curated castaways. 

Not even 10 minutes later, my husband Scott appears around the corner in this maze of booths with a Minolta XG-1 in his hands. Labelled as a “prop camera” by a seller who assumed its best purpose would be sitting on a shelf, it was untested, dirty, but not in bad shape. The tag read $15. The battery was dead, rendering the shutter untestable in the moment, but for $15, it was worth the gamble. 

The Minolta XG-1 is a 35mm SLR camera first introduced in 1979 as the “XG 1” and then re-released (with a newly added hyphen) as the XG-1 in 1982. Mine is of the latter variety, you can tell by the so-called rising sun logo and the presence of that all-important hyphen.

The camera has no auto-focus, only a manually controlled focusing ring. The focusing ring provides a wonderfully tactile experience, smooth and buttery. Mine happened to come with a 50mm lens featuring the coveted Rokkor glass made in Japan by Minolta in the 1970s. Minolta is actually an acronym for ““”Mechanics, Instruments, Optics and Lenses by Tashima””” (referencing its founder Kazuo Tashima). At the height of their glory, Minolta produced their own glass and lens coatings, something of an achievement compared to other manufacturers.

One of the glass elements Minolta produced was called “rokkor“, referencing Mt Rokko, a mountain in Japan visible from the Minolta factory. Those Rokkor lenses have become a bit of a fan favourite for photographers, well known for their bokeh and soft-yet-sharp vintage feel. 

The camera requires two batteries or else you’re dead in the water, but thankfully these are easy-to-obtain button batteries (Eveready A-76). I once ran out of battery somewhere in the Galilee region of Northern Israel and had no problem finding a replacement at a nearby bodega for only a few shekels. 

The XG-1 comes with a built-in light meter (j’adore) but it only works in aperture priority (the “A” setting on the camera). If you choose to go fully manual, that’s on you and your pocket light-meter. 

If you’re shooting in aperture priority mode, as you look through the viewfinder, you’ll see a shutter speed scale on the right-hand side. When hovering your finger over the operating button, a small red LED light appears next to the shutter speed that the camera has chosen based on lighting conditions and whatever aperture you’ve selected. You can, of course, adjust your aperture setting for faster or slower shutter speeds as desired. 

There’s no built-in flash, but a hot shoe gives you the option to add one; I’ve never gotten around to actually doing so. 

The XG-1 camera was marketed to everyday consumers, while its older brothers in the XD line were meant for professionals. Athlete Bruce Jenner signed on as a spokesperson telling the lay people exactly what they wanted to hear: “Take pictures you never thought you could take. With a camera you never thought you could afford.”  No professional myself, this camera ended up becoming a perfect match for hobbyist shooter like me. 

I consider myself an avid dabbler in photography – with a penchant for the imperfect, obsolete, or antiquated. My husband has similar tastes and interests, leading to a collection between the two of us that totals 27 working cameras. An SX-70 is one of his prized possessions, and you can pry my army-green Holga 135BC from my cold dead hands. For a while we got into rescuing Land Cameras and returning them to functional status (if you can get the peel-apart film). 

But the Minolta XG-1 is “my” camera. She’s the favourite. The go-to. A trustworthy friend who never betrays me when it counts. The one going in the bag if I’m only bringing one camera (ok, probably two). The one I’m reaching for when it’s time to take the very first 35mm photo of my brand-new nephew when he’s only eight hours old. 

I’ve yet to be disappointed in any of the rolls I’ve shot on this camera. Maybe it’s that fabled Rokkor glass, or the buttery smooth focusing ring, or the intuitive aperture priority setting… or maybe it’s the nice weight in the hand, the cool touch of the metal finish, a slightly banged-up leather strap. 

Whatever it is, I’ve become quite attached to this particular camera. And to think she was labelled as a “prop” and sold for $15. 

Read more:

• Review on Beyond the Aperture
• Review by Scott Locklear
• Review on Down the Road
• Review on Aperture Preview
• Review on My Camera Cabinet