Konica Pearl II camera

My Konica Pearl II camera & case

I purchased the Konica Pearl II on my first visit to Kitamura Camera, when I hired Bellamy Hunt of Japan Camera Hunter to show me many used camera stores in Tokyo. 

 It was our last stop on the half-day tour when we visited this massive, seven-story flagship store, which is one of more than 45 Kitamura Camera locations in Tokyo. It's on the fourth floor where they show their "high-end" items such as rare Leica cameras and lenses, Nikon rangefinders, Hasselblads, Rolleis, Mamiyas, and quite a few camera oddities. It's the floor that if you have an extra $10,000, $20,000, or even $100,000 burning a hole in your pocket to purchase rare photo items, they most likely have it.

 Unfortunately, I didn't win the lottery before coming to Japan, so I needed to be much more frugal in my camera purchases. Because of this, I much prefer the third floor of Kitamura's flagship store. It's where they have their "bargain" items. Personally, it has the items I'm much more accustomed to purchasing.

 The Konica Pearl II was a camera I didn't really notice until the second time I passed by a particular showcase. It was tucked in a back corner, not really visible except for the film winding knob, which I thought looked odd and different from many of the winding levers on this style of camera. It has more of a winding-key appearance rather than the standard round knob you see on most 120-style folding cameras.

 We asked one of the salespeople to get the camera out of the showcase for me to get a better look at, and he didn't even see the camera at first, tucked back in a corner of the showcase. But after guiding him to the correct camera I wanted to see, he took it off the shelf and put it on a mat in a lower showcase for me to look over.

Different angle of the Konica Pearl II camera. Notice the shutter release on the lens door.

 To my surprise, the camera seemed to be in wonderful condition. The price for the camera seemed low, so I started to look over it with the thought in the back of my mind that there must be an issue. The shutter worked, the aperture moved smoothly. The camera opened and closed with ease, and the fitted leather case was also in good condition. 

 Putting the camera up to my eye to look through the viewfinder, I found the issue. The back eyepiece was absent from the camera. Because of that, there were a couple of issues. First, when you looked through the viewfinder, the image was blurry, and you couldn't really see or frame it well.

 The second issue was something I didn't realize until the salesperson mentioned it. You couldn't see the yellow center area on the rangefinder. Initially, when I first picked up the camera, I didn't notice the two windows on the front, which would indicate a rangefinder-style camera, but on second look, there were two windows, which makes perfect sense.

 For the price of the camera, they offered to acquire a very compact medium-format camera with a functioning shutter, smooth focus, a light-tight bellows, and a fitted case. I figured I couldn't go wrong. All I needed (hopefully) was to find a "parts" camera to source the viewfinder glass from, and make this wonderful early 1950s camera whole again.

 During my time in Tokyo, I did spend time looking for a "parts" camera, but it wasn't until just a few weeks ago that I came across one for a reasonable price that I could harvest the viewfinder glass, and try to make this camera whole again. Unfortunately, it hasn't arrived yet. I'm eager to write this post, so once the glass arrives, I'll update it with the camera's progress (or lack thereof) with the new glass.

 

History:

 Konica's early history begins in 1873, when Rokusaburō Sugiura started selling photographic materials in Tokyo, at a time when Japan was still importing nearly all such supplies from the West. That founding date makes the company older than Eastman Kodak, and it places Konica at the very start of Japan's photo industry.

Early photo of Rokusaburō Sugiura. Credit Konicaminolta website.

 Sugiura first operated through the family business in Tokyo's Nihonbashi area, where demand for photographic goods was growing fast enough to justify a separate line of business. By 1878, he had founded Konishi Honten, and in the 1880s, the firm moved beyond retailing imported goods to producing its own photographic materials in Japan. This shift mattered because it helped move Japanese photography from dependence on foreign products toward domestic production.

 In 1902, Konishi began producing its own photographic plates and printing paper, and soon after, in 1903, it introduced the Cherry portable camera, widely described as Japan's first branded camera. That product established the company as a pioneer rather than just an importer. Over the next decades, Konishi built a reputation as one of Japan's leading camera and materials companies.

 During the 1910s and 1920s, the company continued to expand its manufacturing base and deepen its role in Japan's optical and photographic sectors. Its name evolved through several forms, including Konishi Honten and Konishiroku, reflecting both family succession and corporate growth. By the interwar period, the firm was part of a broader Japanese camera industry that was still small by global standards but increasingly capable of making its own products.

Popular Cherry camera: Credit Konicaminolta history page

 In the 1930s, Konishiroku pursued further camera development, including prewar prototype work that pointed toward later 35mm designs. Like much of Japan's industrial base, its development was increasingly shaped by the era's tensions, and the coming war would disrupt civilian camera production. Still, by the eve of World War II, Konica's predecessor had already established the core identity that would define the brand: a Japanese photographic pioneer rooted in import substitution, careful manufacturing, and gradual technological independence.

 In the 1950s, Konishiroku cemented its medium-format legacy with the exceptional Pearl series of folding cameras. Shooting 6x4.5cm frames on 120 film, these compact powerhouses combined portability with remarkable optical precision. The decade introduced the Pearl II (1951), the Pearl III (1955), and the pinnacle of the lineup: the Pearl IV (1958). These beautifully engineered models proved that medium format didn't have to be bulky, providing a professional-grade folding tool that easily slipped into a coat pocket.

My Camera:

 My Konica Pearl II camera, manufactured in 1951, is a 6x4.5cm vertical-format camera. The physical size of the camera is 4.75" wide by 4.5" tall and 1.5" deep with the lens closed in the camera body, and 4" deep when you depress the button on the top of the camera, located in front of the accessory shoe, to open the camera's lens door. The camera weighs 1 pound, 4 ounces without film loaded.

With the lens door open, it exposed the Konishiroku Hexar 75mm F/4.6 lens, serial #90096, in a Konirapid-S shutter with a range of 1/500 to 1 second, along with "B" for timed exposures. On so many cameras, shutter speeds are set by turning a ring to the desired value along the outer portion of the shutter. There is a shutter cocking lever located just behind the shutter speed setting ring on the shutter.

 The camera's shutter release button is located on the lens door and trips the cocked shutter via a linkage to the shutter release. A cable release socket is also in the shutter just next to the cocking lever.

The aperture ranges from F/4.5 to F/22 and is adjusted by turning a knurled ring at the back of the shutter to the desired aperture, indicated by a red dot on the setting ring. Also on the camera's shutter is an ASA flash terminal, which would be used for bulb flash units popular at this time.

Behind the camera's shutter is a larger knob used to focus the camera through the rangefinder system. As mentioned earlier, I'm not sure whether my rangefinder is working. There's another way to check, and that's the method I used to get the photos for this article. 

 Moving the focus knob on the camera one way or the other moves a bar in and out located on the opposite side of the shutter release linkage. This bar's movement changes the focus distance to the subject, which you can see through a window on top of the camera. I find these simple features on cameras fascinating. I don't know why, but I do.

To close the lens door back into the camera body, press inward on the side struts holding the lens erect, and the struts will collapse, allowing you to fold the lens back into the camera's body. Pressing it back locks it into place. You'll also need to set the camera's focus to infinity before it will close all the way.

 Looking down at the top of the camera, there are just a few objects to see. There is a small area on the front of the rangefinder housing that is losing some of its leatherette. The wonderfully designed focus window with a depth-of-field scale. The name "Pearl II" is in a modernistic font, with the camera's accessory shoe on a lower plane and the button for releasing the lens door.

To load the camera with film, the film door release is on the right side of the Pearl II. Lifting the lever on top unlocks the film door, allowing you to open it and load film. The fresh roll fits on the left side, and the take-up spool will be on the right, where the larger key-style winding lever is located. Once loaded, close the back of the camera and wind until you see the number 1 in the rear chrome window, which has a sliding cover.

 With the film loaded in the camera, let's take a walk through the neighborhood to see how it performs. Even though I don't have a usable rangefinder, the distance scale on top of the camera should help me take sharp photos.

 My Results:

 Since the camera has a vertical 6x4.5 format, you can take 16 images on a roll of 120 film. If you're taking a horizontal image, you'll need to turn the camera to landscape orientation.

 Here are some of the photos I took during my walk in our neighborhood.

Conclusion:

 I understand why the Konica Pearl lineup is so desirable for an everyday pocketable film camera. It's sophisticated, yet simple. The camera can focus on your subject via an internal rangefinder system, rather than relying on a less desirable "guess" focus system. 

 The higher shutter speed of 1/500 for the time period allows for less camera or subject movement, and the iconic Konica Hexar lens is sharp and provides wonderful contrast to the images.

 I'm very glad I purchased this camera, and am keeping my fingers crossed that the viewfinder glass will bring the camera's rangefinder back to life, allowing for even easier focusing and possibly a sharper image.

 Thank you for taking the time to learn about this wonderful camera from Japan's early camera revolution after WWII, when many cameras had "Made in Occupied Japan" embossed somewhere on them, just like this one.

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews. 

 I also have a YouTube channel where you can view overview videos of some of the cameras I've written about.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell many of the cameras reviewed, along with other cameras, lenses, and photo oddities I've accumulated in my 50-plus years of collecting. Stop by and see if there's something for you there.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Mizuho Six camera

My Mizuho Six camera & case

During my trip to Tokyo a month or so ago, one of my primary goals was to find a little-known or unusual camera to write about for this camera-collecting blog.

 It was on my last day in Tokyo that I visited Used Camera Box for the second time. To say this camera store is filled to the rafters is beyond description. Most of the camera stores I visited in Tokyo were well laid out, with space between cameras. All the items with tags and prices are very visible. It's very similar to what you'd see in any city in the world, with cameras or other products displayed. 

 The Used Camera Box is unlike most camera stores you'll come across.  The shop is pretty small, but the amount of cameras they have is unbelievable.  Many of the showcases featuring the higher-priced, most desirable cameras are well displayed. 

 Then there are other areas of the store with showcases with cameras on top of cameras, on top of cameras. Stacked three high and so crammed next to each other, it's difficult to see what they have towards the back of the showcase. 

 There are the bins, many, many bin of cameras. All around the store's perimeter are tall showcases. In front of these tall showcases are plastic bins filled with more cameras. Many of the cameras in these bins are "bargain" items, which means they might have a part missing or not work. These bins are stacked three high, going around much of the store. Because of this, it's probably one of my favorite used camera stores. 

Name on top of the camera below the shutter release

 For me, the real pleasure of collecting is the hunt. The excitement of finding a real odd or unusual item at a bargain price. It's similar to going to a Flea Market, as there may be a real treasure in the next cabinet or stall. 

 I worked my way to one of my favorite showcases towards the back of the store. It's a showcase filled with many of the older cameras. It has a mix of higher-priced and lower-priced items. The patient salesperson let me pull items out and check them out. It was from this showcase that I found this week's camera, the Mizuho Six. The camera comes with a nice leather-fitted case, too. This, along with last week's Baron RI, was another camera I had never heard of until I researched it.

 Just like last week's blog about the Baron RI camera, this week's camera is another very similar style. It's a folding 120 camera made in the early 1950s, when Japan was rebuilding after World War II. 

 It was manufactured by another, smaller, and little-known company that later changed its name to Neoca. Here's some history on the brand.

History:

 The Mizuho Six began life in the early 1950s, when Mizuho Koki of Japan was producing folding medium-format cameras for a market that still valued compactness and simplicity. These early Mizuho-branded folders used 120 film and reflected the practical, postwar approach common among smaller Japanese camera makers.

From my book on collecting Japanese Cameras

 In 1954, the company changed its name to Neoca, and the Mizuho Six line became part of that transition. The name change marked a shift from the earlier Mizuho identity toward a broader Neoca camera range. At the same time, the foldable medium-format design remained rooted in the company's first postwar products.

 The Mizuho Six itself went through a series of small but meaningful variations rather than a dramatic redesign. Known versions include the Mizuho Six I, II, III, IIB, IIIB, and V, as well as later Super models such as the Super, Super N, and Super T. These changes suggest the camera was gradually updated with different body details, finder arrangements, and lens or shutter combinations.

 The best-known early version, such as the Mizuho Six V a, was a folding camera that offered either 4.5x6 or 6x6 cm exposures and used an uncoupled rangefinder. That combination made it a flexible, straightforward tool for photographers who wanted medium-format image quality in a portable body.

 As Neoca moved into its own identity after 1954, the company shifted increasingly toward compact 35mm cameras. Still, the Mizuho Six remains important as a bridge between eras. It represents the company's early craftsmanship and the transitional period when Japanese manufacturers were moving from traditional folding cameras toward the more modern designs that would dominate later in the decade.

My Camera:

 Built in the early 1950s, my Mizuho Six camera is 5.5" wide, by 4" tall, by 2" deep with the lens closed, and 4" deep when the lens is extended into the taking position. The camera weighs 1 pound, 7 ounces without film loaded. The camera's serial number is 3391. The camera also has "Made in Occupied Japan" embossed on the side where the film door release is located.

To open the lens to take a photo, depress the small button on top of the camera located in front of the accessory shoe, and to the right of the film winding knob. Once depressed, the lens board opens, exposing the lens.

 The Mizuho Six has an 80mm Mizuho Kiko Miltar Special F/3.5 lens, serial # 2664, in an NKS shutter. The shutter speeds range from 1/200 to 1 sec, along with "B" for timed exposures. The shutter speed is set by turning the shutter speed dial around the lens to the desired speed. The shutter release is located on the top, right side of the camera, just in front of the "Mizuo-Six" name and serial number.

 The aperture is set similarly by sliding a knurled ring around the lens to the desired aperture, which ranges from F/3.5 to F/22.

It wasn't until I shot my first roll of film through the camera that I realized the shutter wasn't working properly, so I'll need to either get it fixed or sell the camera with the defect. The issue is when I cock the shutter, which is done with a small switch on the top of the lens, the shutter remains open until you depress the shutter release. It doesn't really "cock" the shutter as it should. 

 What I did notice was when I pulled the shutter cocking ever over to the farthest position, the shutter wouldn't open. It was when I released the lever after the cocking maneuver that the lens stayed open. If I pulled the lever all the way, held it, and then tripped the shutter release, the shutter would work as intended. This was awkward to use this way, but it's the method used to take the blog images.

 There is no rangefinder in this camera; it has only an optical viewfinder on top to frame your images. To focus on the subject, rotate the lens manually to the "guessed" distance to your subject before taking the photo.

 To close the camera for transport, depress the two enlarged tabs on the camera's struts inwards. The lens board will collapse, and you can close it back onto the camera body, which will lock it into position.

The one interesting feature of this camera is the ability to shoot either 6x6cm or 6x4.5cm. When you open the back of the camera to load film, there are two "wings" that can be pulled up from each side of the film chamber, covering a portion of the taking area and thus cropping the frame size from 6x6cm to 6x4.5cm.

 Once you make the change, you'll then use the appropriate red window on the back of the camera to count the frame numbers imprinted on the 120 rolls of film. It will also give the photographer four more images per roll, going from 12 images on a 6x6cm format to 16 on a 6x4.5 format camera. You'll need to shoot the entire roll in that format, as there's no way to change formats mid-roll.

You load the camera as you would any roll-film camera, with the take-up spool on the left side. Load the fresh roll on the right, and bring the film's leader to the take-up spool on the left,  making sure the leader is in the take-up spool. Then wind until you see the "start" arrows pointing outwards. Close the back of the camera and wind the film until you see the number 1 in the red window for the format you're using.

 Now that we have film loaded into the camera, let's take it out and see what results we get.

 My Results:

 Opening the Mizuho Six and cleaning both the front and rear elements of the lens before loading the camera. I had some T-Max 100 film that was just about out of date, so I loaded it into the camera. I chose the 6x6cm format so I could use a larger image size and assess the lens's sharpness.

 Here are the results from my walk around the neighborhood with the Mizuho Six camera

Conclusion:

 Well, I think the second roll of film turned out much better than the first roll, but I'm not overly impressed with the sharpness. This could be from a couple of different factors.

 While I cleaned the lens as best I could, it still seems to have some haze. The second factor is that the lens is slightly out of registration. I'm a fairly good guesser of distance, and the lens even at infinity seems a bit out of focus. I also think that some of the issues with the focus were caused by camera movement and what I needed to do to operate the shutter.

 The camera also has cosmetic issues. Some parts of the leatherette are missing and can be easily replaced. Given the shutter issues and the lenses' haze, this may not last long in my collection, and you'll probably see this in my online store soon.

 On the plus side, the camera can shoot in different formats, which is a nice feature, but I don't think it's going to overcome the camera's faults. It's a fun camera to shoot with, and I was happy to learn more about this camera.

 Thank you for taking some time from your busy day to learn a bit about this little-known camera from the beginning of the Japanese camera revolution.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where you'll find some of the cameras I reviewed for sale, along with many other cameras, lenses, and photo items from my collection.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Baron RI camera

My Baron RI camera

When I visited Tokyo, Japan, a few weeks ago, one of my main objectives was to find odd, unusual, or little-known cameras that I could write about for this blog post. I found a few cameras that meet this criteria and will be writing about them over the next couple of weeks. 

 To get familiar with many of the used camera stores in Tokyo, I hired Bellamy Hunt from Japanese Camera Hunter for a half-day tour. Not only is he a wonderful, kind, and knowledgeable camera collector, but his background on how he started his company is intriguing. I had a wonderful time getting to know him and appreciated all his insights into collecting cameras.

 One of the shops he took me to was Used Camera Box at 1 Chome-13-7 Nishishinjuku, Shinjuku City, Tokyo 160-0023. It was, to me, a jaw-dropping experience. The camera store is not that big, but almost 90% of it is filled to the rafters with cameras. There are many showcases with cameras on top of cameras, and in front of these showcases are bins of more used cameras.

 Only two people were working there, so I didn't want to monopolize their time opening and closing different showcases. If the showcases had been opened and I had places to look through all the items they had, it would have easily taken a couple of days, which would have been something I would have done.

 During my time with Bellamy, we didn't spend much time there, but I found one or two items, paid for them, and left. It was a store I planned to come back to when I had more time, to spend a couple of hours going through the bins and looking through different showcases, trying to find the odd, unusual, or unknown items.

Embossing on the camera leans board.

 On my final day in Tokyo, I went back to Used Camera Box and did what I had planned. When I arrived in the morning, soon after they opened, there were no customers, so I had time to go through many of the bins and scour at least one or two of the showcases. 

 There was a showcase towards the rear of the store that looked like it had many interesting items. I noted the items I was interested in and called over one of the two salespersons. At this point, a couple of other customers were there, but I was determined to look at the items I wanted.

 The salesperson was very courteous and allowed me to pick and look at several items I was interested in. There were some very rare gems, but the pricing was considerably higher than I was willing to pay, so I decided on 3-4 cameras, paid for them, and left very happy.

 One of the cameras purchased in the last few days at Used Camera Box is the camera I'm writing about in this post: the Baron RI camera. 

 The Baron RI camera is one I had never heard of or seen before, though it looks like so many other Japanese cameras from this timeframe. A folding 120, or 620 camera with a fold-out bed and nice Japanese shutter, taken from German manufacturers who made similar style cameras before World War II.

 Doing research on the camera, Baron cameras were made only by Chūō Seiki for a few years, between 1952 and 1956. They produced a few different models, but the company was short-lived, and the cameras are not very common.

History:

 Baron cameras were part of Japan's early postwar flood of small camera brands, emerging in the early 1950s when the country's photographic industry was rebuilding and rapidly expanding. These cameras reflect a period when dozens of manufacturers rushed to meet domestic demand and to compete in export markets, often by producing affordable 35mm and folding cameras inspired by European designs.

Japanese advertisment for Baron cameras

 In the early 1950s, Japanese camera makers were still working under the lingering effects of wartime disruption and occupation-era labeling rules. Many products carried "Made in Occupied Japan" markings until around 1952–1953, after which "Made in Japan" became standard as exports broadened and the industry gained a stronger international identity. Baron belongs to this wider ecosystem of small, fast-moving firms that relied on compact production runs, simple mechanics, and competitive pricing to find buyers.

 What makes Baron interesting is not that it was one of the biggest names, but that it represents the experimental, entrepreneurial side of the Japanese camera boom. The period was crowded with startups, subcontractors, and short-lived brands, many of which produced cameras that are now obscure but historically important because they show how Japan's industry learned to scale up, refine machining, and improve optical quality. That broader growth helped Japanese cameras go from largely unknown outside the country to serious competitors in overseas markets by the end of the decade.

 For collectors and historians, Baron cameras are valuable as artifacts of that transition. They sit at the intersection of postwar recovery, consumer optimism, and Japan's rise as a global center of photographic manufacturing. Even when the cameras themselves were modest, the brand is part of the larger story of how Japanese makers shifted from imitation and survival to innovation and global influence.

My Camera:

 My Baron RI camera is 4" tall, by 5.5" wide, and 2" deep when the lens is closed, and 4" deep with the lens extended. The camera weighs 1 pound, 8.1 ounces without film loaded. Embossed on the folding bed door is "Baron Camera Company, Tokyo, Japan."

The camera came with a very nice brown leather-fitted camera case, though the strap is missing. The case still offers wonderful protection for the camera. The serial number for my Baron R camera is 22893, stamped on the top plate of the back of the camera.

 To open the camera lens door, slide the chrome lever under the name "Baron-R," which unlocks the lens door and exposes the lens as it extends on chrome struts along the side of the lens door.

 The Baron RI camera has a Baron Anastigmat 80mm F/3.5 lens in an NKS-FB shutter. The shutter speeds range from 1/300 to 1 second, plus "B". To set the different shutter speeds, turn the dial around the lens to the desired shutter speed. There is a cocking lever for the shutter, located above the lens, with the shutter release on the lower left of the lens when viewed from the front. The shutter release is activated via a rod and linkage from the shutter release on the top of the camera, which pushes the shutter release when depressed.

The aperture range is from F/3.5 to f/22. The aperture is set by sliding the lever on top of the lens to the desired aperture setting. To the side of the aperture settings is a PC sync used for flash. There are no settings for "X" of "FP," though, so I'm unsure if this is for electronic or bulb flash.

 To close the lens bed, you press back on the two sides of the struts, which have "Baron" embossed into them, and press back into the camera body, which collapses the lens door and allows it to fold back into the camera body. Pressing in will lock the lens door into the normal transporting position and allow the camera case to close.

 My Baron-RI camera does have a couple of issues. I'm confident that's why I paid so little for it. None of the issues are deal-breakers for me purchasing the camera. The main item, the accessory or cold shoe, is missing from the camera. That's not a huge deal, as I generally don't use them. I did put black fabric tape over the spot where the accessory shoe goes, to give the camera a better appearance.

There is another item about the camera I'm not certain about. On the back of the camera, there are red windows with sliding covers for both 4.5x6 and 6x6 formats. I'm not sure whether the camera came with a mask for both formats, or if the company offered two different formats and only made one back for both cameras. Also stamped on the back of the camera, below the red windows, is "Baron-Six" embossed into the leather.

 An item on the Baron RI that I've never seen in a camera is an uncoupled rangefinder. When you look through the viewfinder on the rear of the camera, you view the rangefinder. On the right side, as you're holding the camera, there's a wheel that rotates, allowing you to focus the rangefinder. On my camera, it's bright and clear. You then transfer the distance from the internal rangefinder to the lens and set the distance to the subject. I'm confident that building an integrated rangefinder, which would focus the lens, would have added much more intricacy to the camera, but they either didn't want to bother or just wanted to keep the costs down. It's an interesting item built into the camera.

To load film into the Baron RI, on the left side of the camera is a lever you pull up, which opens the door to the right, exposing a standard roll film chamber. Load film as you would with any roll film camera by placing the take-up spool on the transport side and pulling down the knobs at the bottom of the camera. Put in the fresh roll in the empty area and bring the leader to the take-up spool. Thread the lead into the slot on the take-up spool and wind until you see the film is engaged and rolling onto the spool. Wait until you see the "arrows" pointing outward, close the back of the camera, and press down the locking bar, then wind the film advance knob until you see the #1 in the red window. Take your photo, and wind until you see the #2, and so on through the roll of film.

Now that I have film in the camera. Let's go around the neighborhood and see how the camera performs.

 My Results:

 I gave the camera a very quick look over. All the shutter speeds were working, and the aperture moved as it should. I loaded a roll of Ilford 125 film into the camera, went to the Dog Park with my daughter, and walked around the block, looking for flowers and other subjects to photograph.

 Here are the results.

Conclusion:

 Overall, the camera was easy to use and fun to shoot with. 

 It wasn't until I processed the film that I dug further and noticed a pinhole in the camera's bellows. That's why the photos have this light streak, and not just a light streak, but a gush of light on the bottom of the images, consistent in all the photos taken.

 I liked the rangefinder, which was easy to use and much easier for me than guessing distance. After focusing, I then transferred the distance to the lens, which was fun, and produced sharp images. I'll need to go in and add some thin fabric tape and black liquid fabric to the bellows to eliminate the annoying light leaks. It's a camera I purchased on my trip to Tokyo, and I will keep it for the time being.

 Thank you for taking some time to read about this little-known camera at the beginning of the Japanese camera revolution in the early to mid-1950s.

 I'd like to hear from you if you have questions, or even if you have a Baron camera or one of the many similar-style cameras made in Japan during this timeframe.

 Please take a moment to look at some of my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where you'll see some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with many other lenses, and vintage camera accessories I have for sale.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Minolta Vest camera

My Minolta Vest camera

My interest in the Minolta Vest began a few months ago when I saw a post on Facebook. What I like most about the camera is its similarity to the Minolta Six. Both cameras use a three-tier, stacked metal bellows system that extends and collapses, unlike the standard cloth- or leather-covered cardboard bellows found on most cameras.

 When I first pulled out the lens on either the Minolta Six or the Minolta Vest, the metal stacking bellows reminded me of a Japanese pagoda. Both cameras have a beautiful chrome pattern set against stark black Bakelite, giving them a strong Art Deco appearance. It's the artistry and attention to detail that you don't see in cameras produced today.

 Knowing about this early Minolta camera with metal stacking bellows, I made a point of keeping an eye out for one during my trip to Tokyo a few weeks ago.

 Fate was on my side, and I found a Minolta Vest in decent condition at the Tokyo City flea market. As I walked past one of the many hundreds of stalls, I noticed one of the vendors had a few cameras on his table. When I picked up the camera, I saw the Minolta name embossed on the back. Then, as I pulled the lens away from the camera body and the metal stacked bellows appeared, I was filled with excitement and joy.

Minolta Vest rigid stacking bellows that resemble a Pagoda

 There are two metal grips on either side of the lens that you use to pull it away from the camera body. The stacked bellows were somewhat stiff, with a bit of corrosion on the chrome, but with a little coaxing, the lens fully extended. I played with the shutter system, and it fired, but inconsistently. Sometimes the shutter would fire when the release was pressed, and sometimes it wouldn't. That was a bit of a disappointment, but not a dealbreaker.

 The lens appeared to be fine, and the aperture moved smoothly as it opened and closed. The lens was a bit difficult to return to the closed position, as I expected due to bellows corrosion, but with a bit of effort, it did retract.

 There were a few other cameras I was interested in on his table, so I gathered the two or three items I wanted and asked for the price. After a bit of negotiating using my phone to translate, we agreed on a price. I put the items in my backpack and, with a grin on my face and knowing I'd be writing a blog post about the camera, wandered off to see what other treasures I could find at that terrific, bustling flea market.

Early History

 Minolta began as a small but ambitious Japanese camera business in 1928, founded by Kazuo Tashima under the name Nichi-Doku Shashinki Shōten. From the start, the company was shaped by a fascination with German optics and camera design, and its earliest products reflected that influence. In 1929, Minolta introduced its first camera, the Nifcalette, a folding roll-film model that showed the company's early dependence on imported components and foreign technical models. Even so, it marked the beginning of a distinctly Japanese camera maker that would soon develop its own identity.

 The company adopted the name Minolta in 1931, a move that signaled a more confident and modern direction. The name was meant to evoke mechanisms, instruments, optics, and lenses, and it captured the firm's growing ambition to become more than a reseller of products influenced by foreign markets. During the early 1930s, Minolta gradually moved from imitation toward originality, developing folding cameras that were practical, attractive, and increasingly self-reliant in design. By 1933, the company had introduced its first camera under the Minolta name, a moment that helped establish the brand as a serious presence in Japan's emerging camera industry.

Advertisment for Minolta Vest

 Before World War II, Minolta was still a relatively young company, but it was already building the foundations of its future reputation. Models such as the Minolta Vest in 1934 and the Minolta Flex in 1937 demonstrated the brand's expanding technical range. The Flex was especially notable as Japan's second twin-lens reflex camera, placing Minolta among the more innovative camera makers of the era. These prewar years were important not because Minolta dominated the market, but because they revealed a company learning quickly, adapting foreign ideas, and steadily refining its own manufacturing skills.

 World War II disrupted Japanese industry, and like many camera makers, Minolta faced a difficult transition as the country shifted toward wartime production. After the war, the company entered a new phase of growth. Japan's postwar recovery created strong demand for precision optical equipment, and Minolta was well-positioned to benefit. In the 1950s, the company moved into 35mm camera production, a crucial step that aligned it with the global photography market. Minolta's postwar cameras gained attention for their solid engineering and user-friendly design, helping the brand earn a stronger international reputation.

 Over time, Minolta became known for more than just reliable film cameras. It developed a reputation for innovation in metering, automation, and eventually autofocus, especially in the late twentieth century. But those later successes were rooted in the company's early decades: a period of experimentation, persistence, and gradual technical maturity. The story of Minolta before and after World War II is really the story of a company that began by studying the best ideas from abroad, then turned those lessons into a lasting photographic identity.

My Camera

 The camera was built between 1934 and just before World War II, with production ending in 1940.

 The Minolta Vest is a fairly simple and basic camera. There aren't many frills, except for the beautiful three-tier stacking bellows system. The camera is one of the early examples made from Bakelite. It is also known as the Minolta Best or Minolta Marble, due to the prominent Everset Marble shutter on the camera's face.

It's also a compact camera, measuring 5.25 inches wide by 3 inches tall without the metal viewfinder extended, and 4 inches with it extended, by 2 inches deep with the lens retracted into the camera body, and 3.75 inches with the three-tier Bakelite bellows extended. 

The Minolta Vest camera's serial number is stamped on the leg that extends, allowing the camera to stand vertically. My camera is serial number 45605.

 The Marble shutter has three shutter speeds: 1/100, 1/50, and 1/25, along with B and T. The shutter is set via a wheel on the top of the lens, and it's just to the right of the lens as you're holding it to take a photo. As mentioned previously, my camera's shutter doesn't fire consistently. It works best at 1/100 and fires pretty regularly at that speed. At 1/50 and 1/25, it takes two or three tries for the shutter to fire, so I'll need to keep that in mind when I take the camera out for a shoot.

Shutter release, shutter speeds, and aperture settings on the Minolta Vest camera

The nondescript lens, which I'm guessing is approximately 75mm, has a maximum aperture of f/8 and extends to f/22. The aperture is set via a sliding lever under the lens.

I believe my camera is one of the earlier examples because the shutter looks different from those on others I've seen. There is no "Patents Nippon" on the face, and the design has an earlier Art Deco appearance. 

 Like many earlier models, the lens is fixed focus, whereas I have seen other models with a focusable lens and a maximum aperture of f/4.5.

 Looking at the back of the camera, there are two red windows, which indicate to me that the film format is 3 x 4 cm. Opening the back of the camera, which is done by pulling up a small knob at the end, opens the rear door. When doing so, it shows that the camera's format is 6 x 4.5 cm, so there must have been an insert in the camera to change the format. My camera doesn't have the insert, so mine will always be 6 x 4.5 cm.

Once the back is open, you load the camera just like you would any roll-film camera by putting the empty spool on the take-up side, which has the film advance knob. Put the fresh, unexposed film on the other side, slip the film leader into the slot on the take-up reel, and wind the knob, making sure the film is transporting until you see the arrows pointing outward. Close the film back, and wind until you see the number one in the center red window.

 Now that the film is loaded in the camera and my wife and I are headed to the local farmer's market, it's time for me to take some photos and see how this camera performs.

Click on the image to view video

 

My Results

 Using a light meter and 100 ISO film in the camera, the recommended setting was 1/100 at f/7.1. I needed to fudge it a bit and shoot at 1/100 at f/8, and hope for the best.

 As previously mentioned, there is no focus on this camera, and I tried to be about 10 feet from the subjects when taking images.

 Here are some of the results:

Conclusion

 As I scan the images from the farmers' market, some turned out better than others. I'm not sure what was going on, but some of the photos are sharper than others. I didn't pull out and push back the lens once I got to the farmers' market; I pulled the lens away from the camera body and adjusted the settings to the lighting conditions.

 There were a couple of times when I set the shutter to 1/50, but the focus was pretty inconsistent in many of the images. I was expecting slightly better results. Maybe there were a couple of times when there was some movement, especially since the shutter is a bit wonky and the images look unfocused.

Who knows what this camera has been through over the past 90 years, but all in all, it was fun to shoot with. The bellows look amazing, and I was complimented on the camera a few times as we walked through the farmers' market, so that was fun.

 Thank you for taking the time to learn a bit about this early example of a Bakelite camera from Japan, made in the early to late 1930s.

 I'd love to hear from you regarding this or some of my other camera reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store, where I sell some of the cameras reviewed, along with other camera and photo odds and ends.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Bentzin Primarette camera

My Bentzin Primarette camera

My main objective during my trip to Tokyo a couple of weeks ago was to find cameras to write about for my camera-collecting blog. I believe I have another fun and interesting camera for this week's blog: a 1930s German-made Bentzin Primarette.

 I found this wonderfully thin twin-lens camera, along with last week's blog camera, the Ebner camera, during my visit to Kitamura's flagship store. It was on the 3rd floor, in their "bargain" section, along with many other wonderful cameras I wanted to purchase. Unfortunately, not winning the lottery, I had to be selective in my camera purchases, but I couldn't pass up this beauty.

 While the Bentzin Primarette has two lenses, it isn't a reflex model like the Rolleiflex, Yashicaflex, or Minolta Autocord, or some of the hundreds of other Twin Lens Reflex models. The camera is a folding camera with two sets of bellows: the top for focusing and the bottom for taking the image. Unlike a "Reflex" camera, there is no mirror in the top portion through which you focus, so the image you see is upside down, just like viewing through a view camera, with the image directly on the ground glass.

The Bentzin Primarette when closed.

 During my inspection of the camera, I noticed a few minor issues with the Bentzin Primarette. The viewfinder cover is a bit tattered, yet fully intact. The focus seemed a bit loose, especially at the closest point, and the winding knob may have been replaced, as I've generally seen this camera with a chrome winding knob. The winding knob may be original, as cameras from this era often have parts swapped, so I'm uncertain about its originality.

 The good parts of the Bentzin Primarette camera are that the shutter fired on all speeds, the aperture moved smoothly, there were no holes in the bellows for either the upper or lower portion, and the camera opens and closes smoothly. To me, the camera is just a work of art. It's sleek, compact, and just odd enough to make it very interesting.

 To make the camera complete, I would have preferred the fitted case and some lens caps, but the positives outweighed the negatives, and the issues are minor to me, so I let the salesperson know I'd like to purchase it along with a few other cameras.

History:

 Bentzin was a German camera maker founded by Curt Bentzin in 1889 in Görlitz, and it became known for well-made, innovative cameras aimed at serious amateurs and professionals. The company's history mirrors the broader rise of German photographic manufacturing in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, with Bentzin building a reputation for technical refinement rather than mass production.

Advertisment for Bentzin Primarette camera

 Curt Bentzin established the firm as a workshop for photographic apparatus. By the turn of the century, the company was already connected with Carl Zeiss Jena, reflecting its standing in the optical industry. Sources note collaboration as early as 1899 or 1902, when Bentzin helped Zeiss develop camera manufacturing processes, underscoring the company's close ties to Germany's leading optical specialists. That relationship helped position Bentzin cameras as high-quality products with strong mechanical and optical credentials.

 Bentzin's best-known cameras included the Primar, Primarflex, Reflex-Primar, Primarette, and Luxus Reisekamera, models that collectors still prize for their engineering and scarcity. The company produced a range of plate, folder, and reflex cameras, often using premium components from firms like Zeiss. Because production runs were relatively small, Bentzin never became a giant like Zeiss Ikon or Voigtländer, but it earned a distinct niche through craftsmanship and inventive design.

 The company's fate changed after World War II. In 1945, Bentzin was placed under state control in the Soviet occupation zone, then renamed and reorganized through a series of East German state enterprises, including VEB Görlitzer Kamerawerke and later VEB Primar-Kamerawerk Görlitz. By 1951, it had been absorbed into VEB Feinoptisches Werk Görlitz, and the original Bentzin line was discontinued by 1954.

 Today, Bentzin is remembered as a respected but relatively small German camera manufacturer whose surviving cameras appeal strongly to collectors and historians. Its story is especially interesting because it combines regional industrial history, close ties to Zeiss, and the transformation of private German industry into East German state production after the war.

My Camera:

 My Bentzin Primarette camera is 5.25" tall by 5" wide, and only 1.25" deep when the lenses are retracted, and 4" deep with both lenses extended into the viewing and taking positions. The camera weighs 1 pound and 5.1 ounces.

The camera has a Carl Zeiss Jena Tessar 7.5cm, F/4.5 lens, serial number 1248566, with a Compur shutter that ranges from 1/300 to 1 sec. along with "B" and "T". The aperture ranges from F/4.5 to 32. Both the shutter speeds and aperture are set by rotating the ring to the desired setting. Since the lens is a bit recessed into the camera body, both the shutter speed and aperture selectors have a protruding arm that allows you to set both settings, making it considerably easier.

 Think of the camera as two cameras in one, yet connected top to bottom. The top is for focus and composition, while the bottom is for taking images, yet both fold down into one compact camera.

To extend the lenses from the camera body, there are two knurled pins on the top and bottom of the lens board that you depress to unlock. This allows you to pull the lens board away from the camera body, which is on struts, and lock the camera into the taking position. PLEASE NOTE, there are two positions the lens board can stop at. The first position doesn't allow the camera to focus on the closest three-meter position. This is the position I took for the majority of the photos for the article.

 Pressing in the two knurled pins on the sides of the camera, on either side of the camera's top and viewing lens, allows you to pull the lens board out further, allowing the camera to focus all the way to the three-meter position. These two pins also allow you to press the lens board back into the camera's body to close and transport the camera. I discuss this a bit in the conclusion portion of the post, too.

At the top of the lens board is a large chrome disk that you turn to focus the lens. The lens will point down as you focus closer to your subject to compensate for parallax. To the right of the focusing wheel is the shutter release cable socket.

An interesting part of the camera is something I didn't even notice until I got it home and started to really play with it: on the camera's body, in the rear, is a removable cover that allows the photographer to carry two extra rolls of film in the camera. You can use these for both exposed and unexposed film. Just slide the lever from "Z", the locked position, to "A", and the cover comes off, exposing where the film can go. That's very clever.

On the back of the camera, on the top, is a small lever you slide to the right; when you do, the focusing hood opens, exposing the ground glass on the camera, which you use to focus on the subject. For me, the area is pretty small, and on my camera, it's missing the magnifying lens, which I've seen on other cameras, so I'm unsure if there is supposed to be one. To close, press the right side of the hood, and the fabric hood collapses, allowing you to close it back into the camera's body.

On the bottom of the camera, on the right side, is a metal locking hook that you pull back, and the film door opens, allowing the photographer to change the 127-size film the camera uses. It's similar to many other 127-size cameras: you put the empty spool on the left and take up a spool on the right side of the camera, where the winding knob connects to it. Pull back the winding knob and insert the take-up spool. 

Load the fresh roll of film into the left side of the camera, and bring the film's leader to the take-up spool. Put the leader into the take-up spool and start winding, making sure the film is transporting and you can see the starting "arrows". Close up the camera back, lock the door, and wind the film until you see the number one in the red window on the back of the camera. At this point, you're ready to take your first photo.

 Now that you have film loaded in the camera, let's take a walk through the neighborhood and see what this camera can do.

Video Overview

I made a short video overview of the camera. Click the image to go to the video.

Bentzin Primarette Video

 Results:

 I loaded the camera with a roll of 100 ISO 127 film I'd purchased a while ago and walked through the neighborhood, taking photos of some of the usual items to get a reference for the camera's images.

 Here are some of the results I had with the Bentzin Primarette camera.

Conclusion:

 I didn't have an instruction manual for the camera, nor have I seen one online. It wasn't until after taking some of the photos that I realized the camera has two areas where the lens board stops. 

 Stopping at the first point prevents the camera from focusing on the closest 3 meters. That's why the first couple of photos are sharp on one side and blurry or out of focus on the other. One side of the lens board was pulled all the way back, and the other wasn't providing the camera with an angled plane of focus.

 Once I noticed that, and pulled the other side of the lens board out to the correct position, the camera's images turned out sharper from left to right as they should. I noticed the camera could focus all the way to the 3-meter mark, too.

 Another point is that the camera doesn't close all the way at its closest focusing distance. You'll need to back off the focus before the camera will smoothly retract into its body. That's interesting, and makes sense.

 For me, the focus was easy, but the viewing area was small, and magnified viewing would have been helpful. I addressed that earlier.

 What a wonderful camera to have in my collection. It's an odd, unusual camera, which makes it even more special to me, and one I'll cherish in my collection for many more years.

 Thank you for taking the time to read a bit about this compact twin-lens camera from Germany, built in the early 1930s. I'd love to get your feedback regarding this or any other cameras I've reviewed.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with many other lenses and camera accessories. Stop by and take a look at your leisure.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Ebner camera

My Ebner 6x4.5cm camera

During my trip to Tokyo, Japan, a couple of weeks ago, I was in Kitamura's flagship store, looking at their "bargain" cameras, which in itself is a treasure trove of used cameras, when I spotted a brown Bakelite camera sitting on one of their shelves. The camera was a "folding" style camera. Still, I had never seen a camera like it, so immediately I wanted to see it, and with any luck, take it home with me, provided the price wasn't outrageous. I scanned the camera price and converted it from Yen to US dollars; it wasn't outrageous, so I wanted to see it and learn more.

 The things that caught my eye at first was the beautiful, rich brown color, the wonderful pebbled texture of the body, and the very sleek design. To me, the camera just sang to me in its design. Since my eyes almost always go to anything "colored" when I look at cameras, it reminded me of the Coronet Vogue. Then, scanning the shelf below, they also found the Coronet Vogue. which I had seen in a few different flea markets in both Paris and London, but the asking price was always too high (in my opinion) for the camera, so I passed them up.

Back side with beautiful pebble finish on the Ebner camera

 At this point in my camera search, there were 3-4 cameras I wanted to look at, so I went up to one of the salespeople on the floor and showed them the items I was interested in. Very patiently, he pulled the 4 items from the shelves and placed them on a camera mat on one of the glass display cases in the shop.

 Opening the Ebner camera first, I hadn't seen it before and don't recall it in McKeown's Camera Guide. I don't have the few hundred thousand cameras memorized. It wasn't until I opened the back of the camera and noticed the name "Ebner" that I realized the camera's brand. It still hadn't jogged my memory or sounded familiar.

Similarities of the Ebner and Coronet Vogue cameras.

 As I looked over the camera, the shutter worked, the aperture slid around the lens and changed size, and the lens was fairly clean. It didn't have mold, mildew, or fungus as I shone a penlight through the lens, and I didn't see pinholes in the bellows, so all in all, the camera was a "keeper" to me.

 The Coronet Vogue camera had some issues. It had a replacement black bellows rather than the original brown matching bellows, and the side struts of the camera didn't work properly. But the camera was inexpensive, and the shutter worked, so I believe at some point later this year I will write about it. To me, the similarity in the design and style of both the Ebner and Coronet Vogue cameras is striking.

 The similarities make sense to me, especially since Ebner stopped producing cameras in 1935. Still, other camera companies, like Pontiac and Gallus, produced very similar cameras with the same sleek design. I'm confident that since the Coronet Vogue was introduced in 1936, they recognized that this sleek, Bakelite camera design would benefit their sales, and they produced it.

History:

 Albert Ebner & Co. was a small but interesting German manufacturer that moved from audio and electrical products into cameras during the early 1930s. Albert Ebner, born in 1891 in Bad Cannstatt, had already founded earlier companies before his name became associated with the camera firm that collectors remember today.

Portrait of Albert Ebner

 The company's background was in turntable motors, gramophone parts, and related household electrical goods. After earlier business setbacks and reorganizations, Ebner returned to Bad Cannstatt and formed a new Albert Ebner & Co., often abbreviated AECO, which broadened into vacuum cleaners, fans, and other electrical products before experimenting with cameras.

 Ebner's camera output was very limited. The firm produced only two folding models: a 6x9 cm camera on 120 film and a smaller 4.5x6 cm model on Kodak 620 film, both made around 1933 to 1935. These cameras had no special model names beyond their image size, which makes them especially plain in naming but distinctive in construction.

 What set them apart was their design. Both cameras used a marbled brown Bakelite body, a material associated with the radio and record-player industries, and they paired that shell with a Compur leaf shutter and lenses from makers such as Meyer-Gorlitz. That gives the Ebner cameras a streamlined Art Deco look that feels more industrially designed than mass-market consumer.

German advertising.

 The larger 6x9 version used standard 120 film, while the 4.5x6 version used 620 film, an unusual choice for a German maker of the time. Collectors also note that the cameras were sold mostly in Germany and that production was brief, with the company apparently ending camera manufacture by 1935. Because so few were made, surviving examples are relatively scarce today.

 Ebner's camera venture did not last long. Still, it fits a broader pattern of early 20th-century firms adapting existing expertise in Bakelite and mechanical assembly to camera production. After the camera period ended, Albert Ebner's business life continued in audio through the later Perpetuum-Ebner merger. In contrast, the cameras remained a short-lived sideline that now attracts collectors and historians.

My Camera:

 My Ebner 6x4.5cm camera is 4.25" tall with the retractable viewfinder down, and 5" tall with the viewfinder in the upright, viewing position. It's also 5.5 wide and 1.25" deep with the lens retracted, and 4" with the lens extended and in the normal taking position. The camera weighs 1 pound 0.7 ounces without film loaded inside. 

To open the Ebner camera, on the top of the camera is a button between the retractable front viewfinder, which pulls up from the camera body to produce a vertical rectangle. and a small pbar with a ball on the end used as the rear portion of the viewfinder. This bar is also retracted into the camera body. Once the button is pressed, the front door housing the lens, bellows, and shutter springs from the camera body.

The Ebner I own has a Meyer-Goerlitz 7.5cm F/4.5 lens (SN 625604), with a Compur shutter, ranging from 1/300 to 1 second, plus "T" and "B". There were several different lens and shutter combinations for the camera. The aperture range is from F/4.5 to 22. 

 Setting the shutter speed is done by turning a ring on the outer portion of the lens, and the aperture is set by sliding a lever with a pointing end to the desired aperture setting under the lens. Also, the shutter is cocked by one lever at the top of the shutter and released by another lever on the side of the shutter. Focusing the lens is done by rotating the lens itself to the desired focus distance in meters, as seen on the top of the lens.

To close the camera for transport, there is a bar at the bottom of the lens bed, just in front of the "Ebner" plate. Press these bars towards the camera body; the lens board releases, allowing you to tilt the board back up and into the camera body. It will click when the lens board is locked into position.

Opening the film back to load film is done by sliding the locking lever, which is located under the camera's strap. Once unlocked, you can slide the door open to reveal the camera's film chamber. Once opened, you'll see the vertical format 6x4.5 film area. The new film goes on the right side of the camera, and you'll transfer the empty spool from the right side to the left, where the film's winding wheel is located. My camera didn't have an empty spool, so I needed to supply the camera with one.

  Looking at the film holders' pins, the camera takes 620 film, but I accidentally loaded the camera's take-up chamber with 120 film, and it fit. Generally, when I try to put 120 in a 620 camera, the spools don't fit, or they don't turn because the pins are too small to grab the 120 spool. Let's see if I can load a roll of 120 film in the camera. Interestingly, this camera: the 120 film fits a bit snug, but the film advance engaged with the spool, and the film wound smoothly.

Since the camera is 6x4.5cm, with two red windows on the back, this symbolizes that you start with the number one in the first window, take your photo, and then wind the film until the number one shows up in the second window. You do this with the whole roll, which ends with the number eight showing in the second window, giving you sixteen images per roll of film.

 Once the film was loaded in the camera and the "start" arrows were showing, I closed the back of the camera, and my daughter, her dog, Bean. I went for a walk along the Columbia River and took photos with the camera. The camera is very "pocketable" and travels extremely well.

 Let's see how the images turned out.

 

The Results:

 The results aren't bad, but not the sharpest images either, especially compared to the Kolar Kola camera. I may have missed the focus distance, but most of the photos are sharp enough for an 8x10. Here are some of the images I took while walking the Columbia River with my daughter and Bean, her dog. 

Conclusion:

 There are several things I really like about the camera. Still, the thing I enjoyed most about this camera is its thinness when traveling. It's so thin compared to other medium-format cameras; for me, it makes it fun to use. Not being bulky or clumsy and being fairly lightweight make this camera a real pleasure to carry around.

 The brown pebble finish is also a bonus in my opinion, adding more to the camera than leather and chrome alone. It has a very appealing feel and firmness that make the camera fun to hold.

Designers in the 1930s were still in the Art Deco period. They had a real sense of classical design, which they implemented in their products. It makes me even more want to buy a 3D printer to experiment with designs and textures, which I feel are lacking in today's designs.  

 Thank you for taking the time to learn a bit about this very classic and rare camera made in Stuttgart, Germany, in the early to mid-1930s.

 I'd love to hear from you, so if you have a comment or one of your own, please share it with us here.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store where you might find one (or many) of the cameras I've reviewed, along with other camera and photo items I've picked up or hoarded over the many years in the business.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Welta Welti camera

My Welta Welti camera

While looking for a camera to discuss in this week's camera collecting blog, I was unpacking cameras I took to the recent camera show outside of Seattle, and I picked up a nondescript leather case for one of them. Opening the case to see which camera it was, it turned out to be a fairly plain-looking 35mm folding camera. 

 I opened the camera to see which one it was, but nothing was screaming the manufacturer to me. The only few telltale signs I could see were the words "Germany USSR Occupied" in gold embossed letters, along with "Made in Germany" embossed into the leather. There was also the number 1 inside a triangle and the numbers 37/373/1001 embossed into the leather on the back of the film door.

 Opening the door to see what lens the camera had, it wasn't what I expected. Unlike a Schneider or Zeiss lens, the camera has a less popular Meyer Optik lens in a Vebur shutter.

 Now I was more perplexed about the brand of camera I was holding. I researched the information I had, and I found that I was holding a Welta Welti camera made soon after WWII.

My Welta Welti camera with leather case.

 Usually, on cameras of this era, the manufacturer's name is embossed on the side of the camera, close to the film door. I looked at the camera again, and it was either worn off from use or never there in the first place.

 Testing the camera's shutter, it worked at all speeds, and the aperture was smooth and functioning as it should. The lens was clean, and the transport seemed in good condition, so for the week I go camera shopping in Tokyo, and being a fan of Welta cameras, like the Perfekta and Superfekta, I found the camera to write about for this week's blog post.

History:

 For those of us who spend our days restoring, shooting, and studying vintage cameras, the name Welta carries a distinct weight—both literally and figuratively. Founded in 1914 by Walter Waurich and Theodor Weber in Freital, Germany, the company originally operated under the moniker Waurich & Weber. By 1919, the "Welta" trademark was born, marking the beginning of a remarkable, albeit turbulent, chapter in the history of photography.

 Welta quickly earned a sterling reputation during the 1920s and 30s. At a time when German optical and mechanical engineering set the global standard, Welta held its own against titans like Zeiss Ikon. They mastered the folding camera format, producing medium format workhorses outfitted with top-tier Compur shutters and stunning optics from Schneider-Kreuznach or Carl Zeiss. For a working photographer or a serious enthusiast, a Welta meant uncompromising precision wrapped in a beautifully crafted, leather-bound brass body.

 As the 1930s progressed, the photographic landscape shifted dramatically as the 35mm film format gained popularity. Competitors were releasing compact, pocket-sized folding 35mm cameras, most notably the Kodak Retina. Welta's brilliant response was the Welti.

 Introduced in 1935, the Welti was a marvel of compact engineering. It wasn't just a scaled-down medium format folder; it was a purpose-built 35mm instrument. With its incredibly robust struts, precision-focusing helix, and satisfyingly dense, all-metal heft, the Welti proved that "compact" didn't mean compromising on professional-grade durability. It remains the perfect embodiment of Welta's meticulous design philosophy.

 The devastation of World War II completely altered Welta's trajectory. Finding itself in the Soviet occupation zone (later East Germany), the company was nationalized in 1946, becoming VEB Welta-Kamerawerke. Despite this massive structural shift, the Freital factory continued to produce incredible cameras, including refined post-war iterations of the Welti, the Weltax, and the Belmira.

 However, as the East German government moved to consolidate its optical industries to compete on the global stage, Welta was eventually absorbed by VEB Kamera-und Kinowerke Dresden in 1959, which later evolved into the massive Pentacon conglomerate.

 By the mid-1960s, the Welta name faded into history. Yet, when you hold a Welti today, you are holding a defiant piece of history—a tactile testament to a specialized factory that, for a few brilliant decades, built some of the finest folding cameras the world had ever seen.

My Camera:

 My Welta Welti camera is similar in size and shape to the Kodak Retina cameras. The camera is 4.5" wide by 3.5" tall by 2" deep with the lens retracted, and 3.5" deep with the lens door open and the lens in the normal "taking" position. The Welta Welti weighs 1 pound, 2.9 ounces.

To open the lens door, press a small button at the bottom of the camera, and the lens door opens, exposing a Meyer-Optik Trioplan 50mm f2.9 lens (serial # 1529563), in a Vebur shutter at the end of a small bellows that extends, then the front door is opened.

 The shutter speeds range from 1/250 to 1 second, along with "B" for timed exposures. To set the shutter speed, turn a knurled ring on the outside of the shutter, lining up the desired shutter speed with the red dot on the ring. Just behind the shutter speed selector is the shutter cockling lever. You'll need to pull the lever over each time you're going to make an exposure, as there is no automatic shutter cocking mechanism on the Welta Welti camera.

The aperture on my Welta Welti camera ranges from F/2.9 to 16 and is set by a sliding lever under the shutter, below the lens.

 On the back of the lensboard is a large knob that serves as the focusing lever for the camera. There is no rangefinder or internal focusing on the camera, so the distances you set are just guesses. Sliding the knob to the left or right focuses the lens. The lens can focus as close as 3.3 feet to infinity. At the end of the focus knob is a small pointer that sets the desired distance. 

 On the back of the camera is a depth-of-field scale that shows the minimum and maximum distances that will be in focus, depending on the distance the camera is focused to and the aperture set on the camera. 

 Looking at the top of the camera, from left to right, is the rewind knob, the viewfinder used to view and frame your image. The viewfinder has a small lever under it that allows it to be pointed level for landscape images and to point down slightly for closer portrait images.

To the right of the viewfinder is a cold shoe that can be used for a separate rangefinder to aid in focus distance or a flash for indoor or night photographs. Moving on to the shutter release inside the frame counter, a small sliding button to unlock the film drive gear for film advance and rewind, and on the far right-hand side is the film winding knob with an arrow on the top showing the direction you turn it to advance the film to the next frame.

 On the left side of the Welta Welti camera is a lever that opens the film door for loading and unloading film. Opening the film door exposes the inside of the shutter. The camera has a standard film-loading area for a 35mm camera. The take-up spool is on the right side, and right next to it is the silver film drive gear. On the back of the camera door is the pressure plate. Once the film has been exposed, slide back the small lever between the film winding knob and the frame counter, which makes the film drive gear free-moving and allows you to rewind the film into the film cassette without tearing up the sprocket holes.

To close the lens door for transportation, press down on the two angled struts on the side of the lens; the lens and film door will begin to retract into the camera body. Just press it all the way back until you hear a clicking sound, which means the door is shut and won't pop back open by accident. 

 

My Results:

 I have some 200 ISO film in my bulk loader, which I enjoy using, especially for testing 35mm cameras, as I can roll a shorter roll of film into the film cassette and not use up a full roll of 36 exposures for my blog. Rolling about 20 frames into the film cassette, I took the camera for a nice spring day walk through the neighborhood.

 The flowers and trees are blooming, and the sun is shining. Here are a few of the images I got with the Welta Welti camera.

 Conclusion:

 Looking at the images, they turned out better than I anticipated. The exposures were good, and the focus was enough to produce sharp images, so I'm fairly good at judging distance to the subjects and setting the proper focus distance. I understand that having an external rangefinder for the camera would be helpful, but it would also slow down the process.

 The transport was smooth along with the film rewind. The viewfinder is pretty small, and with glasses, it made it a bit more difficult. That, along with having to remember to cock the shutter each time, was the only real drawback to the camera.

 The Welta Welti is similar to other 35mm cameras from this era, like the Kodak Retina. They are small, pocketable 35mm cameras with a nice range of shutter speeds and good optics. I now understand why I brought the camera to the camera show. It's a nice camera, but I'll probably put it up on my online store for someone else to enjoy.

 Thank you for taking some time from your day to read about this compact 35mm camera made in the late 1940s to early 1950s. Here's a link to the Welta Welti manual. Thanks to Butkus.org.

 I'd love to hear from you about this or any of the other Camera Reviews I've done.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell cameras I've written about, along with other camera oddities I've accumulated over my 50-plus years collecting photo items. 

 I'm taking next week off for my trip to Japan, so I'll see you in a couple of weeks. Please be safe.

Salmoiraghi Luxus camera

My Salmoiraghi Lexus camera

I truly don't remember purchasing this camera, so my best recollection is that it was part of a larger lot of cameras I purchased. What drew me to this particular camera, as with many others in my collection, wasn't the name or rarity of the camera, but the camera's color. The beautiful tan color, along with the colored bellows, are things that I'm drawn to.

 The Salmoiraghi Lexus has been on my shelf for a few years, and it wasn't until this past weekend that I noticed it again. It was tucked away behind some other cameras in my collection. 

 Next week I'm traveling to Japan to do some camera and flea market shopping, hoping to find some treasures to write about in some of my upcoming blogs. I guess that about a thousand others are looking for the camera treasures while there, and figure, what better way to spend my time in Tokyo than to photograph the town, attend a few flea markets, and visit a few camera shops.

 I was gathering items to take to a camera show in the suburbs of Seattle last week when I noticed it. I questioned whether I really wanted to take the camera, as I knew I would eventually want to write about it. I put the Salmoiraghi Lexes with many other items I was taking to the show, but in the back of my mind, my willingness to sell them was half-hearted.

The other side of the Salmoiragi Lexus camera

 As I was pulling cameras out of the boxes to put on my tables for the camera show, the Salmoraghi Lexus was unfolded and put out for sale. Some people casually looked at it, but there was no real interest in the camera. There were a few people who liked the colored camera, but that was about it.

 In the back of my mind, I had already picked the camera I wanted to write about this week, but as I was putting away the cameras left over from the camera show, the Salmoiraghi Lexus just seemed like the camera to write about. 

 When I opened the camera, thinking about putting film in it so I could shoot with it for the blog, I checked the shutter to make sure it was working, but unfortunately, it's stuck open. So, at this point, I won't be able to photograph with it for the post. That's not Ideal, but what was gnawing at me was, What is a Salmoiraghi camera? I wasn't familiar with the brand at all, so I wanted to dig into the company and what this camera was all about.

 As I was doing my research for the camera, there was very little reference information, but I found MisterMondo Italian Camera, which had a great selection on 

History:

 Salmoiraghi cameras are a small and somewhat obscure chapter in Italian camera history, remembered mainly for a few postwar experimental and medium-format designs rather than for mass-market success. Collectors often discuss the name because the surviving models are uncommon, visually distinctive, and tied to the period when Italian manufacturers were trying to build a domestic camera industry after World War II.

Angelo Salmoiraghi. (From website)

 Salmoiraghi SpA, better known as La Filotecnica, began in Milan in 1865 when Angelo Salmoiraghi founded the Scuola-Officina Filotecnica. The school-workshop blended training, research, and production, reflecting Salmoiraghi's aim to turn precise scientific instrument making into an industrial enterprise. Over time, the company became associated with high-quality optical and surveying equipment, while keeping close ties to technical education and innovation. That early mix of craftsmanship and science helped establish La Filotecnica as a notable name in Italian instrument manufacturing.

 The best-known Salmoiraghi-related camera from the collector world appears to be a medium-format model developed in Milan around 1946–47. Reports from collectors describe it as a "pseudo twin-lens reflex" camera, built with a Bakelite body and alloy fittings, placing it squarely in the immediate postwar era, when makers were using practical materials and inventive layouts to reduce cost and complexity. That design choice suggests a company experimenting with form as much as function, aiming to create a camera that looked modern and handled differently from the boxy standard models of the time.

Italian advertisment for Salmoiraghi Nova I camera.

 What makes Salmoiraghi interesting is not a long production line but the rarity of the surviving evidence. Unlike the big Italian optical firms that became widely known through lenses, projectors, or industrial products, Salmoiraghi cameras seem to have been limited-run products that left only a thin paper trail. Much of what is known today comes from collector discussions rather than catalogs or formal company histories, which is why exact model details and production numbers remain hard to pin down.

 In that sense, Salmoiraghi cameras reflect a broader story in European camera manufacturing: many firms tried to enter the market in the 1940s and 1950s, but only a few scaled up successfully. Salmoiraghi's contribution appears to have been more inventive than influential, with its cameras now valued for their curiosity, design, and historical context. For photographers and collectors, they represent the optimism of a rebuilding Italian industry and the short-lived creativity of smaller makers trying to find a place beside better-known German and Japanese brands.

 Today, Salmoiraghi cameras are mostly encountered in collections, forum posts, and auction listings. Their scarcity means they are better known to specialists than to the general public, but that rarity is exactly what gives them historical appeal.

My Camera:

 My Salmoiraghi Lexus camera is very similar to many of the other 120 film, 6x9cm folding medium-format cameras from this era. The camera is 6" long by 3" tall and 1.5" deep when closed, and 5.25" deep with the lens extended. The camera weighs 1 pound, 0.1 ounces, unloaded.

To open the front of the camera and extend the lens, on the side of the camera, close to the film winding knob, is a small button to press that opens the front, exposing the beautiful original brown bellows.

 Looking at the front of the camera, the Salmoiraghi Lexus has a Perseus 105mm F/8.5 lens with aperture settings from F/8.5 to F/32, which can be set by a small sliding bar under the lens. The camera also has a Zenith shutter with speeds of 1/25, 1/50, 1/100, along with "B" and "Z" for timed exposures. Just to the right of the shutter speed selector, as you're holding the camera, is the shutter release. The shutter release also has a cable release socket for timed exposures.

The name Salmoiraghi is also imprinted under the lens, embossed in the brown leather on the top front and rear.

 There isn't a waist-level finder on the Salmoiraghi Lexus, only an eye-level finder which can be unfolded from the side of the camera. The sports style finder isn't very thick, and on my camera, which is common, the rear, or at times the front, doesn't stand up straight and seems to lean.

 To open the back of the camera to load film, under the strap is a lever you slide over to unlock the back. Swing the back open to reveal a very standard film-loading system. The winding lever doesn't pull out to load the empty spool, but on the other side is a silver button that pulls up to load the spool.

There's nothing on the other side to keep the new roll of film in place except a metal clip that wraps around the unexposed film and holds it in place.

 On the camera's back, two red windows generally indicate that the camera can handle multiple formats, as with the camera I wrote about last week, the Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 531/2. Generally, there would be an insert for the camera to do both 6x9cm and 6x4.5cm images on the 120 roll of film. 

 Looking at the pattern for the film guides on the back of the camera, there may have been an insert for the camera. There are indents evenly spaced across the back, which would indicate there may have been one, but my camera doesn't have one, and I can't find any online references to one.

Once the film is loaded in the camera, close the back of the camera, making sure it's latched, and wind the film to the first frame.

 To close the front of the camera, there are two locking stops on the camera's struts, on either side, that need to be pressed in. By doing so, the front of the camera can collapse the lens and bellows back into the camera body.

Front view of Salmoiraghi Lexus camera when closed.

Results:

Since the shutter on the Salmoiraghi Lexus camera is inoperable, I wasn’t able to shoot a roll of film through it.

I may try at some point to disassemble the shutter and get it back in working condition. If/when that happens, I’ll be sure to update the post with images.

Conclusion:

 While I knew little about this camera when I purchased it, and really bought it for its wonderful color and matching bellows, I'm elated that I didn't sell it at the NW Camera show last weekend because of its rarity.

 It's not really well-made and doesn't offer many features, but the scarcity of the camera made in Italy means this will be in my collection for the time being. I'm sure, as I get older and whittle down my collection, it'll pass to another collector, and I hope they understand its rarity in the world of camera collecting.

 If you have questions or comments, please feel free to reach out to me; I'm always interested in discussing what you have in your collection, as well as the cameras I've reviewed.

 Thank you for taking some time to learn more about this Italian camera. To me, what I enjoy about this camera is the wonderful brown leather covering and matching brown bellows.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with many other camera oddities I've stumbled upon in the past few years.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 531/2

My Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 530/2 camera

Walking through flea markets, garage sales, or camera shows, I always stop to look at what Zeiss cameras they have, and the cameras that I always pick up to look over are any of the Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta cameras. Not only because they look impressive even when closed, but also because I'm always struck by how well-made and intricate they are for a camera that's 90 years old.

 To me, the Super Ikonta cameras are like looking at a masterpiece of art. They are timeless in their form, compactness, and mechanical intricacies. When closed, they are compact and sturdy. They have a heft to them that you know they were manufactured to last a long time.

 Zeiss Ikon made four different Super Ikonta styles. There were the smaller models in 6x4.5 or 6x6cm formats, then they also made a larger, specifically longer version that shot 6x9, and a rare version that shot 6x11cm. The 6x9cm version came with a metal insert that reduced the image size to 6x4.5, essentially allowing the photographer to get twice as many images on the 120 roll film loaded in the camera.

 Having owned both in my life, I'm torn between them. On the one hand, I prefer the longer negatives, so the 6x9cm version is appealing, but it's also a bit bigger to carry. The more compact 6x6cm version is a terrific camera to carry when you travel. They are compact, fit in your pocket, have wonderful optics, and use a rangefinder to focus.

 Looking at the cameras on my shelf for a camera to write about, the Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 530/2 was a camera I recently got back from a full CLA, so I knew, or at least hoped there wouldn't, or shouldn't be an issue putting film in the camera and running a roll of film through it. 

Horizontal view of my Zeiss Ikon Soper Ikonta 530/2 camera

 The camera I had purchased almost a year ago was from an online auction. I saw it at the auction along with a few other cameras, placed a fairly low bid, and won it. The camera was shipped to me, and upon inspection, I noticed the shutter wasn't working. It worked at higher speeds, but the camera needed servicing, so I sent it for CLA.

 My camera came back from the technician and looked flawless. The rangefinder was bright and accurate, the lens was bright, the focus was smooth, and the lens popped out of the camera as if it were new. 

 Whenever I see a Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta or another rangefinder folding camera, the first thing I check is the shutter to see if it's opening/closing, especially at slower speeds. Then I check the focus to see how smoothly the lens and focus knob turn. It seems that many of the cameras have very stiff focusing, so when the camera came back, and the focus knob turned so nicely, I must have had a large grin on my face, as this was a new experience for me: a smooth focus.

 With all that said, it was time to put a fresh roll of 120 film into the camera and take a walk through the neighborhood on a wonderful spring afternoon. The sun was out, and so many of the trees and flowers were in bloom, it was the ideal opportunity to take my newly CLA'D Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta for a spin.

Brief History of the Zeiss Ikonta Cameras:

 Zeiss Ikon and the Ikonta cameras sit at an important crossroads in European camera history. Formed in 1926 from the merger of four major German makers—Contessa-Nettel, Ernemann, Goerz, and Ica—Zeiss Ikon became one of the largest and most influential camera companies in the world, backed by the Carl Zeiss optical tradition.

 The Ikonta line emerged around 1929 as Zeiss Ikon's premium folding-camera family. It was introduced in several sizes, including 6x4.5, 6x6, and 6x9 roll film frames, and represented the company's effort to rationalize and modernize the crowded product lines inherited from the merger. These cameras were built as elegant folders: compact when closed, but capable of producing high-quality medium-format images when opened.

 What made Ikonta especially significant was its market position. Zeiss Ikon used better lenses and more refined construction on Ikonta models, while cheaper versions sometimes carried the related Ikomat name. The line became closely associated with Carl Zeiss lenses, such as the Tessar, which helped the cameras earn a strong reputation for sharpness and image quality.

 A major step forward came with the Super Ikonta series, introduced in 1933. The "Super" name indicated the addition of a coupled rangefinder, making focusing far easier and more accurate than the original scale-focusing Ikontas. That innovation helped define some of the best prewar folding cameras available.

 Production continued through the war years and into the postwar period, but folding cameras gradually lost favor as photography shifted toward more modern fixed-lens designs and 35mm systems. Even so, Ikonta and Super Ikonta remain admired today for their craftsmanship, portability, and classic Zeiss optical quality.

My Camera:

 My Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 531/2 is 7" wide by 4" tall and 2 "deep when the lens is retracted, and it's 5" tall when you open the camera, and the viewfinder pops up, and 5.5" deep when the lens is extended. The camera weighs 1 pound 15 ounces without the case or film loaded. My serial number is E30192.

The Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 531/2 camera has several different options for lens and shutter combinations:

  • Tessar 10.5 cm f/4.5 in a Compur shutter. This combination is the best-documented early setup for the 530/2, especially on black-enamel versions from the early 1930s.

  • Triotar 10.5 cm f/4.5 in a Klio shutter. Some early examples were fitted this way, making it a less common but real configuration.

  • Tessar 10.5 cm f/4.5 in a Klio shutter. At least one documented example shows this pairing, indicating that Zeiss Ikon used multiple shutters during the model's production.

  • Later or related Super Ikonta variants appear with Tessar lenses in Compur Rapid or Synchro-Compur shutters, though those are more typical of later Super Ikonta models.

Looking at the top of the camera, on the right side of the rangefinder, is a button that opens the camera when it's closed. According to the Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta manual. Hold the camera in your right hand, with the front slightly pointed down. Press the button, and the camera should open slightly. Then pull down on the front cover so the bellows and lens extend to the taking position. Once the lens is extended, you'll need to swing the arm holding the small round lens into place so you can use the rangefinder for focusing. Also, when you open the camera, the Albada (sports) finder springs open. Look through the Albada finder; it has lines for both 6x9cm images in a horizontal format and for 6x4.5cm images for a vertical subject.

Now that the camera is open, you're ready to make exposures once the film is loaded, which we'll get to in just a moment. The shutter and aperture settings are located around the lens. Shutter speeds from 1/250 to 1 sec, plus "B," are set by turning the ring to the desired speed. The aperture is set by sliding the arrowed lever at the bottom of the lens to the desired aperture, which ranges from F/4.5 to F/32 on my camera.

 The focus wheel is on the front of the swing arm you moved over for the rangefinder, just above the lens when the camera is in the vertical position. For focusing, look through the small window on the back of the camera. Turn the dial to use rangefinder focus, which includes a small yellow area in the middle of the finder. When out of focus, the subject will appear as two images. Your main subject, and a second image in the yellow area. Turn the wheel until both images merge into one, indicating the subject is now in focus. 

Set your shutter speed and aperture setting, and don't forget to cock the shutter. The shutter release is on the top, left side of the camera. Press the shutter release, which will trip the shutter via a series of linkages that run along the bottom of the lens bed. Just behind the shutter release is a small window. When the window is grey, the shutter has been tripped, and you'll need to turn the film winding lever until the small window turns red. At this point, you can re-cock the shutter and release it. 

To open the back of the camera to load film, under the camera's handle is a small slider with an arrow pointing toward the opening. Slide the small knob in the direction of the arrow, and the camera back will open. Load the film as you would any 120 roll film camera, roll the film so the "start" arrows are showing, then close the back of the camera, and wind the film advance knob so the number 1 shows up in the appropriate window on the back of the camera. 

There are two red widows on the back of the camera: one for 6x9cm images and one for 6x4.5 cm images, if you have the metal insert in. If you have the insert in the camera, you'll use both windows for film advance, as you would with a 127 film camera with two windows. Stop at the number 1 on the far right window, then take your photo. Wind the film until the number 1 appears in the second window on the left, then take your photo. Then wind the film until the number 2 shows up on the first window on the right side, and so on through the number 8. For 6x9cm images, you'll get 8 exposures per roll; for 6x4.5, 16.

 To close the camera for transport, slide the arm you extended for focus back over the bellows. Holding the camera with both hands, press in on the locking arms on the struts to lock the bellows and lens into place; the bed will collapse a bit. Fold the lens back into the camera until the camera clicks closed, then flip down the Albana finder.

My Images:

 Let's take a look at how the images turned out. Here are a few of the images I took with the Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta camera.

Conclusion:

 The first few images were incredibly sharp, well-exposed, and as I expected. I noticed that towards the end of the roll, the images became softer and less sharp, which concerned me. What did I do wrong?

 To give some background, I had eye surgery on my right eye, which is my dominant eye, about a year or two ago. When I went to see the eye doctor, I could barely make out details with my right eye, so surgery was necessary. Since then, it's gotten a bit better, but not as good as it used to be. Now I'm getting used to putting the camera up to my left eye, which is considerably better than my right. It still feels awkward, but it's my new normal.

Missing pressure plate

 I thought this contributed to the images being soft. Then I remember what a good friend, Mike Eckman, said a few weeks ago when we were discussing image sharpness. He said that he had a similar instance and noticed that the film's pressure plate was missing. At this point, I opened the back of the camera, and sure enough, the pressure plate was missing. 

 How could I miss that when I'm loading the camera? You get so used to looking at and loading cameras that you miss that a camera doesn't have a pressure plate.

 At this point, I'm sure I could manufacture one out of something like thin foamcore and just cut out circles for the red window. Still, it's a lot of fun to use, and the images are incredible. I'll chalk it up as a learning experience and double-check to be sure they have the pressure plate from now on.

 Here are some of the other Camera Reviews I've done.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with other camera accessories, lenses, etc.

 Please feel free to comment on this or any of the other camera reviews I've done. I'd love to hear from you.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Kodak-Nagel Ranca camera

My Kodak-Nagel Ranca camera

Being a collector and working in the photo industry for more than 50 years, and, more specifically, in the photographic retail business for almost 20 of those years. My retail years were in the mid-1970s through to the early 1990s. It was the height of film photography with Nikon F's, Canon AE-1's, Minolta SRT's, Pentax, Rollei, Contax, etc. I can remember the introductions of many of the best-selling cameras from this era. I have seen and sold many cameras. But to this day, I still enjoy them.

 When I look at a camera, especially an older one I'm not familiar with, the first impression strongly influences whether I purchase it. I'm always on the hunt for the odd and unusual camera.  I imagine it's really about what you enjoy collecting. 

 Many collectors look for pristine examples of Leica, Rollei, Hasselblad, or items with a slight difference, making them a "rare" item. Still, if I see a camera I'm not aware of, and it has an unusual appearance or color that stands out, that's what catches my eye. It doesn't have to be expensive or rare; it just has to be unusual to me.

 That's where the camera I'm writing about this week comes in. The Kodak Ranca is a camera I first saw on my friend Mike Ott's website. Mike is the longtime owner of Pacific Rim Camera and one of the best photographic resources around. It's a website I often visit, very similar to Mike Butkus's Camera Manual, which offers information on cameras, catalogues, manuals, etc. 

 I purchased the Kodak Ranca because it was a compact camera I wasn't familiar with. It wasn't until it arrived that the camera had a very similar look and feel. I was aware that it was a Nagel-made camera, which was another reason I was attracted to it. Still, when I dug into the camera after it was purchased, it's considered the "less expensive" version of the very popular Nagel Pupille camera, which I reviewed a few months ago.

 According to my reading of the Ranca camera, there were two versions. The earlier model, known as 46/0, has a helicoid lens and shutter system that rotates out from the camera's body when you grip and rotate the shutter/lens area a quarter turn counterclockwise. This also exposes the helicoid on which the lens/shutter rotates. The second version is the 46/1, which has a rigid lens barrel with the lens and shutter on the end. 

 The camera was introduced in the middle of 1930 and remained available for only approximately 1 year, until the latter part of 1931. Both the Nagel Pupille and Ranca camera take 127-size film, producing 16, 3x4cm images on the roll. 

 Sources state that a total of 2,200 Ranca cameras were produced, compared to 5,000 of the more expensive, better-featured Pupille cameras. While the Pupille has superior features, fewer Ranca cameras are produced. Yet, the Pupille is more of a collector's item and fetches a higher price, even today.

 Some of the other differences between the two models: both cameras have "sports"-style pop-up viewfinders; some have glass on the front, and some don't. Different shutters, either Prontor or Ibsor, were available. The camera uses a front focus system, with some cameras opting for a very simple distance scale for portrait, group, or landscape. In contrast, others have the distance in feet on the lens barrel. 

History:

 Dr. August Nagel was one of the most important European designers ever associated with Eastman Kodak, and their partnership reshaped Kodak's position in the precision‑camera market. In 1932, Eastman Kodak purchased Nagel's Stuttgart-based firm, Dr. Nagel-Werke, and reorganized it as Kodak A.G., retaining Nagel as managing director and head of design. Before this acquisition, Kodak was dominant in film and popular roll-film cameras. Still, German makers like Leica and Contax defined the high‑end miniature camera segment. Kodak wanted a German-built precision camera to compete directly, yet at a lower price and in a form that fit its mass‑market philosophy. Nagel, already respected for compact folding designs and his work on Contessa-Nettel and Zeiss Ikon models, was the ideal partner to bridge that gap.

Kodak Ranca advertismant

 Within Kodak A.G., Nagel used generous Eastman funding and Kodak's global reach to develop a compact 35mm camera that could rival the established German leaders. The result was the Kodak Retina, introduced in 1934 (Type 117), a folding 35mm camera that offered solid German construction and good optics at a far more accessible price than Leica or Contax. At the same time, Nagel introduced a new daylight-loading 35mm cartridge—what became known as Kodak 135 film—which fit not only the Retina but also Leica and Contax cameras. This cartridge standardized 35mm still photography worldwide. It made 35mm use far easier for ordinary photographers, who no longer needed to roll film into cassettes in the dark.

 Nagel's collaboration with Eastman Kodak extended beyond the Retina itself. Under the Kodak A.G. banner in Stuttgart, he and his team produced several notable pre‑Retina and companion models, such as the Recomar plate cameras, the compact Pupille, the Vollenda folding cameras, and the Duo 620 medium‑format folders. These cameras married Nagel's hallmark precision and compactness with Kodak's branding and distribution, giving Kodak an instant foothold in the "serious enthusiast" and professional market that had previously looked almost exclusively to other German makers. 

 Although Nagel died in 1943, the Retina line continued to evolve with the introduction of the rangefinder. Later SLR versions, and the 135 cartridge he introduced, remain the standard for 35mm film, making his association with Eastman Kodak one of the most consequential designer–manufacturer partnerships in camera history.

My Camera:

 My Nagel Ranca camera is 4" wide by 2.5" tall with the viewfinder retracted, and 3.25" tall with the viewfinder extended. The camera is 2.25" deep with the lens retracted into the camera body. When it's extended and ready to take a photo, it's 2.75" deep. The camera weighs 10.1 ounces when a roll of film is not loaded.

 My Nagel Ranca has a Nagel Anistigmat 5cm lens, an F/4.5 lens, a Protar shutter located above the lens with only three shutter speeds: 1/100, 1/50, 1/25, along with "T" for timed and "B" for Bulb. The aperture ring, which is located below the lens, has a slide that controls the aperture. The minimum aperture setting is F/16.

Shutter/Aperture settings on Kodak Ranca camera

As mentioned previously, the lens/shutter needs to be turned counterclockwise a quarter turn to extend the lens on the helicoid. The unusual thing about doing this is that the shutter release is now in an odd and awkward position for use. The lens/shutter is retracted, and the shutter release is in the 11:00 o'clock position, which is ideal for tripping the shutter. However, when the lens is extended, it puts the shutter release in the 7:00-8:00 o'clock position, making it a bit more awkward, in my opinion. 

 There is a shutter release socket behind the shutter release if needed. On the right side of the shutter dial is a self-timer with a large red dot. Pull it down to set the self-timer, then press it to activate it. Mine isn't working properly, which is common for cameras from this era.

The lens is a front focusing lens. This means you rotate the lens itself to the desired distance from you to the subject. This is shown on the lens by a red line, which is also in an awkward position when the lens is extended. As opposed to being on the top, it's now on the side.

 The lens doesn't need to be extended to open the camera to load film into it. Slide the lever on the bottom of the camera to unlock the film chamber from the camera body. Gripping the chrome handles on either side of the viewfinder and lifting up allows you to remove the film chamber. Once removed, load the 127-size film into the film holder, then slide the film holder back into the camera body and lock it in place with the bottom locking mechanism.

Since there are two red windows on the back, these are used to advance the film. First, wind the film until you see the number 1 in the right side window. Then take your photo. Now wind the film until you see the number 1 in the left side window. Take your next photo. Wind until you see the number 2 in the right side window. Then repeat this process through the number 8. At this point, you've taken 16 photos on your film, and it's time to get it processed, or process it yourself if you have the equipment and chemicals to do so.

 

My results:

 I loaded a roll of 400 ISO film into the Nagel Ranca camera because the day started out overcast. With the limited shutter speeds available, I needed the extra sensitivity to make good images.

 The day turned out sunnier than expected, and the lack of a high-speed shutter meant I needed to shoot all the images at 1/100, f/16. Even then, the negatives turned out a bit denser than anticipated, but I made the corrections needed in post-processing.

 I tried some close-ups and a few longer shots to assess the camera's lens quality. I was both surprised, in a good way, and surprised, in a bad way, by my results.

 Here are some of the photos from my walk through the neighborhood. 

Conclusion:

 To say I was disappointed by some of the results is an understatement. The closer images, which I thought wouldn't turn out very well, were the shining light of the camera roll. The images taken at infinity, assuming they would be sharp, especially at F/16, are unsharp and disappointing.

 The camera was fun to shoot with, and I always enjoy shooting 127 film in the 3x4cm format. Still, I was also disappointed with the shutter release's location after extending the lens to the "taking" position. The shutter release was in an awkward position, to the point that I had to shoot the camera with my thumb while resting it in my palm.

 I'll get used to it next time I take the camera out for a shoot, but I prefer using the Nagel Pupille.

 Thank you for taking some time to learn about the "lesser featured" brother of Nagel's Pupille, the Ranca camera. A compact 127 camera made in the early 1930s.

 Here are the other Camera Reviews I've done.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell some of the cameras reviewed, along with many other photo oddities I've accumulated over my 50-plus years with cameras and images.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Envoy Wide Angle camera

My Envoy Wide Angle camera

I’ve always been drawn to anything panoramic—cameras, negatives, even yard‑long prints. I love images that feel like the way I actually see: scanning the edges, noticing subjects on the periphery, wanting just a little more in the frame.

 That’s why I’m so fond of cameras that may not be truly panoramic, but still give a generous wide‑angle view. I enjoy classic street and fashion work—Diane Arbus, Elliott Erwitt, Henri Cartier‑Bresson, Richard Avedon, Herb Ritts, Irving Penn—I can happily look at their photos all day long. But when it comes to scenic images, even with masters like Ansel Adams and Edward Weston, a part of me is always wondering what’s just outside the edge of the frame.

 So when I went hunting for a camera to feature in this week’s camera‑collecting blog, the Envoy Wide Angle was sitting there on one of my shelves, quietly staring back at me. It isn’t famous, it isn’t flashy, but it’s a small English wide‑angle box that happens to see the world a lot like I do.

 My friend, fellow camera blogger, and co‑host of the Camerosity podcast, Mike Eckman, wrote an excellent review of the Envoy Wide Angle a while back, so I deliberately let some time pass after his piece. Now that the dust has settled, it felt like the right moment to pull my Envoy down, load some film, and see what I could add to the conversation.

Brief History of Ilford:

 While often synonymous with high-quality black-and-white film, Ilford Ltd. holds a distinct and fascinating place in the history of camera manufacturing. Founded in 1879 by Alfred Hugh Harman in Ilford, England, the company initially focused on dry plates. However, as the photographic medium evolved, Ilford expanded into the hardware that would utilize their world-class emulsions.

 Ilford's foray into cameras began in the late 19th century with specialized plate cameras. By the early 1900s, they introduced models like the Ilford Falling Plate camera. These were designed to be robust and reliable, catering to a growing market of serious amateur photographers. As roll film began to dominate, Ilford transitioned, ensuring its hardware remained a perfect vessel for its advancing film technology.

 The post-WWII era marked Ilford's most ambitious period in camera design. Two models, in particular, stand out to collectors and historians:

  • The Ilford Witness (1953): A legendary 35mm rangefinder that is now a rare prize for collectors. It featured a unique interrupted screw mount and was designed to compete with the likes of Leica and Contax. Though technically brilliant, its high production costs led to a very limited run.

  • The Ilford Advocate (1949): Instantly recognizable by its ivory-white stove-enamel finish, the Advocate was a 35mm camera designed to stay cool under the sun (ideal for tropical climates). Its distinct aesthetic and reliable performance made it a mid-century icon.

 By the 1960s, Ilford pivoted toward the mass market, collaborating with manufacturers like SND (West Germany) to produce the Ilford Sportsman series. These were affordable, user-friendly 35mm cameras that brought the Ilford name into households across the UK and Europe.

Today, while Ilford's focus has returned to its roots in chemistry and paper, the "Ilford" badge on a vintage camera remains a symbol of British engineering and a golden era of silver halide photography.

My Camera

The Envoy Wide Angle is a deceptively simple, very boxy camera that shoots big 6×9 images on either 120 or 620 roll film, or on plates with a removable back. It measures roughly 5 inches wide by about 3.75 inches tall and 3.5 inches deep, and it has the solid, brick‑like feel you’d expect from a mid‑century British box. Controls are straightforward: shutter speeds from about 1/150 to 1 second plus B, set by rotating the ring around the shutter until the red dot aligns with your chosen speed.

On my example, the shutter unit is from Agilux (Agifold), who also produced their own cameras in the late 1940s and 1950s. The cocking lever sits around the 5 o’clock position on the front, while the shutter release is down at about 7 o’clock. It’s not an ergonomic marvel by modern standards, but after a couple of frames your fingers know where to go.

The Envoy’s party trick is the lens: a 64mm f/6.5 Taylor, Taylor & Hobson wide‑angle, a 4‑element design covering an angle of about 82 degrees, roughly equivalent to a 25–28mm lens on 35mm. For what is otherwise a plain, fixed‑focus box, that’s an unusually ambitious piece of glass. Held level, distortion is minimal, and the lens has a reputation for being impressively sharp, especially stopped down.

Although the lens opens to f/6.5, the manual is clear that this full opening is only for focusing on the optional ground‑glass screen when using plates. In normal use on roll film, the working apertures start at about f/11 and go down to f/32; f/16 will satisfy most situations, and f/22 is where the lens is said to give its best coverage and performance. There is no focusing mechanism at all—sharpness comes purely from depth of field, with approximate ranges as follows:

  • f/11: 10 ft to 60 ft

  • f/16: 6 ft to 400 ft

  • f/22: 4 ft to infinity

  • f/32: 30 in to infinity

 In other words, once you’ve set a sensible aperture for the light, the Envoy behaves like a very refined point‑and‑shoot: you concentrate on framing, and the lens quietly takes care of focus.

Using the Finder and Framing:

 The Envoy doesn’t give you an optical viewfinder in the usual sense. Instead, you flip up a rectangular sports finder on the front and a matching chrome frame on the back, then look through and do your best to line things up. The rear frame has a little slider for 3 ft, 6 ft, and infinity, but in practice those settings don’t seem to change much—the framing is more of an approximation than a precision instrument.

When using the Envoy Wide Angle camera, I treated it like a loose, intuitive framing aid. I composed a bit wider than I might with a “normal” camera, knowing I could afford to include extra space in those big negatives. Between the generous depth of field and the easy loading of 120 roll film, the camera encourages you to work simply: point, estimate, and trust the lens.

To open the back of the camera to load film, on the right side is a top slider that pulls up, and the film back will open for roll film. On the back of the camera, when using roll film, there is an insert. Pull up the winding wheel, and the film insert is removable. Pull out the insert and load the roll of film as you would any 120 or 620 film. Put the insert back into the camera's body, press down the winding wheel to engage the film's notches at the end, close the back, and make sure it's fully closed and locked. On the back of the camera is a sliding cover for the red window, which you use to wind the film and note the frame number. Wind the film until you reach the number 1, and you're now ready to take your first photo.

 A Morning at Moulton Falls:

 Once I pulled the Envoy Wide Angle off the shelf, I did what any curious wide‑angle fan would do: I loaded a roll of 120 and took it somewhere with space to breathe. My wife and I, along with our grand‑dog Bean, headed up to Moulton Falls in Washington, about 15 miles from home. It was a sunny day, but we went out early, while the sun was still low and brushing the trees and river with softer light.

 Knowing the Envoy really comes into its own at smaller apertures—f/16, f/22, even f/32—I chose 400‑speed film to give myself some flexibility in the forest shade and along the river. With a fixed‑focus lens, the only “decisions” you really make are shutter speed and aperture, so I quickly settled into that mindset: pick a stop for the depth of field I wanted, set a reasonable shutter speed, and let the camera do the rest.

Front view of Envoy Wide Angle, No. 2880.

 Moulton Falls is one of those places that suits a wide‑angle view: the arched bridge, the rocky river, the trees crowding the edges of the frame. It’s exactly the sort of scene where I’m always wishing I could see “just a bit more” to the left and right, and the Envoy happily obliged, giving me big, expansive 6×9 negatives from a very compact box.

My Results:

 Back from the walk, I was pleasantly surprised by what came out of that first roll. For a camera with no focusing mechanism at all, the Envoy’s lens is very sharp, with good contrast and a pleasing tonality across the 6×9 frame. Stopped down, the corners hold up better than you’d expect from a mid‑century wide‑angle box, and distortion is minimal as long as you keep the camera level.

 The 400‑speed film paired well with the slower shutter speeds and small apertures I was using under the trees and near the water. Scenes that could easily have turned muddy or soft came out crisp, with plenty of detail in the rocks, foliage, and bridge structure. For a “simple” camera, the negatives have a surprisingly modern look once scanned.

Final Thoughts:

 For something that looks like a straightforward box, the Envoy Wide Angle turns out to be a very capable wide‑angle 6×9 machine. The lens is sharp, contrasty, and handles scenery with confidence, as long as you respect its need to be stopped down. The fixed focus and sports finder mean it will never be a precision tool in the modern sense, but that’s part of its charm.

 This one is a keeper in my collection, both for its compact size and for the quality of the images it produces. I’d happily put it in the same conversation as the Brooks Plaubel Veri‑Wide, a fun, wide‑angle medium-format option, with the Envoy winning on simplicity and portability. If you enjoy wide‑angle cameras and can live with fixed focus and a guessy finder, it’s well worth tracking one down and adding it to your group of “user” cameras.

 I’d love to hear your thoughts—if you have an Envoy Wide Angle or another fixed‑focus wide‑angle medium-format camera you enjoy, let me know how you use it and what you like about it.​

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store where I sell some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with lenses, and other odd photo items. Please stop by and browse around. I list my items with a "make offer" option, so if you see something you like, make a fair offer, and I'll most likely accept. Let me know you saw my blog.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Rolleiflex SL66

My Rolleiflex SL66

As a photographer and photo industry professional for well over 50 years, I've had the privilege of working with just about every kind of camera you can imagine. From everyday 35mm SLRs and rangefinders to Hasselblad systems, I've logged a lot of miles with medium‑format gear as well.

 In the late 1990s, I represented Sinar, which meant regular time behind some of the finest large‑format cameras available. Later, repping Leaf digital backs put me in front of Mamiya RBs and 645s, Hasselblad V and H systems, Fuji GX680s, and the Contax 645. With all that variety, there was still one big gap in my experience: I had never actually photographed with a Rolleiflex SL66.

 About a year before I retired—so roughly three years ago—I finally had my chance. An SL66 with 80mm, 50mm, and 250mm lenses came up for auction online. I wasn't sure about the condition, but I rolled the dice and bid anyway.

 When I won the lot at a surprisingly low price, my first reaction wasn't joy; it was suspicion. Inexpensive cameras often have a story. To my surprise, the body turned out to be mint‑to‑near‑mint, and the lenses were in equally excellent shape. The real question, of course, was whether it worked.

 I pulled off the lens cap, removed the dark slide, cocked the shutter, and pressed the release. At a fast speed, the camera rewarded me with that beautiful, crisp shutter sound. Then came the real test: I set it to 1/2 second. The shutter opened, paused, and closed exactly as it should. At that point, I had a big grin on my face—I knew I had a mechanically healthy SL66 on my hands.

 And then, like so many good intentions, the camera went on a shelf.

Background: Rollei's Leap into SLRs

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For decades, "Rolleiflex" meant twin‑lens reflex. That changed with the introduction of the Rolleiflex SL66 at Photokina 1966, Rollei's serious move into the professional 6×6 SLR world. Designed as a studio‑oriented system to challenge Hasselblad, the SL66 combined a focal‑plane shutter, modular film backs, and interchangeable finders with familiar Rollei ergonomics: left‑hand focusing and right‑hand film advance.

 Rollei had explored the idea of a medium‑format SLR as far back as the mid‑1950s, but strong TLR sales kept those projects on the shelf until demand shifted and Hasselblad began to dominate professional work. When it finally arrived, the SL66 was a true "engineer's camera": bellows focusing, the ability to reverse‑mount lenses for close‑up work, and front‑standard tilt for plane‑of‑focus control—features that gave it some of the movements you'd normally associate with a view camera.

 Built from 1966 to 1982, the SL66 used 120/220 roll film in 6×6 backs and typically wore Carl Zeiss Planar glass, firmly placing it in the high‑end studio category. Later SL66E and SL66SE models added through‑the‑lens metering and improved electronics. Still, the core concept stayed the same: a heavy, extremely capable, close‑focus‑friendly studio machine in a world increasingly moving toward lighter, more electronic medium‑format systems.

My Camera

My Rolleiflex SL66 is a substantial camera. With the 80mm lens retracted, it measures about 7" front to back; with the bellows fully extended, it's closer to 9". It's roughly 6" wide thanks to the oversized focusing knob, about 4.5" tall with the waist‑level finder closed, and around 7" tall when the chimney is open. On the scale, the body with a back and an 80mm lens comes in at about 4 pounds, 4.5 ounces—this is not a casual walk‑around point‑and‑shoot.

That weight buys you some very unique capabilities. The standout feature is the built‑in bellows, which allows the SL66 to focus much closer than most medium‑format SLRs I've used. Mamiya RB/RZ cameras also use bellows and can get in tight, but the SL66 manages similar close‑focus versatility in a slightly more compact, much lighter and a better‑balanced package. For anyone who loves close‑up or macro work, that alone makes the camera worth a serious look.

The second signature feature is the double-bayonet lens mount, primarily used with the 50mm, 80mm, and 150mm lenses. The lenses can mount in the normal way, with automatic aperture operation, or be reversed on the body for even greater magnification. In reversed mode, the aperture becomes manual: you open up to focus, then stop down to your chosen aperture for the exposure. It's slower than modern macro setups, but the flexibility it provides is excellent for tabletop and product work.

In addition to bellows and reverse mounting, the SL66 offers up to 8 degrees of lens tilt. That tilt lets you "lay down" the plane of focus, bringing more of a product or subject into sharpness at wider apertures. In practice, it means I can photograph something like a 35mm cassette and its box at close range and keep both on‑axis surfaces acceptably sharp without having to stop down to the smallest apertures.

Unlike Hasselblad V‑series cameras, which use leaf shutters in the lenses, the SL66 uses a focal‑plane shutter in the body, with speeds from 1 second to 1/1000 plus "B" for long exposures. Flash sync is limited to 1/30, but for studio or location strobe work, the flash duration actually stops motion, so I haven't found the 1/30 sync speed to be a practical limitation with decent strobes. The shutter speed dial is integrated into the film advance: you pull out the handle, advance clockwise until it stops, then swing it back counterclockwise to cock the shutter for the next frame. Inside the crank is a multiple‑exposure switch, which makes stacking exposures on one frame very straightforward once you know where to find it.

The SL66 lens lineup was designed by Carl Zeiss, and it shows. Optically, the lenses I have are excellent, with contrast and sharpness fully in the "top tier" I expect from Zeiss glass. The system spans from 30mm all the way to 1000mm, and Rollei also offered two leaf‑shutter lenses—an 80mm Distagon and a 150mm Sonnar—with flash sync up to 1/500 for shooters who need higher sync speeds. In my experience so far, the standard lenses deliver exactly the kind of image quality you want from a camera of this size and weight.

 The film back system is well thought out. The standard back takes either 120 or 220 film, and you can get inserts and backs for 6×6 or 6×4.5. The dark slide parks neatly on the back when you're shooting, which means you're not constantly wondering where you set it down. Loading is similar to Mamiya's insert‑based backs: open the door, pull the insert, load the film, reinsert, then wind to the first frame. A pop‑out winding wheel on the side of the back helps tension and advance the film before the main crank takes over. Once you've shot the twelve frames on 120, the wheel pops back out to let you wind the roll off before opening the back.

On the camera body's left side is that big focusing knob, which doubles as a reference for the lens in use; you can pull it out and set it for your focal length. The knob turns quite a bit when you're focused in tight, but the throw is smooth and precise. Just ahead of it is the tilt control: a locking lever and wheel for setting and securing the lens tilt angle. The body also carries a cold shoe for accessories and a pair of covered flash sync ports. Up top, pressing the chrome button opens the waist‑level finder, and a second press pops up the magnifier for critical focusing.

I use an L‑grip that mounts into the bottom quick‑mount slot alongside the tripod socket. That grip transforms the camera from a studio brick into something I'm comfortable hand‑holding for a walk, letting my left hand manage focus and support while my right handles shutter release and film advance. It doesn't make the SL66 light, but it does make it surprisingly usable off a tripod.

My Results

When I finally pulled the SL66 off the shelf this year, I decided not to overthink it. I loaded a roll of film, stepped out into my neighborhood on an uncharacteristically sunny February day in the Pacific Northwest, and treated it like any other camera I'd take for a walk. The first few frames were simple subjects—houses, trees, textures—mainly to get a feel for the shutter sequence, the advance, and how the camera balanced with the L‑grip in hand.

 What struck me almost immediately was how deliberate the camera feels. The weight and long focus throw slow you down in a good way; you don't "spray and pray" with an SL66. Composing on the waist‑level finder is a pleasure: the screen is bright, the magnifier makes critical focusing easy, and the big focus knob lets you land focus precisely rather than hunting back and forth. By the time I finished that first roll, the camera felt intuitive in a way only a well‑designed mechanical tool can.

Back at home, I wanted to see what the SL66 could really do in its natural habitat: close‑up work. I set up a small scene with a 35mm film cassette and its box, first focusing as close as I could with the lens in the normal position. Even without reversing the lens, the built‑in bellows let me get in surprisingly tight. Then I flipped the lens around on the double bayonet mount and repeated the setup. The difference in magnification was obvious—the frame filled with the cassette and text on the box —and the tilt function came into its own, letting me hold both the front and top surfaces in focus at a reasonable working aperture.

My apologies for the dusty images.

I also pointed the camera at a plant in my office, working closely again. Here, the combination of bellows, tilt, and that Zeiss glass really shone: crisp detail where I wanted it, smooth falloff where I didn't, and a rendering that feels more like a small view camera than a traditional medium‑format SLR. The process is slower than with a modern macro lens and autofocus, but the results—and the experience of making the images—are deeply satisfying.

Conclusion: Is the SL66 the Best Medium‑Format SLR?

In my personal opinion, the Rolleiflex SL66 is the best medium‑format single‑lens reflex camera I've ever used. It isn't the lightest, fastest, or most convenient option, but as a creative tool—especially for close‑up, product, and careful location work—it's truly exceptional.

 Why I let it sit so long is beyond me. The camera is a joy to shoot, and the results justify the effort. Small design touches like the dark‑slide holder, the smart film advance on the back, the generous close‑focusing via bellows, and the ability to reverse lenses for even greater magnification all add up to a macro photographer's dream. The overall build quality, leatherwork, and control layout make it feel every bit the premium instrument it was intended to be.

 That said, it's important to be honest about the downsides. The SL66 is heavy and bulky compared with many 6×6 systems; accessories and lenses can be harder to find and more expensive than Hasselblad equivalents, and the focal‑plane shutter's 1/30 flash sync may be a deal‑breaker for some styles of studio work. It's also an older, complex mechanical camera, which means a good technician and a healthy maintenance budget are essential.

 If you value portability, fast handling, and high sync speeds above all else, there are better choices. But if you're drawn to careful composition, close‑up and tabletop work, and you appreciate a camera that rewards deliberate, thoughtful photography, the Rolleiflex SL66 is tough to beat. It has become one of my favorite medium‑format cameras, and I fully expect it to see regular use.

 Thank you for taking the time to learn about my new favorite medium‑format camera. I'd love to hear your experiences with the SL66—or your questions about this or any of my other camera reviews—and if you're curious about owning one yourself, feel free to stop by my eBay store, Cuny's Cameras and Photos, to see what I currently have available.

Sakura Bakelite camera

The 1930s Sakura Bakelite: A pocket-sized piece of Japanese history with a surprisingly modern 'X' design.

Looking through my camera collection, I wanted to find something more unusual to write about this week. When I picked up the Sakura camera in its case, I didn't think much about it until I opened the camera's case and saw the writing inside. 

 The writing said, "K. Kitayama" along the bottom, and "kin" on the right and kizyun" on the left, so my immediate thought was to try and do some research to see if I could find the ancestors of the camera, or possibly even the owner of the camera. 

 Since the camera was released in Japan in 1937, I imagined the original owner might still be alive, but the chances are slim. Also, since the lettering was in English and not Japanese, the camera was brought to the US by the owner, but when? 

 Looking more closely at the case, there is a red stamp on the inside top. It appears to be in Japanese, but it's pretty faded; there's also a number "74" that is pretty visible in the lower right corner. So, did the camera enter the US in 1974 when the owner brought it here from Japan, and was it stamped by customs or the Japanese government before leaving?

 Also, when I took the camera out of the case to inspect it for this week's blog, on the back wall of the case is a signature written in ink that appears to be a name starting with K. and Kizyun? I tried many different Google searches for different spellings. While I find these things fascinating, my chances of finding the original owner, or possibly some family members, are very slim. Still, my passion for finding the original owner remains. 

Have you ever found a piece of gear with a name inscribed on it? I'd love to hear your detective stories in the comments.

 Now that I've spent way too many hours going down the rabbit hole trying to find out who the camera belonged to, let me tell you more about the camera itself.

My Sakura Bakelite camera

 The Sakura (Bakelite) camera is an odd, oval-shaped model made by Konishiroku in the late 1930s. Konishiroku was the original company that became Konica. While the Sakura camera is a very basic model that I'll describe below, I understand it's rather rare.

 Sakura, meaning "Cherry" in Japanese, was a short-lived brand produced by Konishiroku during the 1930s. Their most popular items were a series of 3 different, beautifully colored, Sakura Box cameras. One of the cameras used 127-sized film for its 4x6.5cm format. In contrast, their larger cameras were 4.6x6cm or 6x9cm format cameras on 120 film. These cameras are also very collectible and rare items.

 

Konishiroku Before World War II:


The story of Konishiroku (the predecessor to Konica) is essentially the birth of the Japanese photographic industry. Long before it became a global imaging giant, the company began in 1873 when Rokusaburo Sugiura began selling photographic and lithographic materials at Konishiya Rokuemon, a traditional pharmacy in Tokyo.

Ad for Sakura camera from Camera-Wiki

 By 1876, Sugiura moved the photographic department to a dedicated shop called Konishi Honten. This move was visionary; at the time, photography was a fledgling Western import, yet Sugiura foresaw its cultural and commercial potential in Meiji-era Japan.

 In the late 19th century, Japan relied almost entirely on imported cameras and chemicals from Europe and America. Konishi Honten sought to change this. In 1902, the company established the Rokuoh-sha factory in Tokyo, marking a pivotal shift from a mere retailer to a pioneer manufacturer.

Just one year later, in 1903, they released the Cherry Portable Camera. This was Japan's first brand-name camera, a simple box-type unit that democratized photography for the Japanese public, much like the Kodak Brownie did in the West.

 Throughout the 1920s and 1930s, the company refined its engineering to compete with high-end German imports. Several key milestones defined this pre-war era:

 

  • The Pearlette (1925): Based on the Vest Pocket Kodak, this folding camera became an icon in Japan, remaining in production in various forms for decades.

  • The Lily and Idea series: These cameras showed Konishiroku's ability to produce sophisticated folding and plate cameras that appealed to serious amateurs and professionals.

  • Establishment of the "Konishiroku" name: In 1921, the company reorganized as a partnership, and by 1936, it was incorporated as Konishiroku Honten Co., Ltd.

 By the mid-1930s, Konishiroku was not just making camera bodies; it was a master of the entire "imaging chain." They produced Sakura brand cameras, film, and photographic paper. In 1935, they began developing their own high-quality lenses under the Hexar name.

 As the 1930s drew to a close, the Japanese government began consolidating the industry for the war effort. Konishiroku's precision manufacturing was increasingly diverted toward military optics, such as aerial cameras and rangefinders. However, the foundation they built—combining retail savvy with deep technical manufacturing—ensured that when the "Konica" brand eventually debuted in the post-war era, it was backed by over 70 years of institutional expertise.

My Camera:

 My Sakura Bakelite camera is an odd, oval-shaped camera with a pull-out front lens used for taking photos, and it retracts when it's in its case for transport. It's only 3.75" wide by 2.75" tall, including the film winding knob, and 2" deep with the lens retracted or 3" with the lens extended. It only weighs 6.1 ounces without film in the camera.

The camera is a rich, dark brown Bakelite with slight mottling and a grainy finish, giving it a nice texture. SAKURA is molded in Bakelite at the top of the pull-out lens area. There is a smooth "X" shape on the faceplate as well, with the lens centered at the "X"'s intersection. 

X design and controls on the face of the Sakura camera

The Sakura camera is extremely basic. Its fixed-focus Rokuoh-Sha Tokyo lens and lack of adjustable apertures make it simple to use, making it ideal for casual photography or quick snapshots. The shutter settings are either "I" for instant or "B" for bulb, used for timed exposures. The shutter is set by a chrome arrow pointing to the desired setting. The shutter release is just below the shutter setting. It is a longer, curved lever, emphasizing its straightforward design for beginners or vintage enthusiasts interested in minimalistic cameras.

On top of the Sakura camera is a chrome pull-up viewfinder in the front, along with a pop-up pointer in the rear, which you use to center your subject before taking the photo. Also, at the top of the camera is the film winding knob, which has an unusual numbering system. The idea is that you start at number 1, then turn the nob to number 2, which is the proper amount of length to get the film to the next frame. I didn't use this method, but used the red window on the back of the camera to find the frame numbers. The red window also features a sliding chrome cover that opens or closes as needed.

At the bottom of the camera is a tripod socket for timed exposures. However, there is no cable release socket, as is generally used for this. Also at the bottom is a lever that locks or unlocks the film chamber, allowing it to be removed from the camera for loading or unloading film. Once the chamber is unlocked, the film chamber lifts up from the top of the camera, but this can only be done when the lens is extended; otherwise, the lens blocks the chamber in the camera body. Once the lens is extended, the film chamber extends from the top of the camera, and you can load film to take photos. Once loaded, slide the film chamber back into the camera body, lock it into place, set the frame counter to 1, and you're ready to snap some photos.

My Results:

 I took two rolls of film with the Sakura camera because the first roll turned out so poorly. It didn't dawn on me that a couple of things happened when shooting the first roll. The first thing I noticed was that I forgot to pull the lens out of the camera body while shooting, but only for the first 1-2 photos, which resulted in some pretty unusual, very out-of-focus images. 

 The second thing that happened was when I was shooting the first roll, I was pulling the shutter speed lever in place of the shutter release, then when I found the shutter release, the shutter speed was set to "B", so all of these images were blurry from motion, as well as overexposed.

 So I loaded a second roll after seeing the disaster from my first roll, and #1 made sure the lens was extended, and #2, I put my finger on the shutter release lever before framing the photo so I wouldn't accidentally pull the shutter settings from "I" to "B". The second roll turned out much better than the first, and while I'm embarrassed by the first, I needed to share my experience with the camera.

 Once I figured out the mistakes, the images actually turned out very nicely.

Conclusion:

 The Sakura was fun to shoot with, but the frustration of the first roll must have befuddled the original users, too. Putting the shutter control on the top of the shutter release made for an interesting, but frustrating, experience. If the company had switched the shutter release with the shutter controller, the experience could have been better. At least switching the "B" and "I" settings would have been helpful.

 Still, I enjoyed using the Sakura bakelite camera. There's still something gnawing at me: who and where, and the story behind this little, oddly shaped Bakelite camera that's approaching 90 years old.

Quick question: Have you ever found a piece of gear with a name inscribed on it? I'd love to hear your detective stories in the comments.

 Thank you for learning about this wonderful and rare Japanese camera, made just before World War II.

 Here is a list of my other CAMERA REVIEWS, with links.

 Cuny's Cameras & Photos is my online eBay store where I sell many of the cameras I've reviewed, along with other photos and camera accessories.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Welta Superfekta

My Welta Superfekta camera

Not being wealthy, my collecting has always been focused on cameras well within our family's financial means. Up until my final ten years of working and before retirement, the cameras I purchased were items you could find at local flea markets and estate sales, or occasionally I made a trade for an item while selling at a camera show where I had a table.

 Being drawn to obscure and unusual cameras and having devoured McKeown's Camera Guide for many years, the Welta Superfekta is one camera I've always dreamed of adding to my collection. Due to its price and relative scarcity in the U.S., it's always been out of reach for me until this past few years.

 It wasn't until I looked at an online camera auction that I found the Welta Superfekta at a price that was not only reasonable but also inexpensive. Online, the camera looked in good to decent condition, but they said the shutter was erratic. To me, those words mean I'll need to send the camera in for a shutter repair, which isn't too uncommon for a camera reaching 100 years old. 

 I purchased the Welta Superfekta online, and when the camera arrived, as suspected, its shutter was extremely sluggish and needed to be CLA'd. I reached out to the person I usually send cameras for servicing, and he confirmed he could service the shutter but wasn't sure about other areas of the camera, as he wasn't too familiar with it.

The excitement of adding the Welta Superfekta to my collection was wonderful, especially since it's a 6x9 cm-format camera that takes 120 film. Still, the more exciting part of the camera is that it's very similar to the Cornu Ontoflex, which has a rotating back, allowing the photographer to shoot both vertically and horizontally without turning the camera sideways. Just rotate the back from vertical to horizontal and flip the image orientation, as with the Mamiya RB67.

 The one thing I noticed when I turned my camera from vertical to horizontal is that the back doesn't turn all the way, which makes me curious about its history. This flaw, while concerning, adds character and a story to the camera, resonating with collectors who appreciate Imperfections.  

Another reason for my excitement to add the Welta Superfekta to my collection is that it would be the third folding Twin Lens camera in my collection. I had already purchased and written about both the Welta Perfekta and the Zeh Zeca-Flex cameras, making this the “Trifecta” of this camera style.

Welta Superfekta, Perfekta and Zeh Zeca-Flex camera.

Welta before World War II:

 The history of Welta Kamerawerke leading up to World War II is a testament to the rapid innovation and high-precision craftsmanship that defined the German photographic industry in the early 20th century. Founded in 1914 by Walter Waurich and Theodor Weber in Freital, near Dresden, the company began as "Waurich & Weber" before adopting the "Welta" brand name that would eventually become synonymous with high-end folding cameras.

French ad for the Welta Perfekta and Superfekta cameras

 In its first decade, Welta focused on the transition from heavy glass-plate cameras to the more versatile roll-film formats. By the 1920s, Freital and the surrounding Dresden area had become the global epicenter of camera manufacturing, and Welta held its own against giants like Zeiss Ikon. Their early success was built on the folding camera—a design that allowed a high-quality lens and shutter to collapse into a slim, leather-covered metal body.

 The 1930s marked Welta's "Golden Era." During this decade, the company moved beyond standard designs to create some of the most mechanically complex cameras ever made. While competitors were focusing on the emerging 35mm trend, Welta mastered the 120 roll-film market with innovative models like:

 

  • The Weltur: A rangefinder folding camera known for its incredible build quality and integrated viewfinders.

  • The Perfekta and Superfekta: These folding Twin Lens Reflex (TLR) cameras were engineering marvels, offering the ground-glass focusing of a studio camera in a portable, collapsing frame.

  • The Welti: A foray into the 35mm market that proved Welta could compete with the Leica in terms of precision and optics, often featuring high-end Carl Zeiss Jena or Schneider lenses.

 Welta's pre-war philosophy was to offer a variety of price points without sacrificing mechanical integrity. You could find a simple Welta Trio for the casual hobbyist, or a Superfekta with a rotating back for the professional who demanded perfection. This versatility allowed Welta to export heavily to the UK and the United States, where their cameras were often rebranded for local retailers.

 By the late 1930s, Welta was a premier name in photography. However, as Germany shifted toward a war economy, production began to pivot away from consumer optics. After the war, Freital was part of the Soviet occupation zone (later East Germany), and Welta was eventually absorbed into the state-owned VEB Pentacon, marking the end of its era as an independent, family-founded innovator.

My Camera:

 My Welta Superfekta camera is 7.5" tall without the light chimney opened, and 10" with it opened, by 4" wide, and 3.5" deep with the body retracted, and 6.25" deep when the body of the camera is extended. The camera weighs 3 pounds, 0.2 ounces without film, so it has some heft.

To extend the camera body away from the film chamber, press the silver button on the right side of the camera body, located just below the film winding lever. Pressing the button quickly extends the camera lens area, and you'll be able to see the bellows. By doing so, you'll see how the camera gets its name, a folding twin-lens camera. When I extended the camera's front from the rear, I noticed the bellows were in excellent light-tight condition.

 My camera has a 7.5cm f/3.5 Weltaskop viewing lens, along with a Carl Zeiss Jena 10.5 F/3.5 Tessar taking lens, so the viewing lens is wider than the taking lens, and the taking lens is in a Compur-Rapid shutter with shutter speeds from 1/400 to 1 sec. along with "B", and "T". The focus lever is located on the left side of the lens when you're holding the camera, and it slides up and down to focus on your subject. 

There is also a focus scale along the top of the camera, between the Welta sign on the film body and the Superfekta sign on the lens area. As you slide the focus lever up and down, you'll see a triangle move from side to side, indicating the distance to the subject on the focus scale, which is in meters.

 Along the back of the camera, by the viewfinder, there is a button to press to open the light chimney. The light chimney popped up, and along one side is a depth-of-field scale for the camera, and on the front is the magnifying lens, which flips as it should. 

On the back of the film body is another sliding lever that you move to the left, in the direction of the arrow, and the back will open. Opening the back of the camera, I noticed that the film advance roller, which activates the frame counter, is missing, so the frame counter isn't operational on this camera. Luckily, there is a red window on the back door so you can see the numbers being transported as you roll the film from one image to the next. 

 I also noticed a paper sign glued to the inside of the back door at the top, which read, "non si girare il rullo che nel senso della freccia" (translation from Italian to English: "do not turn the roller in the direction of the arrow").  This message on the inside tells me the camera is originally from Italy. I guess the camera was made for the Italian market, but the reseller may have added that; I'm not certain. Still, it's interesting that a German camera was sold in Italy and found its way to the USA.

To load the camera with film, the chamber where you put in a fresh roll of film pulls up to make it easier to put in the film, which is a nice feature in the camera. Otherwise, the camera loads just like many roll film cameras, but it would have been nice to have a frame counter that advances from the roller on the back to indicate the frame numbers. I'll just have to do it the "old-fashioned" way and look through the red window to get to the next frame when I shoot.

To collapse the camera lens area into the camera body, you'll need to press in two silver buttons on the front of the camera, placed between the viewing and taking lens, and press the lens area into the film body, which is extended by a couple of scissor struts on each side of the camera. Be sure to retract the camera stand leg, under the front lens area, just behind the tripod socket, before closing the camera. If you don't do this, the camera will not close. I know because I've tried a few times by accident.

 When you close the camera, another interesting thing is that there's a roller at the tip of the film area on the outside. When you close the lens into the film body, the viewfinder rolls along the roller, sliding it forward and covering the focus scale. Given that the camera is almost 100 years old, it's still interesting how it opens and closes mechanically. 

If you don't want to rotate the film chamber when shooting, there is a flip-up sports-type finder on the side of the camera you can use if that's easier for taking horizontal images. It just gives the photographer another option when using the camera.

 

My Results:

 I don't have a case that fits my Welta Superfekta camera. The camera doesn't have the standard loops you can snap into a carrying strap, so when I went out shooting a few times, I just put it in a pouch-style case to carry it and took it out when I was ready to shoot.

 Looking at the side of the camera, there are a couple of studs and other areas where a strap might fit, but without a manual or a nomenclature for the items on the camera, I'm unsure what they are used for.

 I took the Welta Superfekta out a couple of times to shoot with: once to a local lake and another time while walking around the neighborhood to get closer-up images.

 Here are the results from my two times using the camera.

Conclusion:

 The camera's results underwhelmed me, as one of two things is happening. First, I didn't think the images would be as sharp as I had imagined; that may be because something happened to the camera, like a drop or impact, which is also why the camera doesn't flip all the way horizontally when shooting. 

 My weakening eyesight may also cause it, but because of eye surgery I had last year on my right and dominant eye, I'm becoming more and more dependent on using my left eye for focusing, which is difficult for me at times. Personally, I feel it's more the first issue: something tweaked the camera body, and the lens doesn't align properly, which is why I wanted to shoot the second, more close-up images walking through the neighborhood.

 Nonetheless, it's somewhat awkward to hold without a neck strap to keep it steady. Still, I absolutely love the camera's ability to rotate the film back for both vertical and horizontal photography. It's a wonderful camera to have in my collection, and for the price paid, even with the servicing, it's still a bargain.

Welta Perfekta and Superfakta side views

 Thank you for taking the time to learn about this wonderful photographic marvel from almost 100 years ago.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photo is my online eBay store, which sells some of the cameras reviewed, along with many camera and photo accessories.

 Until next week, please be safe.

No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak

My No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak camera

As I've mentioned in several of my posts, I've always been drawn to the odd, unusual, colored, or panoramic cameras, so when I had the opportunity to purchase a No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak many years ago, I jumped at the chance. 

 I found this camera while visiting an antique store during a business trip to Philadelphia. During my sales calls, if I had some spare time between appointments, I'd seek out antique malls and stores close to where I was and spend some time looking to see if there was anything interesting. On this particular day, as I was upstairs in the shop's attic, which was musty and smelled of stale air, I found the No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak.

 Not knowing much about the camera beyond seeing it in McKeown's Camera Price Guide, it appeared to be in decent condition. I started turning dials and pressing buttons to get a sense of the camera's condition. 

 It appeared to be pretty solid, but there were a few flaws, but when I looked at the price tag, which was only $25.00, I figured I give it a shot, so I brought it downstairs to talk to the shop owner, and asked if they'd offer a slight discount on the camera, and I offered them $20.00, which they took. The shop owner said the camera's been up in the attic for many years and was happy to give it a new home where it would be appreciated.

Front view of No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak

 Now that I had the camera in hand, I was setting the camera in the car seat next to me, getting ready to go to my next appointment, the thought of how was I going to get the camera home, since all I had was a carry on bag, and my case for my computer, and other office related gear which I brought with me during sales calls.

 Luckily for me, this wasn't the first time I've run into this issue. There have been time during my travels, that I've had to cram so many items, mainly cameras or lenses in my suitcase, I'd be afraid that I'd struggle lifting the suitcase over my head due to the weight of it, but I've always managed to move items around in my suitcase, fitting even larger items, like the No. 3B Quick Focus camera in there and safely transporting them home safely tucked securely in my carry-on bag.

 While the camera looks very ordinary on the outside, resembling many other box-style cameras, the one thing that sets it apart is its ability, as the name suggests, to focus quickly on the subject. This system is still just a guestimate process as there is no ground glass or focus screen in the camera. Still, rather than setting a wheel in the later versions or sliding a bar to an approximate distance from you to the subject, press a button. The camera springs the lens to an approximate distance from the film plane, replicating the distance required to produce a sharp image on the film.

 I've owned the No. 3B Quick Focus camera for more than 20 years, and it wasn't until I was going through some boxes of cameras I have that I came across the camera. Looking at the camera, it's in relatively good condition for a camera made between 1905 and 1911, with only a few modifications. The main difference was that earlier versions had a sliding lever to adjust the focus distance, whereas later versions used a circular wheel.



 Early Kodak History:

 The period between 1880 and 1910 was a time of rapid innovation in industrial history, transforming photography from a complex process into a popular hobby, which makes owning a camera from this era especially meaningful for history buffs and enthusiasts.

Early Kodak Advertisment

 Before 1880, photographers had to use "wet plates," which required coating glass with chemicals and developing them immediately before the emulsion dried. In 1880, George Eastman began manufacturing dry plates in Rochester, New York. These could be stored and sold, effectively decoupling the act of taking a photo from the chemistry of preparing it. In 1884, he transitioned from glass to paper film rolls, a pivot that laid the technical foundation for the modern snapshot.

 In 1888, the first Kodak Camera was released. It was a simple box pre-loaded with enough film for 100 exposures. When the roll was finished, the owner sent the entire camera back to the factory. Kodak would develop the film, print the photos, and return the camera reloaded with new film. This "System of Photography" changed the medium's identity from a technical craft to a consumer hobby.

 By 1889, Eastman Kodak introduced transparent nitrocellulose film, which was flexible and clear. This wasn't just a win for photographers; it was the catalyst for the motion picture industry, as it provided Thomas Edison with the material needed to create the first movies.

In 1900, the Brownie camera was launched. Selling for just $1 (with 15-cent film rolls), it was marketed specifically to children. It solidified Kodak's "Razor and Blade" business model: sell the hardware at cost to create a permanent market for the consumables (film and chemicals).

 By the end of the first decade of the 20th century, Kodak had streamlined its corporate structure and expanded into Europe. The company pioneered the "Folding Pocket Kodak" during this time, making cameras small enough to travel anywhere. By 1910, Eastman Kodak wasn't just a company; it was a monopoly of the "snapshot," having successfully democratized the visual record of human life.

My Camera:

 My No. 3B Quick Focus camera is 7" tall by 8.25 " long with the lens retracted, and 4.75" wide, and weighs 2 pounds, 13.4 ounces. The serial number of my camera is 7380K, which you can find on the inside of the plate covering the shutter on the front of the camera. Thank you to Pacific Rim, which has a No. 3B Quick Focus Kodak manual.

The camera has two viewfinders: one on the top for vertical images, and, when turned on its side, one for horizontal images. The camera's shutter release is on the right side; it's a "one motion" release, meaning you slide it down, and the shutter opens and closes. Then slide the shutter release up, and it repeats the open/close motion.

 Also on the right side of the camera is the aperture setting, which is controlled by pulling out a lever to three different positions to set the aperture. Below the aperture settings is another lever you use to set the shutter speed to instant when the lever is in, or to time exposure when you pull it out. In time exposure, you'll need to flip the shutter release up or down to open the shutter, then back to close it.

The strap on my camera is broken, and on the right side of the camera is the wheel to set the distance, as you guessed, but unfortunately, the button to focus the camera is missing. I put in a temporary item, similar to a large thumb tack, to activate the "quick focus" mechanism.

 Mechanically, the camera focuses quickly when you set the wheel to the proper distance, and the lens springs to the focused position very quickly. At this point, since the camera appeared to be in good working order, I figured it was time to put some film in and write a blog post about it. 

It's at this point that I decide to write about a certain camera, only to run into snags that make the process of making images and writing about the camera longer than anticipated. In my younger days, I didn't have the same patience as I do now, as I learned from many similar stories of starting a project: due to unforeseen issues, the process is longer than anticipated.

 When I took the back off the camera to inspect the film chamber, I noticed the negative size on this camera is enormous. The camera produces a 3 1/4" x 5 1/2" negative, also called "Postcard size," on a roll of daylight-loaded 125 film. On each 125-size film roll, the camera produced 10 images.

 Since 125 film is no longer available, I needed to adapt the camera to use a more modern roll film. Online, I found someone who makes adapters for new film to fit into older-style cameras, so I reached out to him, and for a nominal fee, he made me four adapters to fit 120-size film into 125-size cameras. At this point, I will likely purchase a 3D printer so I can do these things myself, but as mentioned earlier, that will pose a whole new set of issues that I'll need to address.

The No. 3B Quick Focus camera has a three-piece hinged back that comes off the camera by pressing in a small button on the top and bottom of the camera, which releases the locking mechanism and allows the camera's back to come off for loading and unloading of film. Due to the age of the camera, one of the hinges is in decent condition, but the other was rather worn, and on one of the times taking the back off, it tore off, and the back was in two pieces, which now needed to be repaired if I wanted to shoot with it.

 I purchased some thick, black book-binding tape, a cloth tape that will allow the back to move slightly while staying intact with the other pieces. The tape was applied on the inside and is very flat and non-reflective. With the back fixed, the film adapters made, I needed to mask off the area of the film opening to accommodate 120-size film, so I needed to mask it off to approximately 2.25" across.

 At the local hobby shop, I found some black, matte construction paper. I cut the construction paper to the desired length and width, and taped it to the back of the film chamber to mask the excess area needed for the 120 film.

After sitting in a box for more than 20 years, the camera's optics needed a good cleaning, so with Q-tips, lens cleaners, and lens tissues in hand, I gave the viewfinders and lenses a good cleaning, which they desperately needed.

 One other thing I needed to figure out was that, since the camera originally used 125-size film, there is a red window on the back so you can tell which frame number you're on. The red window won't work for the adapted 120 film, so I needed to see how much film would be wound per each turn of the advance knob. 

 I put a piece of paper on the spool and turned it one-half turn, which covered the spool. Then I measured that length and determined that it was approximately  1", so to cover the 5 1/4", I'd turn 3 full turns to get approximately 6" of film across the film area. The one thing I didn't know was how much paper backing there was on each roll before reaching the film itself. This I just guessed at and hoped I'd get 5 images per roll since each negative would be 2.25" x 5.25".

 With the camera's back off, I loaded film into the camera, then put the film back on. To guard against any light leaking into the camera through the taped hinge, I put some black painters' tape on the outside as well. Now it was time to go outside and see what the camera could do.

My Results:

 With film loaded in the camera and guessing at the film's approximate starting point, I walked through the neighborhood, estimated the distance to the subject, set the focus wheel of the No. 3B Quick Focus to that distance, and pressed the focus button. The lens sprang to the distance needed, and I took the photos.

 Here are the images I took during my walk through the neighborhood, knowing I'd only have 4-5 images to shoot.

Conclusion:

 Well, after all that work, I still had light leaks. They are all in the same direction and at the same place, so I didn't plug up any areas with a pinhole that caused the light leak.

 Taking the back off the camera and going into a dark room, I shone a light into certain areas around the shutter and the quick focus area. The only spot I saw a light leak was in the top area by the locking mechanism, which the cover itself should have covered.

 I'll need to do a bit more poking around to see what I can find, but overall, the images were good, aside from the light leak. I needed to take a few more close-up shots to check focus, but from what I can see, it turned out well, and it's a fun camera to shoot with.

 Overall, a fun and very good learning experience working with a 115-year-old camera.

 Thank you for taking the time to read about this camera and the issues I had to resolve to get it back to a usable state for shooting.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Cameras and Photo is my eBay online shop, where I sell cameras I've reviewed, along with other camera and photo oddities I've accumulated over my 50-plus years.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Nikon Coolpix E100

My Nikon Coolpix E100 camera.

Since this is the last entry for January, which for my blog is dedicated as "digital month, "I thought I'd write about one of the earlier digital cameras I have in my collection, the Coolpix E100, which was introduced in 1996 and released to the public in 1997. Understanding its place in digital photography history helps collectors and history buffs appreciate how far technology has come.

 It was Nikon's first consumer-based digital camera, soon after Apple's QuickTake, Kodak's DC40, Casio's QV-11, and Sony's Cyber-Shot, which came out between 1994 and 1996. At the time, one of the selling points of the Coolpix E100 was that it worked easily with home computers of that era. This is where I had difficulty writing the article; let me explain.

 I purchased the Nikon Coolpix E100 about 10 years ago for a reasonable price from a Nikon collector who had bought it new when it was released. At the time, he was reluctant to part with the camera since it was Nikon's first foray into consumer digital cameras. I remember receiving the camera, thinking it was very odd and quirky-looking, but it held a special place in my collection as a piece of digital photography history, and it was in good working condition from what I could tell. It also came with the original Nikon Neoprene case, with slots on the back for attaching it to a belt, making it a tangible link to the early days of digital photography.

 The Nikon Coolpix E100 has two specific parts: the bottom of the camera, which houses the batteries, and the top portion, or main part of the camera, which has the lens, shutter, and memory, including a built-in PCMCIA card, which at the time was new technology. I'll go into more detail about the camera below in the "My Camera" section.

Closer view of Nikon Coolpix E100

 On the side of the camera are clips that you press in, and the top portion pulls out of the bottom section, allowing the photographer to insert the PCMCIA portion into the computers of the time, which had a PCMCIA slot. Since the camera powered on and showed it was taking a photo, I needed to transfer the images to my computer to view them, so I purchased a PCMCIA card reader for my Mac. Unfortunately, the PCMCIA readers only read newer PCMCIA cards with ATA, not older ones.

 With my frustrations growing, I decided to visit some local used computer shops and either borrow a computer for a day or two or purchase one cheaply. None of the stores had something this old, but a good friend said he had one he'd give to me. When he showed it to me, it appeared to have a PCMCIA slot, but when I plugged it in, it wasn't as it appeared: it was an Express slot, not a PCMCIA slot, which is what I needed.

 Now I was at the point where I either gave up or pursued it until I found what was needed. I was taught as a young child to have "stick-to-itiveness", so looking on eBay, I think I found what I needed, and purchased a computer, hoping it was correct, but it didn't have a power supply. I purchased a variable-voltage power supply, so when the computer arrived, I'd have a working computer with a working PCMCIA slot to download the images from.

 The computer arrived, I powered it up, and to my gleeful surprise, it worked. The one other thing I needed to navigate was using a 25-year-old PC, but my PC memory bank refreshed. I slipped the PCMCIA portion of the camera into the slot, and the "camera" showed up as another disk drive, and the images were there too, WOOHOO!!!

 I downloaded the images onto a thumb drive so I could transfer them to my MAC to look at them, and to my surprise, these images were tiny. The largest file taken was only 49kb. All this trouble for images that are so tiny compared to what we have today.

 I had initially planned to write about the Nikon Coolpix E100 as the first camera for "digital month." Still, the difficulty of finding a working computer from that era was the main reason I had to push the article off until the final week.

Nikon Digital History:

 While Nikon dominated the professional film era with its "F" mount system, its digital evolution was defined by early collaborations, a brief period of playing catch-up, and eventually, the reclamation of its professional pedigree.

French Brochure for Nikon Coolpix E100 camera

 Nikon's digital roots actually trace back to the mid-80s with "Still Video" prototypes, but the true journey began through partnerships. In the early 1990s, Nikon collaborated with Kodak to produce the DCS (Digital Camera System) series. These were essentially Nikon F3 or F5 bodies modified with massive, tethered Kodak digital backs.

 In 1995, Nikon partnered with Fujifilm to create the E-series, specifically the E2 and E2s. These used a unique optical system to shrink a full-frame image onto a tiny 2/3-inch sensor, maintaining the field of view of Nikon lenses. While innovative, these were bulky and expensive, serving as a bridge to the true digital revolution.

 The Coolpix E100 was Nikon's attempt to bring its optical expertise to the burgeoning consumer electronics space. It was a pocketable (by 1997 standards) silver-bodied camera that signaled a major shift in Nikon's business strategy: making digital technology accessible to everyday users.

 What made the E100 particularly significant in Nikon's history was its storage and connectivity. It utilized PCMCIA (PC Card) Type II cards. At a time when many competitors were struggling with slow serial cables or proprietary storage, the E100's card could be plugged directly into a laptop's PC card slot. This allowed for (then) rapid image transfers, a workflow convenience that Nikon would continue to prioritize in its later professional lines.

 Everything changed in 1999 with the release of the Nikon D1. Before the D1, professional digital cameras cost upwards of $20,000. Nikon shocked the industry by releasing a fully integrated digital SLR for under $6,000. It used the D5's film-body ergonomics and featured a 2.7-megapixel APS-C (DX-format) sensor. This camera proved that digital was no longer a specialized tool for news agencies—it was the future of professional photography.

 As the industry shifted toward mirrorless technology, Nikon launched the Z-mount system in 2018 with the Z6 and Z7. The new mount featured a much larger diameter and a shorter flange distance, allowing for optical designs that were physically impossible on the old F-mount. This culminated in the Z9 (2021), a flagship that famously ditched the mechanical shutter entirely, signaling Nikon's total commitment to a digital-first, mirrorless future.

My Camera:

 The Nikon Coolpix E100 is a long, slim camera, measuring 6" long by 2 3/8" wide by 1 3/8" deep from the front of the lens to the rear of the camera, and weighs 5.8 ounces without the four "AA" batteries which power the camera. The camera has a 6.2mm (equivalent to a 52mm on 35mm film) F/4 fixed focus lens, along with macro capability which can focus between 5.5 "-9". 

The camera has a 1/3" CCD chip with 330,000 square pixels (0.33 megapixel) with a maximum resolution of 512x480 dots, which writes to an internal 1 mb PCMCIA card in the body of the camera. The Nikon Coolpix E100 has a shutter speed range of 1/45 to 1/10,000 on a charge-coupled device (CCD) electronic shutter. I found the Nikon Coolpix E100 manual on the Nikon website.

 One of the more interesting features of the camera is that, as mentioned previously, it separates into two sections. By pressing two buttons on the side of the camera, the top portion, which houses the memory card, lens, shutter system, flash, etc., separates from the lower portion, which holds the shutter release and the four "AA" batteries that power the camera. To add the batteries, the front of the battery cover has rows you slide down to show where the batteries are placed.

Looking at the top of the camera, on the left side is the On/Off switch, which you press down to activate or deactivate the camera's power. Once the camera is "on", at the very top is a small LCD screen that lets the photographer choose different functions. 

 The first function you can set on the camera is the Date and time function. If you hold the "Quality" button while turning the camera "on" on the LCD, you can see the M/D/Y functions, and pressing the "Mode" button lets you set and change the different settings. Once the Date is set, you can use the same function to turn off the camera, then back on while holding the "Quality" button to do the same for the time function.

 In the top left is a "Mode" button that lets the photographer pick 10 sec. self-timer on the camera, along with red-eye reduction. Below the "Mode" is the thunderbolt for flash settings. These settings are On, Off, or Auto.

In the upper-right corner of the LCD is the "Quality" button, which you can set to "Fine" or "Normal". On the empty PCMCIA card, Normal mode allows you to take 36 images, and Fine mode allows 18 before the card is full. There is also an "Erase" button in the lower-right corner that lets you delete the last photo taken.

 On the back side of the camera is the viewfinder. Looking inside the viewfinder, there are outer lines used for the normal settings, and internal lines for when you're shooting in "macro" mode. Under the viewfinder is a "ready" light that turns green when you depress the shutter button halfway, indicating that the camera's light meter and flash are ready for you to take a photo. On the right side of the camera is a switch to switch the camera to "macro" shooting mode.

Once you've taken the photos and want to see them, you'll need to separate the camera and slide the PCMCIA card into your computer. Make sure you press the card firmly into the slot so the computer recognizes it as a new drive, and the images appear on it. From there, you can view them in your favorite imaging software, as they are saved in JPG format.

My Images:

 I went around and took both Normal and Fine images around my office. The quality of the images compared to today's is poor, as you can see in the posted images and in Photoshop screenshots showing image sizes and resolution.

Conclusion:

 Holding the camera vertically and having the shutter release on the front make it simple to use, and looking through the viewfinder to frame your photo is easy because the frame lines are bright and easy to see.

 I'm certainly happy to have this camera in my collection, as it's an odd and quirky example of early Nikon consumer-based cameras. The most frustrating part was the hassle of having to look at the poor-quality images the camera produces. 

 The one positive thing that came out of this process is that I now have a working PC from the late 1990s, and I did get to see the images the camera produces. It may be time to invest in other early digital cameras, as they might be the next goldmine for collectors, and I'll have a working computer that people can use to see their images, too.

 Thank you for taking some time to hear about my escapades in procuring a computer to view the images the Nikon Coolpix E100 produced. I hope you learned a bit about the camera in the process.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 I also have an online eBay store, Cuny's Cameras and Photo, where I sell the cameras I've reviewed, along with other camera oddities. If you find something you like, send me a note, and I'm happy to offer a discount.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Sony Mavica MVC-FD5

My Sony Maniac MVC-FD5 camera.

I started working in a retail camera shop way back in 1975. The store where I worked was dominated by non-professional photographers, with more of a consumer-based customer base. We sold a lot of film and processed a lot of film. At that time, the store where I worked had a good mix of simple cameras, such as the Kodak Instamatic, and some of the more basic Polaroid models of pack cameras. 

 But if you wandered over to the more professional side of the store, the cameras on that side of the store had Nikon F and Nikkormat, Minolta SRT series, Canon FTb, Pentax Spotmatic, mainly single-lens reflex and simpler rangefinder cameras were available. The market in our store didn't offer higher-end brands such as Leica, Hasselblad, or large-format brands like Sinar or Toyo.

My camera with floppy disk, and manual

 The owner of the camera shop was always looking at new technology and ways to set us apart from the other local camera stores. I still remember back in 1988, when we were introduced to "new technology" that didn't capture images on film. Still, it was a rather small 2" floppy disk. The odd thing about this new revolutionary camera was that it didn't come from a "regular" camera company, but from the major consumer electronics firm from Japan, Sony. At that time, Sony was known to most Americans for their radios, televisions, and other electronics.

 The camera was named the Mavica (magnetic video camera) MVC-C1 which was a consumer based camera which was flat shaped, that fit well in your hand, and held a 2" floppy disk called the Mavipak. At the time, these were what we consider "digital images", but rather Still Video Images recorded onto the floppy disk, and intended to be played back on your television. You could record up to fifty images on the Mavipak. Once the images were taken, you'd connect the camera to your television using the MAP-T1 adapter and display the images on the television screen.

 In December 1988, Canon introduced a similar camera, the XapShop. It too was a similar-shaped camera that captured still video images on a 2" floppy disk. While both cameras were making a splash in the market, it wasn't until early 1989 that the Sony MVC-C1 became readily available to consumers.

 At the time, the idea of capturing images on a floppy disk was odd, and the image quality was poor. Also, when the camera was introduced, it had a hefty price of $650.00 for the Sony and a similar price for the Canon XapShot kit, which, for our consumer-based market, was a steep purchase.

 Still, the owner of the camera stores thought well enough of the cameras that we picked up a few of both the Sony and Canon lines of still video cameras, and for a while, we did well selling them to the early adopters in the community. These were the same people who had early Motorola mobile phones.

Sony Digital History:

 Sony's ascent to the top of the digital imaging world didn't happen overnight; it was the result of decades of transition from analog video heritage to high-resolution silicon. While many associate the "digital revolution" with the late 90s, Sony's groundwork began much earlier with a device that wasn't technically digital, but fundamentally changed how we perceived photography.

Sony Mavica advertisement.

 In 1981, Sony unveiled the Mavica (Magnetic Video Camera). It is often cited as the spark for the digital revolution, though it was actually a "still video" camera. Instead of film, it recorded analog signals onto a proprietary 2-inch floppy disk called the "Mavipak." While the resolution was equivalent to just 0.28 megapixels and intended for television viewing, it proved that the industry could move away from chemical processing toward instant gratification.

 It wasn't until the late 1980s and early 1990s that Sony moved into fully digital territory. In 1988, they introduced the MVC-C1, the first Mavica aimed at consumers. However, the real breakthrough for the masses arrived in 1996 with the Cyber-shot DSC-F1. This camera featured a distinctive swiveling lens, a built-in flash, and a 1.8-inch color LCD screen—a luxury at the time. It utilized a 0.35-megapixel CCD sensor and marked the birth of the "Cyber-shot" brand, which would dominate the point-and-shoot market for the next two decades.

 In 1997, Sony released the Digital Mavica MVC-FD5 and FD7. These were iconic because they used standard 3.5-inch floppy disks as storage media. While competitors were struggling with expensive, proprietary cables and software, Sony users could pop their disk into any PC and view their photos instantly. This ease of use allowed Sony to capture roughly 40% of the digital camera market by the end of the 1990s.

 As the 2000s began, Sony pivoted from a gadget manufacturer to a serious contender in the optics market. By acquiring Konica Minolta's camera business in 2006, Sony gained the mechanical "know-how" of traditional SLR systems. This led to the birth of the Alpha series.

From the experimental Mavica to the launch of the first full-frame mirrorless systems, Sony's beginning was defined by a willingness to abandon tradition in favor of electronic innovation. They didn't just join the camera industry; they forced it to go digital.

My Camera:

 My Sony Mavica MVC-FD5 was introduced in late 1997 or early 1998. It's a fairly large camera, measuring 5" wide by 4.25" tall by 2" deep, and it weighs 1 pound, 5.7 ounces with the battery, strap, and a 3.5" floppy disk installed. The camera has a 4.8mm F/2.0 lens, equivalent to a 47mm lens on a 35mm camera. The camera is a fixed focus camera and in normal mode will focus to approximately 4' from the lens. The camera does have a macro lens. Under the flash, there is a sliding bar you slide to put the camera in macro mode; then the focus distance is 3"-9" from the lens surface. 

The images are recorded onto a standard 3.5" floppy disk (1.44mb) which is inserted into the camera through a door on the left side of the camera. On the back of the camera, in the lower left corner is a switch which says, "open". Sliding the button down, opens the door where you insert the 3.5" floppy disk. To remove the disk, press the button inside the disk's door, and the floppy will be ejected. 

 The camera records images at 640 x 480 resolution in JPEG format and has two shooting modes: Standard and Fine. Each floppy disk will hold 30-40 standard images or 15-20 fine images.

All the controls on the Sony Mavica MVC-FD5 camera are located on the back. The controls are around the main 2.5" screen, which has a total of 61380 dots. Once the camera is turned on, which is done by a sliding switch to the right of the screen, named "power on/off". Slide the switch down to turn the camera on, and to shut it off, slide it down again.

It's very interesting, and something I didn't remember from owning this camera soon after it came out in the late 1990s. Still, once you turn the camera "on, and there's a floppy disk in the camera, you'll hear a noise of the internal disk drive spinning and making sounds because the camera is checking the disk, making sure it's seated correctly and can write to it. It's also the sound you hear when you switch the button on the back of the camera from "play" to "camera," or vice versa, as the camera spins the disk to read images or prepare to accept them. It also makes a sound when in "play" mode, as you go from one image to another. Here's a short video of turning on the camera and taking a photo.

Video showing the camera being powered on and the time to record an image with camera sounds.

Once the camera is powered "on", most controls are set via a rocker switch and a button to the lower right of the camera's screen. As mentioned previously, there is also a switch for "camera" or "play" which allows the camera's settings to be set in each mode. If you press the rocker switch when it's in the "camera" mode, a menu will pop up with options for Clock Set, Beep, Field/Frame, Quality, and Return.

In the "play" mode, the menu settings are Clock Set, Beep, Format Disk, Delete, Protect, and Return. Interestingly, Clock Set and Beep are in both the camera and play menu. 

One other button on the back of the camera is "display," which turns the menu on or off on the camera or in play settings. It lets you focus on the images on the screen without being distracted by menu settings that can cover parts of the screen.

 Once the clock settings are set, you've turned on/off the beep sound, and you have the floppy disk in the camera. You're ready to power on the camera to take a photo. When you turn on the camera, you'll hear disk noises, see the date pop up on the back, and, in the upper right corner, see a spinning circle indicating the disk is turning inside the camera. Now you're ready to take photos.

 The camera doesn't have a viewfinder, so once the camera is powered on, and the screen has gotten past the time function, you've seen the spinning disk, the camera will go into "live" mode, where you'll see the images you're pointing the camera at on the back screen. Like many cameras from this era, the screen is dark, and you can barely see an image on a bright, sunny day. You can brighten or darken the screen with two switches to the left of the screen, named "bright" with a "+" on the top button, and a "-" on the bottom.

There is no shutter or aperture control on the camera, as exposure is automatically controlled. You can make the images brighter or darker by up to 1.5 stops by changing the EV setting on the camera's screen once the camera is turned on and in "camera" mode.

 Another oddity of this camera, as with more modern cameras, is that the Sony Mavica MVC FD5 doesn't display the "just taken" photo on the screen once it's captured. To see that image, you'll need to switch from "camera" to "play" mode. The camera will whizz the floppy disk, and you can preview the previously taken image. In the "play" mode, you can view either single images by pressing the arrows forward to backwards, or you can press "index" so you can display a series of six images at a time and scroll to the image you want to see, and press the rocker button to display. PLEASE REMEMBER: every time you switch from one image to the other, the camera displays a message on the back screen that says "accessing file," and it takes a few seconds to show the image.

 In the "play" menu, you can also "protect" or "delete" images. Still, like the other settings, it takes a few seconds for the camera to complete the request, since it's basically a small computer with a built-in floppy disk and has to find, access, and complete the request you're making.

 At the bottom of the camera is the door, which you open and insert the charged battery to power the camera. The camera's battery isn't rated in shots, but in time. Once you power the camera "on", in the lower right-hand corner of the screen, you see the time in minutes remaining on the battery before recharging is needed.

My Images:

 My wife, daughter, daughter's dog, Bean, and I went for a walk on the town's downtown walkway on the Columbia River. It's a relatively new section of town with shops, restaurants, and housing. It was a sunny and somewhat warm January day in the Portland, OR area, so I took the camera on our trip.

 Since it was a bright sunny day, the rear screen was difficult to see, especially when you're trying to have the sun on the subject, meaning the sun is also hitting the screen as you're taking the images.

 Another interesting fact is that these files are small. Even the largest files the camera produced were only 70kb for Fine and 34kb for Standard images. These were specifically made for viewing on your computer or television, and are not really intended to be printed, especially not anything larger than the standard 3x5 photo.

 Here are some images from our walk.

Conclusion:

 I never would have guessed that a 2-inch floppy disk would eventually bring the Nikon F's reign to an end. The MVC-FD5 wasn't a 'pro' tool—it couldn't compete with a Hasselblad for clarity—but it offered something those giants couldn't: the end of the waiting period. It traded resolution for time, a trade-off that eventually redefined the entire industry.

 It's interesting for the young photographers of today to compare this camera to what's available on our phones; it's an eye-opening comparison:

Camera: Sony Mavica MVC-FD5 (1997) Modern Smartphone (Approx.)

Resolution: 0.3 Megapixels (640 x 480) 12 - 48 Megapixels

Storage Media: 3.5" Floppy Disk (1.44 MB) Internal Flash (128 GB+)

Photo Capacity: ~20 "Fine" Image 30,000+ Images

Write Speed: ~4-6 Seconds per photo Instant

 I had owned this camera sometime in the late 1990s. It wasn't long after it was introduced that I purchased a used one. It was in 1999 when I had one. 

 Thinking back, this was a pretty fun camera to shoot with, and now that I have it again, it's fun to hear it make the different noises as it accesses the files to show on the screen. The images are very small and, as mentioned, made for screen viewing, not much resolution to make prints from. Even by today's computer standards, the images look very pixilated due to the higher resolution of today's screens.

 I'm happy to have this camera back in my collection, more as a marker of digital photography's growth than something I'm going to use daily. It is, just like with older film cameras, fun to see how these image-making machines have progressed over time.

 Thank you for taking the time to read a bit about this older digital camera from my collection. Next week will be the final installment of January's Early Digital month, and I have a rare and good one for you. Please remember to keep an eye out for it.

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

 I also have a store on eBay, Cuny's Cameras and Photo, where I sell some of the cameras reviewed, along with many other camera odds and ends. If there's something that interests you, drop me a line, and I'll offer a discount.

 Until next week, please be safe,

 

Canon PowerShot 350

My Canon PowerShot 350 camera

It wasn't until after my almost twenty years working in a retail camera shop that digital cameras became increasingly popular. At the time, in the late 1990s, I was working in management for professional photo laboratories in the San Francisco Bay Area, a real hotbed for technology. Since I was still working within the photo industry, not in retail but with highly professional photographers, the conversations would be about what cameras and technology they were using.

 Digital photography was in its infancy, and for a professional commercial photographer to go digital during this time cost around $100,000, so there were very few who did. For the commercial photo laboratories, there were conversations about the "death of film", which many laughed at, and if they did take it seriously, it wasn't for many years down the road, and nothing that would happen overnight.

 Not only was the digital craze happening for professional photographers, but also in the consumer market. One of the first digital cameras our family owned was the Canon PowerShot 350. The camera for this blog post is one I purchased recently. When it arrived in the original box, with the manual, software, and many of the original cables, I felt a wave of nostalgia and warmth, recalling family trips and vacations from the late 1990s.

Boxed Canon PowerShot 350, just missing a few items

 As I picked up the camera to refamiliarize myself, my initial thought was that its design and features seemed amateurish compared to today's cameras. It was for the camera manufacturer! What features made sense for the family photographer who, at the time, had a home computer used for word processing, games, and other family entertainment? There was no online entertainment, as the fastest online connection was via a phone line at 28.8 or 33.6 kbps, or, if you were really advanced, 56 Kbps (kilobites per second). The internet was in its infancy, and companies like AOL's "You Have Mail" were dominant in the online world.

 It's interesting to think back on those years. 1997 was also the year I signed up for this online selling platform. At the time, it was very similar to a message board, devoid of photos. You had almost to write code just to sell or purchase items. Everything was done via text, so you had to trust the description of the item only by what the seller was telling you. When the company added the ability to add photos in the early 2000s, it was a great benefit.

 I can still remember that there were no names of people you'd buy from or sell to, but just a number. My number at the time was 1134, and today that company is eBay, the juggernaut of buying and selling mainly used items online.

 I've written about Canon's history before, so in this brief history segment, I decided to focus more on its digital camera history.

History:

 Canon's digital camera history dates back to the mid‑1990s and traces a steady evolution from low‑resolution consumer compacts to today's high‑performance mirrorless and professional systems. Building on decades of film‑camera expertise, especially its EOS SLR system introduced in 1987, Canon created a coherent digital ecosystem of bodies, lenses, and accessories that showcases impressive innovation.

1997 Brochure for Canon PowerShot 350

 The first significant step into consumer digital stills came with the PowerShot 600 in 1996, a compact camera with a 0.3‑megapixel sensor that signaled Canon's commitment to mainstream digital imaging despite its modest specifications. This model launched the long‑running PowerShot line, which would expand into numerous point‑and‑shoot families aimed at travelers, families, and enthusiasts through the late 1990s and 2000s.​

Canon's professional digital efforts grew out of its EOS film SLR platform, which debuted in 1987 as a fully electronic mount system and provided an ideal foundation for autofocus and electronic communication in digital bodies. 

 Early digital EOS models were often developed in cooperation with other companies. Still, in 2000, Canon released the EOS D30, its first digital SLR designed and manufactured entirely in‑house, pairing an APS‑C sensor with the existing EF lens mount.​

 Through the early 2000s, Canon rapidly expanded its DSLR lineup, targeting entry‑level, enthusiast, and professional users with a range of EOS digital bodies that shared a standard lens system. A landmark arrived in 2005 with the EOS 5D, widely noted as the first relatively affordable full‑frame DSLR, bringing a 35 mm‑sized sensor and strong low‑light performance to a broader audience than previous flagship‑level models.​​

Alongside DSLRs, Canon continued to refine compact digital cameras, including the stylish Digital ELPH/IXUS series that emphasized portability and automated shooting modes for casual photographers. These compacts helped popularize digital photography worldwide before smartphones began to erode demand for dedicated point‑and‑shoots in the 2010s.​

 In the late 2010s and into the 2020s, Canon shifted its emphasis toward mirrorless digital systems while continuing to support EOS DSLRs, reflecting an industry‑wide shift toward smaller bodies, electronic viewfinders, and advanced on‑sensor autofocus technologies. Across this progression—from the PowerShot 600 to full‑frame DSLRs and modern mirrorless lines—Canon's digital history is defined by continuous integration of new sensor, processor, and lens innovations into a unified imaging system.​

My Camera:

 My Canon PowerShot 350 is a comfortable camera to hold in your hand and is 3.5" wide by 3.75" tall, and 2" deep, and weighs only 10.2 ounces without 3-AA size batteries to power the camera. You can use rechargeable batteries, or, if you prefer, Alkaline batteries. Initially, the camera came with a battery charger, but it wasn't included with the camera I recently purchased. 

I generally prefer rechargeable batteries for this style of camera, as they perform very well. To put the batteries in the camera, on the inside of the camera's grip is a small lever you slide up to open the battery door. Once the three AA batteries are in the camera, close the battery door to start using the camera.

The Maximum resolution for the Canon PowerShot 350 camera was 640x480 with 24-bit color on a 350,000-pixel CCD sensor. The camera incorporates a 6mm f/2.8 lens and a 0.35-megapixel sensor. The lens is equivalent to a 43mm on a standard 35mm camera. The lens is a fixed focus, with Macro capability. In normal operation, the lens will focus from 26" to infinity. On the side of the camera, near where the lens is, is a slider for macro. Macro will focus from 1.2" to 26" by sliding the lever up and down to achieve focus which you can see on the 1.8" adjustable LCD screen on the back of the camera. The shutter speed range on the camera is from 1/4 to 1/2000, all using an internal TTL, programmed metering system with over/under exposure compensation, which I'll discuss later.

The images are written to a removable CompactFlash card, which fits into the bottom of the camera. At the bottom of the camera is a small door that you slide towards the front of the camera to open. Once opened, you'll see the slot for the 2 MB card that came with the camera. I don't have a 2 MB card anymore, so I had to use the 32 MB card, which is the smallest I currently have. 

 To remove the CF card, on the side of the slot is a small button that is folded to the side. Pull the button up and press in which will slide the CF card out of the camera. After inserting the CompactFlash card, fold the button to the side to close the card door.

On the back of the camera, along the right side of the adjustable screen, are four controls. The top is the power on/off button. Below that is the switch to "record" or "playback" these images on the CompactFlash card. Next is a wheel with +/- controls to adjust the rear screen brightness, and at the bottom is a switch to select image quality: Fine, Normal, or Economy. On a 2 MB card included, you could fit 11 images in Fine, 23 in Normal, or a whopping 47 in Economy.

 When you turn the camera on via a switch on the back of the camera, you do see a "live view" on the adjustable screen on the back of the camera. Next to this very small 1.8" screen by today's standard, there is a wheel that will brighten or darken the image on the screen. Unfortunately, when there is any light outside, the screen is almost impossible to view images, and you'll need to shade it to even see a faint image. 

The same is true when you view the images you've recently taken, which pop up on the screen after the image was taken. Once you shade the screen, you'll be able to see the image better. In low-light or indoor situations, images appear better on the rear screen in both "live view" and playback mode. It's interesting to see the lag time in the "live view" images on the screen and how long it takes for the camera to write the image to the CF card. While photographing the back of the camera for this article, I took a short video showing the lag time of this camera. Here's the short video.

Most of the camera's controls are located on the rear of the camera body. There are two lights on the far left: one for charging the batteries and one for power/busy. They will light up when the camera is on and blink when the camera is "busy" or writing the image to the CF card.

 The four buttons along the top are "W.Bal", setting the white balance for the images. "+/-", the ability to over or underexpose the images by up to four stops in either direction. "Flash" sets the flash modes: On, Off, Auto, and Red Eye Reduction. In "Self timer" mode, the camera will delay the photo by 10 seconds.

 Along the bottom, the four buttons are "Erase", allowing the photographer to erase the photo taken, "N/P" in the top position is for Positive or Negative images to be taken, and on the bottom, "Multi", which allows you to see multiple photos on the screen on the back of the camera. When I put the camera in this mode for image playback, I could see the photos, but they were so small that it was hard to tell which ones they were, especially on such a small screen with low resolution compared to today's standards. Next to that is "Date," which lets you set the camera's date, and the last button is "Remain," which shows the number of images remaining on the CF card. 

Along the side of the camera, under the lens's focus slider, are three ports labeled "video out" and "digital," so you can connect the camera to a television or computer to display its images. The bottom was for the charger to recharge the batteries within the camera.

 

My Images:

 I took the camera to Frenchman's Bar, a local park just on the Columbia River where I live, to take the dog for a walk and to take photos with the Canon PowerShot 350. It was a surprisingly sunny January afternoon, with incredible scenes of the river and Mt. Hood.

 What an excellent chance to take the camera out to see what it could do. When I got home, I offloaded the images to look at the file sizes. To my surprise, each image had the normal file, along with an incredibly small (2kb)  matching thumbnail file used for preview purposes on the rear screen after taking the photo. The file sizes were 150kb for the Fine resolution, 71kb for the Normal, and 31kb for the Economy.

 Here are some sample images I took during the walk.

Conclusion:

 Since this camera used CF cards for image input, I didn't have to jump through many hoops to get images in and out of the Canon PowerShot 350. Since it was a familiar camera I had owned in the past, it was pretty straightforward, and the one thing I found interesting was the ability to photograph in the negative color range. It was more for gimmickry than functionality.

 Nonetheless, it was fun to pick up and shoot with, but the writing time compared to what we have now is funny. Still, I'm happy to have such a complete camera, aside from a couple of cables.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 I also have a store on eBay, Cuny's Cameras and Photos, where I sell some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with other photographic odds and ends. If you see something you like, send me an email, and I'll offer a discount.

 Thank you for taking the time from your busy schedule to go back almost 30 years to the technology in cameras before 2000. It's impressive how far cameras have come in this short time.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Fujifilm FinePix 4700 Zoom

My Fujifilm FinePix 4700 Zoom and Leica Digilux 4.3 cameras

Sometime in late October or early November 2025, I was sitting back at my desk, looking at some of the cameras around me and thinking about cameras to write about for this blog. There was one camera on the top shelf above my desk that has always piqued my interest, and one that I've had for 15 years or so, but it wasn't a film camera; it was a relatively early digital camera. I hadn't included a digital camera in my blog, but that's going to change.

 To start 2026, it would be a nice change of pace if we went away from traditional film cameras and focused on some of the early digital cameras in my collection. With that said, for January, I'm picking four early digital cameras and writing about them. 

 Focusing on the early digital camera in my collection brought me unexpected challenges that were difficult to navigate at times. For many of the cameras I'm reviewing this month, I had to get my mind, and even more challenging, a computer, the computer's hardware, and software back into the late 1990s to early 2000s. Sharing these experiences can make readers feel connected and motivated to explore vintage digital cameras themselves, especially potential buyers interested in the history behind these devices.

Rear view of Fujifilm FinePix 4700 zoom & Leica Digilux 4.3

 The first camera I'm going to discuss isn't as challenging as some of the cameras I'll be writing about later this month. My difficulties are mainly because I'm still working out some hardware issues with the computer, which I'll discuss in my write-up about the cameras. 

 All of the cameras are in good working condition. Aside from their specific camera menus, which are very basic compared to what we have now, the computer issues have been considerably more challenging and, at times, very frustrating, especially when finding a computer from that timeframe that functions. Still, I'll discuss that when the camera comes into play.

 It is also interesting that Fujifilm makes cameras for other brands. The two most well-known camera companies, Hasselblad and Leica, have had cameras made for them by Fujifilm. The Hasselblad XPan was produced in partnership with Fujifilm. Also, their "H" series lenses and viewfinder were developed with Fujifilm's involvement. 

 As you can see in the photos of the cameras above, the Fujifilm FinePix 4700 zoom is rebranded as the Leica Digilux 4.3. This was the third camera that Leica rebranded. The first was the original Digilux, Digilux Zoom, and  Digilux 4.3

The Company:

 Fujifilm's history in Japan mirrors the country's own journey through modernization, war, recovery, and technological reinvention. The company was founded in 1934 as Fuji Photo Film Co., Ltd., established by the Japanese government to create a domestic photographic film industry and reduce reliance on imports, particularly from Germany and the United States. Its first factory opened in Minami-Ashigara, near Mount Fuji, which inspired the company's name and enduring brand identity.

 In its early years, Fujifilm focused on mastering the complex chemistry of photographic film, producing black-and-white film, photographic paper, and motion picture film. During World War II, like many Japanese industrial firms, it was drawn into wartime production, supplying optical and imaging materials for military use. The war left Japan's economy devastated, but Fujifilm survived and quickly pivoted back to civilian products during the postwar recovery.

Fujifilm FinePix 4700 zoom advertisment

 The 1950s and 1960s marked a period of rapid growth. As Japan rebuilt and consumer culture expanded, photography became increasingly popular. Fujifilm introduced color film to the domestic market and steadily improved its quality, competing both domestically and internationally with companies such as Kodak. At the same time, the firm diversified into related fields, including magnetic tape, optical lenses, and X-ray film, laying the groundwork for its future resilience.

 During Japan's high-growth era of the 1970s and 1980s, Fujifilm became a global brand. It invested heavily in research and development, embracing advanced chemical engineering and precision manufacturing. These capabilities allowed the company to move beyond consumer photography into medical imaging, printing systems, and industrial materials. Fujifilm's strong export orientation also reflected Japan's emergence as a significant technological power.

 The late 1990s and early 2000s posed an existential challenge: the rapid decline of photographic film amid the rise of digital imaging. While many traditional film companies struggled, Fujifilm undertook one of the most notable corporate transformations in modern Japanese business history. Drawing on its expertise in chemistry and materials science, it diversified aggressively into healthcare, pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, electronic materials, and data storage. The company officially changed its name to Fujifilm Holdings Corporation in 2006 to reflect this broader mission.

 Today, Fujifilm remains a symbol of Japanese adaptability and long-term thinking. While it still honors its photographic heritage, its core businesses now lie in healthcare, imaging, and advanced materials. From its origins near Mount Fuji to its global presence, Fujifilm's history illustrates how a Japanese company can evolve with changing times while preserving technical excellence and cultural identity.

My Camera:

 The Fujifilm FinePix 4700 zoom may be the highest resolution digital camera I'll be writing about this month, coming in at a whopping 2mp, with a 1/1.7" SuperCCD imaging sensor which can produce a maximum resolution of 2400 x 1800-sized JPEGs on a Smart Media Card. The Fujifilm FinePix 4700 zoom has a Super Fujinon 8.3-24.9mm lens with a maximum aperture of f/2.8 to f/4.5. This 3x zoom lens is the 35mm equivalent of a 36-108mm lens.

 While the Fujifilm FinePix 4700 zoom is an unconventional vertical-format camera in stature, it is very easy to hold and use. The dimensions of the camera are 4" tall by just a bit over 3" wide by 1.5" thick, and it weighs in at 10.8 ounces with the two "AA" batteries that power the camera.

I don't want to get into the full minutia of everything the camera has to offer and go into each specific button and control, but instead talk about the basic controls of the camera and how I generally use this style of camera, which is similar to probably 95% of the intended users. If you want to look at specifics and know what each button does, you can go online and find a copy of the Fujifilm FinePix 4700 instruction manual.

 Let's start at the beginning. To put in the 2 "AA" batteries, on the bottom of the camera is the battery door. Slide the cover outward, and the door will swing open. Insert the 2 "AA" batteries as shown on the battery lid, then close the lid and slide it back to close the battery door. 

On the left side of the camera is the door where you put in the Smart Media card. Flip the small button downwards to open the memory card door. Insert the memory card so the brass portion faces the front of the camera, and press it in all the way until it stays in the camera. To release the memory card, push it in a bit, as it's spring-loaded, and it will pop out, so you can grab it and pull it out of the camera. Once the memory card is inserted in the camera, you can close the memory card door.

 Above the memory card door is a small speaker; above that is a small button to turn on the flash, which will pop up after the button is pressed. Also on the left side are ports for a charging device, A/V out, and a USB port.

Two main areas control the camera: the selector on top of the camera, which surrounds the shutter release button, and the back of the camera, which is the main control center.

 The top controls the camera's shooting mode. Looking around the dial, from top to bottom, is Set (some of the main camera settings are set here, with controls from the camera's back). The next is Video Mode, then Multi Mode  (continuous shooting), Manual Mode, Auto Mode (the primary setting in red), Portrait Mode, Landscape Mode, and Night Mode. Initially, you'll want to put the camera into "set" mode so you can adjust basic settings.

On the back of the camera are many different buttons, along with two separate screens. One circular screen in the upper right of the camera with directional controls that control certain items once the camera is on and the mode is selected. Located on the lower portion of the camera's backside is a larger 2" rectangular screen with a resolution of 130,000 pixels, which is also used in the "set up" process, along with displaying the image after it is taken.

 Above the 2" screen is a series of five buttons along with a sliding pointer to a red camera or an arrow within a box. Making sure the camera is in the "Set" mode on the top wheel, put the slider to the "red camera", and press the power button inside the slider. One of my favorite things about this camera happens at this point. Inside the circular window you'll see "Hello!" illuminated inside the circular window, and the 2" screen is now in the "setup" mode. When you turn off the camera, "Bye" will appear in the window.

Here is where you'll set the image quality to Basic, Normal, or Fine by moving the directional buttons around the circular window. Next is file size, 640x480, 1280x960, or 2400x1800. Within each file size, you can choose to shoot in Basic, Normal, or Fine, giving you file sizes anywhere from 44kb in Basic and in 640x480 resolution, to 1.9mb shooting in 2400x1800 resolution and in Fine.

 Next is the "auto-off" setting, which is either 5 or 2 minutes, or No. Then moving down to "Frame No." with either Renew or Cont., then below that is "Beep" which can be High, Low, or Off, onto the second page and to "start up scree" either On or Off, and last on the setup screen is setting the Date. Once you make any of these choices, the button on the back of the camera, which has "Menu/Exe", is the button to press to make the changes desired.

With the camera still in "red camera" mode, when you move the top dial to a specific shooting mode, like Portrait or Auto, the lens door slides over and the lens extends from the camera. Now you're in shooting mode, with the camera actually recording images to the memory card. When you're in the "shooting" mode, you'll see information inside the round directional window with details on the zoom function with the buttons pointing up or down, the macro setting on the left side of the window, and the flash setting on the right, and in the center is what "mode" you're in and the frame count.

 Just above the control buttons on the back of the camera is an optical viewfinder to look through to frame your image. You can also click on the "display" button, which will activate the "live video" feed on the 2" monitor on the back of the camera. Also on the back of the camera is a button for the Menu/Exe functions. This button sets the menu item you want to control. In the upper-left corner is a button labeled Shift and a light bulb. It allows you to light up the round window while also seeing other settings within the camera.

These are the basics for using the camera, since it is a sophisticated little camera. You have the option of manual focus, over/under exposure, flash over/under exposure, focus lock, rear screen brightness, white balance settings, image sharpening, and metering types like spot, average, and multi metering, which is the most common for this camera.  I didn't even touch on the video capabilities of this camera, which were relatively plentiful for a small digital camera from this era.

 

My Results:

 To look at the different resolutions and shooting modes, I photographed a film box in my portable studio to compare image quality. I'm sure there's going to be a vast difference since the smallest file is only 44kb and the largest is 1.9mb.

Here are some screenshots in Photoshop showing the image size of the smallest and largest files taken with the Fujifilm FinePix 4700 zoom.

I also took a regular and macro shot, which you can see here.

Then I used the camera at our New Year's Eve get-together with some neighbors. I'll have to admit, I haven't made it to Midnight for many years.

Conclusion:

 It's nice to pull out some of the older digital cameras and run them through their paces every once in a while. The camera is compact, easy to use, and fun to shoot with. While there are many drawbacks to cameras from this era, such as file size, and in many cases the phone you have takes better photos, it often lacks many of the controls a real camera has (yet).

 Thank you for taking the time to travel back in time about 25 years, when digital cameras were coming into their own and putting film companies out of business, except for Fujifilm, which diversified and actually embraced digital.

 Feel free to look through my other Camera Reviews.

 I also have an online eBay store, Cuny's Cameras and Photo, where I sell many of the cameras I've reviewed, along with other cameras, lenses, and camera accessories. If you find something there, please let me know, and I'll offer a nice discount.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Lumiere LuxBox (Ver. 2)

My Lumiere LuxBox camera.

I was drawn to the Lumiere LuxBox, a camera I bought at a Paris flea market 20 years ago. Among other simple cameras, its unique shape and brown color caught my eye.

 When I picked up the camera, I saw it was in great shape. The two-speed shutter worked, there were two aperture settings on the lens, and the crinkle-finished metal body looked nice. I liked the lens pattern and the riveted nameplate on the front. The design reminded me of Ferrania Rondine cameras from Italy. You can unlock the film insert and remove it from the body from the side, unlike many other box cameras. The solid metal body was another thing I liked.

 After a short negotiation with the vendor, we agreed on a price. I paid, put the camera in my backpack, and moved on to the next tables at the market. Other than a group of fabulous glass negatives taken in the French countryside during the 1920s, the Lumiere LuxBox was the only camera purchased at the Paris flea market on this day.

 About 20 years later, and just a few weeks ago, I was searching for a camera to write about. The Lumiere LuxBox caught my attention again. I was somewhat familiar with the French Photographic Company, Lumiere, as I have previously written about another one of their wonderful miniature camera, the Super ELJY camera.

 Although I thought last week’s blog would be my final post of the year, its simplicity inspired me to shoot a roll of film and share a short article. So here I am, telling you about this relatively simple, ordinary, oddly shaped box camera from France, made in the early 1950s.

History:

 To give some background, Lumière was a pioneering French camera company founded by Charles-Antoine Lumière in Lyon in the late 19th century. The company became best known for the achievements of Auguste and Louis Lumière. Their innovations in motion-picture technology and color photography helped define early cinema and modern photographic materials.

Lumiere Advertisment

 The Lumière enterprise began as a manufacturer of photographic plates. Louis Lumière invented a highly sensitive "blue label" dry plate at the age of 17. This plate enabled much shorter exposure times and quickly became a commercial success. The company soon built a large factory in Lyon's Monplaisir district and became one of Europe’s major suppliers of photographic materials by the mid‑1890s.

 After their father saw Edison’s Kinetoscope in Paris, Auguste and Louis developed the Cinématographe, a lightweight device that could record, print, and project movies. Patented in 1895, it used perforated film and a claw mechanism, making it more practical than other systems. This led to the first public film screenings, including “Workers Leaving the Lumière Factory.” Imagine how exciting that was for photography fans then.

 By the early 1900s, Lumière stopped making films and focused on photographic technology, especially color processes. In 1903, they patented Autochrome Lumière, a color plate process that used dyed potato-starch grains. It was introduced in 1907 and became the first major color system widely used through the 1930s. Learning about these innovations makes me appreciate their cameras even more.

 Lumière began manufacturing cameras in the late 1920s and produced various models until about 1961. The company was purchased by Swiss firm Ciba in 1961 and later became part of Ilford France. For collectors like me, the Lumière name still stands out in early photography and cinema. sures 4.5 inches tall (including the eye-level finder), 4.25 inches deep, and 3 inches wide (including the film advance knob). It weighs 14.2 ounces without film loaded. 

My Camera:

 The LuxBox was introduced in 1933 and discontinued in 1937. It’s a classic box-style camera that takes 6x9cm photos on 120 film. The camera has shutter speeds from 1/75 to 1/25, plus "T" and "B" settings. It also has a focusable lens and was considered the most advanced box camera of its time.

The LuxBox was reissued from 1952 to 1954, which is when mine was made. It’s an all-metal camera without a leather covering, with a frosted Havana-colored paint finish. There is a small vertical eye-level finder on top for composing your shot. This version takes 6x9cm negatives with 620 film, which is very similar to 120 film but uses a different spool size.

The camera has a simple lens and shutter unit. The shutter provides two speeds: 1/75 (fast) and 1/25 (slow), plus a "B" (bulb) setting for manual exposure holding. There are two fixed-aperture settings at the 4:00 position (when facing the lens): "2" (wider opening for brighter images) and "1" (smaller opening for greater depth of field and less light). A PC flash port at 2:00 allows flash connection. There’s no cable socket for time exposures, so you must hold the shutter release manually for long exposures. The bottom of the camera has a standard tripod socket for stability.

To load film, find the locking button on the left. Slide it up to unlock, then pull the right side away from the body. Load film as with other box cameras.

 Move the empty take-up spool from the bottom compartment to the top so it can collect the unspooled film. Place the new roll of film into the bottom compartment, ensuring the ends of the spool fit securely into the peg slots. Pull the leader paper over the guide wheels and insert it into the empty spool’s slot. Turn the winding knob until the word "start" appears on the backing paper. Slide the film chamber back into the camera body and lock it in place with the button. Then, open the red window cover on the camera's back and turn the winding knob until the number "1" appears, indicating that the first exposure is ready.

This camera has a few technical settings.

 Let’s load film and see what results we get.

 

My Results:

 I loaded the camera with a roll of 100 ISO 620 film I keep for cameras like this. I probably should have used 400 ISO film, since it was overcast, though the sun peeked through at times. We took our daughter’s dog to the local dog park for exercise and photos.

 Here are some of the results from our walk at the Dog Park:

Conclusion:

 The camera is fun to use thanks to its extra shutter controls. As someone who likes the 6x9 cm format, I enjoy capturing a larger area in each photo.

 The main downside for me was the tiny viewfinder window. A standard waist-level finder would have made the camera easier to use and more like the original 1930s model.

 I think this model was brought back in the early 1950s to cut costs but still offer decent image quality. Although I may not use it again, testing it for this article let me revisit why it stood out to me in Paris, and now it has a place on the shelf among my other colored cameras.

 Feel free to check out my other camera reviews.

 If you’re interested in any of the cameras I’ve reviewed, you might find them in my eBay store, Cuny’s Cameras and Photos. I have lots of odd and unusual photo items for sale.

 Thanks for taking a few minutes to read about this mid-century French camera made after WWII.

 Until my next review, take care.