Durst Duca

A Tiny Full‑Frame Surprise: Shooting the Durst Duca

My Durst Duca camera.

I first saw the Durst Duca in McKeown's Camera Guide probably 30 years ago, and I can still remember my first instinct: this had to be a miniature camera. The tall, narrow body looked more like a tiny cine camera than anything that could handle standard 35mm film. With its vertical form, I assumed it used a 16mm cassette like a Minolta 16. So when I read that the Duca is actually a full‑frame 35mm camera, I was shocked.

 It just didn't seem possible. The camera looked too small and too skinny to hide a 35mm cassette sideways, especially with that unusual vertical format. For years, it stayed in the back of my mind as one of those oddball cameras I never expected to actually run across.

Finding My Duca

Being in the U.S., this little Italian camera rarely shows up at the usual places I haunt for gear—flea markets, garage sales, estate sales. On the big auction sites, I do see them once in a while. Still, they're usually priced higher than I'm willing to pay, especially once you tack on international shipping.

Front view of Durst Duca camera.

 When the auction was about to end, I logged in about 10 minutes before the finish. The price on the Duca had jumped up a bit, and I was outbid, so I nudged my max up—still on the low side—and watched the timer count down. No one else jumped in, and I ended up winning the camera.

The auction house shipped quickly. When I opened the box, I was still surprised by how small the camera is in person. It was even smaller than I'd pictured. I started to check it over, winding the advance lever on the side and cocking the shutter. I heard a faint click, but it was so quiet I wasn't sure the shutter was actually opening and closing.

 I pulled the side of the camera off to get at the film chamber and saw that one of the two film cassettes was still inside—that was a nice bonus, since it meant I only needed to scare up one more cassette. Digging around in the drawer where I keep odds and ends of camera accessories, I found another cassette that would work.

 In my darkroom, I shone a flashlight through the lens and fired the shutter. At first, I saw no light at all, and my heart sank; I figured the camera might be dead. Then I noticed the pressure plate that holds the film flat against the rails. I pulled the pressure plate out, pointed the flashlight into the front of the lens again, and tripped the shutter. This time, I saw a brief flash of light through the gate—success. The shutter was working. That was the moment I decided the Durst Duca would be the camera I'd write about for this week's blog.

A Little Durst History

Durst is best known today for its darkroom enlargers. Still, for about 25 years, the company also made a small, innovative line of cameras that reflected the same experimental mindset they brought to the darkroom. Founded in 1936 in northern Italy by brothers Julius and Gilbert Durst, the firm quickly gravitated toward photographic equipment, especially enlargers, which eventually became its main business.

 Durst's camera story starts with the Gil, a simple 120 roll‑film box camera introduced in 1938 for the growing amateur market. After World War II, Durst resumed production of the Gil and then shifted toward more compact designs, setting the stage for its 35mm experiments.

Australian Ad for Durst Duca camera

The Duca followed as a tiny 35mm still camera that used Agfa Karat cassettes instead of standard 35mm cartridges. That choice let Durst play with miniaturized body shapes: an oval, cine‑style form in a pocketable size, offered in several colors. This focus on unusual styling and packaging mirrored their enlargers, which often looked different from competitors but emphasized precision and usability.

 Next came the Durst 66, a modestly specified camera with an unconventional shutter and a quirky way of measuring exposure. You can already see Durst thinking outside the box, trying to rethink mechanisms rather than just copying others' work.

 All of that leads to the Durst Automatica, made from 1956 to 1963 and often regarded as the first 35mm camera with aperture‑priority automatic exposure. It used a pneumatic shutter derived from the Durst 66 and wrapped it in a very elegant body. For such a small camera line, it was an ambitious finale and shows how far Durst was willing to push design and automation.

My Durst Duca

The Durst Duca was introduced at the Milan Trade Fair in September 1946 and stayed in production until around 1952. It's a vertical‑format, full‑frame 35mm camera that uses Agfa Karat cassettes, and it was available in five colors: black, blue, red, white, and brown. I've only ever seen the black, blue, and red versions in photos. Still, now that I know more are out there, I'll keep an eye out—even if I suspect the more unusual colors will be priced higher than I'm willing to pay.

Physically, the Duca is tiny: only about 4 inches tall by 3.25 inches deep and just over 1.5 inches wide, and it weighs 10.1 ounces with the cassettes in place. The body is nicely rounded and fits well in the hand—definitely a camera you could drop in a coat pocket and forget about until you need it.

 The camera is very basic. The lens is a fixed 5 cm, f/11 meniscus design, though a rarer f/8 version is supposed to exist. Shutter speeds are limited to just two settings: 1/30 of a second and "P" for timed exposures. A small switch on the camera's faceplate, just below the viewfinder, sets the speed. I've also seen a version where the speeds are marked "I" for instant and "T" for timed. My guess is that mine is a later version, but I can't say that for sure.

 Focusing is done in only two zones. You can set the lens for 1–3 meters or 3 meters to infinity. To focus, you turn the outer ring of the lens until the red line points to the distance you want.

Loading Film and Getting the Duca Ready

To open the camera for loading, there's a small curled‑up lip on the right side of the body that you lift to swing open the film door. Inside, you'll see the two Agfa Karat cassettes. They pop out along with the pressure plate, which sits just behind the film gate and pulls straight up and out for loading.

 As mentioned, the camera takes Agfa Karat cassettes. When these were sold new, each roll of 35mm film was cut for 12 exposures, and the front of the camera proudly states that it takes 12 photos per roll. Since I have bulk 35mm film and two cassettes, I loaded my own.

I put one of the cassettes and my bulk loader into a dark bag. Inside the bag, I opened the loader, pulled out what I guessed would be enough film for 12 exposures, and added a bit more to be safe. I fed the film into the first cassette and closed up the loader, leaving a short length to thread into the second cassette. Then I unzipped the dark bag and removed the loaded cassette.

In the light, I could now feed the end of the film from the first cassette into the second one, slide both cassettes into the side of the camera, and drop the pressure plate back into place, making sure the film sat flat against the gate. Before closing the door, I advanced the film a bit to confirm that it was transporting. With the cassettes and pressure plate removed earlier, I'd noticed a small brass pin—very similar to the one in the Ansco Memo—that pops out, grabs a film sprocket, and moves up to advance the film.

Once everything looked right, I swung the back door into position and pressed it firmly against the body. Two small notches on the back have to line up with the body; if they're off even a little, the door won't sit snugly.

 Before heading out, I took a look at the lens and saw that the front element was pretty grimy. With some lens cleaner and tissues, I managed to clean the front, but because the camera is built the way it is, I couldn't get to the rear element at all. With the film loaded and the transport confirmed, I was ready to go for a walk through the neighborhood.

 

Shooting with a Vertical 35mm

With film in the camera, I headed out around the neighborhood, trying to photograph some of the same subjects I usually shoot—houses, parked cars, trees, little details I run across on my walks.

 The camera's faceplate shows a horizontal rectangle next to the number 12, while the viewfinder is vertical. I found that confusing at first. Was this meant to be a horizontal or a vertical camera? With only 12 exposures per roll, it seemed logical that they'd be in a horizontal orientation to match most 35mm cameras. Still, the vertical viewfinder was telling me otherwise. I wasn't sure, so I shot in both orientations early on, turning the camera back and forth.

 Once I processed the film and looked through the negatives, it was obvious: the Duca is a vertical‑format camera. If you want a horizontal image, you turn the whole camera on its side. It's not complicated, but it does take a little mental adjustment when you're used to most 35mm cameras being the other way around.

Results and Thoughts

Some of the images turned out great, and some didn't. There are a few reasons for that. One is focus—I didn't always remember to switch between the two focus zones when I changed subject distance. The other is exposure. With only one shutter speed and one aperture, you're basically at the mercy of the light. The negatives showed some variation, but nothing I couldn't deal with in post‑processing. It reminded me a lot of shooting with an Instamatic: pick a film with a wide exposure latitude and let it do the heavy lifting.

 I got 14 frames on the roll before the film refused to advance into the second cassette, which tells me my length estimate in the dark bag was close. The camera itself handled well. The viewfinder is on the small side and can be difficult to look through, especially if you wear glasses, but it's usable once you get used to it.

 The transport worked smoothly, and the shutter opened and closed as it should. The lens, however, is still dirty on the rear element, and there's really no easy way to clean it without taking the camera apart. That shows up in the photos as a general softness, almost like shooting with a soft‑focus filter. On some subjects, the look can actually be pleasant; on others, it just makes things a bit mushy.

 Overall, the Duca was a fun camera to use, and I'll definitely shoot it again. The whole process—from loading the Karat cassettes, to working with the vertical format, to seeing the results—was enjoyable. It's the kind of camera you could toss in a pocket when you head out on a trip and forget about until something catches your eye. I like that it's doing all of this as a full‑frame 35mm camera in such a tiny body.

 Thanks for taking the time to read about my experience with this little Italian wonder of a camera.

 If you'd like to see more of my camera adventures, here's a link to my other camera reviews. And if you're interested in cameras, lenses, or other photo gear I'm letting go of as I thin the collection, you can visit my Cuny's Cameras and Photos online store.

 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.

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.

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 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.

Voigtlander Prominent 35mm

My father-in laws Voigtlander Prominent

I'm unsure if I'll be able to get another posting out before the beginning of 2026, since Christmas and New Year's fall on the day I generally publish my reviews. Since this might be the final post for 2025, I wanted to make it a special review. 

 Special in the sense that, while the Voigtländer Prominent is an outstanding camera, what makes this camera especially special to me is that my father-in-law owned it, so it holds an even greater, much more cherished place in my collection.

 Let me tell you a bit about my father-in-law. He was the oldest of seven children living in a very small town named Sugar Creek, MO, just outside Independence. They were not a wealthy family, as the father worked at the local refinery. I was told that the house was so small that some of the children had to sleep in closets. At 18, he married my mother-in-law, who was only 17 at the time. By the time he was 22 and my mother-in-law was 21, they had three children.

 Soon after they were married, he joined the Army, where they were stationed in Augusta, GA, where my wife and the third child were born.  When my wife was only 6 months old, my father-in-law and the family were transferred to Naples, Italy. With his wife and three young children, my wife moved to Italy.

My father-in-law always had a passion for photography and, from what I'm told, purchased the Voigtländer Prominent while stationed overseas. After their time in Italy,  the family moved back to the USA. At this point, my father-in-law found a local camera store back near Kansas City, where he honed his photographic skills using the Voigtländer Prominent he purchased overseas.

Voigtlander logo and Prominent name on top of the camera.

 After the camera store, he was hired by Procter & Gamble to sell Duncan Hines cake mixes. He climbed the corporate ladder, moving his family with each promotion due to his outstanding managerial and sales skills. All the while, he still had a passion for photography. He was always taking photos of the family and eventually ended his career as a top executive at some of the largest Fortune 500 companies.

 This article is not only about a truly amazing camera, but also an ode to my father-in-law. Someone I looked up to in my career helped me in so many ways and was a warm, loving, generous, and caring individual. He passed away way too early from an auto accident, almost 30 years ago. We still have his Voigtländer Prominent, which he used, and it's in remarkable condition. For the final post, I wanted to write about this truly excellent camera, which means so much to all the family members.

 I've had the opportunity to purchase other Voigtländer prominent cameras, both the original and the Prominent II, with the standard Ultron and Heliar lenses, along with many different lenses and accessories for their cameras. Still, the camera from my father-in-law is off-limits. It will stay in my collection until I'm no longer around.

 I've reviewed other Voigtländer cameras, so I've written about their history in the past. Let me focus on the history of Voigtländer in a specific timeframe: after World War II, when they rebuilt a fantastic camera brand.

Voigtlander Post World War II:

 Voigtländer emerged from the Second World War with its Braunschweig factory largely intact and quickly resumed work under British military oversight, initially dedicating much of its output to Allied reparations until the new West German currency was introduced in 1949. This relatively undamaged industrial base, combined with a strong pre‑war optical tradition, allowed the firm to re‑establish itself rapidly as a key player in the post‑war German camera industry.​

 In the immediate post‑war years, Voigtländer revived and modernized pre‑war designs, adding new anti‑reflection coatings to lenses and continuing large‑format and medium‑format lens production. The company remained under the ownership of the chemicals and photographic‑paper firm Schering AG, which had acquired it in the 1920s, providing financial stability in a challenging economic climate.​

From Voigtlander Catalog Credit: Pacific Rim Camera

 The 1950s became Voigtländer's golden decade, marked by a broad range of high‑quality cameras and lenses that cemented its international reputation. Compact 35mm lines such as the Vito and the more sophisticated Vitessa appeared alongside the professional Prominent 35mm rangefinder. At the same time, optics like the Ultron, Nokton, Apo‑Lanthar, and Heliar established the brand as a leader in lens design. In 1952, Voigtländer introduced the Apo‑Lanthar 105 mm f/4.5, and in 1959, it launched the 36–82 mm f/2.8 Zoomar, one of the first interchangeable zoom lenses for 35mm still photography.​

 In 1956, Schering sold Voigtländer to the Carl Zeiss Foundation, bringing it into the same corporate orbit as Zeiss Ikon while initially keeping manufacturing and sales structures separate. Throughout the late 1950s and early 1960s, Voigtländer expanded into leaf‑shutter SLRs and advanced models such as the Bessamatic and Ultramatic, but the cameras were complex and costly to build. As Japanese manufacturers increased efficiency and undercut prices, Voigtländer's high production costs and conservative designs became major competitive disadvantages.​

 In 1965, Zeiss‑Ikon and Voigtländer's sales operations were combined, but falling sales led to the decision to cease camera production and close the Braunschweig factory on 4 August 1971, affecting over 2,000 employees. The physical works were reorganized as Optische Werke Voigtländer, with shared ownership between Zeiss, Rollei, and the state of Lower Saxony. By 1974, Rollei had taken complete control, continuing to produce lenses and cameras under the Voigtländer brand until its own financial collapse in the early 1980s.

 The trademark then passed through German photo retailers and, from 1999, has been licensed to Cosina in Japan, which uses the historic name on modern manual‑focus lenses and niche film cameras, giving Voigtländer a new life in the era of digital photography.

My Camera:

 My Voigtländer Prominent comes with the standard Ultron 50mm f/2.0 lens. The camera body serial # B 46551, and lens serial # 3782651. With this camera, there is a Voigtländer UV filter that I generally leave on the camera, along with a yellow filter for black-and-white photography, a rectangular metal lens hood, and the fitted brown camera case. The camera is 5.5" wide by 3.5" tall by 3.5" deep, and weighs 2 pounds, 0.8 ounces without film.

 The Voigtländer Prominent has some weight to it, and for me, it feels very comfortable in my hands. Maybe because it resembles an SLR more, like what most people are used to with rangefinder cameras. The camera has a somewhat peculiar layout and is something you'll need to get used to.

When you put the camera to your eye, the viewfinder is on the right side of the camera, which, for many, is different. The majority of cameras have the viewfinder either centered or more to the left than to the right. The focusing ring isn't on the lens, but located on the rewind knob. As you turn the outside of the rewind knob, generally used to rewind the film in the film cassette when you're done with the roll, on the Voigtländer Prominent, it focuses the lens. 

Looking through the viewfinder, the rangefinder is bright, with the yellowed area in the center clearly visible. With your left hand, turn the outer ring of the rewind knob to focus on your subject. Once the image is in focus, take your photo. Under the focus distance is the camera's depth of field guide for the aperture used. 

To take a photo, on the right-hand side of the camera is the film advance lever; wind it clockwise to advance the film. The same motion that advances the film also moves an internal bar that cocks the shutter. The shutter speed dial on the Syncro-Compur shutter is set by turning a ring just in front of the shutter cocking lever. The shutter speeds on this camera go from 1/500 to 1 sec, with "B" for timed exposures. According to the Voigtländer Prominent camera manual, it's best to set the 1/500 shutter speed before winding the camera, which cocks the shutter. You can set any shutter speed once the camera's shutter is cocked, but 1/500's not recommended.

If you want to use the camera's self-timer, it can be manually set by pulling down on the shutter's cocking lever once the camera is cocked. This sets the camera's self-timer to approximately 10 seconds when the shutter release is depressed. The camera's shutter release is the larger button on the top of the camera, just to the left of the film transport knob. Behind the shutter release is the cable release socket for timed exposures.

Top view of Voigtlander Prominent camera

Looking at the lens, the aperture is set by turning the aperture ring in the direction that produces a properly exposed image. On the Ultron 50mm lens, the aperture goes from F/2.0 to F/16. To remove the lens from the body, on the bottom of the lens is a large button you press in; interestingly, you can remove the lens by turning it left or right. Likewise, to put the lens onto the camera body, make sure the large button is on the bottom. You can mount the lens either to the right or left as long as the button end is on the bottom.

 Since the camera utilizes a leaf-style shutter as opposed to the standard focal plane shutter, the flash will sync at any shutter speed, which allows the photographer the ability to control the ambient light with flash much better, and this makes film cameras such as Hasselblad and Rolleiflex cameras ideal for weddings, portraiture, and commercial studio work. On the front of the camera, at the 11:00 position, is the PC sync for flash, along with the flash settings: "X" for electronic flash or "M" for flash bulbs.

To load film into the Voigtländer Prominent camera, on the left side of the camera are two buttons you press to open the camera's back door. Once open, you load the 35mm film just as you would any other 35mm camera. Push up the rewind shaft, drop in the 35mm cassette, and bring the leader over to the camera's take-up spool. Thread the leader into the take-up spool slot and wind the film advance. Make sure the film's sprocket holes are in the drive gears and take up the slack. Before closing the back of the film door, I like to turn the rewind knob to take up the slack in the film cassette, so when I close the back and wind to the first frame, I watch the rewind knob turn to make sure the film is actually moving within the camera.

 Once you close the back door, the frame counter needs to be set manually. To do this, lift up on the winding knob, then turn the camera's frame counter to "F" to give you a couple of turns on the film advance until you get to frame number 1.

When you're done with the roll of film, you'll need to rewind it into the film cassette. The rewind knob has an arrow pointing outward. Push the button outwards, and the rewind handle will pop up. Just below the cable release socket is a small button labeled "R". Press the "R" button to disengage the transport gear, then turn the rewind knob clockwise to rewind the film into the film cassette. Once the film is rewound, open the camera back, process the film, and reload the camera with more film. 

 

My Results:

 I loaded the Voigtländer Prominent with a roll of 200-speed film and took one of our dogs to the local dog park to get the pooch some exercise, taking photos of a different area than walking through the neighborhood as I usually do.

 Here are some photos from the local dog park and the shadows on my back patio on a beautifully sunny day in the Portland Area in December. It wasn't a typical December day in this area, so I wanted to make the most of it.

Conclusion:

 I really love this camera. The images are incredibly sharp, and this camera gives Leica and Contax a run for their money. It's exceptionally well-built, the lenses are tremendous, and I like the camera's size and weight.

 The system's weakest link is its lack of lenses, and for many, the camera's focus is a drawback. I've read that people don't like having the viewfinder on the right side, which makes it more challenging for them to use the camera. I don't find it annoying, as others do.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 If you're looking for a camera, lens, or other photo oddity, please stop by my eBay store, Cuny's Cameras and Photo. If there's something that interests you, mention my blog, and I'll offer you a discount.

 Thank you for taking a few minutes from your day to read about this excellent camera with extremely sharp lenses. If I don't post another review before the end of the year, please have a Happy Holiday and a fabulous New Year.

 Until next time, please be safe.

Kodak Panoram 1-Model D

My Kodak Panoram 1, Model D camera

Panoramic cameras and images have always fascinated me. The thought of seeing such a wide area in a photo seems so natural to me. Whenever I look at subjects, the human eye always sees a wide field of view, and narrowing it down to a smaller angle just seems peculiar to me. Even when I look through telephoto lenses, I want to see a wider angle, just closer. Unfortunately, that’s not how lenses work, so the ability to get a wider view is wonderful.

 The Kodak Panoram 1 is one of the first panoramic cameras I've owned. The first panoramic camera I bought was a Russian Horizont, a 35mm model that came with an accessory handle, viewfinder, and case. Unfortunately, this model of camera, due to the lack of workmanship, has a tendency for image "banding" as the lens doesn't rotate smoothly when making the exposure, so when the lens hesitates, it creates a change in exposure, creating a vertical exposure difference, which is darker due to the extra exposure time.

 I only had that camera for a short time, but it was a wonderful one to learn from, and from that experience I found the Kodak Panoram 1. One of the main reasons I knew about Kodak's early panoramic cameras was a set of negatives of two of my friends, which I purchased around 35 years ago. They were a set of 40 nitrate panoramic negatives, measuring 2 1/4" x 7", from a family who visited San Francisco and the surrounding area in 1906. There were photos of the rubble from the 1906 earthquake, along with other images of the family traveling up the delta to Sacramento and into the forest areas. If you're interested, here is a link to pictures from the aftermath of the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake.

 While researching the negative size and cameras built around 1900, I came across the Kodak Panoram 1 and the Multiscope Baby Al-Vista. I believe the Baby Al-Vista's negatives are just a bit smaller. At this point, due to my love of panoramic images, I really wanted to find a good Kodak Panoram 1 camera not only to have in my collection, but also to shoot with.

My Kodak Panoram 1, Model D with Case.

 The Kodak Panoram 1 camera used 105 film when it was manufactured, which is the same width as 120 film; the spools are just a bit different, as the flange is wider on 105 spools. Knowing that I could shoot 120 film in the Kodak Panoram 1 camera made it considerably more desirable. 

 Kodak also made larger Panoram cameras, the 3A and 4, which used larger film. The 3A produced 3 1/4" x 10 3/8" negatives on size 122 film; the 4 made 3 1/2" x 12" negatives on size 103 film. Since the necessary larger film is unavailable, choosing a usable Panoram was easy: I purchased the Panoram 1.

 The Kodak Panoram 1 comes in two distinct versions. There's the original Panoram 1, where the entire back of the camera comes off the body, revealing the curved arc of the film plane. The back of the camera is held to the camera body by two clips. 

 The second version of Kodak Panoram 1, the Model D, which I've had in my collection for 30-plus years, is slightly different. The back of the camera doesn't detach from the body, but, like some horizontal-folding cameras, there are buttons on either side you press to release it and fold it down. Then the camera's sides swing out to allow you to load and unload film.

 I have owned and restored several of both models, as the lens-swinging mechanism is the same, and the leather or suede bellows are similar. The main reason for the change in style was to reduce the camera's size. I prefer the original with the removable back, but both deliver fantastic images.

History of Kodak Panoram:

 Introduced by Eastman Kodak at the turn of the 20th century, the Kodak Panoram series democratized wide-angle photography, bringing it out of the domain of professional specialists and into the amateur market. Debuting in 1899 with the No. 4 and in 1900 with the smaller, popular No. 1, these "shoe-box"- shaped cameras remained in production until 1928.

Advertisment for the Kodak Panoram cameras

 The Panoram’s defining feature was its ingenious swing-lens mechanism. Unlike standard cameras with fixed lenses, the Panoram featured a lens mounted on a pivoting turret. When the shutter was triggered, the lens swung in an arc—typically between 112 and 142 degrees—sweeping light across a curved plane of film (the area of film bent to match the arc) at the back of the camera. This design minimized horizon distortion while capturing vast landscapes or large-group portraits in a single exposure. A swing-lens mechanism means the camera’s lens actually moves or "swings" during the exposure, rather than remaining stationary as in most cameras, to create a wide panoramic image.

 Aimed primarily at outdoor and travel use, Panoram cameras were used to document landscapes, expeditions, and colonial scenes, including polar exploration and industrial development in Southeast Asia. Their relatively simple wooden-and-leather construction, fixed focus, and minimal controls reflected Kodak’s broader strategy of making specialized photography accessible to non‑experts. At the same time, the nearly three‑decade production run indicates sustained popularity among enthusiasts of wide‑angle views.

 Three primary models defined the line: the No. 1 (using 105 film), the No. 4 (using 103 film for massive 12-inch negatives), and the short-lived No. 3A (introduced in 1926). While eventually displaced by newer formats and the 35mm revolution, the Panoram remains a cult classic today, prized by collectors and photographers for the unique, sweeping perspective that only a mechanical swing-lens can provide.

My Camera:

 My Kodak Panoram 1, Model D camera is 7.5" wide with the strap, by 4.5" deep by 4" tall, including the optical viewfinder, and weighs 1 pound 9.5 ounces without film loaded in the camera.

 To open the lens, pull down the front lens cover to reveal the swing lens to one side or the other. If it were pointing straight ahead, the lens cover wouldn't close. On the inside of the lens cover is the camera name, No. 1 Panoram, Kodak, Model D. On the bottom is the camera's serial number. My camera's serial number is 18986.

The camera is simple with minimal controls. On top is the etched nickel Kodak waist-level finder, which you lift to reveal the viewfinder. Behind the finder is the shutter speed selector. There are two notches: the one near the center is for a slower shutter speed, and pulling the selector to the end increases spring tension, making the lens swing faster at that speed.

 To set the speed, slide the bar opposite the lens direction. If the lens faces right, slide the bar left to set the next photo's shutter speed. Lock the chosen slow or fast speed with the clip under the selector bar. The shutter release is just right of the optical waist-level finder. Press the shutter button to release the lens and watch it swing to expose the film. Two lines form a "V" at the top, indicating the camera's approximate field of view.

As mentioned previously, to open the back to load the film, unclip the strap on the right side of the camera, then press in the two buttons on the sides of the camera, which will release the camera's back, and it will swing down, and the sides of the camera will also swing open, revealing the film chamber. There you'll see the curved film plane the film travels over, and the very impressive cone on the back of the lens guiding the light onto the film as the lens swings from one side to the other.

To load film into the camera can be a bit tricky because the newer plastic film reels—that is, the circular pieces at each end of a roll that hold the film—can at times be thicker than what was used originally back in the early 1900s, when Kodak would use metal for the reel ends and wood for the film cores, meaning the spools—the cylinder around which the film is wound—would be a bit thinner. When I went to load film for the blog post, I tried a brand I'd never used before. The spool was just a bit too thick and wouldn't fit into the camera easily, and once I did get it in, it was so stiff that the film wouldn't transport across the shutter easily.

 I loaded a new roll by placing the empty spool on the right, then lifting the winding lever and button to fit it. Then I placed the new roll on the left, brought the paper backing over the film plane, and threaded the leader into the empty spool slot. I wound the film until the start arrows appeared, pressed in the camera sides, and swung the back up to lock it.

Since 120 film isn't designed for panoramic cameras, the numbers 2, 6, 10, and 14 appear on the back of my camera. These indicate the frame numbers to stop at for each of the four photos on 120 film. I wound the film to 2 and was ready to take my first shot.

 

My Results:

 The film I loaded into the camera was an older roll of Kodak BW400CN film I purchased at a local camera show a few months ago. One thing about the film is that it needs to be processed in C-41 chemicals, which is a standard color film developing process. For the article, I wasn't sure I'd have enough time to get the film processed. Looking online, people mentioned the film can be processed in B&W (black-and-white) chemicals, so that's what I did. 

 There was a break in the rain on Sunday, so I loaded the film into the camera because the Kentmere I had didn't fit because the spool was too thick. I took the photo and went back to the house to develop the negatives. Maybe I didn't process the film long enough, since the images were extremely thin. I had to do some magic in Photoshop to get the images I have, so my apologies for the poor examples.

 However, I used the camera when I went to Yosemite a few years ago, and the images turned out great, so I'm adding a couple of color images from Yosemite to this blog to show how well the camera performs.

Conclusion:

 I've always been a huge fan of both the Multiscope Al-Vista and the Kodak Panoram camera. It's interesting that I've only owned the Panoram 1 camera and never the 3a or 4 Panoram, but I do have some of the larger Al-Vista cameras.

 The Panoram 1 is a fun camera to use, and the results are surprisingly good. I should have a camera with a smooth shutter. The cameras are compact, use 120 film, and, unfortunately, are becoming increasingly expensive as people learn about them and how much fun they are to use.

 Fortunately, I've had mine for many years, and I also have the camera case, which is a plus. It's just a real gem in my camera, and truthfully, I'm surprised I haven't written about it sooner than I have.

 Thank you for taking a few minutes from your day to read about his wonderful panoramic camera from over 100 years ago.

 Here's a link to my previous Camera Reviews.

 I also have an eBay shop, Cuny's Camera and Photo, where I sell cameras I've reviewed, along with other photo oddities. If you're interested in anything from my store, reach out to me, and I'll offer a discount. Just mention my blog.

 Until next week, please be safe.

GOMZ Malyutka Camera

My GOMZ Malyutka camera

It wasn't until later in my camera-collecting career that I developed an interest in miniature and subminiature cameras. It was the more unusual or the odder looking camera items like the pen-shaped Stylophot,  or the round Petal camera, the Twin Lens style miniature cameras like the Gemflex camera, or the miniature cameras which resemble small rangefinder or SLR cameras like the Golden Ricoh 16, where I really enjoyed having them in my collection. They are very unique cameras and items that stand out because they are so different from the larger box, folding, or view cameras. A real advantage of having miniature and subminiature cameras in your collection is the amount of display space they save. You can display many more items and accessories in a much smaller area.

 The GOMZ Malyutka is a camera I purchased around 10 years ago, and I didn't start researching it until about a year ago, when I found out it was pretty rare. I didn't even have it in my display of miniature or subminiature cameras until that time.

 This is another camera I purchase in a group or "lot" of camera in a fairly unknown auction of camera. My real prize and the main item I was bidding on was an early Nikon F body, and tucked in the background was an early Nikon 5cm f2 tick mark lens, which, due to the angle of the lens and the low visibility of people looking, not many people bid on the "Lot", so luckily it was one that I won. There were also other items within the "lot" that I had minimal interest in, but the Tick Mark lens and early Nikon F body were the prize.

Back side of GOMZ Malyutka camera

 Once I received the items from the auction, I noticed this really nice brown bakelite camera with Russian Cyrillic writing on the back. As I've mentioned before, I have a love for colored cameras, so when I saw this Gomz Malutka, I thought it was a nice little camera. I put it away, not really giving the camera much thought until about a year ago when I was going through a box of photo items for a local camera show that was selling at. I pulled the Gomz Malutka from the box, and was ready to add it to the items for the sale. Then, as I was inspecting the camera again, I thought it might be a fun camera to write about sometime in the future. I set the camera aside.

 After the camera show, as I returned to my office, I noticed the Gomz Malutka on my desk and started making some basic inquiries about the camera. At this point, I began to see that the camera is indeed somewhat rare, so let's write about it for my blog.

History:

 The history of GOMZ (Gosudarstvennyi Optiko-Mekhanicheskii Zavod), the State Optical-Mechanical Plant, reflects Russia's tumultuous and innovative 20th-century history. Located in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg), the factory was the cradle of the Soviet optical industry, responsible for producing the nation's first mass-market cameras and pioneering designs that predated Western equivalents.

Cover of Sovetskoe Foto (Soviet Photo) Magazine

 The facility began life in 1914 as a French-Russian joint venture to produce optical sights for the military during World War I. Following the 1917 Revolution, the factory was nationalized and underwent several reorganizations before officially adopting the GOMZ acronym in 1932. While it continued to produce military optics, the Soviet leadership demanded a domestic photographic industry to reduce reliance on German imports, pushing GOMZ toward consumer cameras.

 The 1930s marked GOMZ's golden era of innovation. Its first major success was the Fotokor-1 (1930–1941), a 9x12cm folding plate camera. Based on German designs, the Fotokor-1 became the first mass-produced Soviet camera, with over one million units manufactured. It effectively democratized photography in the USSR, serving as the primary tool for documenting the Soviet state's industrialization.

Even more technically significant was the Sport (1937), a 35mm single-lens reflex (SLR) camera. Historians often debate whether the GOMZ Sport or the German Kine Exakta was the world's first proper 35mm SLR. Regardless of the title, the Sport was a marvel of engineering for its time, featuring a vertical metal shutter and a reflex viewfinder that allowed photographers to see exactly what the lens saw—a standard feature today, but revolutionary in the 1930s.

Logo of Gomz camera

 During World War II, the factory suffered heavily during the Siege of Leningrad. Production shifted entirely to military needs, such as sights for tanks and artillery. After the war, GOMZ pivoted back to consumer goods, focusing on affordable, simple cameras for the recovering population.

This post-war period gave rise to the legendary Lubitel series (starting in 1949). Based on the German Voigtländer Brilliant, the Lubitel was a twin-lens reflex (TLR) camera made of Bakelite and later plastic. It was cheap, durable, and capable of producing excellent medium-format images, introducing millions of amateurs to photography. Similarly, the Smena series provided a simple, viewfinder alternative that became a staple in Soviet households.

 In 1965, GOMZ underwent a final restructuring, becoming the Leningrad Optical-Mechanical Association (LOMO). Under this new name, the factory would later produce the LOMO LC-A, the camera that accidentally sparked the global "Lomography" art movement in the 1990s. However, the foundation of this success was laid during the GOMZ era, which transformed a military optics plant into a titan of Soviet creativity and engineering.

My Camera:

 My GOMZ Malyutka is small, measuring  2" wide, by 1.5" tall and 1.5" deep from the front of the lens to the rear of the camera, and it weighs only 2.3 ounces without film. The Gomz Malutka is based on the SIDA camera from Sida GmbH, Berlin, Germany, which was made in the mid-1930s and came in both metal and Bakelite. "Malyutka" (малютка) is a Russian word that means "baby," "little one," or "tiny thing". It is also very similar to a camera made by Gomz,  Liliput camera.

 The camera's controls are very straightforward. There is only the shutter release at the bottom of the camera, along with the shutter control on the right side next to the lens. The shutter control consists of two settings: "M" (moment) for normal shutter speed, generally around 1/50 sec, and "B" for time exposures. Sliding a bar out from the side of the camera makes these settings. Sliding the shutter release under the lens takes the photo. 

 To open the back of the camera to load film, there are clips on either side that you move to the down position to remove the back. The camera takes Boltax film, a special 35mm film that produces a 24 mm x 24 mm negative. You load the camera similarly to any roll film camera: put the empty spool on the take-up reel side and the fresh film on the opposite side. Bring the leader to the slot on the take-up spool and start winding. Put the back on the camera and slide up the clips to lock it in place. Wind the film and advance it to the first frame.

 There is a small viewfinder at the top of the camera to frame your photo, and a tripod socket at the bottom to steady the camera during long exposures. Also at the top is a small, round metal disk that rotates as the film moves within the camera. Since the camera doesn’t have a red window on the back of the film door, you need to watch the disk rotate a few times to make sure the film is moving inside the camera.

Results:

 Since I don't have any Boltax film, I wasn't able to take photos with the Malutka camera, but possibly in the future, I'll try and use some paper backing I have from a few rolls of 828 film and run some film through it using 35mm to see how the camera performs.

 

Conclusion:

 The Gomz Malyutka is an excellent small camera that I enjoy having in my collection. It's in fantastic condition and is another color camera that sits proudly amongst the other miniature and subminiature cameras on my shelf.

 Thank you for taking the time to learn about this small, odd Russian camera. 

 I'd love to hear from you. Please get in touch with me if you have questions, concerns, or comments.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photo has many cameras I've reviewed for sale, along with other camera and photo oddities. If interested in any items, email me, and I'll offer a nice discount as a friend of the family.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Kodak Bantam Special

My Kodak Bantam Special camera.

There are a few cameras that, just due to their sheer design, stand out in any person's collection. Cameras like the Kodak Super Six-20, Polaroid SX-70, Welta Reflekta, and the Kodak Brownie Beau all have a very striking design, whether on the faceplate or the camera's overall design. In my opinion, the one camera that is the most striking and beautifully made is the subject of this week's camera collecting blog, the Kodak Bantam Special.

 The Kodak Bantam Special is a camera made between 1936 and 1948, during the heyday of camera innovation and manufacturing not only in the United States but worldwide. If you think about the cameras produced in this era, there were the Zeiss Ikon Contax I, II, and III. Leica had the IIIC, Ihagee had the Kine Exakta, Kodak produced the Retina, Medalist, Rolleiflex continued to improve their models, and companies like Argus, Voigtlander, Agfa, and in Japan, Canon produced the Hansa in 1936.

Kodak bantam Special with case, manual and original box.

 I've had my Kodak Bantam Special for 20 years or longer at this point, and one of the things I like about my Bantam Special is it's a very clean camera, with a working shutter, very bright viewfinder, a very nice case, the original box and instruction manual(s) too. When I opened the box to retrieve the case, I found two manuals inside. Something I have forgotten about.

 I've owned several different Kodak Bantam cameras, which are relatively common and easy to find, but the Bantam Special truly is a "special" camera. I've owned a couple before the one I have now, but they were in relatively poor condition, with either chips in the paint or a shutter that wasn't working. But when I found this camera online, not only was the price reasonable, but it was complete. The only thing it didn't have was the camera's hang tag, which is extremely difficult to find.

 As I was looking over the cameras above my desk, thinking about the camera I wanted to write about this week, my eyes skimmed over the Bantam Special, thinking I must have written about it in the past. Still, when I looked at my camera reviews, it was one I'd overlooked. 

 The reason it's been looked over was the lack of 828 film I have in my refrigerator, which I use to review cameras. I have many of the other film formats,  35mm, 120, 620, 116, and 127, but no 828. So, a couple of weeks ago, I went to the local vintage camera store in town, which carries several of the film sizes I shoot with, and bought a couple of rolls.

An artistic view of Kodak Bantam Special camera

 For the history section, I've already written about the history of George Eastman, Eastman Kodak, and Walter Dorwin Teague, my favorite camera designer, so I thought I'd talk a bit about the not-too-popular film size that went away almost 40 years ago, 828 film.

History:

 828 film is a niche but significant chapter in the evolution of roll-film photography. Introduced by Eastman Kodak in 1935, 828 was designed as an alternative to 35mm film for compact consumer cameras. Kodak developed it alongside the launch of the original Kodak Bantam, a stylish, pocket-sized camera meant to bring high-quality photography to a broader audience. The goal was to offer the image quality of 35mm negatives without the mechanical complexity and cost associated with perforated 35mm film cassettes.

Kodak Bantam Special ad with 828 film

 Physically, 828 film is 35mm wide, identical to standard 35mm film in width, but it is paper-backed like 120 film. Instead of the multiple perforations found in 35mm stock, 828 features a single registration hole per frame, which helped position each exposure. This simplified both camera design and film advancement mechanisms. The standard frame size—28×40 mm—is actually slightly larger than the 24×36 mm frame on typical 35mm film, giving it a modest image-quality advantage despite its amateur-market positioning.

 Throughout the late 1930s and 1940s, Kodak produced a variety of Bantam models that used 828 film, including several Art Deco designs, such as the Bantam Special, known for its high-quality lenses and elegant styling. Other camera manufacturers occasionally experimented with the format as well, but 828 remained overwhelmingly associated with Kodak.

 The format reached its peak popularity in the 1940s and early 1950s, especially in the United States. However, its momentum began to fade as 35mm film gained dominance, propelled by the rise of precision German and later Japanese cameras, reusable metal cassettes, and the convenience of automated processing. By the 1960s, 828 had become a minor format, kept alive mainly by Kodak's continued film production and the long lifespan of Bantam cameras already in circulation.

 Kodak manufactured 828 film until the mid-1980s, after which demand dwindled, and the film was discontinued. Today, 828 is considered an obsolete format, though it retains a small following among camera collectors and experimental photographers. Enthusiasts occasionally reload old 828 spools with cut-down 35mm film, keeping the distinctive format alive in a niche, hands-on way.

My Camera:

 My Kodak Bantam Special camera is 5" wide by 3" tall by 2" deep with the lens closed, and 4" deep when the lens is extended. It weighs 1 pound, 0.5 ounces with a roll of film loaded. The camera is very sleek and stylish, with a Kodak Anastigmat Ektar 45mm f/2.0 lens and a Compur Rapid shutter. The camera was distributed between 1936 and 1940 with the Compur Rapid shutter made in Germany; after the war, Kodak distributed the camera with a Supermatic shutter between 1941 and 1948. 

To open the camera to take a photo, press the button on the right side, right in the middle, adjacent to the lens door. The door swings open to the left as you hold the camera, which is the opposite of how the popular Kodak Retina line of cameras opens to take a photo. 

 Similar to the Kodak Retina, the Bantam Special's lens is on a lens board, which is attached to a short black bellows that extends as the lens extends, with a scissor-style truss connecting the lens board to the camera body.

To focus the lens, the camera incorporates a "military style" rangefinder system. The focus adjustment is in the upper-right corner of the lens board when you hold the camera. Sliding the lever down focuses the lens. The rangefinder is viewed through the left-hand window on the back and provides a magnified view of the subject you're focusing on. The rangefinder in my camera is very bright and easy to focus with. Just slide the focus lever until a vertical line becomes a single, straight line, which indicates the camera is focused. The viewfinder is the window on the right-hand side that allows the photographer to frame their subject. 

The focus ring is also used to close the lens back into the camera body. Slide the ring up past the infinity marker in the direction of the "close" arrow. The lens's door will unlock, allowing you to retract the lens back into the camera and shut the front door for transportation.

 The shutter speeds and aperture settings are done on two separate settings on the Compur Rapid shutter. The shutter speed range is from 1/500 to 1 sec, along with "B" and "T" settings. The Aperture range is from f/2.0 to f/16 and is set via a sliding lever on the bottom of the shutter.

The shutter's cocking lever is on top of the shutter system, and the shutter release button is in the lower right of the camera's shutter. The placement and size of the shutter release were the most challenging aspects of using the Kodak Bantam Special camera. I'd get the camera focused, set the exposure, set the shutter speed and aperture, frame, cock the shutter, and I kept missing the shutter release. It's relatively small, and while not hidden, it's not in a very convenient place. If there were a shutter release on the top of the camera similar to the Retina's, that would make the camera much easier to use.

To open the back to load the film, on the top left of the camera, as you're holding it, is a protruding clip you pull up to release the lock for the back door. Once open, the camera is like many roll film cameras, with the empty spool going under the winding lever and the new roll of film on the right side of the camera body. Pull the film's leader out, and across the shutter area, and slide the tab into the slot of the empty film spool. Wind the leader until you see the "start" sign on the film's paper backing and close the film door. Open the camera's green window on the back door to see the frame numbers appear, indicating when to stop and take your next photo.

According to the manual, there is a button on the back of the camera that unlocks the frame advance knob, allowing you to advance the film to the next frame. Either the "film for classics" film used to take photos didn't have an automatic frame stop, or the item on my camera wasn't working because I didn't need to press the button to advance the film, and the film didn't stop automatically at the next frame. Either way, it wasn't a significant hindrance, and I just stopped advancing the film when I saw the following number on the roll.

My results:

 Other than the difficulty I had finding the shutter release to take the photo, the camera was enjoyable to use. It's slim and fits nicely into my pocket when I walk around the neighborhood taking pictures. The shutter started to lag after the second shot on the roll, and the rest of the roll didn't turn out because of it. I exercised the shutter for an hour or so, running through all the shutter speeds, and that helped. Luckily, I purchased two rolls of film, and the following day, I loaded the camera and tried again, with much better results, as you can see from the examples below.

 The rangefinder was bright and extremely easy to use. The regular viewfinder was a bit small, but that's probably more to do with me getting older and having an eye issue with my "taking" eye, so I needed to swap over and shoot "left-eyed," which is something I'll need to get used to.

 I loaded a roll of Classics 828 film into the camera and walked the neighborhood for photos. With only eight frames per roll on 828 film, I can see why 35mm became more popular. That's not that many photos before having to change to the next roll of film.

 Anyway, here are the results from my walk around the neighborhood with my Kodak Bantam Special.

Conclusion:

 On a scale of 1 to 10 for camera usability, I'd give it a 7, but for overall appearance, artistry, and appeal, it's a solid 10 in my books. There aren't many other cameras with this one's overall beauty.

 The photos turned out terrific, and it was great fun to use. Other than the price of black-and-white film at over $20.00 per roll, I'd use the camera more often. Still, for special occasions, it is a great camera to use, and one I'm pleased to have in my collection, especially with the case, manual, and box.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 I have some of the reviewed cameras along with other interesting cameras and photo items in my eBay store, Cuny's Cameras and Photos. Please stop by, and if you mention the blog, I'll be happy to offer a discount.

 Thank you for taking the time to read about this fabulous camera from the late 1930s. The Kodak Bantam Special is just that, Special.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Hasselblads Kamera Express

My Hasselblads Kamera Express

When I first saw this camera, which was only a month or so ago, it was on an online camera auction. Seeing the name Hasselblad on the back of the camera, my first thought was to write a blog post about it, since the very prestigious Hasselblad made it, but not the Victor Hasselblad Company most people are familiar with. 

 As I delved into the research of this rare camera, I was filled with a sense of excitement. The scarcity of information about this specific camera only added to its allure. My initial assumption that it was crafted by Victor Hasselblad's Grandfather, Arvid Viktor, was proven wrong, adding a layer of mystery to this unique piece. 

 This camera is the Hasselblads Kamera Express, and it dates from 1893. Hasselblad didn't really make it; it was produced for them by another Swedish company, Hugo Svensson & Company, another camera manufacturer in Gothenburg, Sweden. Here's where it gets a little strange. 

 According to McKeown's Camera Guide, they state the camera was manufactured by Murer & Duroni, of Milan, Italy. Others have said that the camera made by Hugo Svensson & Co. is nothing but a copy, or just very similar to the Murer-built camera. 

 Let me give you a brief history of the Pre-Victor Hasselblad & Hugo Svensson & Co., and how the two became intertwined in the late 1890s.

History:

 The History of Hasselblad goes all the way back to Victor's Great Grandfather, Fritz Viktor, who in 1841 founded the F.W. Hasselblad Company in Gothenburg, selling fabrics, travel accessories, and household goods, sort of the Pre-Ikea company (just a joke). One of Fritz's sons, Arvid Viktor (Victor's grandfather), met George Eastman in 19885 and sparked a business relationship, giving the F.W. Hasselblad Co. exclusive distributorship of Eastman Film & plate in Sweden.

Victor Hasselblad photographed by Per-Olof Swanberg. In search of Skåne's storks. Image Courtesy:Sören Gunnarsson.

 In 1908, Arvid broke away from the F.W. Hasselblad Co. and started a new company, Hasselblad Fotografiska AB, which sold solely photographic equipment to meet the product demands of customers in Sweden. Just two years before opening Hasselblad Fotografiska AB, Victor Hasselblad was born.

 When Victor was 18, he was sent to Dresden, Germany, to learn the camera trade, as many companies manufactured cameras in the area at the time. Victor also traveled the world, including the US, where he worked in camera stores, processing labs, and camera manufacturing. He even worked in Rochester, New York, with George Eastman before returning to Sweden in 1934.

 In 1937, Victor opened his own camera store in Gothenburg named Victor Camera. The first camera Victor made was the HK-7 in 1941. During WWII, he was asked to improve a captured German aerial camera for the Swedish Air Force. After WWII, he went on to produce some of the most iconic medium-format cameras used by professionals worldwide for close to 100 years.

 

Hugo Svensson & Co. 

 There is some excellent information about Swedish Camera history, although it’s in Swedish, you can use Google Translate to convert the text for your language.

 John Hugo Svensson (1867-1942) was trained as an engineer and worked with C.G. Dahlgren & Co. The company was next door to F.W. Hasselblad & Co., where they repaired goods for them. As cameras became more prevalent at Hasselblad, the C.G. Dahlgren Co. took on their repairs.

Hasselblad store advetising from 1902: Image courtesy: Sören Gunnarsson.

 As Svensson repaired the camera, he found ways to improve it, then began designing his own cameras based on those improvements. These cameras were then sold through the F.W. Hasselblad Co. store. 

 When the owner of C.G. Dahlgren & Co. passed away in 1896, Svensson bought out Dahlgren's widow and started his own company, Hugo Svensson & Co., which also included the younger brother of the original owner.

 Hugo Svensson's first camera, built around 1893, was the "Svenska Express", a drop-plate camera for either 6x9, 9x12, or 10x15cm plates. It was a copy of the Italian company Murer's Express camera built in 1900. My guess is Svensson worked on the Murer version and thought he could improve it. Hasselblad also marketed the Murer's Express Newness. 

 By 1902, Hugo Svensson & Co. produced a 20-page catalog of the products it manufactured and sold, including the "Svenska Express", "Simil Express", "Svea", and "Stella". Hugo Svensson produced catalogues until the 1940s, where he also sold German cameras, lenses, and instructions, making the catalog similar to a handbook.

My Camera:

 The camera I am fortunate to own is a slight variation of the models mentioned above. My Hasselblads Kamera Express, standing at 7" tall by 9" long by 4" wide, and weighing 2 pounds, 11.6 ounces, with a serial number of 111566, holds a special place in my collection. This serial number is imprinted on the inside of the back door, where you load the 9cm x 12cm film holders. My camera comes with five film holders, each holding a unique story.

Initially, I was unsure if my camera's shutter was operational. However, as I began to explore the camera, I discovered its hidden secrets. As I turned the center knob, just below the lens, it clicked, and when I pushed in the shutter release on the side of the camera, the shutter fired. This moment of discovery filled me with joy and fascination.

 Let me give you the camera's layout. Above the lens is a small knob that you can pull out. The rod moves the lens on the inside of the camera body and focuses it to the required distances, measured in meters.

 As just mentioned, the knob below the lens can be turned clockwise to cock the shutter. Just to the left of the shutter cocking mechanism is the aperture setting. To set the aperture, pull up the arm and slide it to the desired aperture number. The numbers on my camera are pretty worn and difficult to see, but I believe they are F/11 to the far left, then, as you swing the arm counterclockwise, the next stop is "S" (or closed), then f/14, F/22, and f/36.

On the lower right of the camera's faceplate is the shutter speed control. The shutter speeds available are 1/100, 1/50, 1/25, 1/10, 1/5 and 1. You turn the dial to the desired speed.

 At the top of the camera is the camera's handle, a spirit level, and a waist-level finder for vertical photos. On the right side of the camera is the viewfinder for horizontal photos, another spirit level, and the shutter release, which can be set to "M" for snapshots or "T" for timed exposures. Towards the rear of the camera is the lever that changes the internal film plates. Slide the lever to the top to drop the plate down from the exposed area. As you slide the arm back, it catches the next plate, making it ready for exposure.

 If you're not familiar with how a falling plate camera works, let me tell you what I know. The film holders are stacked vertically on the top of the camera, with the film pointing towards the lens. They are held in place by a spring on the back of the camera, which pushes the film holders forward in the upper chamber. As you take a photo, you flip the switch on the side of the camera forward, which moves the exposed plate a bit, and it drops into the lower chamber of the camera. The next frame is pressed forward by the spring, you then expose the film plate, and so forth until all the frames have been exposed. At that point, you'll need to remove the film holders from the camera in a dark room to prevent exposure to light. The loading process also needs to be done in a dark room for obvious reasons.

To open the back to load the film plates, there are two latches on the top and bottom of the back door on the right-hand side. Pull them out to open the back, then place the plates in. Close the back and press in the two bars to keep it closed.

 On the bottom and on the left side of the camera are tripod sockets.

 

My results.

 At first, I didn't think the shutter was working, but then I found out how to cock the shutter. I can't figure out how the plates drop within the camera. Unfortunately, I didn't try using the camera because I don't have any sheet film, but once I do, I'll try and see how the camera handles making images. I'll need to do it one frame at a time until I figure out whether it's an operator or a camera malfunction.

 I also found Jabcam's overview of a similar falling plate camera. 

 

Conclusion.

 It's nice having an older Hasselblad in my collection, although Hasselblad didn't particularly make it. My real intention was to write about it for the camera blog. Not being a big fan of drop plate cameras, you'll likely see the camera for sale in my eBay store soon.

 If you're interested in purchasing it, let me know; otherwise, you can see some of the cameras I've reviewed for sale in Cuny's Cameras and Photo.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 Thank you for taking the time to read about the intertwined camera companies that worked together in the early 1900s.

 Until next week, please be safe.

References:

Jabcam overview of falling plate cameras: https://jabcam.wordpress.com/2013/04/29/topic-a-falling-plate-camera/

Swedish Camera History: https://www.fotopaw.se/texter/svkam.htm

History Of Hasselblad-Soren Gunnerson: https://gunnarssonforum.blogspot.com/search/label/Fritz%20Victor%20Hasselblad




Hasselblad X-Pan

My Hasselblad X-Pan w/finder

Throughout my photographic career, my passion for panoramic images and cameras, as well as daguerreotypes, has consumed a significant part of my interest in collecting photographic items, including those with unusual or colored features. I recall the timeline when I first acquired specific working models of panoramic cameras.

 In my early days of collecting, I recall purchasing my first panoramic camera, a Russian-made 35mm Horizont camera. That camera helped spark the purchase and use of more panoramic cameras. When I bought a Kodak Panoram 1, I just put it on my shelf. When I found out that 120 film fit into the Kodak Panoram, Model 1 camera, I almost jumped for joy, because I could use it, rather than look and admire it.

 Wanting to add to the panoramic camera family, the elusive Widelux F7 was still years away, as I had a young family and was careful about the types of cameras I purchased to grow my collection. During this time, I came across a few Multiscope Al-Vista cameras, particularly the Baby, because, like the Kodak Panoram 1, the Baby Al-Vista also uses 120 film.

 As time went on, and the kids grew, and I advanced in my career, more funds became available to acquire the more exotic items that were previously out of reach financially when I was younger. A coworker had a friend who was selling an early Panon 120 panoramic camera for a very reasonable price, which I purchased and took with me to Peru’s Machu Picchu when my wife and I took a trip there.

 It was a decade ago when I finally had the chance to acquire a Widelux F7 model at an excellent price. Despite its cosmetic condition, I was determined to bring it back to life. After a visit to Precision Camera Works in Texas, the camera was given a new lease on life. Today, it's one of the most frequently used cameras in my collection, and the one that has captured many of the images in my panoramic section on my website.

My Hasselblad X-Pan w/30mm lens, finder, center filter, 3D printed lens hood and cap.

 The Hasselblad X-Pan was a camera I recall from its introduction to the market in 1998. Like several cameras from Hasselblad during those years, it was a collaboration with Fujifilm in Japan. Hasselblad sold the X-Pan worldwide, except in Japan. In Japan, Fujifilm had the TX-1, which was the same camera, just a different name and model number.

 It wasn't until about five years ago that I had the opportunity to purchase the X-Pan I currently have and am writing about in this post. The Hasselblad X-Pan is a significant addition to my collection, not only because of its unique features but also because of its history and the challenges I faced in acquiring it. I found it on an online auction, but the camera didn't have the standard lens; it only had a 30mm lens. No finder, and the top of the camera was missing the small plastic piece in front of the flash shoe. The camera was used very well, but its working condition was unknown.

 Examining other items being sold in the auction, I discovered a group of items that included the 30mm finder for the X-Pan. I notified the auction house that the finder from this lot should go with the camera from a different lot. They placed the finder in the lot with the X-Pan, which made the items more desirable, especially to me. 

 When it came time for the lot to be sold, I was surprised at the price it sold for, and fortunately for me, I was the high bidder. The price wasn't cheap, but for the items sold, it was a great deal. One of my first reactions was, Is the camera in working condition? I paid the shipping fees, and I just crossed my fingers that the camera wasn't a total wreck, but rather a pile of parts I needed to pay to get repaired. The anticipation and uncertainty of this process added to the thrill of acquiring this unique piece for my collection.

 Once the camera arrived, the first thing I noticed was its physical condition. There were many scratches on the body, and the item missing from the top, near the flash shoe, gave the camera a very "combat" look. The great news was that the center filter was there, which I hadn't noticed, and when I put batteries in the camera, it came to life. All the displays lit up, so I started to feel very good about the purchase.

 Once I put the finder on top of the camera, and it hid the missing piece by the flash shoe, I had a huge smile on my face. The next thing I needed to do was put a roll of film in the camera and try it out. After I did that and the film turned out well, I knew I had a keeper and one I needed to start adding to the rotation of shooting with, especially since it had the lens I desired, the 30mm wide-angle lens and finder.

History:

 The history of Hasselblad, the iconic Swedish camera manufacturer, is inextricably linked to the passion and ambition of its founder, Victor Hasselblad (1906–1978). Though the family business, F.W. Hasselblad & Co., began in 1841 as a trading company, it was Victor's innate interest in photography—fueled by a childhood passion for birdwatching—that transformed the firm into a global innovator. After training in the optics industry across Europe and the United States, even working under Kodak founder George Eastman, Victor opened his own shop, Victor Foto, in Gothenburg in 1937. 

 The pivotal moment for the company arrived during World War II. In 1940, the Swedish military tasked Victor with reverse-engineering and improving a German aerial surveillance camera that had been recovered. His reported reply—"No, but I can make a better one"—set the standard for the company's future. He founded Victor Hasselblad AB in 1941 to manufacture the HK-7 military camera, laying the groundwork for the company's subsequent civilian production.

After the war, Victor applied his modular military design to the consumer market, launching the Hasselblad 1600F in 1948. This medium-format, single-lens reflex (SLR) camera, with its distinctive modular design featuring interchangeable lenses, viewfinders, and film magazines, quickly became the gold standard for professional photographers worldwide, especially with the introduction of the robust 500 series in the 1950s.

 Hasselblad secured its legendary status through its partnership with NASA, which began in 1962. Astronaut Walter Schirra, an avid photographer, suggested using his personal Hasselblad 500C to document space missions. NASA modified the cameras to withstand the harsh conditions of space, and the Hasselblad became the camera system of choice for American spaceflight. The climax of this partnership occurred on July 20, 1969, when a Hasselblad Data Camera (HDC) captured the historic first steps on the Moon, solidifying the brand's legacy as a true pioneer in imaging technology.

My Camera:

 My Hasselblad X-Pan is 7" wide by 3.25" tall without the 30mm viewfinder and 5.5" tall with the viewfinder by 3.5" deep from the back of the camera to the front of the lens. The camera weighs 2 pounds, 9.6 ounces with the 30mm f/5.6 lens. The camera body serial number is 11EE13969, and the lens serial # is 8SXP13110. I purchased an aftermarket, 3D-printed lens hood and cap for the 30mm lens, which fits well. However, it is shifting on the lens and not staying in the proper position, so I may have to spring for an actual Hasselblad-made hood and cap.

The camera is powered by 2 CR2, 3V photo batteries, which, like many cameras, fit into the bottom of the camera. Most of the controls are located on the top of the camera. Going left to right is the camera's hot shoe for flash. That's something I don't use, except for sliding the 30mm viewfinder onto the hot shoe and then screwing it down to hold it in place.

 To the right of the hot shoe is the shutter speed dial, which ranges from 1/1000 to a full 8-second exposure, accompanied by a green "A" for Auto mode. In the case of the X-Pan, when the selector is set to the green "A" position, the camera is in "aperture preferred" metering, which means you select the desired aperture, and the camera will choose the appropriate shutter speed depending on the film's ISO and the lighting conditions. Even in "auto" mode, there are warning signals within the viewfinder that indicate if you are overexposed or using a shutter speed longer than 2 seconds.

If the camera is not in the "auto" exposure mode and you're selecting both the shutter speed and aperture, a series of lights and signals, indicated by +/-, appears within the viewfinder, showing what a properly exposed image will look like depending on the selected shutter speed and aperture.

 To the right of the shutter speed dial is the shutter release, marked in silver, and a small window behind the shutter release that displays "P" if you're in panoramic mode, as well as the frame number you're on. Further to the right is the main On/Off switch at the bottom, along with "S" for single frame, "C" for continuous shooting, and a clock face for self timer. Turn the On/Off switch to the desired mode, and the camera will be on. On top of the dial is exposure compensation, which allows for up to 2 stops of light lighter or darker than the recommended meter settings when in the "A" or auto mode. These are set in half-stop increments on the dial.

On the back of the camera, from left to right and top to bottom, is the camera's viewfinder, which incorporates a coupled rangefinder. My rangefinder is very bright, which makes the camera extremely easy to focus with. Just above the camera's viewfinder is the 30mm viewfinder. The viewfinder features several different frame lines, depending on the film format used, along with a bubble or spirit level at the bottom to check if your camera is level.

To the right of the camera's viewfinder is an essential switch. The X-Pan camera is compatible with the standard 24x35mm film format. Alternatively, by depressing the button and turning the dial to the "P" position, you can shoot in a panoramic format of 24 mm x 65 mm. On the back of the camera by the shutter, the camera will move blades in or out depending on the film format you're using. I've never really heard photographers using the X-Pan as a standard 35mm camera, only for panoramic purposes, but this can change at any time, and you can go back and forth on the same roll of film if desired.

On the back of the camera, on the back door, there are three settings. Ine is "AEB", or Auto Exposure Bracketing, which allows the photographer to automatically bracket either a half or full stop in between shots. The next button is used to light up the display, which is particularly useful at night or in dark situations. The third button is a very small, indented button that you use to rewind the film before reaching the end of the roll.

 On the front of the camera, in the 11 o'clock position, is a dial to set the film speed. The camera features fully integrated DX coding for modern film. However, if you're using a self-loaded cassette or older non-DX-coded cassettes, the ISO can be set manually. Below the dial is the lens release button, which allows the photographer to change lenses. Opposite the camera is the PC flash sync port, which enables flash use via a PC cable.

On the left side of the camera, the shutter remote cable socket is located at the top, and the camera's film door lock lever is positioned at the bottom. Flip the lever up, then slide it up to open the camera's film back and load the film.

 To load the film in the X-Pan, insert the film cassette into the film area, guide the leader to the take-up wheel, and then close the back of the camera. The camera will automatically wind the film all the way out of the cassette and onto the take-up spool before you take your first image. 

As a man, and not having read the manual before loading the camera, I started to get concerned. When I closed the door on my initial roll of film and heard the film advance for so long, I thought the camera was broken and needed servicing. That's just how the X-Pan winds film. When you receive your film back and examine the frame numbers, you will notice that the first frame, or Frame #1, is actually the last image you took, and number 36 is the first image.

 

My Results:

 My wife and I took a drive to Multnomah Falls outside Portland, and since I was going to write about this camera, I took it with me to see how it would perform. 

 Honestly, it's only the third or fourth time I've taken the camera out to shoot with it, mainly because I shoot with the Widelux so much, but this was an excellent time to see how the camera performed.

 The day was overcast, but the crowds were small, and since it had rained recently, the falls were rushing. After shooting the falls, we went into their restaurant to have lunch.

 Here are photos from that small adventure.

Conclusion:

 WOW, what amazing images and camera. I understand why so many people enjoy shooting with this camera. It doesn't have the swing lens curvature like the Widelux has. The X-Pan offers modern advancements over the Widelux, such as auto-exposure, exposure bracketing, and other features, but is physically larger and heavier.

 There's a trade-off for all things, but I'll definitely be using the X-Pan more often. It made shooting very simple and easy. I needed to focus on my subject with the X-Pan, which isn't a bad thing, and the images turned out great.

Another excellent feature of the X-Pan is that it’s a “system” camera, allowing for the use of other lenses. There is a standard wide-angle 45mm f/4 lens, along with a compact telephoto 90mm f/4 lens.

 Thank you for taking a few minutes to read about this fantastic panoramic camera from Hasselblad. A camera I'm fortunate to have in the collection.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 I also have an online store, Cuny's Cameras and Photo. If you see something in my store that interests you, don't hesitate to make me an offer. I'm always looking to negotiate and make deals, and I'd love it if you could share my article.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Ensign Midget-Silver Jubilee Model

My Ensign Midget-Silver Jubilee camera

All of the Ensign Midget cameras have a fascinating look. With three models, the straightforward Model 22, to the more refined Models 33 & 55, featuring a diamond-shaped faceplate and a very Art Deco appearance. The one model that stood out to me with the most significant difference was the Ensign Midget-Silver Jubilee model, introduced in 1935 for the Silver Jubilee of King George V and Queen Mary. This model, in particular, holds a unique place in the history of Ensign cameras, being a rare and special edition.

 As I've mentioned several times, my love for the unusual, quirky, and vibrant cameras holds a very special place in my heart. The majority of my collection has something particularly peculiar about it. Whether the camera is a different color other than the drab black, ot it has a different film format, or an unusual faceplate, or some other oddity about it

 The Ensign Midget, Model 55, Silver Jubilee camera in my collection is a relatively recent purchase. I have memories of reading about it in McKeown's Camera Price Guide, and I've come across a few at camera shows and online, but I never pulled the trigger and purchased one. However, when I finally acquired this model, it felt like a significant addition to my collection, a piece of history that I could now share with fellow enthusiasts.

Ensign Midget with slip-in case & manual

 I found the Ensign Midget, Silver Jubilee model that I currently own online at a very reasonable price, which also included the protective cover and original manual, making it even more desirable. The only thing missing was the original box, which would have increased the price. 

 When the camera arrived, I was very pleased with its condition, as it was free of scrapes and dings, which are very common on a camera that is 90 years old. The camera's cover was clean, the faceplate still had a chrome shine, and the instruction manual was in superb condition. I was very pleased with the camera's condition, and it was in good working order, which was the icing on the cake, as they say.

 In the UK, Kodak also produced a "Silver Jubilee" box camera, which is covered in white leatherette. While I'd love to have one of the Kodaks in my collection among the other colored box cameras I have, it'll be some time down the road for me.

History:

 Ensign cameras represent a significant chapter in British photographic history. The company's roots date back to 1834, with the founding of Claudet & Houghton by George Houghton and Antoine Claudet, who initially dealt in optical glass. This enterprise evolved, eventually becoming George Houghton & Sons, which by the early 1900s was manufacturing cameras, such as the 'Ensign Simplex Auto'. By 1908, their Walthamstow factory was reportedly the largest camera manufacturing plant in the United Kingdom.

Ad for Ensign Midget camer

 A significant turning point came in 1915 when Houghton merged with W. Butcher and Sons Ltd. to form the Houghton-Butcher Manufacturing Company. Throughout this period, they produced popular models, such as the Sanderson folding camera and the highly successful, compact Ensignette roll-film camera, introduced in 1909. The Ensign brand name grew so synonymous with their products that in 1930, the parent company was formally renamed Ensign Ltd.

 Ensign became known for producing affordable, good-quality cameras that helped popularize photography among ordinary people in the 1920s and 1930s. They produced various formats, including folding roll-film cameras like the Popular Ensign and later models, such as the distinctively styled Ful-Vue, post-WWII.

 The company faced turmoil during World War II; their London headquarters, Ensign House, was destroyed by bombing in 1940, and the sales wing was soon after wound up. Post-war, Ensign continued through several mergers, joining with Elliott & Sons to become Barnet Ensign Ltd. in 1945, and then with lens-maker Ross Ltd. to become Barnet Ensign Ross Ltd. in 1948. It finally operated as Ross Ensign Ltd. by 1951. Despite producing quality 1950s roll-film cameras, the company ultimately failed to embrace the emerging 35mm format. Production of still cameras ceased, and the Ross Ensign name faded away, with the company being dissolved around 1961.

Key Features and Models

The Midget was marketed with the slogan "Wear it Always—Like your Watch," emphasizing its petite size, which measures approximately 90mm × 45mm × 18mm when collapsed.

 The camera came in three primary models, whose numbers originally corresponded to their price in shillings:

  • Model 22: The most basic version, typically featuring a fixed-focus meniscus lens and a simple two-speed shutter (Instantaneous/Time). It often lacked the top-folding frame finder found on higher models.

  • Model 33: An upgrade from the 22, this version typically featured a slightly better fixed-focus "All Distance" meniscus lens and a 3-speed shutter (e.g., 1/25, 1/50, 1/100 sec, plus T/B).

  • Model 55: The premium model featured a focusing Ensar f/6.3 Anastigmat lens with iris diaphragm control, enabling focus down to approximately 3 feet. Its shutter offered speeds up to 1/100 sec.

 All models used the dedicated Ensign E10 roll film to produce six negatives measuring 35 mm × 45 mm—a format slightly larger than the standard 35 mm (Leica format). The cameras were constructed with a pressed steel body and leather bellows, featuring an Art Deco design with chrome accents on the struts.

 The Midget family was very popular, but its production was ultimately halted in 1940/1941 as the company shifted its focus to wartime manufacturing. It was not returned to the product line after the war, as Ensign focused on the 120 film format instead of competing in the burgeoning 35mm market.

My Camera:

 My Ensign Midget camera is 3.5" wide by 1.75" tall by 0.75" deep with the front lens collapsed, and 2.75" with the front lens extended and the black bellows of the camera exposed in its normal "picture-taking" position. My camera weighs in at a measly 5.9 ounces. As you can see, the slogan Ensign used, "Wear it Always—Like your Watch," was very informative. I'm thinking that if I had had one of these cameras back in 1935 and carried it in my pocket, it would have been so small that it might have been challenging to locate.

The camera has two struts on either side of the lens, which extend when the lens plate is pulled out for taking photos. Once you're finished taking the pictures and ready to close the camera, start by pulling the end of the struts closest to the lens out, away from the lens plate, to unlock them. Then,  the lens plate can collapse back into the body when not in use.

 Once you have the lens extended and ready to take photos, the front viewfinder unfolds upwards to make the front of the "Direct Vision Viewfinder as noted in the manual. Once the front is extended, the back of the camera houses a "flip up" eyepiece that completes the camera's Direct Vision Viewfinder which is to be used if you want eye-level viewing.

There is a "Brilliant View Finder, tucked into the side of the camera's body, which can be used for taking vertical images, then flipped out when taking a horizontal image. For vertical images, the Brilliant View Finder lens is tucked into the camera body with a small opening just below the word "Midget" on the right side of the camera's faceplate, as viewed from the front. It's evident once the Brilliant View Finder is flipped to use in the horizontal position.

On the right side of the camera, as you're holding it to take a photo, tucked behind the faceplate is the camera's shutter release. Also on the right side of the camera is a slide-out leg that props up the camera for taking vertical images. On the flip-up leg is the camera's serial number, which mine happens to be "H15871."

On the front of the camera are the settings for shutter speed, aperture, and focus distance. The Aperture settings are located along the top of the faceplate and range from f/6.3 to f/22, selected by moving a small slider just below the aperture numbers. 

 Around the F/6.3 "ENSAR" anastigmat lens are focusing distances for you to set. The distance lines up with a small bar that protrudes from the lens, with focus distances of 3" at the 12 o'clock position, 5' at the 3 o'clock position, 8' at the 6 o'clock position, 12' at the 9 o'clock position, and infinity, backing up towards the 12 o'clock position.

 The shutter speeds of 1/100, 1/50, 1/25, "B", and "T" are set on the bottom of the faceplate, similarly to how the aperture settings are made, by sliding a small bar to the desired shutter speed.

Shutter, aperture and focus area on Ensign Midget camera

To open the back of the camera to load film, a locking mechanism on the left side must be pulled down. This slides a small bar that fits into a tiny opening, allowing the back of the camera to swing open and be removed from the camera.

 You load the Ensign Midget just like any roll film camera, but unfortunately, this camera and the other Midget camera takes an odd-size film that is no longer available. Once the film was loaded, engage the feet into the hinges on the right side of the camera and close it up. Just be sure that when you lock the back of the camera, the small rod fits into the tiny hole, which holds it in place. If not engaged, the back will open.

My Results:

 Unfortunately, I don't have film to use in this camera, due to its unique size and limited availability. Therefore, until I learn to cut and process film to use in the camera, this will remain a showpiece in my collection.

 

Conclusion:

 The Ensign Midget, Silver Jubilee edition camera is a camera I've long desired to own and will be cherished in my collection. The silver crinkle finish on the camera is a lovely touch to an already beautifully designed and built camera—a real gem crafted during a heyday period in pre-World War II England.

 Thank you for taking a few minutes to read about this fantastic, small, yet extremely well-built camera. One, I'm happy to give a prominent spot in my collection.

 Click the link to read my other Camera Reviews.

 If you're looking for a photo item, I have a wide selection of cameras, lenses, and camera parts available in my eBay store, Cuny's Cameras and Photo.

 Until next week, please be safe. 

 

Coronet Cameo

My Coronet Cameo camera

It wasn't until I had been collecting cameras that I developed an interest in miniature and subminiature cameras. One of my earliest recollections of liking small miniature cameras was when I became a sales representative for a well-known Swiss large-format camera company (Sinar) and traveled to Sacramento to visit a store that displayed many different miniature and subminiature cameras at the cash register.

 I fondly remember spending time looking at the display, thinking many of the cameras seemed so odd and unusual, which is something I'm always looking for in what I collect. When I asked the owner of the store if any of the cameras were for sale, and his reply was a swift and hardy "no", in my mind, it triggered a need to find out more about this whole new world of cameras I was aware of, but had no interest in collecting.

 While I don't have a large collection of miniature and subminiature cameras, the ones I do have have a special place in my collection because they are all very unique. I have the majority of the miniature and subminiature collection on my desk, which I'm at the majority of the time I'm in my office, or what I call my camera oasis. It's the one room in our house where I can do what I want, within reason. Another terrific part of the collection is that they don't take up much room, so I have many of them in a small area that reminds me of the display at the camera store I went to well over 30 years ago.

 I came across the Coronet Cameo camera on a trip to London about two to three years ago. For me, one of the main objectives of the trip was to visit Portobello Road to see some of the camera and photo stalls we had visited on a previous trip to London many years earlier. When my wife and I visited the outdoor market, I found that things had changed, and many of the vendors only showed up on weekends. This was a massive disappointment for me, especially since my wife and I were leaving on Saturday afternoon.

Coronet Cameo size comparison.

 The main person I was to meet was Juliano of Cameras London, who shows his cameras only on Saturday. Somehow, I convinced my wife that I would take the bus to Portobelo Road and back in time for us to go to the airport. 

 As I took the bus to Portobello Road that Saturday morning, I remember I needed to be mindful of the time and hurry. I arrived early as Juliano was still setting up. He had a fantastic display of cameras and some negatives. There were several cameras I wanted to purchase, one being an Ilford Advocate, which you can read about. He said he had a cleaner version and would ship it to me. 

I got together a small group of cameras, and just before I paid him, I saw the Coronet Cameo. It was in poor condition, but it was odd and unusual, so I threw it into the pile. We made a fair bundle price for the items, including the Advocate and Cameo camera. I paid him for the items, put the cameras in my backpack, and made my way back to the hotel. We had plenty of time to make it to the airport.

History:

 The Coronet Camera Company was a significant English camera manufacturer, founded in 1926 in Birmingham, England, by Frederick W. Pettifer. The company began at 48 Great Hampton Street, Aston, focusing on producing an inexpensive line of cameras for the mass market. Their early focus was on simple box and folding cameras.

Photo of old Coronet building depicted from Historic Camera website

 A key aspect of Coronet's operations was its utilization of local Birmingham businesses. They partnered with the British Optical Lens Co. for lenses and, notably, with Edwin Elliott, a local plastics manufacturer, who fabricated molded plastic cameras for them. This collaboration led to popular pre-war models, including the small and stylish Coronet Midget and the Coronet Vogue, which were often made from colored Bakelite. By 1933, the company had reportedly sold a remarkable 510,000 cameras.

 The company became Coronet Ltd. in 1946. After World War II, the company specialized in low-cost, molded-plastic cameras. Due to French import restrictions, Coronet formed a partnership with the French company Tiranty of Paris. This collaboration led to several Coronet models, such as the Rapide, being manufactured in France, sometimes using Boyer lenses, to bypass trade barriers. Coronet also produced accessories and its own brands of film, including Corochrome.

 The company continued to manufacture cameras from its Birmingham headquarters (later located at 308-310 Summer Lane) until it finally ceased operations in 1967. Over its four-decade history, Coronet played a vital role in making photography accessible to the public by providing thousands of simple, affordable cameras, many of which remain popular collector's items today.

My Camera:

 This portion of the blog will be sparse, as there's not much to this camera. The Coronet Cameo camera is small and will almost fit into a 35mm film container. It's 2" wide by 1.5" deep and 2" tall with the front viewfinder extended and only 1.25" tall when it's retracted. The camera only weighs 1.6 ounces. The Cameo has a fixed 25mm F/11 Meniscus lens and a single shutter speed range of 1/25-1/50, with the shutter release on the right side of the camera body.

The camera is made from plastic and was manufactured between 1948 and 1952.  Coronet attempted to revive the success of the Pre-War Midget camera, which was highly successful for the company at the time.

 The Coronet Cameo takes a roll of 16mm film and produces six 12mm x 18mm negative-sized images per roll. The camera loads and winds like any other roll film camera, with the unexposed film loaded on the left and the leader threaded into the take-up spool on the right via the film winding lever.

The back of the camera is held in place by two clips on the right side of the camera. To open the back, lift it from the two clips; it will open, exposing the film chamber. Unfortunately, my camera, like many Coronet Cameo models, is warped, and the back doesn't fit properly to the body.

 A sliding front viewfinder can be pulled up, and when the rear viewfinder is lifted on the back of the camera, it exposes the red window displaying the frame number of the image you'll be taking on the roll of film.

My Results:

 Unfortunately, there is no longer film for this camera, and with the warped camera back, I wasn't able to take photos with it.

 

Conclusion:

 As I was taking photos of the Coronet Cameo, I had an empty 35mm film tube and tried to see if the camera would fit inside it, but it's just a tad too big.

 The Coronet Cameo camera is sitting right next to my Whittaker Micro 16 Pixie camera, which I considered writing about for this blog post. Still, I'll leave that camera for another day. I do enjoy all the miniature and subminiature cameras in my collection; it just took me a few years of collecting them to appreciate them for what they are.

 Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read about this small plastic camera from about 75 years ago. I'm sure many people owned and enjoyed them when they were made.

 If you're interested in reading about other cameras I've reviewed, here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 I also have a store on eBay, Cuny's Camera and Photos, where I sell items I've reviewed, as well as many other camera oddities.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Whitehouse Beacon Cameras

My Whitehouse Beacon cameras

When I was starting to collect cameras, I would collect anything —from straightforward box cameras and point-and-shoot cameras to fundamental bakelite cameras. As you begin to refine your interest in collecting a particular item, the focus becomes a bit more narrow, and the items that you see so often, like Kodak Brownies and bakelite holiday cameras, become less and less interesting. 

 I'm sure that's true with collecting anything. You're always on the hunt for odd, unusual, rare, or exotic items, whether it's cameras, firearms, cars, or sports memorabilia. Once I got over the initial phase of buying "any camera", I started collecting cameras with color to them. Kodak Rainbow box and folding camera, some of the bakelite Imperial camera, Boy and Girl Scout cameras, or even a box camera with odd and unusual faces on them, like the Bear Photo camera, or the Century of Progress cameras. To this day, it's difficult for me not to pick up and look at any colored camera, and I will most likely purchase one if the price is right.

 The Beacon camera was one of the cameras that started in my initial phase of collecting and continued into the next phase of collecting cameras with color. To this day, I can remember walking through a local flea market and seeing a familiar shape of the Beacon camera, but this one was in a different color. I had only owned the black version before, but this one was greenish-turquoise. When the seller quoted a few dollars, I snatched it up right away. The Beacon camera came in traditional black, as well as white, red, and green.

My three Beacons

 I purchased the red Beacon camera well over 35 years ago, when there was no internet, and the only places you could see items like this were at camera shows, camera collecting books, which usually weren't in color, or people selling things at garage sales or flea markets. I remember thumbing through the McKeown's Camera guide, which I had back then. It was considerably smaller, but it did mention whether cameras came in different color versions.

 When eBay launched in the late 1990s, I was an early adopter and joined in 1997. At that time, there were no product photos; only descriptions. It was more of a message board of people buying and selling items. My first number was 1034, this was even before you had a name on eBay. eBay changed the way people collect so many items. The market became flooded with items that were difficult to get before eBay, and their prices dropped. So many antique stores and other retailers were affected by them until they started selling on the marketplace, and it has now become such a vast entity.

 I can even remember starting a similar auction site aimed at the photo marketplace in the early 2000s, and I was going to call it Photo Flea Market, where people could buy and sell cameras, lenses, vintage gear, and even images like prints, Daguerreotypes, Ambrotypes, etc. Try to keep it more focused on one particular industry, but like many ideas, it went by the wayside.

Camera History:

Patent Drawing for Beacon camera

 The Beacon camera was manufactured by Whitehouse Products Inc. of Brooklyn, NY, starting in the late 1940s. My friend, podcaster, and excellent camera blogger Mike Eckman has a tremendous post on the History of Whitehouse Products where he deep dives into a famous woman named Vira Boarman Whitehouse, (Mrs. Norman De R. Whitehouse) who was mainly know as a suffragette leader in the 1920 that had a leather company who employed many women, and who also championed company's to go from a 48 hour work week to a 40 hour week. It's truly a fantastic read.

 Whitehouse Products produced the Beacon line of cameras, along with another simple camera in the 1960s, the Beacon Reflex camera, Automatic 705, and the Autoflash WH 127-A, which Ansco also sold. My favorite Whitehouse camera was the 1970s novelty Charlie Tuna Camera, which I also have in my collection.

 The one thing I can be sure of is that William L Lawson was the designer and inventor of the Beacon camera. I conducted a patent search and identified the initial design of the camera, produced in 1948. It's for the original Beacon camera, which also included two shutter speed settings. The two speeds were either "I" for instant or "B" for bulb, or timed exposures. The later Beacon II model removed the ability to set the shutter speed, as shown on my camera. The original Beacon and later Beacon II models took 16 images on 127-size film, producing a 3x4cm negative. 

 Later in the 1950s, Whitehouse produced the Beacon Two-twenty Five. A larger version of the Beacon and Beacon II, which took 12, 6x6cm images on 620 film. This is the camera I used to produce the images included in the post.

My Camera:

 My Beacon Two-Twenty Five is 4" tall by 5.5" wide by 3.5" deep with the lens extended, and 2.25" deep with the lens compressed into the camera body. It weighs 13.7 ounces. The camera has a 70mm Doublet lens with an aperture of F/8, which would be my best guess, possibly a bit faster. To say this camera has no bells or whistles is an understatement, and there are only a few things you need to do to take a photo.

To load the film, on the right side of the camera is the latch to open the back door. Slide the button down to open the back, and swing the door open to reveal where to load the film. This camera takes 620 film, but there is nothing to help load or unload the film roll from the film chamber. Since I had some 620 film, I needed to force the roll of film into place before I tore the tape off and slid the paper backing across the film plane to put the leader into the take-up spool. It wasn't very easy, but I got it done.

Once the film is on the take-up spool, I wound it until I saw the "start" arrows, then closed the back of the camera. I wound the take-up knob until I saw the number 1 in the viewfinder. The camera is now ready to take the first photo.

 Before taking the photos, you'll need to pull the lens area out of the camera body using the two grips on either side of the lens. Once the lens is pulled out, it snaps or locks into place with two wide silver bars located behind the grip. If you don't pull the lens out, your photos won't be blurry. To take the picture, the chrome shutter release is located on the top of the lens chamber. My guess is the shutter speed is around 1/60 of a second.

Once the photos have been taken, press in the two chrome bars that lock the lens into place at the rear of the camera body, and the lens chamber will slide back into the camera body.

 If you'll be using the Beacon flash attachment, attach the flash once the lens is extended. First, the flash takes two penlight batteries, which fit into the back of the flash attachment. On the back, under the reflector, is a small clip that needs to be pulled back to expose the battery compartment. Close the battery cover, slide the front of the flash unit under the lens chamber, then slide the flash over the top of the camera until it's in place, then screw it into the camera body using the small screw on the back of the flash.

The flash units take either size 5, 11, or 22 flashbulbs. Here's a link to Mike Butkus manual for the Beacon camera and the Beacon flash.

 The camera is fundamental to its functions, but let's take a look at the images it produces.

 

My results:

 I loaded up a roll of 620 film I keep for camera testing, and took a walk through the neighborhood. Since the day was cloudy, I had to wait for the sun to come out so I'd get better results.

 Here are a few of the images I took.

Conclusion:

 The Beacon did a better job than I anticipated, especially given its simple camera. No focus, shutter, or aperture settings. It's truly a "point and shoot" style camera, specifically designed for family snapshots. The edges are soft, as expected, but overall not too bad.

 I doubt I'll be taking the camera on an important vacation, but my curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see how it would perform, and it wasn't horrible.

 Thank you for taking time from your day to read about this snapshot camera from the late 1940s, for the original Beacon, to the 1950s, for the Beacon Two-Twenty Five, which I used for the post.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 If you are looking for an odd or unusual photo item, be sure to stop by Cuny's Camera and Photo, my eBay store.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Zeiss Ikon Ikoflex III (853/16) camera

My Zeiss Ikon Ikoflex III camera

My first real camera, a Univex Uniflex, was a gift from my Uncle Bud, my mother's younger brother. He was a free-spirited soul, living a bohemian lifestyle that left a lasting impression on me and my older brother. This camera, a symbol of his unique spirit, became my gateway to the world of photography. 

 Uncle Bud was the photographer in the family gatherings, went to art school in Chicago, where he met his wife, made wine, went antiquing, purchased an old school bus, and was converting it into a camper for the family, was health-conscious, all of this in the 1960s, as I was young and impressionable. 

 I tell you this because the Univex Uniflex was a somewhat inexpensive twin-lens reflex camera that I used for many of my early years taking photos, so the twin-lens reflex style has always felt comfortable to me. I've always enjoyed looking through a larger viewfinder and framing my subject, albeit backward when looking down into the camera. It's similar to looking through a view camera, although the view camera isn't backwards, just upside down. 

 Last week, as my wife and I were in Yosemite and the San Francisco Bay Area. One of the reasons we went there was that on the first Sunday of the month, there's a large flea market in Alameda, which I miss since moving away from the area about 9 years ago. I planned the trip partly to visit the flea market and look for cameras and other photo items.

 I arrived at the flea market early and started looking over the many tables. At one of the tables, I found this fantastic Zeiss Ikoflex III camera I've been looking for for many years. As I picked up the camera, the shutter worked at higher speeds and lagged at lower speeds. The lens was clean and the transport worked well. 

 After a bit of negotiation, I left the flea market with the Ikoflex III and a few other small items. The joy of this find was so great that I couldn't wait to share it with you, my fellow camera enthusiasts. Even though I had recently written about the Zeiss Contaflex camera, the Ikoflex III was a gem that I couldn't wait to put a roll of film into and share its story on my camera blog.

Ikoflex History:

 The Zeiss Ikoflex emerged in 1934 as Zeiss Ikon's direct answer to the burgeoning success of the Franke & Heidecke Rolleiflex. The inaugural model, affectionately nicknamed the "Coffee Can" for its distinctive upright, cylindrical body, marked a departure from the more conventional TLR design. This initial offering was a clear statement of intent from the German optics giant to compete in the professional and enthusiast photographer market.

Ad for Zeiss Ikon Ikoflex III camera

 Throughout its production, which spanned until 1960, the Ikoflex series underwent significant evolution, with a clear demarcation between its pre-war and post-war iterations. Before World War II, Zeiss Ikon introduced several models, progressively refining the design and features. The early lever-wind and knob-wind "Coffee Can" models gave way to more streamlined, traditionally styled TLRs. These pre-war cameras often featured high-quality Zeiss lenses, such as the Tessar and Novar. They were equipped with Compur or Klio shutters, offering photographers a range of options in terms of both price and performance. A notable pre-war innovation was the Ikoflex III, introduced in 1939, which boasted a fast f/2.8 Tessar lens and a unique Albada direct-vision viewfinder integrated into the focusing hood, setting it apart from its contemporaries.

 Following the end of the war, Zeiss Ikon resumed production in West Germany and continued developing the Ikoflex line. The post-war models, such as the Ikoflex Ia and IIa, reflected the technological advancements of the era. These cameras often featured coated lenses for improved contrast and flare reduction, as well as synchronized flash capabilities. The final models in the series, like the Ikoflex Favorit, even incorporated a built-in, uncoupled light meter, a significant feature for the time.

 Despite its innovative features and the esteemed Zeiss pedigree, the Ikoflex line always existed in the shadow of the Rolleiflex. While highly capable and well-regarded for their robust build and excellent optics, the Ikoflex cameras ultimately ceased production in 1960, leaving behind a legacy as a compelling, if not dominant, force in the golden age of twin-lens reflex photography.

My Camera:

 My Zeiss Ikon Ikoflex is in very good condition, except for some of the slower shutter speeds, which I'll exercise and hopefully bring back to life; otherwise, I'll have it CLA'd. The camera's serial number is 836152, and it has a Carl Zeiss Jena Tessar 8cm f/2.8 lens, serial number 1851589. The camera is 6" tall when the light chimney is closed and 8" tall when it is open, by 4" wide, including the focus knob and film winding lever, and by 4.25" deep when the camera is focused at infinity.

To open the light chimney and look into the viewfinder, on the back of the camera, behind the closed chimney, is a button to press to open it. Unlike many twin-lens reflex cameras, the light chimney opens from the front rather than the rear, which I find interesting. On the right side of the back wall, the small switch locks and unlocks the flip-up magnifying glass for critical focus on the ground glass. On the side walls of the light chimney are "Zeiss Ikon" on one side and an exposure index on the other.

 If you want to use the Albada sports finder, it shows bright frame lines as you peer through it, and the front of the light chimney is a very polished, mirror-like surface, very similar to the previously mentioned Zeiss Ikon Contaflex TLR camera. To close the chimney, fold down the sides, then the front, and finally the rear portion. 

Similar to the Rolleiflex, both the aperture and shutter speed settings can be viewed when peering down the light chimney. Two separate windows show the aperture setting on the left and the shutter speed on the right. To move either setting, there's a lever on each side of the lens; slide it up or down to change the setting. The shutter speeds go from 1/400 to 1 sec, along with "B" for timed exposures. The aperture goes from F/2.8 to F/22. Just behind the shutter-speed slider is the cable release socket. Just to the right of the lens is a small round window that shows black when the shutter is tripped, and red when the shutter is cocked and ready to shoot.

On the right side of the camera, from top to bottom, is the frame counter in a stylized circular window, placed directly behind the shutter release. To activate the shutter, you press down on the shutter release to take the photo, which I prefer to pressing into the camera's body. The main object on the right side of the camera is the transport/winding lever. It is so much more than just a film transport lever; it also cocks the shutter with only about half a rotation. 

On the left side of the Zeiss Ikon Ikoflex II camera is the focus knob, which has a minimum focus distance of 4' to infinity. Just above the focus knob is the depth-of-field scale for the different apertures. Above and below the focus knob are two knurled knobs that can be pulled out to load and unload the film once the back of the camera is opened.

To open the back of the camera to load the film, there is a small disk on the back that is pulled down to open the back. The back will flip down, unlike Rolleiflex cameras, where the back pulls up. Loading the film is just like any other twin-lens reflex camera. Once the new film is on the bottom, bring the lead to the top spool and thread it into the slot, and wind the transport lever. Do this until the arrows on the paper backing point to two white dots on the side of the film chamber. At this point, close the back and wind until you see frame number 1 in the frame counter. Do not go past the first frame (frame 1) in the film counter, or you'll lose images on the film. This may be a flaw in my camera, but at first it doesn't stop at frame 1.

 

My Results:

 The forecast for the end of last week called for rain, so on Wednesday, I loaded up the camera with film and took a short drive to Duggan Falls in Washougal, WA. It's about a 30-minute drive. While it was overcast, it wasn't raining, and I wanted to try the Ikoflex III before the rain hit.

 The camera produced very sharp images. Here are a few photos I took at the falls.

Conclusion:

 The Zeiss Ikon Ikoflex III camera was an absolute pleasure to shoot with. It was similar to many other twin-lens reflex cameras. The viewfinder could have been a bit brighter, but the focus knob was smooth and easy to move. The shutter speed and aperture windows seem a tad dark, but the camera is close to 90 years old, so a good CLA would brighten them up nicely.

 I really enjoyed the short turn of the transport lever. I was surprised that such a small motion would properly transport the film AND cock the shutter, too. It does a fantastic job, and it's one of the reasons I enjoyed the camera so much. Overall, an excellent camera to have in the collection, and one I'll be taking out more often to shoot with, given how sharp the images are.

 Thank you for taking the time out of your day to learn about this fantastic vintage German camera.

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

 I also have a store on eBay, Cuny's Camera and Photo. Stop by sometime and see what cameras and other photo oddities I have for sale.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Ensign Ful-Vue camera

My Ensign Ful-Vue camera

My wife and I were planning a trip back to California, visiting one of my favorite places on earth, Yosemite, and then heading to San Francisco to visit a friend whom we had moved away from nine years ago. We had been going to Yosemite together since before we were married in the mid-1970s, and there are just so many beautiful and memorable events that have happened there. It doesn't matter what time of year you go; there are things to see and photograph that make it a magical place for us to visit.

 As I was browsing through the many cameras on my shelves, I must have had a subconscious desire for the Ensign Ful-Vue camera. As I looked at the camera and thought about Yosemite, I noticed that the shape of the top of the camera's viewfinder resembles the shape of Half Dome in Yosemite Valley. 

 As I've mentioned in several blogs, I have a passion for colored cameras, so I have two different Ful-Vue cameras in my collection. I have an Ensign Ful-Vue camera that's red in color. Why have a black camera when there are cameras in various colors? This camera was also sold in Black, White, and Blue colors. The other Ful-Vue camera I have is a Ross Ensign Ful-Vue Super in burgundy. The Ross Ensign Ful-Vue Super is a later and more refined camera than the earlier Ful-Vue I took to Yosemite.

The two Ful-Vue cameras in my collection

 It might be fun to put a roll of film into the camera and take it with me to Yosemite. It doesn't take much room in my bag, and I have plenty of 120-size film in my refrigerator, so that's the plan. As I was packing for the trip, I threw a roll of 120 T-Max 400 film, along with the Ensign Ful-Vue camera (a Half Dome lookalike), into my bag and took it with me on the trip.

 Another thought about taking the Ensign Ful-Vue to Yosemite was that the camera is straightforward, and it would be fun to take snapshots of Yosemite as my wife and I walked around the park, taking in all the natural wonders. It would be like I was 8 years old, and I would take my Kodak Holiday camera on summer vacations, taking random photos of the family and other interesting views. 

 That's where my love for photography began, wandering through summer vacation spots with my family, taking photos of the interesting things I enjoyed, and looking back at them to remember the time spent with my family or friends. To this day, I look back at photos with friends that we took when we were younger, and many bring a smile to my face as I recall these memorable times.

History:

 Houghton and Ensign were pivotal names in the history of British photography and camera manufacturing, known for innovation, extensive product lines, and significant contributions to photographic technology from the 19th to the mid-20th century.

French ad for the Ensign Fun-Vue camera

 The roots of Houghton trace back to 1834, when George Houghton, together with Frenchman Antoine Claudet, managed a glass warehouse in London known as Claudet & Houghton. The company initially focused on optical and sheet glass products, but the rise of photography in the late 1830s opened new avenues, with Houghton quickly supplying materials for Daguerreotypes.

 After Claudet died in 1867, the firm became George Houghton & Son, as George Houghton's son joined the business. The family firm steadily expanded, becoming George Houghton & Sons by 1892, and deepened its involvement in the photographic equipment industry.

 By the late 19th century, Houghton was producing a wider range of photographic supplies and had become a full-fledged manufacturer of cameras. Among their early notable products was the Sanderson camera, produced from 1895 to about 1910, which became renowned for its quality. In 1901, they launched the Ensign brand of photographic film, marking the rise of a name that would soon become synonymous with the company's signature camera line.

 In 1903, Houghton introduced Ensign Daylight Loading Film, a crucial development that broadened consumer access to photography. This innovation was followed by the absorption of several other camera firms in 1904, including Holmes Bros. (makers of the Sanderson), A.C. Jackson, Spratt Bros., and Joseph Levi & Co., which formed Houghtons Ltd. This move enabled large-scale production and a wider range of camera selections.

Ad with different colors available

 With their expansion and absorption of other brands, Houghton established the Ensign Works in Walthamstow around 1905. By 1908, it was the largest British camera factory, employing over 700 people. Houghton's reputation was further cemented with magazine cameras such as the Klito and the innovative folding Ensignette.

 In 1915, Houghton's Ltd. partnered with W. Butcher & Sons to form the Houghton-Butcher Manufacturing Company. The merger strengthened their manufacturing and distribution during turbulent times.

 In 1930, Ensign Ltd. was formally established, representing the heritage of both Houghton's and Butcher's. The Ensign Ful-Vue, introduced in 1939, became iconic for its simplicity and bright viewfinder, attracting amateur photographers and children. Throughout the 1930s and 1940s, Ensign was renowned for its box cameras and advanced folding models, such as the Multex.

 World War II brought massive challenges. The company's London headquarters suffered severe bomb damage in 1940. While Ensign continued to manufacture at Walthamstow, the brand's prominence waned in the post-war years.

 From its origins in optical glass to producing some of Britain's finest and most popular cameras, Houghton and Ensign chart a history of adaptability, invention, and a lasting impact on the UK photographic market.

My Camera:

 My Ensign Ful-Vue is 4" tall by 4.25" deep and 3.25" wide, and weighs 14.2 ounces, so not even a pound. It's viewfinder on top is one of the dominate features of the camera. The size of the viewfinder itself is 1.5" square on the top of the camera, and with the camera being the small stature it is, makes the viewfinder seem huge when looking at the camera.

The Ensign Ful-Vue camera is the epitome of the classic snapshot camera, as there are really only a few settings on the camera that you need to make before snapping the photo. There is a shutter setting for either "I" for instant or "T" for time, allowing for a longer exposure. There is a tripod socket on the bottom of the camera, but there is no cable release socket available for use if you want to make a timed exposure with the camera.

 The other setting in the Ensign Ful-Vue camera is focus. The lens is set to three different focus distances: 2 meters, 3-5 meters, and 6 meters to infinity. Turn the chrome rig and point the red dot on the front of the ring to the desired distance to set your focus distance. There is a separate flash PC outlet to connect an external flash, ideal for low-light photography. The flash would have to be screwed into the tripod socket, and it would be located on the left side of the camera, I guess.

To take a photo, the shutter release is located below the black nameplate, where the lens is positioned, and is pulled up to activate the shutter in the camera.

 Loading the film is pretty straightforward on the Ensign Ful-Vue. On the left side of the camera is a locking lever that you turn clockwise to unlock the film chamber from the camera body. Once the film back is unlocked, the film chamber slides out of the camera body. Once the film chamber is removed from the camera body, you load the camera like any other roll film camera. Just ensure the film covers the larger area, rather than the thinner area closer to the lens.

 Once the film is loaded into the film chamber, slide the chamber back into the camera body and secure it in place by turning the locking ring counterclockwise to lock it into position. On the right side of the camera is the camera's film advance knob. Turn the knob until you see the arrows inside the red window on the back of the camera. 

Just above the red window on the back of the camera is a small knob that opens and closes the curtain, preventing light from coming through the red window. Make sure the curtain is open so you can see the film advancing. If you don't, you'll wonder when it will get to number one and go through the entire roll of film before noticing something is wrong. Once you see the arrows, slow down because you're coming to number one and your first exposure.

 

My Results:

 The Ensign Ful-Vue was a great camera to take to Yosemite, although looking back, the one thing I wish I had taken was a comparison photo of the Ensign Ful-Vue and Half Dome. I should have taken a picture with my phone of me holding the camera up with Half Dome in the background to show the comparison between the two. Like they say, hindsight is 20/20.

 The camera actually did pretty well. The photos are relatively sharp, the viewfinder was HUGH and bright to look through. 

 Here are a few examples of the photos in Yosemite and San Francisco.

Conclusion:

 The camera was what I expected. The viewfinder was very easy to work with and made centering the image easy. The only thing I wish the camera had that I was surprised it didn't have was the ability to use different aperture settings. Generally, even the most basic of cameras offer the option of two different apertures. Not on the Ensign Ful-Vue, though.

 Thank you for taking the time to read about this very basic, but oddly shaped camera. It was fun to throw it in my camera bag and have something fundamental to use at times.

 Here's a link to some of my other Camera Reviews.

 Stop by Cuny's Camera and Photo if you're interested in purchasing some of the cameras I've reviewed. I also have many other photo odds and ends that interest you.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Eho Baby Box camera

My Eho Baby Box camera

During my search for cameras, I found many of the very common black folding or box Kodak cameras, as well as the plentiful Argus C3 and Polaroid cameras. However, it's rare to come across something that sparks an interest. I can't define the feeling very well, but when you attend a Flea market or Garage sale and walk up to a table to see something you like or haven't seen before. It's a surprise, and you get a tiny rush from it.

 That's what happened when I first saw the Eho Baby Box camera. I was at a Flea market probably 20 years ago, and a person had a cloth on the ground with several cameras on it. I visually scanned through the lot and found the regular Kodak box, folding and Polaroid cameras, but something didn't make sense when I peeked behind one of the cameras.

 I could see the top of the camera, which had a small handle on it. I thought it was part of another camera, but as I moved a bit, I could see it was a separate camera itself. Thinking, that's interesting, I went in to have a closer look, and that's when I saw the Eho Baby Box camera.

 It really piqued my interest, as I hadn't seen this manufacturer's baby camera before. I've seen and owned the Baby Zeiss box camera, but the squareness and manufacturer were new to me at the time. Picking it up and playing with it, the camera was in clean condition, and the shutter was working, at least most of the time. The camera even had an intact strap with the maker's name on it, which I always prefer.

 Since the camera had a strap and a somewhat working shutter, I wanted to know what the seller wanted for it, so when I asked, the seller said $5.00. Being a person who likes to haggle on price,  I had to ask if he would take $3.00, which he did. I paid the seller the money for the camera, and I was thrilled to have a new addition to my camera family, especially since I discovered a camera manufacturer I wasn't aware of, and for such a small and cute camera.

History:

 Eho-Altissa was a German camera manufacturer with a rich history tied to the evolution of photographic technology in the 20th century. The company originated in 1892 in Leipzig under Richard Knoll as "Photo Spezialhaus" and began repairing and building its own photography equipment from 1904 onwards. In 1910, the operation relocated to Dresden, a hub for Germany's camera production. By 1927, ownership was transferred to Emil Hofert, who renamed it "Eho" after his initials.

 By the early 1930s, the company was manufacturing box cameras, known for their simplicity and reliability, and often rebranded for warehouse and supplier stores under various names. The mechanician Karl Heinrich Altmann designed the notable Altissa Box camera line, which featured an eye-level viewer, differentiating it from other box cameras of the era. Several stereo and twin-lens reflex (TLR) models followed, including the Altiflex in 1937, a notable reflex camera of its time.

Ad for Eho Baby Box camera

 In 1939, the company introduced its Altix series of compact 35mm viewfinder cameras, marking the beginning of a legacy that lasted nearly two decades. The Altix models were key innovations for Eho-Altissa, and their popularity solidified the company's reputation for offering affordable, high-quality cameras with reliable mechanics.

 Throughout its development, the company underwent several renamings. In 1931, it became EHO-Kamerafabrik GmbH. During and after World War II, it transitioned to Amca Werk Berthold Altmann (1940). Altissa Camera Werk (1941), and finally, in 1952, VEB Altissa Camera Werk was nationalized under the East German state.

 World War II severely affected Eho-Altissa; its Dresden factory was destroyed during Allied bombing raids. Nevertheless, the company was revived post-war, with camera production resuming by 1947. The firm remained small enough to avoid early state intervention but was eventually nationalized in 1959, merging with VEB Kamera- und Kinowerke, which was later incorporated into VEB Pentacon.

Camera output ceased in 1961. Notably, the Altix VI model continued to be produced briefly under license in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia, using equipment from the shuttered factory.

 Eho-Altissa produced renowned models such as the Altissa Box series, Altiflex, and Altix, and supplied rebranded products to European photo retailers. Its story reflects the broader turmoil and adaptability of the German camera industry in the wake of economic and political change throughout the 20th century.

My Camera:

 The Eho Baby Box camera is very small, measuring 2 5/8" tall by 2 3/8" wide and 2 3/8" deep, so almost a perfect cube, and weighing only 6.8 ounces. This is one of the smallest, if not the smallest, box cameras I have that still accepts a standard 127-sized roll film, which was common for the time the camera was manufactured. The camera features dual red windows on the back, allowing it to produce 16 3x4cm-sized negatives on a roll of film.

The camera was made between 1932 and 1939 and comes with a fixed-focus Eho Doplar lens that's fixed at F/11. The Eho Baby Box camera is made of metal with a leatherette covering and features a classic chrome ring around its face. The camera has a chrome lever on top that allows you to change the aperture from F/11 to F/22, based on the size of the aperture's opening.

Shutter speed “Z” slide, Cable release socket and shutter release

All of the other camera controls are on the right side of the Eho Baby Box camera. On the bottom right of the camera is a lever with a "Z". This is the shutter speed control. If the lever is pressed in, the shutter clicks at its normal speed. However, if pulled out, the camera can perform a timed exposure for as long as the shutter is depressed. Just above the "Z" lever is a cable release socket. If you plan to take a timed exposure, place the camera on a stable surface, as there is no tripod mount on the bottom, and hold the cable release in for the required exposure time.

It is odd to have a camera with a cable release socket, but no way to secure the camera on a tripod. Then again, the camera is tiny, and adding a tripod socket to the bottom would increase its size.

 Just above the cable release socket is the shutter release, which has a lined grip on the metal, making it easier to grip, especially when needed, as the lever is relatively small. Above the shutter release is one of the two waist-level viewfinder windows. The one on this side of the camera is for vertical, or portrait, images, and the one at the top of the camera is for horizontal, or landscape, images.

To open the camera to load film into it, you'll need to pull out two levers on the right side of the camera. Both levers are located closest to the separation between the front and rear of the camera. Pulling out the two tabs unlocks the front of the camera from the rear, exposing the area where you load the 127-size film. Take the empty spool from the bottom of the camera and place it in the top, which is now the take-up spool. Load the fresh roll on the bottom and pull the leader over the shutter area. Then, place the leader in the slot of the take-up spool.

 Put the back on the camera, and press the two clips to lock the front to the back. Wind the film until you see arrows or some indication that you're approaching the first frame. Wind slowly until you see the number 1 appear in the bottom red window. At this point, you're ready to take your first image. After taking the first picture, wind the film slowly until you see the number 1 in the top red window. This is when you're ready to take your second photo. Follow the same process with the number that first appears in the bottom red window, then in the top one, through number 8. After you take your last frame with the number 8 at the top of the window, wind the film to the end. The film should then be ready to be taped closed and processed.

My Results:

 Before inserting a roll of 127-size film into my Eho Baby Box camera, I tested the shutter. It clicked 9 out of 10 times, so I was confident that even though the camera would miss a frame or two, I'd have enough images from a roll of film to pick four or five to put in the blog post.

 After taking my first image, which required me to click the shutter release twice to capture a photo, the camera refused to cooperate for most of the roll. On the times the shutter didn't fire, I did notice that the shutter would partially open, but not fully, so the film was only getting a small sliver of light through a portion of the lens. This happened for the majority of the roll of film, and I managed to capture only 2-3 fairly good images from it.

 Here are the results of the better images taken:

Conclusion:

 To say I was a bit disappointed is an understatement. I'm more upset that the camera's shutter messed up during the shoot, and when I see how nice the two good images are, it would have been great to have 12-13 more to choose from for the article.

 Overall, the good images are pretty good, so if the shutter were in good working order, the camera would have been enjoyable to carry around or put in your pocket and travel with. It's small, a pocketable camera, and produces nice images; you don't have to worry about a tear in the bellows like with other pocket cameras.

 It's certainly a great camera to have in the collection, and a good step from the subminiature style of cameras and the folding pocket cameras. I like the camera and am happy to have it, although I'm frustrated by the timing issue with the shutter not working.

 Click on the link to see my other Cameras Reviews.

 If you'd like to browse some of the cameras, lenses, and accessories I have for sale, please visit my eBay store at Cuny's Camera and Photo.

 Thank you for taking the time to read about this tiny gem of a camera. 

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Argus Model C camera

My Argus Model C camera

During my time working in a camera store from the mid-1970s until the mid-1990s, I must have seen hundreds, if not thousands, of Argus cameras, and to be more specific, the Argus C3, or as they were affectionately known as, "The Brick" because of their boxy shape and very sturdy construction. These cameras came in on an almost daily basis just because they were so popular back in the 1940s and '50s.

 I saw so many Argus C3 cameras in my time in the camera store that, when it came to collecting cameras, I had no interest in collecting this particular model. Yet, it seemed like every time I purchased a group or "lot" of cameras, there was always an Argus C3 in the groupings of cameras. 

 I still recall thinking that if I collected enough Argus C3 cameras, I could build a retaining wall in my front yard out of them, as it was cheaper to get the Argus C3 than to purchase real clay bricks.

 To this day, I still see the Argus C3, or similar models like the C2, C3 Matchmatic, or C33, all the time at people's garage sales, estate sales, and camera shows. It is undoubtedly one of the most sold cameras in the history of photography.

 With that said, I'm still looking for one model, which I'm certain I came across during my time at the camera shop. It's the original Argus Model C camera, featuring a dual range switch located under the shutter cocking lever. It's a little earlier than the camera in this blog post, but the pricing for one of these is higher than I'm willing to pay for, so I'll wait and see if I can find one during my quest for a camera. 

 For me, the fun is the hunt for the treasures. The thrill comes from finding a camera or other photo item I've been looking for, especially when it's in an unexpected place and hopefully at a reasonable price.

History:

 Argus Cameras holds a unique place in photographic history as a pioneering American camera manufacturer that made high-quality photography accessible to the masses. The company was founded in 1931 in Ann Arbor, Michigan, as the International Radio Corporation (IRC), by local businessmen including William E. Brown Jr., George Burke, and Charles Albert Verschoor. Initially, IRC's primary business was radios, but seasonal sales fluctuations led Verschoor to seek another product to stabilize revenue. Inspired by the success of his molded plastic radio cases, he envisioned an affordable camera built with similar materials.

This is the early version with switch under cocking lever

 In 1936, IRC launched the Argus Model A, the first low-cost 35mm camera manufactured in the United States. Priced at just $12.50 when most competing models were much more expensive, the Model A democratized 35mm photography and quickly found commercial success. The Model A's innovation lay in its molded plastic body, making it both durable and less costly to produce.

 This success prompted IRC to focus entirely on cameras, eventually adopting the name Argus, Inc. in 1944, and later Argus Cameras, Inc. in 1949. The company's most iconic product, the Argus C3, was introduced in 1939. With its brick-like appearance and robust rangefinder mechanism, the C3 became known as "The Brick" and enjoyed a production run lasting until 1966, with more than two million units sold. The C3 is widely regarded as one of the best-selling cameras in photographic history.

 During World War II, Argus shifted its production to support the war effort, manufacturing military optics and radio equipment for the U.S. and Allied armed forces. By the war's end, Argus had received multiple Army-Navy "E" Awards for excellence in production. After the war, civilian production resumed, and Argus became the second-largest U.S. camera manufacturer, trailing only Kodak.

 In the late 1950s, the company was acquired by Sylvania Electric Products and later sold to Mansfield Industries. Over time, as competition intensified, especially from Japanese manufacturers, Argus struggled to maintain its leadership. U.S. camera production ended by 1969, but the Argus brand persisted in importing photographic products.

Today, vintage Argus cameras, especially the Model A and C3, are valued collectibles. The legacy of Argus endures as a symbol of inventive American manufacturing and mass-market photographic innovation.

My Camera:

 My Argus C dates from 1938, has a serial number of 12127C, so it's not one of the earliest models, but it was introduced before the Argus C2 was introduced in late 1938. The Model C measures 5 3/8" wide by 3" tall, including the shutter release, by 3" deep, including the lens. My Argus Model C camera weighs 1 pound, 7.4 ounces without film loaded in the camera.

The camera has a 50mm f3.5 Argus lens with aperture settings of F/3.5, 4.5, 6.3, 11, & 18, which are odd compared to aperture settings now. The aperture setting is made by turning a ring with two knobs on the inside of the lens that line up with a black line on top of the lens. 

The item missing on early Model C cameras is the coupling gear connecting the focusing ring on the top left to the lens, which adjusts the lens distance during focusing. To focus this model, look through the rangefinder window on the back of the camera, bring the two lines together to focus, and then check the front of the rangefinder dial to determine your distance from the subject. Finally, set that distance on the lens. On the side of the lens, there are markings indicating the focusing distances for the subject. There is an aluminum thread in style lens cap for the Argus Model C camera I own.

The shutter speed dial is located on the top right-hand side of the camera, on the front. The shutter speed settings are 1/300, 200, 150, 100, 75, 50, 30, 20, 10 & 5. There is no "B" setting on the shutter speed dial. The "B" setting is actually set on the "mushroom" shaped shutter release. You can turn the shutter release to either settings, "I" for instant, or to "B" for bulb, or timed exposures.

 The camera's shutter also needs to be cocked before you can snap the photo. The shutter cocking lever is located on the front of the camera, positioned on the far left side, in the middle. It looks like a handle that you flip down to cock the shutter, then springs back up after the shutter is released.

 On the back of the camera are just two small viewfinders. The one on the right is the rangefinder, which has a split that, by turning the focus wheel, will bring two separated vertical lines into one straight line when focused. The other window on the left is the framing window used to frame your subject when you're ready to take the photo.

To open the back to load the film, press the bump on the left side of the camera. This presses in a bar that holds the back onto the body. My camera is very difficult to open by just pressing the button, so I sometimes need to use a small screwdriver to pry the back up slightly to get it to open.

 Once open, the camera looks like any other 35mm camera, with the take-up spool on the left side. The fresh roll fits onto the right side by pulling pot the rewind knob on the bottom of the camera, bring the lead over to the take up spool, and thread into the take up spool. The film advance knob is on top of the camera. To wind to the first frame, there is a small locking lever just behind the frame counter that needs to be pressed down. This unlocks the winding gear, allowing you to wind to the first frame. Close the back of the camera and start taking photos.

This process must be repeated every time you wish to advance to the next frame. Additionally, at the end of the roll, the locking lever must be pressed down to unlock the drive gears, allowing the film to be rewound into the 35 mm cassette.

 The real reason to write about this camera was more of an exercise on how easy it was to use the early Mode Cameras, especially during a time of rapid change with cameras. Like many cameras from this era, it's not the quick and easy cameras of today, where either the shutter or aperture is being set for you. In many circumstances, both settings are being set. 

 To use cameras from this era, you need to take your time and use an external light meter to get the proper settings for your camera. Set the shutter speed and aperture settings depending on the film used. Do you lean more to the aperture and depth of field, or shutter speeds and stopping motion? Then focus on your subject. In this case, focus, then transfer the settings to the lens regarding distance. Frame your image and take the photo.

 On my camera, I also have an accessory finder, which clips onto the top for showing what a 35mm wide-angle or 100mm telephoto will do. I leave it on my camera to hide a bit of paint scratched off by it, as it's more for show, and I don't have either of these lenses. There were several different lenses available for the Argus C line of cameras, as the lens just unthreaded from the body. 

My Results:

 Once you slow down and think about the process, which I'm very used to, the images are really nice. Here are a few from my walk around the neighborhood.

 I photograph similar items, which I am sure you'll notice if you're a regular reader.

Conclusion:

 While the camera isn't the most ergonomic one I've used, it's certainly not the worst.

 The camera performed very well. The images are sharp, and the shutter and aperture were easy to use. The one thing that slowed me down was the process of focusing, then transferring the distance to the lens before taking the photo. The addition of the coupling gear between the focusing wheel and the lens, which sets the distance on the lens, was a vast improvement for Argus. Without this improvement, I doubt they would have sold the number of cameras as they did.

 Thank you for taking a few minutes from your day to familiarize yourself with this early model camera from Argus.

 Here is a link to my other camera reviews.

I also have a shop on eBay, Cuny's Cameras and Photo. Please stop by and see what new and wonderful photo items I have for sale.

 Until next week, please be safe.