Canon IV Sb camera

My Canon IV Sb camera

Being a lifelong Nikon shooter, along with working in the retail photo industry for nearly 20 years during the 1970s, I became very tired of Canon's dominance and marketing strategy around the Canon AE-1, which was the "hottest" camera around when it was released in 1976.

The Canon AE-1 was under restricted distribution, meaning demand far outstripped supply, and the camera was extremely sought after. There were people waiting months to get the camera. I say this because, as someone who was hounded almost daily for the camera, I started to dislike the brand.

Don't get me wrong, their cameras are decent, and even when they dominated the digital world with the 5D, 5D Mark II, and other cameras, it still irked me that they sold so many units. I was tired of them—especially as a member of the gold-and-black team (Nikon).

In Canon's early years, they made some extremely well-made and sought-after cameras, the Canon IV Sb being one of them. Companies like Nikon, Nicca, Minolta, and Leotax made some of the better rangefinder cameras coming from Japan during this timeframe. They competed well with the more sought-after German companies of Leica, Zeiss, and Voigtländer.

I enjoy the early font on the Canon name.

I say this because I've owned Canon rangefinder cameras in the past. Still, because of my past biases, I rarely look for them unless one comes up at a very good price or is included in a group lot I've purchased.

It's interesting that while Canon rangefinders have produced some amazing products—especially the extremely fast Canon 50mm f/0.95 lens—their cameras are generally priced less than their Nikon counterparts, which produced more "professional" products during the 1950s–1990s.

Fast forward to this week's blog on cameras in my collection: the Canon IV Sb, included in the camera lot I purchased in Las Vegas about a month ago. The camera is in very good condition, except for a repaired blemish on the second shutter curtain. The lens is bright and clear; the rangefinder is clean, bright, and seems accurate; the chrome shows no tarnish; and all shutter speeds sound accurate, even the slower ones.

It's been quite some time since I ran film through one, so I figured now was a good time to put a roll of expired Plus-X 20-exposure film from my gaggle of film in, walk through the neighborhood, and take some photos.

History:

Canon started in 1933 in a small room in Tokyo's Roppongi district, where four men—Goro Yoshida, Saburo Uchida, Takeshi Mitarai, and Takeo Maeda—founded the Precision Optical Instruments Laboratory. Their goal was simple and ambitious: build a Japanese camera that could stand up to Germany's best. At the time, all the fine cameras came from Europe.

Canon IV Sb advertisment.

Their first effort, built in 1934, was the Kwanon, named after the Buddhist goddess of mercy. It was Japan's first 35mm focal-plane-shutter camera and only a prototype—it never went on sale. Yoshida had studied a Leica II to figure out how it all worked. In 1936, the company released its first commercial camera, the Hansa Canon, which became known by the name we'd all come to know. Since the little company couldn't make its own lenses yet, the earliest Canons shipped with Nikkor lenses from Nippon Kogaku—yes, Nikon. The two companies that would become lifelong rivals started as customer and supplier.

The company became Canon Camera Co. in 1947, and just Canon Inc. in 1969. Through the 1950s, it built fine rangefinders, but the future was the SLR. Canon's first one, the Canonflex, arrived in 1959. Then, in 1961, the Canonet arrived: a fixed-lens rangefinder that became one of the best-selling cameras of its day—a real people's camera.

The 1970s were Canon's big decade. The F-1 of 1971 was its first true professional system camera, and the new FD lens mount gave it its own mount. But the camera that changed everything was the AE-1 in 1976—the first 35mm SLR with a microprocessor inside. It was cheap, easy to use, and sold in the millions, putting real SLRs into the hands of ordinary shooters.

In 1987, Canon made its boldest move: the EOS system and the all-electronic EF mount. The old FD lenses wouldn't fit, which angered plenty of loyalists. Still, the clean-slate design let Canon leap ahead in autofocus. It was the right bet. Canon rode the autofocus era into the digital age with the EOS D30 in 2000, then broke new ground in 2005 with the EOS 5D, the first affordable full-frame digital camera.

Today, Canon's EF mount has given way to the RF mirrorless mount, introduced with the EOS R in 2018. From a four-person workshop in Roppongi to a photography giant, Canon got there by doing what its founders set out to do: build cameras for everyone, not just professionals.

The Camera:

My Canon IV Sb came with a Canon 50mm f/1.8 lens and is similar in size to some Leicas, like the IIIB and others from the same era. The camera measures 5.5 inches wide by 3.75 inches tall and 2.75 inches deep, and weighs 1 pound, 11.7 ounces. The serial number on my body is 122236, and the lens is 100470.

My camera is marked "E.P." in red, surrounded by a red diamond on the top plate. This doesn't necessarily make the camera more or less valuable than others. Still, it marks the camera as most likely purchased at a U.S. military base, identifying the camera and lens as duty-free or tax-free when imported into the U.S.

The Canon IV Sb was introduced in December 1952 and was available until the upgraded IV Sb2 was marketed in March 1954. The camera has an M39/LTM lens mount and offered either a Serenar or Canon f/1.8 or f/1.5 lens as a standard option.

The 50mm lens I have features the aperture ring on the outer knurled ring, with settings from f/1.8 to f/16. It has a locking lever, like other LTM lenses, that locks when focused at infinity, with a minimum focusing distance of 3.5 feet.

The camera has a vertical-traveling cloth shutter, with speeds from 1/1000 to 1/25 on the top shutter speed dial, and from 1/25 to 1 second (plus "B" for time exposures) on the secondary shutter speed dial on the front face of the camera. One distinguishing feature of the Canon IV Sb is the ability to lock the front secondary shutter speed dial with a small tab on top.

Like other cameras from this period, the film advance is a round knob that rotates clockwise to cock the shutter and advance the film to the next frame. Inside the film winding knob is a reminder dial to set the film speed (there is no meter in the camera, so this is just a personal reminder). The frame counter is on the bottom of the film advance knob and must be set manually when you load a roll of film into the camera.

The shutter release is on top of the camera, just left of the film advance knob. Above the shutter release is the film rewind lever, which is lowered for normal film operation and flipped up to the "R" position to rewind the roll into the cassette when it's finished.

The Canon IV Sb also has an accessory shoe on top for auxiliary viewfinders. On the far left side of the camera is the film rewind knob, which can be pulled up to make the rewind process easier when you've exhausted the full roll of film.

Just below the rewind knob is the viewfinder selector lever with F, 1x, and 1.5x settings, allowing you to magnify the viewfinder for use with 50mm, 100mm, or 150mm lenses. By choosing different magnifications, it slides a magnifying lens into the finder to replicate the crop for your chosen focal length. It's a great feature, and I really enjoyed it.

The camera body has no standard flash sync port, as the Canon IV Sb uses a proprietary flash connection system for bulb or electronic flash. The downside is that all contacts are made through a sliding bar on the camera's left side. Without the Canon Flash Unit Model Y and its accessories, traditional flash isn't readily available.

To load film into the camera—similar to other rangefinders of this era—unlatch the lock on the bottom plate and pull it off, exposing the film chamber and take-up spool. Pull out the take-up spool, thread the lead from a fresh roll of film into it, and slide both the spool and the film canister into the camera body. Take up the slack of the film with the film rewind lever and advance the film to the first frame. Reset the frame counter to one and start taking photos.

My Results:

I loaded the camera with an expired roll of Plus-X that expired in June 1976. I like shooting this film because it has only 20 exposures, so I don't waste extra film when shooting for the blog.

Conclusion:

The camera did a wonderful job and was fun to use. I really enjoyed the bright rangefinder focusing, and the ability to magnify the image through the viewfinder for the 100mm and 150mm lenses makes this a wonderful user camera. It would have been great if they'd also included a wider viewfinder window for wide-angle lenses, but that may be asking too much, especially for a camera made over 70 years ago.

For this period, I still prefer Nikon rangefinder cameras and completely understand why professionals chose them alongside Leica. While the Canon IV Sb is easy to use, its flash system is unusual for the time and forces photographers to use its proprietary ecosystem.

Are you interested in other cameras? Check out some of my other Camera Reviews.

Also, check out my Cuny's Camera Collection YouTube channel, where I'm putting together video overviews of the cameras I write about. Be sure to subscribe and like the channel!

You can also visit Cuny's Cameras and Photos, my online eBay store, where you'll find some of the cameras I've reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and photography items from my collection that I'm thinning out.

Until next week, please be safe.

Welta Welti camera

My Welta Welti camera

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

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

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

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

My Welta Welti camera with leather case.

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

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

History:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

My Results:

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

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

 Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.