Bolsey PH-324A Camera, 35 Model B Special & B3

Composition of my Bolsey 35 B Special, PH-324A and B3 cameras

I've always been a fan of Bolsey cameras, as I've written about them in the past. Many of their models have a highly unusual appearance. Their 35mm cameras look somewhat bulbous from the top, with an odd three-sided removable back door. Yet, they seem to fit in the hand nicely thanks to their quirky form factor.

I've owned many Bolsey cameras over my collecting career, from the twin-lens Bolsey-Flex Trio and Bolsey 8 (both still and movie cameras) to the oddly shaped twin-lens 35mm Bolsey C model. But today I'm writing about their more common 35mm rangefinders—with the fun exception that they come in different colors.

One thing I've noticed is that the red logo Bolsey button on top of the camera is usually missing. I'd guess more than half the ones I've seen have lost this red button, likely popping off at some point in the camera's life. I've had some with and some without, so I generally look for and purchase them with the button intact, unless it's a truly "special" camera.

All three cameras I'm looking at today are based on the Bolsey B in terms of shape and most features. Due to my love for colored cameras, I couldn't resist putting this trio together—mainly for the fun of photographing them side-by-side and seeing what I could come up with for my lead photo.

The Bolsey "Special" is the oldest in my collection, and I purchased it online off eBay many years ago. The thought of adding a red Bolsey to the shelf was a huge plus for me. When I received it and saw it was in great physical shape, I was thrilled. Finding out the shutter and transport actually worked was just the frosting on the cake.

However, it wasn't until I finally pulled it off the shelf, loaded it up, processed the film, and saw the results that I realized there was a major flaw (see the images in the "Results" area). While the rangefinder worked as it should and the pressure plate was intact, the images were incredibly out of focus. I guess one of the lens elements is missing, or something is so out of whack that it ruins the focus. The back looks perfectly fine, so I'm at a loss.

After some research, I learned that some Bolsey "Special" cameras were made for microscopes and scientific purposes. Maybe this lens was specifically calibrated for extreme close-up work? But then again, the rangefinder worked perfectly for distance. It's a mystery.

I bought the second camera, the Bolsey B3, at an antique store in a neighboring town about three years ago. I was walking through the basement section when I came across a booth with a few cameras, and there sat this grey B3. The chrome was tarnished, and the shutter was stuck open, but the top was clean, and it was grey—a color I hadn't seen on a Bolsey before. The price was only a few dollars, so even though the shutter wasn't working, I figured it would make a fantastic display piece alongside my other Bolseys.

The newest Bolsey to join my collection is the PH-324A. This military camera was made for, and used by, the U.S. Signal Corps. This olive-drab camera features a stark black finish and a bold red "Bolsey" on the faceplate. It was part of a lot I bought at an auction house a few months ago.

While I always enjoy finding different colored versions of cameras, the stigma of a "military" model didn't initially excite me. That's possibly because the high prices they usually command typically turn me off—and keep them out of my budget! But the striking black finish on this one really won me over.

After processing the disappointing roll from the Bolsey Special, I loaded some film into the PH-324A and took it outside for a spin. Thankfully, this roll turned out much better, which you can see in the "Results" section below.

History:

The history of Bolsey cameras is inextricably linked to the brilliant and prolific mind of its founder, Jacques Bolsey. Born Yakob Bogopolsky in Kiev in 1895, he first made his mark on the photographic world in Switzerland during the 1920s. There, he designed the legendary Bolex 16mm motion picture camera, a revolutionary piece of equipment that helped democratize filmmaking for generations of operators. He also laid the mechanical groundwork for the Swiss Alpa-Reflex 35mm camera in the late 1930s before emigrating to the United States to escape the onset of World War II.

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During the war, Bolsey worked extensively with the U.S. government, designing durable, high-precision combat cameras for both aerial and ground photography. When peacetime arrived, he leveraged this military engineering experience to enter the booming consumer market. In 1947, he founded the Bolsey Corporation of America in New York and introduced his first major consumer camera, the Bolsey Model B.

The Bolsey Model B was a compact 35mm rangefinder featuring a distinctively heavy, cast-aluminum body. It possessed a uniquely rugged feel—a direct byproduct of Bolsey's wartime designs. Equipped with a fixed Wollensak Anastigmat 44mm f/3.2 lens and a split-image rangefinder, the Model B was both mechanically capable and affordable for the post-war middle class.

The company quickly iterated on this early success. The subsequent Model B2 added double-exposure prevention, while the exceptionally quirky Model C, introduced around 1950, stands out as one of Bolsey's most eccentric designs. The Bolsey C was an unusual hybrid: it functioned as a standard 35mm rangefinder but also integrated a twin-lens reflex (TLR) viewfinder on the top of the body. This let photographers look down into a ground-glass screen to focus, offering an alternative to the traditional eye-level viewfinder.

Later models, like the Bolsey B22 and the Jubilee (introduced in 1953 and 1955, respectively), featured a proprietary "Set-O-Matic" system. This mechanical innovation coupled aperture control directly to the focus mechanism, removing the mathematical guesswork from early flash photography.

Despite their mechanical durability and innovative features, Bolsey cameras suffered from inconsistent quality control in their external finishes. The metal plating on many camera bodies tended to deteriorate or pit quickly. By 1956, facing intense competition from domestic manufacturers like Kodak, as well as highly sophisticated new imports from Japan and Germany, Bolsey ceased camera production and sold his business interests to the Wittnauer Watch Company.

Jacques Bolsey passed away in 1962. Today, his legacy survives not only in the revered Bolex cinema cameras but also in the quirky, durable Bolsey 35mm rangefinders that remain fascinating artifacts of mid-century photographic engineering.

My Camera:

For this section, I'll focus on the PH-324A. The red "Special" is very similar to the PH-324A, while the Bolsey B3 is different mechanically and has some aesthetic differences, too.

The Bolsey 35mm models are sturdy and compact, coming in at 4.25" across, 2.5" tall, and 2.5" deep, weighing 14.9 ounces without film. My camera has a Wollensak 44mm f/3.2 Anastigmat lens, and the serial number on my PH-324A is 95012.

Looking along the top, you'll find just the rewind knob on the left. The middle of the PH-324A features the information plate with the Bolsey logo, reading: "Signal Corps. U.S. Army, Camera PH-324A," along with the contract name and "Bolsey Corp. of America." On the top right is the winding knob to advance the film. There's a helpful arrow indicating the turning direction, along with the instruction to "Lift slightly and Wind." Right below the winding lever is the frame counter.

Top view of the Bolsey PH-324A camera

On the back of the camera are two holes for the viewfinder. The left is the standard finder used to frame your image, and the right is a split-image rangefinder used for focusing. For me, they are a little difficult to use, but I think that's because of the eye surgery I had over a year ago and simply getting more accustomed to using my left eye to focus.

Moving to the front, the viewfinders are at the top. Down by the lens, you focus by sliding a large tab on the left side (as you hold the camera). On the PH-324A, there is a red dot and a slight indent just past the 12-foot mark. This is designed for hyperfocal focusing. Similar to how an Instamatic works, if you set the camera's focus to this point and use a small aperture in normal sunny conditions, your depth of field will keep everything from approximately 5 feet to infinity in sharp focus.

Above the lens are the shutter speeds, which range from 1/200 down to 1/10, along with "B" for Bulb and "T" for timed exposures. The 1/100 shutter speed is printed in red. You turn the outer knurled ring to select your desired speed.

Below the lens are the aperture settings, ranging from f/3.2 to f/22. Set these by sliding the small arrow to match your lighting conditions. The f/8 mark is also printed in red. When you set the camera to 1/100, f/8, and focus on the red dot (around 15 feet), the camera is extremely easy to operate because all the primary settings are color-coded in red.

The shutter release is located around the lens assembly in the ten o'clock position. Just press it down to fire the shutter.

The bottom of the camera has the film door release. Flip the lever to "open," then slide the back off to expose the loading area. From there, you load it as you would any standard 35mm camera.

After taking a photo, you must follow the instructions engraved on the film advance knob. I didn't notice this when I first loaded the camera. The winding gears felt stuck, and I actually tore some of the sprockets right off the film. To advance the film properly,  lift the winding knob slightly, then start turning.

Lifting the knob releases the internal lock on the advance gear, allowing you to wind to the next frame. Without lifting it, you'll tear the sprocket holes just like I did before consulting the manual. When it's time to rewind the film into the cassette, there is no release button for the drive gears. You wind the rewind knob in the direction of the arrow, and the film pulls smoothly back into the cassette.

Results:

Loading up some expired Plus-X film from 1976 (which is still great film, by the way), I took a walk through my neighborhood and captured several of my usual test views.

Here are a couple of the images taken with the red "Special." The final few—and much sharper—images are from the PH-324A, which did a considerably better job!

Conclusion:

The Bolseys are incredibly fun cameras to shoot with and remain some of my favorites in my collection. They are even more fun to use once you read the instructions and learn how to advance the film without tearing the sprocket holes!

The focus was surprisingly easy to nail, even for an old guy using his left eye. The viewfinder was clear, the shutter speeds seemed accurate, and the lens was sharp, producing some genuinely nice images despite the larger grain structure of the vintage Plus-X film.

Thank you for taking the time to read about some of the Bolsey cameras from my collection.

Overall, my experience with these cameras was very positive. While a slightly larger finder window would be nice, I do love shooting with a compact camera every once in a while. I've always felt that Bolsey cameras were well-built, quirky, and an absolute joy to use.

Are you interested in other vintage gear? Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

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

Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store, where you will find some of the cameras I have reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and items from my collection that I am thinning out.

Until next week, please be safe.

Leica CL Camera-50th Anniversary Edition

My Leica CL-50th Anniversary Edition Camera

I can remember when the Leica CL was first introduced. I was a junior in high school and attending concerts with my buddies. Because of its size, I thought it would be perfect to take to shows to photograph bands. It was small, compact, and had incredible optics.

 At the time, I shot Nikon, which was a bit bigger and heavier, and the idea of a smaller, lighter camera intrigued me.

 Unfortunately, I had a few obstacles to overcome to get one. The first and foremost was the price. At around $450.00 for the camera body with the 40mm lens, I needed to save a lot before I could afford it, especially while also buying records, paying for a car, and going to concerts. Something needed to give.

 For me personally, another drawback of the Leica CL was the lack of longer lenses for the body. At the time of release, they offered a 40mm and a 90mm, which they recommended, but for the shows I was photographing, I sometimes needed up to a 200mm. The 40mm or 90mm would be OK for some of the work, but I liked getting a bit closer to the performers, so the longer lens was very desirable.

 A good friend of mine, Greg Copeland, was an early adopter of the Olympus OM system and purchased his right after it was introduced in 1973. After I played with his for a while, I started to prefer shooting with a slightly bigger camera, as my hands just seemed to overlap the camera, and it didn't feel comfortable. As a result, the thought of owning a Leica CL subsided.

Leica CL 50th Anniversary

 Minolta introduced their version of the Leica CL, the Minolta CLE, in 1980, when I was working at a camera store in the San Francisco Bay Area. I briefly considered buying it through the employee purchase program, but I wasn't a big fan of Minolta cameras. Also, being married and having a two-year-old put a little damper on spending a lot of money on camera gear.

 Jump almost 40 years into the future, and an opportunity to purchase a Leica CL with the fitted leather case and Leitz Summicron-C 40mm f/2 lens dropped into my lap. I was in a camera store in a small Midwest town on a business trip, and as I was looking in one of the showcases, there it was.

 The owner at the time said he was having a difficult time selling it, and he would make me a good deal on it if I were interested. He said the meter wasn't working, but it did come with the hood, lens cap, and case. He threw out a price that was too good to pass up. I thought about it for a few minutes and started playing with it. It seemed in great condition, except for the meter, so I bought the camera and took it home.

History of Leica CL & Minolta CLE

The partnership between Leitz (the maker of Leica cameras) and Japanese manufacturer Minolta during the 1970s birthed two of the most fascinating rangefinders in photographic history: the Leica CL and the Minolta CLE. Conceived during a period of financial instability for Leica, this collaboration aimed to produce a compact, accessible entry point into the legendary M-mount system.

 Introduced in 1973, the Leica CL (Compact Leica) was designed by Leitz but manufactured in Japan by Minolta. It represented a radical departure from traditional Leica design. Weighing considerably less than its sibling, the polarizing Leica M5, the CL featured a vertically traveling cloth focal-plane shutter and a unique through-the-lens (TTL) light meter positioned on a pivoting arm that swung out of the way just before the shutter fired. To accompany the camera, Leitz introduced two compact, budget-friendly lenses: the 40mm f/2 Summicron-C and the 90mm f/4 Elmar-C.

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 The CL was a massive commercial success. However, its popularity became a double-edged sword. It sold so well that it reportedly cannibalized sales of the far more expensive M5, prompting Leitz to discontinue the CL prematurely in 1976 after producing roughly 65,000 units. Minolta also sold its own domestic version during this time, the Leitz Minolta CL, which was functionally identical.

 After the partnership dissolved, Minolta built on the CL and engineered a true technological marvel: the Minolta CLE (Compact Leica Electronic), released in 1980.

 While it retained the M-mount and a similar form factor, the CLE was entirely Minolta's creation and represented a massive leap forward. It replaced the CL's mechanical shutter and swinging meter arm with an advanced electronic stepless shutter and a cutting-edge silicon photodiode system.

 Most impressively, the CLE introduced aperture-priority auto-exposure and TTL off-the-film flash metering—features that would not appear on a true Leica M body until the M7 arrived over two decades later. Minolta paired the CLE with three exceptional M-Rokkor lenses: a 28mm f/2.8, a 40mm f/2, and a 90mm f/4. Despite its technological superiority, the CLE had a relatively short production run and was discontinued in 1985. Today, both cameras remain highly sought after by film enthusiasts as capable, lightweight alternatives to traditional M-system rangefinders.

My Camera

My Leica CL is a 50th-anniversary model with the stamp under the "Leica CL" name on the front. On the back of the camera body is engraved 487-L. The Leica CL is 4.75" wide by 3" tall by 2.5" deep, with the Leitz Summicron-C 40mm f/2 lens. The camera weighs 1 pound, 2 ounces with the hood and lens cap, and without film. The body serial number is 1429885, and the lens serial number is 2552228.

My Leica CL also has a vertical hanging, fitted leather case with "Leica Wetzlar" embossed on the front. I'm not a big fan of how the soft case works with the camera, as I find it gets in my way when using the camera. It does offer protection, so that's a plus.

 Looking at the top of the camera, the Leica CL is rather plain. From left to right, there is the "Leitz Wetzlar" logo, a hot shoe for the flash, the shutter release (threaded for a cable release), a white line for setting the shutter speed, and a film winding lever.

 Most exposure controls are on the front of the camera body or lens. In the upper left corner of the camera, as you face it, is the shutter speed wheel, which has speeds from 1/1000 to 1/2 (no 1 sec. exposure setting) and "B" for timed exposures. The shutter speed is set by turning the outer wheel to the desired speed, which is aligned with the small white line on the camera body. Some people get confused because the white line isn't directly above the shutter speed number, but slightly to the left. Make sure you set the shutter speed to the white line, and not at the top of the dial.

Inside the shutter speed dial is the ASA or DIN (ISO) setting for the internal light meter. Set the ASA by turning the chrome wheel with the pad of your finger or thumb to the desired film speed.

 Below the shutter speed wheel is a smaller round button with a red circle, which is the lens release button. Press the button and turn the lens counterclockwise a short distance until the red dot latches to the red circle, then remove the lens. To attach the lens, match the red dot on the lens to the red circle, then turn the lens clockwise until it clicks into place and locks onto the camera body.

On the opposite side of the lens is an even smaller chrome button: the "battery test" button for the light meter. Unfortunately, the light meter on my camera isn't working, so it's not something I use when shooting with the Leica CL.

 On the lens is the focus knob, which is a larger knob on the bottom, and the aperture settings, which are located towards the front of the lens. I also have a rubber lens hood and a plastic lens cap that fits onto the hood; both came with the camera kit.

Looking through the viewfinder, there are several things to look at. In the middle is the bright rangefinder. This is a wonderful and very easy rangefinder. The image looks sharper (to me) when you bring the lines together in the yellowed area of the rangefinder. I'm generally not a big fan of rangefinders, but I do really like how this one performs.

 It also has internal lines for a 40mm and 50mm lens. Along the top of the finder is the shutter speed, with a red bar sliding to the set shutter speed, which is easily adjusted with your forefinger rolling along the shutter speed selector.

On the right side of the viewfinder is the light meter. Leica interestingly designed the camera: when you wind it, a small hinged arm with a CDS sensor drops down in front of the vertically traveling focal plane shutter. This is what meters your exposures. As you change the shutter speed/aperture combination and the ASA setting, a bar moves up or down until it's in the center "cutout" area. When it's in the middle of the "cutout" area, the meter tells you it's properly exposed.

 When you click the shutter, the CDS sensor moves up just before the shutter opens and closes, exposing the film. Then, when you wind the film to the next exposure, the CDS sensor pulls back down and is ready to meter your next frame. If you haven't wound to the next frame and the winding lever is in close to the body, the meter is off. I also noticed that when you move the shutter speed dial to 1/2 sec. or "B", a red dot appears in the meter area. My best guess is that it's a longer exposure warning.

To remove the camera back to load the film, on the bottom of the camera in the center, there is a knob that you lift and turn until it stops. Then, slide the camera back down to slide the back off the camera body. Once you've done that, the pressure plate is hinged to the camera body, not the back of the film door you just removed.

 Put your film cassette in the left-side film chamber, flip down the pressure plate, and thread the lead into the grey clips on the take-up spool. Advance the film a bit to make sure it's caught and traveling across the shutter. Flip back the pressure plate, slide the camera back under the grooves on the front of the camera, sliding it all the way onto the camera body, and lock the film back onto the camera body.

The bottom of the film door also has the rewind crank and rewind button to unlock the film transport wheel, plus a small film reminder on the other side of the rewind crank.

 I have a few rolls of outdated Plus-X film dated to June 1976, which I have in both 36 and 20 exposures that I'm selling in my store on eBay, so I loaded a roll of 20 exposures into the camera, set my external light meter to ISO 50, and went for a walk around the neighborhood to see how the camera would perform.

 My Results

After walking the neighborhood and taking photos of many of the usual subjects to keep it somewhat consistent, I went home and processed the film. Here are some of the images I took on my walk.

Conclusion

I enjoyed many things about using the Leica CL. First and foremost was the focusing. I really enjoyed how the rangefinder reacted to the images I selected. It made it easy to focus, especially in busy areas with a lot of detail.

 The second thing I enjoyed about the camera was the image quality. Similar to the Contarex "Bullseye" camera, this lens is very sharp. I kind of marvel at how sharp these images are. Maybe it's because I try so many different cameras with average or below-average optics, but when you get a sharply focused photo, they just jump out at you.

 The camera case (to me) was a real pain. Having the case flop around when I'm using the camera was a negative experience. In the future, instead of latching the case through the strap, I'll put the strap on the camera and wrap the case around it for protection. When I unzip the case, I'll put it in my pocket. That's a more desirable solution for me.

 One other thing I noticed from the last few cameras shot with the expired Plus-X film I have is that I kind of like the grain of the film. It's a bit chunkier than the newer films, which I kind of enjoy and remember from my earlier days of shooting.

 Overall, my experience with the Leica CL was very positive. I would have liked an internal meter, but for the price I paid for the camera, lens, and case, I'm very happy and can use an external meter or guess exposures, which is pretty easy.

 Are you interested in other cameras? Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

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

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store, where you will find some of the cameras I have reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and items from my collection that I am thinning out.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Zeiss Ikon Hologon Ultrawide camera

My Zeiss Ikon Hologon Ultrawide camera

When it comes to photography, I have a passion for all things panoramic and wide-angle, so the rare Zeiss Ikon Hologon Ultrawide camera was a camera I've always wanted to purchase. What's not to like? The whole camera was built around an incredible Carl Zeiss 15mm f/8 Hologon ultra-wide-angle lens, which the camera is named after.

 It wasn't until later in my career in the photo industry that I had the financial means to purchase one of these wonderful cameras. I'd seen them at camera shows, in online sales on eBay, and in other stores. I've even had the opportunity to purchase one back when I was first starting out collecting cameras, but the price was always beyond my reach.

 About 10 years ago, I was looking through the online catalog from Wetzlar Auctions in Germany. Basically, I was dreaming about the cameras that were still out of my reach. It wasn't the super-rare Leicas that caught my eye, but a hard-to-find Zeiss Ikon Hologon Ultrawide with the handle, cable release, center filter, lens caps, and case that made me pause.

 At the time, Wetzlar Auctions had a fairly low starting price, so I thought, "Why not? Let's give it a go," and see how quickly I'd be outbid. I put in a fair price that I was willing to pay for the camera, as they said it was in "good working condition."

 As time passed and the auction got closer, there weren't that many people interested in the camera, but my thoughts kept saying, "You'll be outbid soon."

My outfit with case, center filter, grip, cable release and lens caps.

 On the day of the auction, I watched the results, and the price didn't reach my high bid. So, by the time the auction closed, I was the winner of the camera. There were concerns that the camera may not have met expectations, and there were underlying issues the auction house didn't disclose that I wasn't aware of.

 After paying for the camera, along with the auction house fees, etc., I then needed to pay to have the camera shipped from Germany to my home in the USA. It was a little bit more than I expected, but to me, it was still under the value of the camera, so I was pleased. Especially to have such a rare and special camera in my collection.

 It wasn't until I received the camera that I noticed the camera's take-up spool was missing, and the bubble level on top was dried out. Not the end of the world, as I purchased a Contaflex/Contax take-up spool that fits the camera well. It wasn't the original take-up spool with the red tips on the end, but it would wind the film in the camera.

 There wasn't much I could do about the bubble level, but at this point, it's water under the bridge. I now have a working Zeiss Ikon Hologon Ultrawide camera to put in the collection and use when I want.

History:

The Zeiss Ikon Hologon is one of the most unusual and technically ambitious 35mm cameras ever produced. Introduced in 1969, it was created around an extraordinary lens rather than the other way around. Its Carl Zeiss Hologon 15mm f/8 lens offered an astonishing 110-degree angle of view, making it one of the widest-angle lenses available for 35mm photography at the time.

Outfit in the original box.

 The story began with German optical designer Dr. Erhard Glatzel and his work at Carl Zeiss. The Hologon was an innovative three-element design intended to produce an extremely wide, rectilinear image with remarkably low distortion. The lens was so physically unusual that conventional 35mm camera bodies could not accommodate it properly. Its rear element needed to sit exceptionally close to the film plane. Rather than compromise the lens design, Zeiss created a camera specifically around it.

 The resulting Hologon camera was based on the chassis of the Zeiss Ikon Contarex but eliminated the SLR mirror and reflex viewing system. In their place was a large optical viewfinder with a built-in bubble level. The level was important because the enormous field of view made even a slight tilt of the camera very noticeable in the finished photograph. The camera also came with a distinctive pistol grip, designed partly to keep the photographer's fingers from appearing at the edges of photographs.

 The Hologon's lens was fixed at f/8 and had fixed focus, providing sharpness from approximately 0.5 meter to infinity. Because such a wide-angle optical design naturally suffered from illumination falloff toward the edges of the frame, Zeiss supplied a specially graduated center filter. This accessory was an essential part of the system rather than simply an optional convenience.

Zeiss Ikon Hologon Ultrawide manual

 Production numbers were extremely small. Approximately 1,400 Hologon cameras were produced, making it one of the rarest members of the Contarex family. Zeiss Ikon's camera manufacturing ended in the early 1970s, and the Hologon became one of the final and most exotic products associated with the Zeiss Ikon name.

 The Hologon lens itself survived beyond the camera. In 1972, unused lenses were offered in Leica M mount, complete with the appropriate accessories. The Hologon name was eventually revived in the 1990s for a redesigned 16mm f/8 lens used with the Contax G system.

 Today, the Zeiss Ikon Hologon is highly prized by collectors. It represents a remarkable moment when optical engineering took priority over conventional camera design—a camera literally built around a lens. Its rarity, distinctive appearance, and extraordinary 15mm Hologon optics have secured its place as one of the great classics of German camera history.

My Camera:

My Zeiss Ikon Hologon Ultrawide camera is based on the Zeiss Ikon Contarex body and is 6" wide by 3.5" tall by only 2" deep. The camera weighs in at 1 pound, 11.5 ounces with the Carl Zeiss Verlauffilter S 57 4x (center filter) and plastic lens cap. The camera's serial number is P76233. The camera has a Carl Zeiss Hologon 15mm f/8 lens, serial number 4814780.

Due to the lens's wide angle of view, the camera has a center filter that is darker in the middle and lighter on the sides. This helps to even out the exposure in your images. If the camera didn't have the center filter, all the images would have a darker ring on the sides, giving the images a slight vignette appearance. The center filter evens out the vignette appearance in your images.

The filter has threads on the outside that thread into the threads on the outside of the lens and wrap around the lens. This is different from most filters, which thread onto the inside of a lens.

 When you look closely at the lens from the front, it has a rather flat appearance, but when you turn the camera and get in close to look at the lens, it definitely has a dome appearance. Its three-element configuration was revolutionary because it produced an exceptionally wide, essentially rectilinear image without relying on the fisheye projection used by many extreme wide-angle lenses.

The camera is very basic and, as I mentioned, is based on the Zeiss Ikon Contarex body. Looking at the top of the camera, the camera's rewind crank is on the far left, surrounded by a movable wheel that shows, as a reminder to the photographer, what ASA (ISO) is in the camera. There is no meter in the camera, so it's really used as a reminder to the photographer what film speed they loaded into the camera.

In the middle is a bubble level, which sits on top of a fairly large viewfinder. It needs to be especially big and wide to show approximately the same angle of view as the ultra-wide 15mm lens. Looking inside the viewfinder, you can see the bubble level just under the viewfinder. The bubble level is for vertical adjustment so you can keep the camera level for horizontal images. As previously mentioned, my bubble level is dry, so there is no bubble to see in mine.

 Moving to the right on the top of my camera is the film-winding lever, which sits on top of the camera's shutter-speed dial. The shutter speeds range from 1/500 to 1 second, plus "B" for bulb, and “T” for timed exposures. Above the winding lever is the camera's film counter, with the shutter release in the middle. The shutter-release button also has threads that accepts a cable release.

On the bottom of the camera are two latches that need to be turned, which allow you to slide the back off the camera and expose the film chamber. Once the back is removed, you'll load the 35mm film like you would with any other 35mm camera. Once you've loaded the film, put the film back into the grooves in the camera body and slide the back up and into position on the back of the camera. Once it's on, lock the two latches and flip down the handles so the camera sits flush.

 When you get to the end of the roll, and it's time to rewind the film into the cassette, one of the latches on the bottom of the camera has an "R" for rewind. Lift the handle of this latch only and turn the lever until the handle is pointing at the "R" for rewind. Flip up the handle on the rewind knob and rewind the film into the 35mm cassette. Once the film is rewound, turn both levers to the open position, take the back off the camera, and remove the film for processing.

The Zeiss Ikon Hologon camera came with different accessories. There is a center filter, which I discussed earlier, and two lens caps. One is plastic and pops over the center filter when it's on the camera, and the other is a metal cap that threads around the lens, like the center filter, when the center filter is off the camera.

 There is also a pistol grip with a removable top, which allows the photographer to place the camera at different angles onto the pistol grip if desired. There is also a cable release that threads into the pistol grip and into the camera's shutter release. The pistol grip also has a leather strap to secure the grip to your hand when carrying it.

 The pistol grip is used so you don't wrap your hands around the camera when shooting, like you would with a regular 35mm camera. If you did, your fingers would appear on the sides of your images, very similar to the way they do with Widelux cameras.

Without the pistol grip, you'd need to hold the camera with your finger on top and your thumbs under it to stabilize it, much like you'd hold an Instamatic camera. You don't wrap your hands around this or Widelux cameras to avoid having your fingers in the images.

 Also included in the kit were the strap for the camera and a very nice hard compartment case for the camera, with room to hold the pistol grip. The case also has elastic straps to hold the center filter and extra lens cap.

Zeiss Ikon Hologon Ultrawide mounted on the pistol grip with center filter, and cable release. Two lens caps too.

Now that we have the camera loaded, let's take it out to see how it performs under normal working conditions.

 Results:

I took the camera to three different locations to try it out. First was a local farm that has a "farm-to-table" dinner we go to near Portland, OR. The name is Topaz Farms, and they are spectacular people who put on the most delicious dinners during the summertime.

 The second was a local farmers market in the town we live in. I'd walk around and take photos of some of the vendors and their wares.

 Finally, I walked the neighborhood, taking some of the standard photos I try to take with all the cameras so that, if you want to look back and see the images, they would be in similar locations.

Here are some of the results from these events and locations.

Conclusion:

Once I processed the film, I noticed a few things about the camera that I felt were a bit odd. The spacing of the negatives was very thin and not the normal spacing I was expecting. This may have been caused by me purchasing a Contaflex/Contax take-up spool, which is thinner in diameter, giving the film less area to travel between images.

 The second thing is that the images didn't seem as sharp as I was expecting. Don't get me wrong, they are sharp, but not as sharp as last week's Contarex “Bullseye” body and lens. Especially being so wide and stopped down, I was expecting super-sharp images, but these were OK.

 It may have been the filter, but that was clean. My expectations were higher, and the images fell short.

 Because of that, I'll try another roll of film, and if I'm not impressed with those images, you may see this on eBay in the near future.

 Want to see other cameras? Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

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

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store, where you will find some of the cameras I have reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and items from my collection that I am thinning out.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Zeiss Ikon Contarex "Bullseye" camera

My Zeiss Ikon Contarex “Bullseye” camera

Ever since I started collecting cameras, way back in the late 1970s, maybe even the early 1980s, the Zeiss Ikon Contarex, "Bullseye" or "Cyclops" camera has been on my radar to hopefully someday have in my collection. These were the times when my wife and I were newly married, and money was always tight—living paycheck to paycheck.

I can remember seeing the Contarex camera in magazines and other collecting or historical publications. Always in the back of my mind, I thought this was one of the most beautiful cameras ever made. The bulging "eye" over the lens made the camera seem otherworldly, futuristic, and more like an art piece than a camera.

Seeing it many times in McKeown's Cameras price book, which I would devour constantly, soaking in the information on the different camera designs and companies from around the world that produced odd and unique cameras, it was the Contarex that always stood out as an icon for camera collectors.

Fast forward 35 years. It was sometime in the early to mid-2010s when I had the opportunity to purchase one of these wonders of a camera. With extra income to spend on expanding my collection and selling off some cameras, I pulled the trigger at a camera show in the San Francisco Bay Area, where we lived at the time, on a wonderful, working Contarex with the fitted case.

Contarex nameplate

The camera came with the slightly wide Zeiss Distagon 35mm f/4 lens, which was fairly slow, but there are two items I liked about this lens. It's wide—not as wide as I'd like, but it also focuses closer than most lenses. The lens can focus down to 7.5 inches from the subject, almost making it a macro lens. Not quite, but much closer than the standard lens.

The Contarex also has a working meter, which is somewhat rare for a selenium meter system on a camera made in the late 1950s to early 1960s. I also enjoy a more "hefty" camera, since I was mainly raised using the older Nikon F system. Along with having larger hands, these cameras feel more comfortable to me.

I remember when the Olympus OM system camera hit the market in the 1970s. I'd wrap my hands around the smaller body and lenses, and it always made me feel like I was suffocating the camera as my hand enveloped them. Same with the Pentax ME system when they came out, so having a larger camera body and lens has always seemed right to me.

The Contarex camera is extremely solid, well-built, over-engineered, and somewhat weighty. The Contarex has some real heft to it. One thing I wasn't aware of was the camera's build quality, which I discuss below in the history section.


History of the Contarex Cameras

The Zeiss Ikon Contarex, introduced at Photokina in 1958 and hitting the market in 1960, stands as one of the most ambitious and notoriously over-engineered 35mm single-lens reflex (SLR) cameras ever manufactured. Conceived in 1954 under the internal designation "Contax IV," the Contarex was designed by Edgar Sauer as Zeiss Ikon's definitive professional 35mm SLR, intended to replace the Contax IIa and IIIa and, in the company's words, cater to "any photographic task whatsoever."

With rising Japanese powerhouses, the Contarex system was Zeiss Ikon's no-holds-barred flagship—a mechanical tour de force that commands immense respect (and sometimes frustration) in the vintage collecting community today.

Zeiss Ikon Contarex camera advertisment

The first model in the lineup earned the nicknames "Bullseye" and "Cyclops" due to the prominent, circular selenium light meter window mounted directly in front of the pentaprism. This meter wasn't just cosmetic; it represented a massive mechanical achievement. The Contarex I was the first 35mm SLR to feature a focal-plane shutter with direct light meter coupling. The camera mechanically linked the shutter speed, aperture, and film speed settings via a highly complex system of internal cords and pulleys.

While the interchangeable Carl Zeiss lenses produced for the Contarex are still legendary for their sharpness, contrast, and uncompromising build quality, the camera bodies themselves are incredibly intricate. The original Bullseye contains nearly 1,100 individual parts, including roller bearings in the aperture mechanism. Interestingly, the lenses lack traditional aperture rings; instead, the aperture is controlled by a milled wheel on the camera body itself, which directly interfaces with the bayonet mount.

Because of their sheer mechanical complexity, they require highly specialized technicians for servicing—simply removing the top plate requires dismantling 43 separate components. A working selenium meter is often a strong indicator that a specific body hasn't been abused over the decades. For anyone running an online shop or writing historical reviews, finding a fully functional Contarex at a global market is a massive victory, offering rich material for a blog deep-dive or video overview.

Another notoriously delicate quirk is the rewind mechanism. Instead of a direct shaft, it uses a series of tiny gears, making it smooth but highly vulnerable to impact damage. Additionally, interchangeable magazine backs allowed mid-roll film swapping, cementing its status as a true professional system camera.

Despite its brilliance, the sheer cost ($499 in 1961), heavy weight, and complicated nature of the Contarex meant it never dominated the market quite like the simpler Japanese alternatives. Zeiss Ikon eventually produced several variations, including the Contarex Special, Professional, and the electronic Super, before ceasing production in the early 1970s. Today, these chrome behemoths remain a fascinating pinnacle of mid-century German engineering—heavy, beautiful, and incredibly rewarding to study and restore.

My Camera

My Zeiss Ikon Contarex camera is 4" tall by 6" wide by 4" deep with the Zeiss Distagon 35mm f/4 lens, and weighs in at 2 pounds, 8.8 ounces. My camera body serial number is T89707, and the lens serial number is 3703592. You can find the instruction manual for the Zeiss Contarex at Mike Butkus's website, www.CameraManuals.org.

Looking at the top of the camera, going from left to right, is the camera's rewind knob with a flip-up lever, along with a directional arrow indicating which way to turn the wheel when it's time to rewind your film. There is also an indicator or reminder of what ASA (ISO) you have in the camera.

To the right of the rewind knob is an external light meter window. This is the same as you'll see in the viewfinder, only it's to be used if you're setting up from your waist and want to get the meter settings before you put the camera to your eye.

On the very top of the camera is the accessory shoe, used for a flash unit or for an accessory viewfinder which would be used for the widest 21mm lens available. Just in front of the accessory shoe is the "Bullseye" or "Cyclops" meter. Inside the meter are the aperture settings, which are controlled by a knurled ring just to the right of the meter and on the front of the camera body.

Turning this wheel sets the aperture setting, and it will also set the internal aperture needed to make the exposure. This will be transferred through the camera body, setting the proper aperture on the lens through its internal pulley system. You can remove the front of the meter housing, which has a honeycomb appearance, to expose the meter aperture, along with the pulley that activates it.

Just behind the aperture wheel on the front of the camera is the film winding lever, which sits on top of the shutter speed selector. Inside the winding lever is the camera's shutter release, which can accept a cable release for longer exposures. The shutter speed selector has a range of shutter speeds from 1/1000–1 sec, including "B" for timed exposures.

Just under the shutter speed selector is the ISO (ASA) settings. To set the ISO, lift on the shutter speed wheel and turn the dial to set the meter to the proper ISO. The ASA range is from 50–1300. There are also 2x and 4x settings if you want to overexpose in low-light situations purposely.

On the front of the camera, just under the aperture control wheel, is the camera's self-timer, which has a maximum delay of 12 seconds. It can be shorter, provided you don't pull the lever all the way to the maximum amount. On the other side of the lens, on top, is a light window for the internal meter.

Under the light window is the button to remove the lenses. Press in and turn the lens counterclockwise to remove the lens. To mount the lens, match up the two red dots and turn clockwise until the lens clicks into place. On the side, next to the lens release button, is the flash sync terminal, which is where you'll connect the flash cable, since the camera doesn't have a hot shoe for the flash.

Looking through the camera's viewfinder on the rear of the camera, you'll see the three different focusing types incorporated into the focusing screen. On the outer portion is ground glass, in the very middle is the split image, and circling the split image is a microprism focusing area. Some people have difficulty with the split image, especially with slower lenses, where one of the halves blacks out and they cannot find the vertical or horizontal line to bring together. That's caused by the pupil of your eye not being centered in the focusing screen. If you move the camera up or down, you'll notice this changes from top to bottom, but once centered, the split image becomes whole, and you'll be able to focus more easily.

On the right side of the focus screen is the meter window. Inside the meter window is a line. The goal of proper metering is to get the line in the middle for a properly exposed image. When the line is above the cutout area on the left, you're overexposing, and when below, you're underexposing. The meter allows you to set either the shutter speed, then move the aperture wheel to line up the exposure, or you can set the aperture and move the shutter speed to get the meter needle in the center. It all depends on whether you want to stop action (shutter speed) or get more/less depth of field (aperture).

To open the camera to load film, there are two latches on the bottom of the camera that need to be turned, which allow you to slide the back off the camera and expose the film chamber. Once the back is removed, you'll load the 35mm film like you would any other 35mm camera. Once the film is loaded, put the film back into the grooves in the camera body, and slide the back up and into position on the back of the camera. Once it's on, lock the two latches and flip down the handles so the camera sits flush.

When you get to the end of the roll, and it's time to rewind the film back into the cassette, one of the latches on the bottom of the camera has an "R" for rewind. Lift the handle of this latch only, and turn the lever until the handle is pointing at the "R" (for rewind). Flip up the handle on the rewind knob and rewind the film back into the 35mm cassette. Once the film is rewound, turn both levers to the open position, take the back off the camera, and remove the film for processing.

Now that we have film loaded into the camera, let's take it for a walk around the neighborhood and see how the camera performs.

My Results

I didn't have any fresh film to shoot through the Zeiss Ikon Contarex camera, but I did—and still do—have some outdated film from 1976, Plus-X 135 film, which I took from the inventory I have from my online store.

 Shooting the film at approximately ISO 50 and processing the film in Rodinal at 1:25, here are the results I achieved with the camera.

Conclusion

The camera performed flawlessly. While this was the first time actually shooting with the Contarex camera, I was surprised at how close you could focus with the lens. All of the images were handheld, and the day was somewhat overcast so that the images would be a bit flat in the lighting, but overall, the camera and lens were fantastic.

 The aperture wheel and light meter worked as they should, and the lens's sharpness is incredible. While the camera is big and heavy for many, it felt very comfortable in my hands.

I now understand why so many people enjoyed using this camera, as it is over-engineered and almost impossible to get serviced. While mine is working well, I'll definitely be taking the camera for many more walks shooting film with it.

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

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

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store, where you will find some of the cameras I have reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and items from my collection that I am thinning out.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Nikon SP camera

My Nikon SP camera

As a Nikon photographer since my early career—starting with Nikkormat cameras and moving on to the Nikon F series in the early 1970s—the early Nikon rangefinder cameras have always intrigued me. I view them not necessarily as "shooting" cameras, but more from a collector's perspective.

 I believe this is due to how I learned photography. Having grown up with SLR cameras, I feel more comfortable with a larger, brighter viewfinder. I always found it difficult to focus a rangefinder-style camera, especially in darker, low-light situations. Finding the yellow area to bring into focus was always a challenge for me. However, as I became more accustomed to them, I learned to look for someone's eye, the edge of a leaf, or any sharp contrast to bring the two images into one.

 When you shoot with a rangefinder-style camera, you (or at least I do) really appreciate its quieter shutter system. You only hear the low click of the camera's shutter opening and closing, without a mirror clunking up and down during the exposure. This can be extremely helpful, especially when photographing someone in a quiet setting. I learned this the hard way when I was photographing a musician in a small, café-style venue. My SLR was way too noisy, and some of the audience actually shushed me. It was very embarrassing, to say the least!

 Another advantage of the rangefinder style is its compactness. Because these cameras lack a mirror system, they are considerably smaller, less bulky, and lighter. This goes for their lenses, too. Their compact nature allows a photographer to either pack more gear into the space normally reserved for an SLR, or use a smaller bag—saving your shoulders and back from the strain of a large, heavy system.

 I was lucky when I found my Nikon SP. While I already owned several different Nikon rangefinders at the time—mainly earlier models like the S and S2—the SP was always out of reach due to the financial responsibilities of raising a family and owning a home.

Top view of the Nikon SP camera

After several years, with a bit more financial freedom, I found a Nikon SP in great working condition. The shutter appeared to have been serviced, and while the camera had its normal slight scratches and small dings, it was selling for a great price. I pulled the trigger and purchased it, hoping to shoot with it more often.

 When the Nikon SP arrived, it was in exactly the condition I expected from the photos. The lens was very clean and even included a protective filter from a different manufacturer, which had done a great job keeping the glass free of scratches. The camera felt incredibly comfortable in my hands, especially after holding so many Nikon SLRs over the years. Now, it was just a matter of reacquainting myself with the rangefinder and the dual viewfinder—which I knew might be a challenge following my recent eye surgery.

 The surgery has made me more of a "left-eyed" shooter, as the sharpness in my right eye had been failing for years. While the procedure helped, my vision isn't quite what it was 20 or 30 years ago. It's not a big deal; it just means getting used to bringing the camera up to my left eye after using my right for so long. At the very least, my images have been sharper ever since I made the switch.

 I really enjoy taking my Nikon SP out for a spin a few times a year. In fact, I'm somewhat shocked I haven't written about it before now! During the week, I often brainstorm which camera to feature in my next blog. Last week, the SP popped into my head, and I felt there was no better time to write about one of my absolute favorites.

History

Nikon's rangefinder cameras began as a postwar effort by Nippon Kogaku to enter the 35mm market. They quickly became the foundation of the brand's reputation for precision optics and rugged construction. The original Nikon, later called the Nikon I, was approved in 1946, manufactured starting in 1948, and sold later that year. It used a Contax-inspired mount and a compact rangefinder body that looked unlike anything else coming out of Japan at the time.

Advertisment for Nikon SP camera

 A key early turning point came with the Nikon M in 1949. Nikon had originally used a 24 x 32mm frame size, but export concerns pushed the company to revise the film gate and related mechanics. This created the M with a 24 x 34mm format that was more acceptable in overseas markets. That change helped Nikon gain traction outside Japan, especially as American photographers began to notice the quality of Nikkor lenses in the early 1950s.

 The 1951 Nikon S was the model that broadened Nikon's presence in the West, establishing the company as a serious contender in professional photography. Nikon kept refining the line throughout the 1950s with the S2, S3, S4, and SP, gradually improving usability and standardizing the full 24 x 36mm frame from the S2 onward. The SP, in particular, became one of the most admired Nikon rangefinders because of its advanced finder system and professional ambitions.

 What made these cameras historically important was not only the bodies themselves but also the Nikkor lenses mounted on them. Reports from photographers and magazines such as Life helped spread the idea that Japanese lenses could rival or surpass the best German optics, which was a major shift in postwar camera culture. Nikon rangefinders also became associated with news and documentary work, building credibility before the company moved into reflex cameras.

 By the late 1950s, Nikon had already used lessons from its rangefinders to shape the 1959 Nikon F, and rangefinder production soon faded as SLRs took over the professional market. Today, Nikon rangefinders are prized by collectors for their place in camera history, their engineering, and their role in Nikon's rise from a strictly optical manufacturer to a global photographic powerhouse.

My Camera

When I received the Nikon SP, it came with the bottom portion of its leather case, though I chose not to include it in the blog photos. My Nikon SP is serial #6222012. The camera measures 5.5" wide (including the strap lugs) by 3.25" tall and 2.5" deep. It's paired with a Nippon Kogaku Nikkor-S 5cm f/1.4 lens, serial #417682. The lens also features a chrome Kenko UV filter specifically made for the Nikkor 1.4, which is stamped directly on the filter ring (not pictured). To adjust the aperture, you turn the ring on the front of the lens.

On the front of the camera body is the self-timer—the SP was actually the first model Nikon equipped with this feature. You pull down the lever and press the small button behind it to activate the 10-second delay.

 To remove the lens, locate the small lever just behind the focus ring. Press it in toward the camera body, which allows the lens to be twisted and removed—exactly like the Contax system. To reattach a lens, match the red dot and small tab on the lens to the red dot on the camera body, then turn clockwise until it locks securely into place.

Looking at the top plate, the Nikon SP closely resembles the later Nikon F, except for a wheel on the far left. This wheel adjusts the viewfinder frame lines depending on the focal length of the lens you're using. The settings cover 5cm, 8.5cm, 10.5cm, and 13.5cm lenses. Nestled inside this collar is the film rewind crank. (I'll touch more on the viewfinder a bit later in the article.)

Next to the viewfinder selector wheel is the accessory shoe for a flash, and to the right of that sits the very familiar shutter speed dial. It offers speeds ranging from 1 second to 1/1000th of a second, along with "B" (Bulb) and "T" (Time) settings. Lifting the outer ring on the shutter speed selector adjusts the flash synchronization: "FX" is for standard electronic flash, while the white dot, red dot, and white "F" settings are for syncing various types of vintage flash bulbs.

To the right of the shutter speed dial is the shutter release button. As with many Nikon F cameras, this button features a red dot. Because the release is directly geared into the transport system—which drives the film from the cassette to the take-up spool—this red dot rotates as you advance the film (though it will turn even if the camera is empty). Around the shutter release is another collar with a black dot. During standard shooting, it should point to "A" (Advance). Turning this collar to "R" (Rewind) releases the camera's drive gear, allowing you to wind the film back into the cassette without tearing the sprockets.

 On the far right of the top plate sits the film advance lever, which features two small windows. The forward window is your frame counter, indicating which exposure you're on. The rear window acts as a reminder for whether you loaded a 20- or 36-exposure roll, set by flipping a small tab from one side to the other. And yes, for those wondering—it wasn't until the early 1980s that film manufacturers started producing 24-exposure rolls; before then, 20-exposure rolls were the standard short option!

 At the very front of the top plate, on the right side, is the camera's focusing wheel. You can focus the lens using this wheel, a mechanism borrowed directly from the Contax system that inspired these cameras. When the lens is set to infinity, it locks into position. To unlock it, press down on the small tab just behind the focusing wheel. This frees up the wheel, allowing you to dial in your focus. Once unlocked, you also have the option to focus normally by turning the lens barrel, if you prefer.

The upper left side of the camera back houses the SP's famous dual viewfinders. The finder on the right is the standard rangefinder for the lenses mentioned earlier: 5cm, 8.5cm, 10.5cm, and 13.5cm. As you turn the collar around the rewind crank, different bright lines appear in this window. Each frame line is added as you select a longer focal length, with the 13.5cm lines appearing in red to match the marking on the collar. Brilliantly, these frame lines are parallax-corrected as you focus closer to your subject.

The viewfinder on the left is a bit smaller and is dedicated to 2.8cm and 3.5cm wide-angle lenses, featuring black frame lines for each. While Nikon also manufactured ultra-wide 2.5cm and 2.1cm lenses at the time, as well as telephotos longer than 13.5cm, those required separate accessory finders that slid into the shoe on top of the camera.

 On the bottom of the camera is the locking lever used to remove the back for film loading. Turn the dial from "Close" to "Open," and the entire back slides down along its tracks to expose the film chamber. (This design is shared across all Nikon rangefinder and Nikon F bodies.) After loading your film like any standard 35mm camera, align the back on the rails, slide it up into place, and lock it tight. At this point, you're ready to shoot! The bottom plate also houses a standard tripod socket and an ASA reminder dial. (For younger shooters, ASA was the predecessor to ISO and uses the same sensitivity scale.)

My Results

I didn't have much 35mm black-and-white film left in my fridge after our last vacation, but I did find an expired roll of Kodak Tri-X from 1970. I figured it would be the perfect roll to load into the Nikon SP for a spin around the neighborhood.

Here are the results from my walk:

Conclusion

Even though I've shot with this camera in the past, I still get a thrill every time I take it out. It has a wonderful, comfortable feel in the hand—especially for someone who has been a dedicated Nikon user for so many years. The rangefinder is bright, and both the focusing and film transport are incredibly smooth. Overall, the camera worked like a charm.

 The images turned out beautifully sharp, and I loved the aesthetic of shooting such an old roll of Tri-X. I had forgotten how grainy—in a good way—that film can be. I even processed it in Rodinal, which normally retains a bit more of a "fine grain" structure, but the classic Tri-X texture pushed through anyway, and I really enjoyed the results.

 Thank you for taking the time to read about the Nikon SP. As the first true model in Nikon's line of "professional" cameras, it laid the groundwork for why the brand became so beloved by working photographers around the world.

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

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

Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store, where you will find some of the cameras I have reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and items from my collection that I am thinning out.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Hasselblad Super Wide C (SWC) camera

My Hasselblad Super Wide C camera.

Having spent over fifty years working in the photo industry, I have always felt that Hasselblad cameras exist at a level close to nirvana. When discussing gear with professionals, Hasselblad cameras were consistently at the top of the conversation. Pros absolutely loved these medium-format cameras.

 I would see them being used in television commercials, on professional photo shoots, and in movies and magazines. I got to know many of the sales representatives and repair technicians over the years, and they were always incredibly professional, which perfectly reflected how the brand was represented.

 Knowing my love for colored, unusual, and panoramic cameras, it's no surprise that wide-angle cameras are right near the top of my list as well. The more I can capture in a photo, the better. Taking in wide-open vistas and getting as much into the frame as possible has always been a favorite of mine.

 When I first started this blog, I did a post on the early version of the Hasselblad Super Wide, which I had purchased at a very reasonable price because it featured a crudely modified viewfinder. It was glued to a block of metal and screwed into the accessory shoe mount! The good news was that the shutter worked beautifully, and the lens was clean.

Image from Hasselblad’s Super Wide C Manual.

 The Super Wide, produced between 1956 and 1959, was one of the first cameras to feature Hasselblad's legendary Carl Zeiss 38mm f/4.5 Biogon lens. (It was actually introduced a couple of years earlier, in 1954, when Hasselblad debuted the Supreme Wide with that fantastic wide-angle lens).

 Years before I retired from the photo industry in 2024, I purchased a beautiful, black-body Hasselblad Super Wide C (SWC) with a Hasselblad A12 film back. The body was in stellar condition. The back had a few scuffs, but the price was right—especially for the time. I was thrilled to add another wide-angle camera to my collection, particularly one boasting such fantastic optics.

 Next to the phenomenal lens, my second favorite thing about this camera is its compactness. It's a very thin body. According to the instruction manual, when handholding it, you should hold it similar to a movie camera: cradled in the palms of your hands with your fingers wrapped around the top to trip the shutter easily.

 Initially, this felt a bit awkward to me, but the more I shoot with it, the more comfortable it becomes. Changing positions after setting the focus and shutter/aperture combination can be slightly cumbersome. Still, I genuinely believe the camera is much more stable in my hands when held this way.

History

 The Hasselblad brand is synonymous with modular medium-format photography, but its most unique and enduring legacy lies outside that modularity: the ultra-wide, fixed-lens cameras. The story begins in 1954 with the introduction of the Supreme Wide Angle (SWA). Victor Hasselblad realized that adapting an extreme wide-angle lens to his reflex mirror cameras was optically compromised due to the flange distance required for the mirror box. The solution was radical yet elegant: eliminate the mirror.

Hasselblad Super Wide C advertisment

 The SWA was built around the legendary Carl Zeiss 38mm f/4.5 Biogon lens, an optical masterpiece offering a 90-degree angle of view with virtually zero rectilinear distortion. By mounting this lens onto a shallow body that accepted standard Hasselblad film magazines, photographers gained unparalleled optical performance in a compact form. The camera was briefly renamed the Supreme Wide (SW) in 1955 before evolving into its most famous iteration.

 In 1959, Hasselblad released the SWC (Supreme Wide Camera). The SWC shifted the shutter release from the lens barrel to the top of the camera body, vastly improving ergonomics and stability. It utilized the new Synchro-Compur shutter, synchronizing with electronic flash at all speeds up to 1/500th of a second. For decades, the SWC remained the gold standard for architectural, landscape, and interior photographers who demanded medium-format resolution without the bulk of a large-format view camera. In 1980, the SWC/M was introduced, featuring a modified viewfinder and the ability to accept Polaroid backs.

 As lens technology and manufacturing evolved, so did this iconic lineage, eventually transitioning into the 900 series. The 903 SWC, introduced in 1988, replaced the older SWC/M. While structurally similar, it featured an updated Zeiss 38mm Biogon lens with advanced anti-reflective T* multi-coating, significantly improving contrast and flare resistance. The final chapter arrived in 2001 with the 905 SWC. Because the environmentally hazardous glass types used in the original Biogon design were phased out, Zeiss reformulated the 38mm f/4.5 lens using eco-friendly glass, designating it as a CFi lens.

 Despite the rise of digital sensors, the Hasselblad 900 series and its SWC predecessors remain highly coveted by film photographers. They stand today as a testament to bold, purpose-driven camera design, proving that intentionally removing features, like the bulky reflex mirror, can directly result in an uncompromising, highly specialized photographic tool that consistently produces images of breathtaking optical clarity and unmatched visual scope. These cameras truly represent a unique pinnacle of mid-century optical engineering.

My Camera

 My Hasselblad Super Wide C camera is 6 inches long (including the A12 film back) by 3.75 inches tall without the viewfinder mounted on the accessory shoe, and 5.5 inches tall with the viewfinder on top. It measures 4 inches wide. If you measure just the camera body alone without the film back, it is just under 4 inches long with the lens focused to infinity. The camera weighs 2 pounds, 14.4 ounces with the film back and viewfinder attached.

The camera features a Carl Zeiss Biogon 38mm f/4.5 lens in a Synchro-Compur shutter. This superb wide-angle lens has a 91-degree angle of view with very minimal distortion. The Synchro-Compur shutter offers speeds ranging from 1/500 of a second down to a maximum 60-second exposure, along with a "B" mode for longer exposures if needed.

 Another feature I love about the Hasselblad system is how setting the shutter speeds and aperture gives you a "locked-in "EV" (Exposure Value) system. The shutter speeds are set via a knurled ring on the outside portion of the lens, but the speed is limited by where the aperture ring is currently set. If you need a higher or lower shutter speed, you have to change the aperture ring to achieve it.

To change the aperture, you pull back on a small silver tab on the side of the aperture ring, then slide it up or down to adjust your shutter speed. Because Hasselblad uses an EV system, the exposure value is "locked" when you set your combination. This is wonderful because once you are locked in, changing the shutter speed automatically shifts the aperture value, maintaining the proper exposure you originally metered for.

 You'll also notice two red bars on either side of the focus line on the lens barrel. These move in or out when you change the EV setting, corresponding to your focused distance. They provide a quick visual of the depth of field you'll have based on the shutter speed and aperture combination you've chosen.

On the left side of the lens is a switch that sets the flash sync type: "M" for bulb, "X" for electronic flash, and "V" for an 8.5-second self-timer. To set the camera to the "V" position, you must press a small button just under the setting before the switch will move. After the self-timer fires, the switch automatically returns to the "X" position. Just above this switch is the PC sync terminal where you connect your flash cable, as this camera does not have a hot shoe.

 On the right side of the body sits the winding lever. Just under it is a small status window. If the window is white, the camera is cocked and ready for the next exposure. If it is red, the camera needs to be wound.

On top of the camera, there is a bubble level just to the left of the cold shoe (which houses the optical viewfinder). To the right of the cold shoe is the shutter release. The shutter release features a small switch behind it to lock or unlock the button, preventing accidental exposures.

The optical viewfinder is fantastic and highly functional. One of my absolute favorite parts of the finder is the small prism on the left side. This prism (or optical mirror) is placed directly over the camera's bubble level. When framing a photo through the viewfinder, it's incredibly easy to glance over and ensure the bubble is centered. This guarantees your camera is plumb with the horizon and perfectly straight.

 Both sides of the camera body feature lugs for attaching a leather carrying strap.

Loading the Film

 The film back is removed by sliding the round button on the top of the back, tipping it away from the camera body, and lifting it off. The film back features a chrome dark slide that fits into a thin slot on the left side. Note: The dark slide must be inserted before the camera will allow you to remove the back, and it must be removed before you can fire the shutter.

 Here is the step-by-step process for loading film:

  1. Remove the Film Chamber: On the left side of the film back, turn the latch to unlock and pull the film chamber out.

  2. Prep the Spools: Lift the film holders on the chamber to make loading easier. Place your empty take-up spool on the side with the small knurled handle, then close the holder to secure it.

  3. Load the Fresh Film: Place your fresh roll of 120 film into the opposite side and pull down the arm to lock it in place.

  4. Thread the Leader: Draw the film leader across the silver pressure plate. Turn the latch that unlocks the chamber so the small retaining ledge lifts up; slip the edge of the film under it.

  5. Secure and Wind: Insert the leader tab into the take-up spool slot. Turn the knurled knob on top to begin taking up the slack. Continue winding until the "Start" arrows on the film paper align with the designated mark.

  6. Reinsert the Chamber: Turn the locking knob back so the loaded chamber can slide back into the housing, then lock it firmly into place.

  7. Advance to Frame 1: MAKE SURE your dark slide is inserted! Use the winding crank on the right side of the film back, cranking it until it physically stops. You will now see the number "1" in the small circular window beneath the crank.

  8. Attach to the Camera: Place the two small slots on the bottom of the film back onto the two hooks on the lower rear of the camera body. Tilt the back upward until it clicks into the latches. You may need to slide the top locking button over slightly to ensure it is fully secure.

 You'll also notice a small status window to the right of the frame counter. When the film is ready for exposure, this window is white. After taking a photo, it turns red, signaling that the film needs to be advanced. The winding lever on the camera body handles everything in one motion—it cocks the shutter and advances the film to the next frame. Once wound, both the camera body and film back windows will turn back to white, and the frame counter will advance.

 Now that we have film loaded and the back attached, let's go out, take some photos, and see how the camera performs!

Hasselblad Super Wide C (SWC) Overview Video

My Results

Here are some of the results from my walk around the neighborhood.

Conclusion

WOW!!! What a fun camera to use. I really need to take this one out more often!

There were some fantastic images taken on this walk, though I did have a few duds where I forgot to change the focus—that was definitely operator error rather than a camera malfunction.

 The lens is REALLY sharp and wonderfully wide. The viewfinder is highly accurate for framing the subject, and I absolutely LOVED the prism mirror that let me keep an eye on the bubble level.

Thank you for taking the time to learn about this incredible mid-century Hasselblad film camera.

Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

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

 Cuny's Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store, where you will find some of the cameras I have reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and items from my collection that I am thinning out.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Nomar camera

My Nomar No. 1 camera

The first time I ever saw a Nomar camera was in the late summer of 2015. The camera was in the basement of Central Camera on Wabash Ave. in Chicago. I was visiting customers on a business trip, and while Central Camera wasn't one of our dealers, I had heard the owner was a collector. As one of the oldest and most classic camera stores in Chicago, I couldn't pass up an opportunity to browse.

 As I walked into the store, a nostalgic feeling of familiarity and calmness washed over me. The store featured older vintage showcases, and several salespeople were busy assisting customers.

I introduced myself to one of the salespeople, handed him my business card, and explained that I was a collector who had heard the owner was one, too. The salesperson smiled and said, "You should see our basement. It's filled with old cameras and photo items." I asked if I could take a look. "Sure," he replied, "but the owner doesn't sell anything."

 I asked if I could briefly meet the owner to introduce myself, but the salesperson explained he was in a meeting with a rep and couldn't be disturbed. It was disappointing, but understandable.

As we walked down the stairs, I saw boxes upon boxes of older cameras and photo equipment stacked in rows. Most were common, good-selling items—mainly 1950s to 1980s SLR and rangefinder-style cameras, lenses, flashes, and accessories.

 However, a couple of the boxes held odder, more unusual items. One of them was a small green box camera. When I pulled it out, I saw a brand name I hadn't heard of before: Nomar. It was a very simple metal camera with a basic face, but as a collector of colored cameras, my heart immediately started racing.

Nomar camera in red w/Box. Image courtsey of Charlie Kamerman

 Holding the green Nomar and a couple of other items in that dark basement, I asked the salesperson if he would ask the owner about selling them, considering they were tucked away in such an obscure spot. He agreed to ask but warned me not to get my hopes up. When he returned, my crossed fingers were to no avail. "No," the owner had said, "it's not for sale!"

My hopes were dashed. Without the chance to talk to the owner directly, I knew there was little hope of convincing him to part with it. The silver lining, however, was that I had discovered a new brand of colored vintage cameras.

 Armed with that information, I returned to my hotel that evening and started researching the Nomar. I learned the camera was quite rare and came not only in green but also in red and standard black.

 It wasn't until several years later that I finally acquired one. It was included in a camera "lot" I purchased rather inexpensively, though it was the most common black version. I still have my feelers out to find the elusive red and green versions of this odd, basic little camera.

The Elusive History of Nomar

Writing the history of the Nomar Corporation has been extremely difficult. I've spent hours scouring internet archives, the New York Times archives, New York Commerce records, NY City Library records, and patent searches.

 The only concrete information I could find was a notice published in the New York Times business section on August 30, 1934 (page 28): NOMAR CORPORATION, manufacturing cameras at 129 Grand St., has assigned to Chihaku, 224 East 59th St.

Nomar camera faceplate

In business terms, an "assignment" is a voluntary legal process in which a financially distressed business transfers its assets to an independent third party, who then liquidates them to pay off creditors.

 It makes sense when you look at the timeline. Nomar Corporation started in 1930—one of the worst possible times to open a business in the US. It was just months after the massive stock market crash of October 1929, which left millions of Americans penniless and jobless.

 Records also note that the Nomar Corporation distributed darkroom equipment and manufactured two camera models:

  • The No. 1: The model featured in this blog.

  • The No. 2: A model that used 120-size film and produced 2 1/4" x 3 1/4" negatives. (I have yet to see a No. 2 model anywhere. If someone has one, please confirm and send a photo!)

My Camera

The camera is extremely basic, featuring a somewhat complicated loading process. Between the Great Depression and this clunky design, it's easy to see why the company eventually went out of business.

 Camera Specs:

  • Dimensions: 4.75" long x 3" tall x 2 3/8" wide

  • Weight: 7.5 ounces

  • Film: 127 film (produces a 3x4cm image)

  • Viewfinder: Vertical orientation only (top-mounted)

  • Aperture: Fixed (no adjustable settings)

 The camera features a chrome cover over the shutter and lens, accented by a beautifully stylized Art Deco "Nomar" nameplate. There are two slots on either side of the lens designed to hold an auxiliary close-up lens in place.

Just to the left of the lens is the shutter release, which activates in both upward and downward motions. To take a photo, you move the lever up or down. To take your next photo, you simply move it in the opposite direction.

 Just below the nameplate is a small lever that switches the shutter between instant and timed modes (up for instant, down for timed). Because the lever has very little travel, it is sometimes difficult to tell which mode you are in without test-firing the shutter.

 

Loading the Film

Loading this camera was a challenge. Not only did my roll of 127 film try to unravel, but the camera's loading mechanism is incredibly awkward.

 The back presses onto the body, with the winding lever located on the back right-hand side. To open it, you pull out the film winding knob, dig your fingernails under the top lip of the film holder, and pull the back off. Once removed, the recessed red window comes off.

 When loading the film, you must thread it through two internal slots to keep it flat and taut across the spools. You also have to ensure the slotted part of the take-up spool is perfectly aligned to engage with the winding lever when you press the back onto the camera.

 Finally, the film must be loaded so the numbers on the paper backing are visible through the red window. I messed this up the first time and had to unwind the film in a dark bag to try again, to ensure it was done properly. For such a "simple" box camera, it certainly isn't easy to load.

My Results

Now that I had a (probably fogged) roll of film loaded, I took a walk through the neighborhood to see how it performed. After processing, I confirmed that my initial loading struggles did indeed fog the film, but here are some of the better, albeit hazy, images the Nomar captured.

Conclusion

While I originally bought the Nomar purely as a collector's piece, taking it out and shooting with it was a fun, informative experience. Aside from the frustrating loading process—and the fact that my ineptitude fogged the film—the camera did exactly what I expected it to do.

The images aren't incredibly sharp, though I admittedly didn't clean the rear lens element before shooting. I doubt it would have made a massive difference, but you never know.

 At this point, the hunt continues for the green and red versions of the camera—and the mythical No. 2 model, if it actually exists. The more I think about it, the more I suspect this camera may have been manufactured by a third party for the Nomar Corporation, though I haven't found a similarly designed camera from that era to prove it.

Thank you for taking some time out of your busy day to learn about this little-known camera from a little-known New York company!

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

I also started a YouTube channel. Cuny’s Camera Collection with camera overview videos.

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

Start 35 K-II Camera

My Start 35 K-II camera with hood and complete box

I can remember when I purchased the Start 35 K-II camera because it was part of a fairly modest camera lot. There were several miniature and subminiature cameras in the group. All of the cameras came with fitted cases, and some even included their original boxes, which I think adds to a camera’s collectability.

 There were other examples of the Start series at camera shows, online, and in books, and I have always enjoyed the chrome and black Bakelite construction of the camera. To me, it has a modernist, almost space-age look. I suppose that was the style they were aiming for, especially for a camera built in the early 1950s.

 When I unpacked the camera lot, I found a few extra items in the box that I wasn’t expecting. While the Start 35 K-II camera itself does not have a fitted case, it did include the “Start” plastic lens hood, along with an aluminum item that appears to be some sort of stand or screw-in accessory used to hold a case onto a camera. The aluminum “stand” is much larger than a typical case-holding screw, so my guess is that it was probably used as a display stand in someone’s collection, since it seems too large to be anything else.

Start 35 K-II camera on stand. I still chuckle at “with Food” on the box.

 Another interesting detail about this camera still makes me smile whenever I see it: the box. The box itself is in wonderful condition, but just below the attractive graphics and the camera’s name, it says “with Food.” I have no idea what that means, or why it would appear on the box of a camera.

 The only explanation I can think of is that it was lost in translation. Perhaps the camera came with rolls of film, or a single roll of film, and the wording “with Food” was meant to indicate that the camera came with something it would consume. Other than that, I really do not know why that phrase appears on the box.

 The Start 35 K-II uses Bolta film, which during this period was a paper-backed 35mm film sold in short rolls and generally less expensive than standard 35mm film. Some cameras used special cassettes for Bolta film, but many Japanese cameras that used Bolta film relied on a special spool with a larger receptacle that fit into the camera, similar in concept to other roll-film systems such as 127 and 828.

History

Ikko Sha Co. Ltd. was a small Japanese camera maker active in the early postwar years, best remembered today for its Start 35 family of compact viewfinder cameras. While it never became a major household name like Canon or Nikon, the company is a good example of the many modest Japanese firms that helped shape the country’s camera boom after World War II.

 The Start 35 line appears to have begun around 1950, when Ikko Sha introduced a Bakelite 35mm camera designed for 24x24mm exposures on Bolta film rolls. That was followed by the Start 35 K in 1952, which added a hinged back door, and later by the Start 35 K-II around 1958, which brought flash synchronization, a metal top plate, a 24x36mm exposure area, and lens-surround caps. These incremental changes suggest a company refining a simple, practical product rather than chasing a wide model range.

Front view of Start 35 K-II camera with embossed lens cap

 Ikko Sha’s place in camera history comes as much from context as from production volume. Postwar Japan produced dozens of small camera firms, many of them serving the growing demand for inexpensive 35mm cameras at home and abroad. Ikko Sha belonged to that energetic ecosystem, where innovation often came through compact designs, clever packaging, and steady model revisions rather than large-scale manufacturing power.

 For collectors, Ikko Sha cameras are appealing because they are uncommon and clearly rooted in a transitional moment in photographic history. The Start 35 series shows how Japanese manufacturers experimented with materials, formats, and user features before the industry consolidated around stronger global brands. A camera like the Start 35 K-II may be modest, but it captures the ingenuity of an era when even small firms could leave a lasting mark on the collecting world.

 Today, surviving Ikko Sha cameras are mostly encountered in collections, auctions, and enthusiast write-ups rather than in mainstream histories. That scarcity only adds to their charm, especially for collectors who enjoy tracing the overlooked branches of Japanese camera development.

My Camera

My Start 35 K-II camera measures 4 inches wide by 2.25 inches tall and 2.5 inches deep, not including the attached lens hood. The camera weighs 6.6 ounces without film loaded. It is made of black Bakelite with an aluminum top covering the viewfinder, and the metal also wraps around the lens with five slots on either side, giving the camera a modernist look.

On the left side of the camera is a nylon wrist strap attached next to the film winding knob. Also attached to the strap is a metal chain with a metal lens cap embossed with a stylized “START” logo. On the bottom of the camera is a tripod socket, along with “Made in Japan” embossed into the Bakelite.

 The camera is very basic when it comes to controls. The shutter release is on the top right of the camera, located on the extending lens portion, and on the opposite side is the shutter control switch. You have the option of either “I” for instant or “B” for timed exposures.

The lens is fixed and cannot be focused. Under the lens, on the left side, are two aperture settings, “W” and “S.” “W” is wider open, and switching to the “S” setting selects a smaller aperture. On the left side of the camera is a PC socket for flash. Since there is no accessory shoe, you need to use a bracket if you want to use flash with the Start 35 K-II.

 To open the camera for loading film, there is a simple latch on the left side that opens the back and exposes the film chamber. On the right side, you place a fresh roll of Bolta film, bring the leader across to the left, and thread it into the take-up spool. Start winding to make sure the film is seated properly, then close the back and advance the film until you see the number 1 in the window on the back of the camera.

 My Results

Since I do not have Bolta film, I used some bulk 35mm film and leftover paper backing from 127 film, which I cut down to fit the Bolta reels I have.

 Taping a short roll of 35mm film onto the paper backing in total darkness was not the easiest task, but it was manageable if most of the prep work was done ahead of time and the process was carefully thought through before turning off the light.

 I also loaded the film into the camera in the dark to make sure I had not made any mistakes when attaching the paper backing to the 35mm film. I knew the numbers on the backing paper would not line up exactly, so I simply guessed how many turns to advance the film.

 With film in the camera, I took it to a local waterfall and walked through the neighborhood to make a few photographs.

 Here are the results from the Start 35 K-II camera:

Conclusion:

While the images from the Start 35 K-II were sharper than I expected, something must have gone wrong in processing, or perhaps light leaked through the paper backing, because there are some strange light streaks on many of the images. My guess is that it was operator error, most likely related to the paper-backing process.

 The next time I review a Bolta film camera, I will try to do a better job with the paper-backing method. Overall, though, the camera is pretty nice, easy to use, and produces some nice images for a camera that is close to 70 years old.

 Thank you for taking the time to learn about this unusual Bolta film camera made in the late 1950s.

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews.

 Check out my YouTube channel, where I am putting together video overviews of the cameras I write about. Be sure to subscribe and like the channel, too.

 Cuny’s Cameras and Photos is my online eBay store, where you will find some of the cameras I have reviewed, along with a wide range of other cameras, lenses, and items from my collection that I am thinning out.

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Mamiya Mammy camera

My Mamiya Mammy camera

It was on my first trip to Kitamura Camera's massive seven-story flagship store in Tokyo that I came across the camera for this week's camera-collecting blog: the Mamiya Mammy. It was on the third floor "bargain" area, tucked away in one of the corner showcases, where I spotted the camera.

 Asking the salesperson to take the camera from the showcase, he placed it on one of the lower, central showcases for me to look it over, along with other cameras I was considering purchasing.

 Having read the massive, latest version of McKeown's Camera from 2005-2006 several times over, I remember seeing and reading about the Mamiya Mammy camera and was intrigued by its shape.

 It wasn't until I physically saw the Mamiya Mammy camera in the showcase that I realized the one thing that drew me to it was simply the text on the top. The extended leg on one of the M's matches the length of the "Y," and the rounded double "m's" in the center are a classic design.

 At this time, I was actually holding a camera I had only seen in books. Not only did the camera's odd shape, classic text on top, and compactness give me joy, but I could also feel the excitement of holding one of these gems in my hands, operating the shutter, and looking through the camera's viewfinder. The tactile enjoyment of finding where the specific controls are located on the camera and adjusting the shutter speeds.

Top view of Mamiya Mammy camera

 This may sound odd to some, but for me having an unknown, but sought after camera in my hands, getting familiar with the controls and hearing the distinct "click" sound of the shutter are enjoyment to me.

 While the camera appeared to be in tiptop shape, upon further inspection the shutter didn't always open and close as it should. Opening the back of the camera, there were no cassettes or empty film reels left behind, so it took me a minute to realize the camera was a Bolta film camera due to the odd shaped take up connector. It was considerably thicker than a normal film spool. But the price of the camera was extremely low, so I decided to snatch it up and take it home with me along with several other cameras from the shop.

 I've always been intrigued but the Bolta style of cameras like the Mamiya Mammy camera,  due to the compactness and smaller size they range in. I have a few other Bolta cameras in my collection, the very rare Inoca Stereo camera, the Photovit from Germany and,  Start camera from Japan. The last two I still need to review soon.

History:

 Mamiya Camera Company began in 1940 as Mamiya Koki Seisakusho, founded by businessman Tsunejiro Sugawara and engineer Seiichi Mamiya. Its early identity was shaped by a blend of business ambition and technical ingenuity, and the company’s first camera, the Mamiya Six, established the medium-format direction that would define much of Mamiya’s reputation.

 The Mamiya Six was a folding 6x6 camera introduced as the company’s first product, and it stood out for an unusual focusing system in which the film plane moved rather than the lens. That design reflected the inventive approach that became a hallmark of the brand. The camera was successful enough to lay the groundwork for Mamiya’s later expansion into other formats.

From: The Collectors Guide to Japanese Cameras

 World War II disrupted the company’s early growth. Mamiya’s Tokyo facilities were destroyed during the war, forcing a major rebuild afterward. In the immediate postwar period, production resumed under difficult conditions, and sales were initially limited to Allied personnel rather than the Japanese public.

 In the late 1940s, Mamiya began broadening its lineup. It built Japan’s first flash-synchronized twin-lens reflex camera, the Mamiyaflex, in 1948, and followed with its first 35mm camera, the Mamiya 35-I, in 1949. Around this time, the company also started producing more of its own components, including shutters and lenses, which helped it reduce dependence on suppliers and strengthen its manufacturing base.

 By 1950, the company had incorporated as Mamiya Camera Company, Ltd., and by 1951 it was listed on the Tokyo Stock Exchange. These milestones show how quickly Mamiya moved from a small postwar camera maker into a recognized industrial company. Its early history is especially important because it set up the medium-format specialization and engineering reputation that later made Mamiya a major name among serious photographers.

 In short, Mamiya’s early story is one of innovation, wartime disruption, and steady recovery. From the Mamiya Six to the Mamiyaflex and the Mamiya 35-I, the company built its identity through practical design and technical originality.

My Camera:

 My Mamiya Mammy camera is a small, compact camera made of Bakelite, with chrome accents along the top of the lens area, around the front viewfinder, the winding knob, shutter release, and lens. The camera was built in early 1953, soon after the end of World War II, during Japan's rebuilding. It was the only Bolta film camera produced by Mamiya.

 The Mammy camera is 4.5" wide by 2.5" deep and 2.5" tall, weighing only 6.6 ounces without film loaded in the camera. The camera houses a Mamiya Camera Company LTD. Cute Anastigmat 45mm f/3.5 lens, which is focusable by turning the lens until you approximate the distance to your subject, and with a minimum focus distance of 2 meters to infinity.

The camera offers three shutter speeds, of 1/100, 1/50, and 1/25, along with "B" for timed exposures. The shutter speed selector is on top of the lens housing on the left side of the camera and is selected by turning a lever to the desired speed.

 The Mammy camera has an aperture range from F/3.5 to F/22. Under the lens is the aperture selector. Slide the small arrow to the desired aperture settings. It wasn't until I started taking photos of the aperture settings that I noticed one of the screws holding the aperture plate on the camera was missing. The shutter release is located on the  right side of the lens housing, opposite side of the shutter speed selector.

The Mamiya Mammy camera uses paperbacked Bolta film which was invented by Bolta-Werks in Germany in 1936 for their Boltavit model camera. Bolta film was paperbacked unperforated 35mm film which used a red window system on their camera to count the frame numbers. This was less expensive than using perforated film of the time. 

 Bolta film also became popular in Japan when a Japanese company produced a camera named Boltax in the late 1930s. Bolta sized cameras became very popular during the 1940s and into the 1950s due to the cost difference in films at the time. Bolta film was similar to any roll film camera like 127 or 828 film and was sold in paper backed rolls

 My Mamiya Mammy camera doesn't have an empty spool or cassette used in Bolta cameras from the time. I do however have a Photovit camera which uses special Bolta cassettes to house the film. Inside these cassettes is a spool that would fit into the Mamiya Mammy camera which has a much larger end on the spool to fit into the camera.

Most Bolta camera have a similar film format to 35mm, 24x36mm. Some Japanese Bolta cameras such as the Rich-Ray cameras who made Bolta cameras have a film format 24x24mm, but the Mamiya Mammy camera has a film format of 24x28mm.

 I find that odd because Mamiya Mammy camera does have a red window on the back of the camera, but the film advance knob on the camera, which also cocks the shutter on the camera, stops after cocking the shutter. So unless you have the numbers set exactly in the red window, the red window frame counting system is no needed. Also, there a frame counter along the outside of the film advance knob which advances when you wind the film to the next frame.

 To open the camera to load film, there is a spring clip on the left side of the camera which holds the front and rear together. Just pulling the back away from the camera body opens the back door, exposing the film chamber of the Mamiya Mammy camera.

Unfortunately, the shutter on my Mamiya Mammy is extremely sluggish, so even if I were to make some paper-backed 35mm film to load into the camera, I'm afraid the images wouldn't turn out because of the faulty shutter.

 Possibly in the future, if I can get the shutter working as it should, I do have some paper backing from some 828 film, and I'll load some 35mm film onto one of the Photvit spools and see if I can get the camera to make some images. But for this article, I'm sorry I won't be able to shoot with it.

 

Conclusion:

 The Mamiya Mammy is a camera I'm very happy to have in my collection. Having worked for Mamiya America Corp for many years, I hold almost any Mamiya camera dear to my heart. I do have to say, with all honesty, there are a few Mamiya cameras I doubt I'll own just due to my time working in camera shops. Cameras like the 1000DTL or 500DTL were ones I'd see almost daily. The sheer amount of them I saw over those almost twenty years, I seriously doubt I'd purchase.

Then there are some Mamiya cameras that I love owning. Any of the Mamiya RB, or RZ system cameras, some of the later 645 cameras, and of course, my all-time favorite medium format camera, and one that's eluded me, is the Mamiya 7II. WOW, what a beautiful camera.

 Thank you for taking Time from your day to read about this Bolta-style camera made in the early 1950s by one of the major camera companies to come out of Japan.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store where you can find some of the previously reviewed cameras for sale, along with other cameras, lenses, and photo oddities I've accumulated over the past 50 years of collecting.

 I'll be taking next week off due to a holiday my wife and I will be taking to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Dual Reflex Camera

My Dual Reflex camera.

This week's camera is very low-tech and a follow-up to a series of cameras I discussed in a past article on the Lark and Kandor "Sardine Can" cameras two years ago. 

 I found this camera in a display, hidden behind other cameras, at a local camera store many months ago. I recognized the camera from a previous article, and it was a different style of camera from before. This was a "twin lens" style camera, but made by the same company, Irwin Corp of New York. 

 As I was discussing the camera with a store staff member, they said it was for "display only" and not for sale because it wasn't working. I told the salesperson that I had written an article on this camera style and wasn't worried about whether it worked, but just wanted it for my collection.

 I enquired further about the camera, the salesperson said they needed to ask the owner whether he would sell it. I encouraged the salesperson to inquire. Upon their return, they said the owner would indeed sell the camera and gave me a reasonable price to purchase it,  especially since the camera was in rough condition and I was told the shutter was not working. The shutter wasn't dead. It did open and close, but it was extremely sluggish.

 All of the leather was also on the camera, though it was coming up at the edges due to shrinkage and having been dried out for many years. The fact that the leather was still there was another good reason to purchase the camera, as I could recondition the leather and tack it back into place, giving the camera the care it deserved.

 As I paid for the Dual Reflex camera along with some discounted, recently discontinued film, I left the store with a new acquisition, knowing I'd fix it up and write an article about it at some point.

 Looking over the shelf to do this week's article, I saw the Dual Flex, and figured since I did an article on the Konica Pearl last week, which has an integrated rangefinder in a folding 645 format. Let's lean the other way this week and do a lower-end, Lomography-type camera from the early 1950s.

 One thing I needed to do before writing about the Dual Flex was to fix the shutter and clean the camera as best as I could. The repair was extremely simple, as the entire shutter assembly was held to the camera by two screws, one on top and one on the bottom. Then, to get to the shutter itself, two other screws on either side of the lens held the cover on. 

 Once the cover was off, the entire assembly consisted of a simple spring-loaded box-camera-style shutter that needed general cleaning and lubrication. There is also a lever that changes the aperture setting, which already moved smoothly, so I didn't do anything with that. 

 While the shutter was out, I cleaned the inside of the lens and reassembled it, making sure it was functioning as it should. With a "snappy" shutter in working condition, I screwed the cover back into place and mounted the shutter back onto the camera. Double-checking that the shutter seemed to be working after reassembly, I was now ready to write the article.

History:

 Irwin Corporation of New York occupies a curious and appealing corner of toy and camera history. Best remembered by collectors for its inexpensive metal cameras and low-cost toys, the company seems to have specialized in simple, playful, and affordable products. One surviving description notes that Irwin began by manufacturing 127 roll-film metal cameras resembling sardine tins, priced at just $2.98, which immediately places the firm in the world of budget photography novelties rather than serious camera manufacturing.

1948 advertising for Irwin Corp.

 That detail helps explain why Irwin still draws attention from vintage camera collectors today. These were not precision instruments meant to compete with the major camera brands. Instead, they were novelty cameras designed to be accessible, fun, and inexpensive enough to appeal to casual buyers. In that sense, Irwin's cameras belonged to the same broader culture as dime-store toys and impulse purchases: small objects that offered a quick thrill and a modest introduction to photography.

 Irwin also appears to have expanded its production to include toys, especially metal toys and, later, plastic items. Collector references suggest that the company produced cars, trucks, and other small playthings and continued to produce toys well into the 1950s and 1960s. By the mid-1950s, the company was said to have plants in Fitchburg and Leominster, Massachusetts, and Nashua, New Hampshire, indicating that it had expanded beyond a single New York address.

 The surviving record also suggests a company that adapted with the times. A 1964 dealer catalog reportedly included toy cars for Ken and Barbie, along with plastic GI Joe vehicles, which shows how Irwin followed the changing market for licensed and character-based toys. That flexibility likely helped the firm remain relevant in a crowded and fast-changing industry.

 Today, Irwin Corporation is remembered less as a major manufacturer than as a fascinating specialty producer whose history bridges toy collecting and camera collecting. Its sardine-tin cameras and inexpensive metal toys make it a small but memorable part of American mid-century design.

My Camera:

 My Dual Reflex camera is 3" wide by 3" deep and 5.25" tall when the viewfinder is closed, and 6.5" tall when the viewfinder is extended and opened for viewing. The camera weighs 14.8 ounces without a roll of 127 film loaded.

As previously mentioned, the camera has a very simple, spring-loaded shutter with only one speed, which I'm guessing is around 1/100. That may be too generous and could be even slower; that's my guess. The shutter control has only two options—either Instant for standard snapshots or Time for longer exposures. A switch on the side of the camera controls this. Since the shutter is so simple, the "time" setting blocks the shutter from moving into the "open" position until you release the lever; then the shutter closes.

 The shutter release is located at the 11:00 position on the lens cover and is nothing more than a lever that activates the shutter's spring mechanism.

 As you look at the camera from the front, the aperture controls are just to the left of the lens. They are controlled by a lever that moves a group of openings on a metal sheet back and forth across the lens opening. The aperture settings are F/7.7 (maximum), F/11, F/16, and F/22. There is no focus control on the lens, as it's set to the standard 8 to 10 feet, and the camera's aperture controls the sharpness.

o pop up the viewfinder, lift the rear of the finder, and the viewfinder or light chimney pops open, exposing the ground glass. Since there is no focus control on this camera, the viewfinder is used only to compose the image.

 An interesting option on the Dual Reflex camera is the ability to use a pseudo-eye-level finder for composing photos. On the back of the light chimney is an optical finder that, when viewed through, looks into another optical opening on the front of the chimney, allowing the photographer to use it as an eye-level finder rather than a waist-level one. For an inexpensive camera, this is a nice feature and actually works well.

To close the viewfinder, close the back compartment first since it has the optical glass, then the sides, and the front last. If you try to do it the conventional way and do the sides first, the front won't close because the glass is pressing up against the side wall, leaving the front no room to close.

 To take the back off to load film into the camera. On the back, the top is a large knob that must be unscrewed to remove the back. Once removed, you'll load the 127-size film, similar to any other roll-film camera. Put the fresh, unexposed film in the bottom area and the take-up spool on the top, right-hand side of the camera, where the winding lever is located. Bring the leader to the take-up spool, thread it into the slot, and wind until you see "start" on the paper backing. Close the back of the camera and screw it on tightly. 

 Since this is a 3x4cm format frame and the camera has two red windows, you'll wind until you see the number 1 in the first window. Take your photo, then wind until you see the number 1 in the second window, and take your photo. Follow this process through the number 8, meaning you've taken 16 images on the roll of film. Take the film out and process it.

The only 127 film I currently have is a few rolls of Jessop black-and-white film I purchased at the Tokyo City Flea Market a few months ago. The expiration date on the film is 11/1999. I hope it's still usable. 

 Now that I have the shutter fixed, lenses cleaned, and film loaded in the camera. It's Time to walk the neighborhood, taking photos to see how the Dual Reflex will perform.

 My Results:

 As I walked through the neighborhood, I tried using both the eye-level and waist-level finders to see which I preferred. They both were easy to use, so here are the results from my walk.

Conclusion:

 Well, some of the images turned out better than expected, and others didn't turn out the way I expected. There is a lot of debris on the negatives, which I'm guessing is due to the film's age.

 The film is rated at 200 ISO, and with its age, I wasn't really sure about the exposure, so I tried to take a couple of shots of the same subject at different aperture settings. I'm not sure why it happened, but there is tremendous bleed-through from the paper backing onto the film, creating issues with the images.

 After I processed the film, I took a closer look at the red windows on the back of the camera, which I believe caused the bleed-through from the paper backing. Yes, one of the red windows appeared to be OK, but upon closer inspection, it was pushed in, letting white light in. I found the culprit behind the bleed-through issues with the film.

 The camera handled well, the viewfinder was somewhat bright, and I enjoyed using the eye-level finder for composing the photo. The image sharpness is what I expected, especially for a very low-cost camera made around 75 years ago. 

 Thank you for taking Time from your day to read about this Lo-Fi camera made in the early 1950s by a company that not only made metal toys but also a line of cameras, mainly known for the "Sardine Can" cameras.

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

 Cuny's Camera and Photos is my online eBay store where you can find some of the previously reviewed cameras for sale, along with other cameras, lenses, and photo oddities I've accumulated over the past 50 years of collecting.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Konica Pearl II camera

My Konica Pearl II camera & case

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

History:

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

Early photo of Rokusaburō Sugiura. Credit Konicaminolta website.

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

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

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

Popular Cherry camera: Credit Konicaminolta history page

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 My Results:

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

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

Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

 Here are some of my other Camera Reviews. 

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

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

Mizuho Six camera

My Mizuho Six camera & case

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

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

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

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

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

Name on top of the camera below the shutter release

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

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

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

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

History:

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

From my book on collecting Japanese Cameras

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

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

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 My Results:

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

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

Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

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

 Here's a link to my other Camera Reviews.

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

Baron RI camera

My Baron RI camera

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

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

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

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

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

Embossing on the camera leans board.

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

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

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

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

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

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

History:

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

Japanese advertisment for Baron cameras

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

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 My Results:

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

 Here are the results.

Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Minolta Vest camera

My Minolta Vest camera

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

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

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

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

Minolta Vest rigid stacking bellows that resemble a Pagoda

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

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

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

Early History

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

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

Advertisment for Minolta Vest

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

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

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

My Camera

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click on the image to view video

 

My Results

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

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

 Here are some of the results:

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

Bentzin Primarette camera

My Bentzin Primarette camera

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

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

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

The Bentzin Primarette when closed.

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

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

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

History:

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

Advertisment for Bentzin Primarette camera

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

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

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Video Overview

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

Bentzin Primarette Video

 Results:

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

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

Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Ebner camera

My Ebner 6x4.5cm camera

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

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

Back side with beautiful pebble finish on the Ebner camera

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

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

Similarities of the Ebner and Coronet Vogue cameras.

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

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

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

History:

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

Portrait of Albert Ebner

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

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

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

German advertising.

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Let's see how the images turned out.

 

The Results:

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

Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

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

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

Welta Welti camera

My Welta Welti camera

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

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

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

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

My Welta Welti camera with leather case.

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

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

History:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

My Results:

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

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

 Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Salmoiraghi Luxus camera

My Salmoiraghi Lexus camera

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

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

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

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

The other side of the Salmoiragi Lexus camera

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

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

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

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

History:

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

Angelo Salmoiraghi. (From website)

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

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

Italian advertisment for Salmoiraghi Nova I camera.

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

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Front view of Salmoiraghi Lexus camera when closed.

Results:

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

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

Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

 Here are my other Camera Reviews.

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 531/2

My Zeiss Ikon Super Ikonta 530/2 camera

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brief History of the Zeiss Ikonta Cameras:

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

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

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

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Images:

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

Conclusion:

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

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

Missing pressure plate

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Until next week, please be safe.

 

Kodak-Nagel Ranca camera

My Kodak-Nagel Ranca camera

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

History:

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

Kodak Ranca advertismant

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

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

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

My Camera:

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

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

Shutter/Aperture settings on Kodak Ranca camera

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

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

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

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

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

 

My results:

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

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

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

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

Conclusion:

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

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

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

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

 Here are the other Camera Reviews I've done.

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

 Until next week, please be safe.