I stumbled upon an article on the Spartacus Educational website this morning about the JFK assassination and realized I was looking at the deepest of rabbit holes—a better organized rabbit hole than that of Wikipedia—which is saying something. There’s a ton of stuff to dig into there, on a site whose design dates back to about 2002, which is oddly comforting.
Petapixel has a short article on how to modify a TLR camera (my Yashica, for example) to focus more easily, using nothing more than some rubber bands, aluminum foil, and a ruler. Plus, it’s set up as a visual picture guide instead of a 15-minute video that I can’t be bothered to sit through.
Here’s a list of the best budget medium-format cameras in 2024; I’m happy to say I’ve put film through two of these and have a third waiting for a test. I used and later sold my Rolleicord, but still have my Yashica-D and a very early Zeiss Ikoflex. I’d love to try out one of the SLRs but I’m just not shooting enough photos anymore to justify the cost.
In preparation for our upcoming trip, Jen and I were talking about whether we were going to bring cameras to Europe. Having sold my lightweight Fuji rig earlier this year, I was looking at hauling around a full-size DSLR and lens if I was going that route, which was less than optimal. Looking at our iPhones, we both came to the decision that it was time to upgrade from our 4+ year old iPhone SEs to something a little more modern, and use those for shooting photos. Jen and I are slow-walking technophiles: we are surrounded by technology but we upgrade only when we have to. We tend to keep our stuff until it’s either broken down or technologically unsupported; she’s using a 9-year-old laptop and I finally upgraded an 11-year-old machine this year.
Our phones have been rock solid and reliable but they’re getting long in the tooth. My battery is only good for a couple hours and the single-lens camera is functional but not optimal. So we went to the Apple Store on Sunday to pick out some new phones. After a little research we both settled on the iPhone 15 Pro, which is only a little larger than our SE’s but all screen, with the fancy camera, better processor, more storage, and most importantly, a long-lasting battery.
We set Jen up first and went so far as to having the boxed phone on the counter, but AT&T’s activation servers were down so they couldn’t get the process started. So we had to leave empty-handed, and have to return tonight to try again.
Meanwhile, I’m considering taking the Yashica TLR with me, because I can’t be without a giant heavy mechanical object of some kind. Or maybe I’ll respool some film and take one of the 620 cameras instead…
Some shiny things that caught my eye this week: An article that goes through the do’s and don’ts of buying antique Soviet film cameras. I’ve read different things about how awesome and how faulty they can be so it’s nice to have someone detail the pros and cons of various models and lenses. I still need to try putting film through the Zeiss TLR I’ve got sitting on the shelf to see if I can get it to work, so the chances of me buying one of these is zero.
Also, I’ve had a search set up through WatchPatrol for months for a cheap WW2/Korean vintage A17 field watch that would alert me when a working example came up for sale. Given the amount that were issued I would have thought there were barrels of them in a warehouse somewhere, available for $30 each. Apparently not. Vaer watches has designed an updated quartz version of the traditional Korean War-era vintage A17 in a 36mm case, which is the perfect size for my wrist. They’re quality movements, so they don’t come cheap, but if I had $200 laying around I’d grab one.
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I wasn’t aware of this, but the password manager I’ve been paying for over the last (7?) years was purchased by a private equity firm at some point in the past year. Surprisingly, they have suddenly gotten a lot more bitchy about their free service. Most of what I’ve read suggests moving to LogMeIn or Bitwarden as an alternative, which I’ll have to consider if/when they try to monetize me further.
Two Wednesdays ago, the day I was rushing around trying to focus on work and also get organized for Ohio, I got a giant, heavy package via UPS delivered to the door. I opened it up to reveal a carefully wrapped group of antique cameras and a lovely note from my cousin Margaret (who, I believe, lurks here but has not commented). These were her father’s film cameras, and as they were gathering dust at her house, she thought she would send them along to me.
They are all beautiful cameras but by far my favorite is this one: a Zeiss Ikon Ikoflex, a twin-lens reflex model manufactured by Zeiss sometime between 1934 and 1939, according to this website (the shutter lens assembly is from an earlier model and the body is from a slightly later model, so my guess is that someone fixed this one by combining parts from both). It’s both a long way away from my Rolleicord/Yashica TLRs and very similar; the focus wheel is actually a lever mounted on the side, but all of the wind/shutter/aperture controls are exactly where I expect them. I cleaned up the optics with a damp cloth, dusted out the inside, and made sure the mechanicals all work.
Then there was a box in perfect shape that held a Kodak Senior Six-20, a medium-format bellows camera from the late 1930’s. All of the original sales material is included, and the camera looks like it was just pulled off the shelf of a Woolworth’s or Sears & Roebuck by a guy in a bowtie and shop apron; the leatherette is unmarked, the bellows is pristine, and the mechanicals are flawless. When I look at the packaging and design of this piece I think of modern-day Apple: the design is excellent and of its age, there isn’t anything on the package that doesn’t need to be, the craftsmanship of the package and camera is exquisite, and it feels like an event to open the box. I could put this next to an iPhone box from the modern day and they would be father and son.
The next is a Minolta A.2 35mm rangefinder from somewhere in the late 1950’s, an absolute beast of a camera that probably weighs 35 lbs. It’s also in excellent shape and the mechanicals check out as far as I can tell. It’s enclosed in a leatherette case that probably adds another 10 lbs. to the whole package. How did people travel with stuff like this back in the day? My neck would snap like wet twigs if I had to haul this thing around Disneyland for a weekend.
There was a Revere Ranger 8mm winding cine camera, which is actually heavier than the Minolta. I think this thing was chiseled out of pig iron. It’s finished with that marbleldy texturing that was popular in the 1950’s for things like movie projectors and electronic equipment, and it feels solid as a brick in my hands. It’s actually the second of these that I’ve got: My Dad had one of these in the stash I bought back in 2002, and I’m curious to put them side by side to see if there are any differences. This one has a set of interchangeable lenses, which is kind of cool for its day.
Finally, there’s a General Electric exposure meter in a small velvet pouch. The pictures make it look really cool, like it’s an instrument that was pulled from the control panel of a DC-3. Unfortunately it’s jammed into its case, a half-box made out of bakelite, I’d guess, and I can’t seem to get it out. I’ve got to do some research on how to extract it without ruining the material.
Margaret, these are all wonderful timepieces, and I really appreciate your gift. I’m going to put them in a place of honor here on the Photography Wall, and I’m definitely going to put some film through the Zeiss—as soon as I finish the roll in the Yashica.
I recently acquired a Yashica-D Twin Lens Reflex camera, made somewhere between 1961 and 1973. From the number range I’d say about 1968 or so. It’s the Japanese-made brother of the Rolleicord I’ve had for a number of years. Both cameras have f/3.5 lenses, and both have their controls in the same basic places. They are identical in weight, size, and basic layout. Side by side, I’d say the aperture and shutter speed controls on the Yashica are arranged with better ergonomics: they are accessible by spinning the two wheels between the lenses and their values are visible through a window on the top of the viewing (top) lens.
I brought it on our beach vacation so that I could orient myself to how the camera works and shoot some 6×6 film of our friends and family. Looking through some online videos, I found one that describes how to load and unload the film, which was super helpful. This and a couple of other links were enough to get me up and running with the basic settings, and then I was off and running.
I brought along my Minolta X-700 so that I could use the built-in light meter to eyeball the basic aperture and shutter settings before switching to the Yashica, and to also shoot a test print on 35mm film of the same basic frame. If I had more time between shots I’d be taking notes on the technical specs but with an 8 and a 6 year old (and now a 2-year-old) as subjects I’m lucky if they’re still in front of me while I’m fooling with the second camera.
So far I’ve got one roll of 12 prints in the can, and I know I’ve screwed up at least two of those frames. It’s easy to forget, in this digital age, that one has to advance the film manually, and there’s no lockout mechanism to prevent double-exposures on the Yashica like there is on the Minolta. I think that I’ve got a couple of really good portraits on that roll though, and I loaded another roll this evening for tomorrow’s pleasant weather.
We’re back from the City of Brotherly Love and our third vacation weekend of the year. We started our weekend in Delaware at the Chadds Ford winery for a Pinot Noir tasting and class, which was given by a very nice man who knew a lot about wine. We sampled a flight of seven bottles, ranging from Tazmanian to French, plus two local wines. After getting on a respectable midmorning buzz, we drove up the street to Longwood Gardens to walk the grounds and enjoy the fresh air.
As with our last two visits to the area, the sky was cloudy and overcast, but there was a light breeze blowing and low humidity. I brought the TLR setup and embarassed myself by walking around with a black and blue cardboard box, pointing it at flowers and attempting to get some good pictures, until I got tired of being a dork. There wasn’t enough control over the light metering or the focus to get consistent results.
We walked the entire length of the gardens and through the conservatory until evening, and then stopped in at the Terrace restaurant for a light dinner and a bottle of wine.
After dinner, at 9pm on Saturdays, there’s a fountain light show set to music that lasts for a half hour, which was a beautiful way to cap off the evening.
Sunday, we drove into Philly and checked into our hotel, then went for a walk through the Rittenhouse Square area, where a bench called out to us. Heeding the bench’s call, we sat and listened to the city around us, peoplewatching and enjoying the afternoon. I had read an article online about the Rosenbach Museum and Library, where the original manuscript of Joyce’s Ulysses lives, as well as an entire floor’s worth of rare and priceless first-edition books. (Jen wrote her senior english seminar on Ulysses, so I figured this was a slam-dunk.) We were shown in by a dour woman, paid a small fee, and got an hour’s tour of the museum by a big man who knew a lot about books, antiques, and art. The book collection is immense; we could have spent hours ogling the bindings and titles on display. (besides Joyce, there’s Shakespeare, Conrad, Melville, Milton, and a hundred other famous names I can’t remember now.) We were, however, somewhat disappointed with the selection of Ulysses on display—two chapter title pages and a pair of envelopes. Later, we made reservations for one of Philadelphia’s many BYO restaurants, and we were delighted with our choice: Twenty Manning, an upscale asian-flavored bistro a few blocks off Rittenhouse Square. The food was delicious, our waiter didn’t sneer at our hoopty wine, and after closing the restaurant down, we walked halfway home in a light rain (before better judgement kicked in and we hailed a cab.)
Monday, we made like good tourists and drove down Market Street to Old City, and followed the crowds to the Liberty Bell (where Jen did not get in trouble for getting inside, like she did in 1976), and after being turned away by the screeners at Independence Hall for my Leatherman, which I’d left in my messenger bag, we walked over Ben Franklin’s house, through Christ Church, Betsy Ross’s house, and down Elfreth’s Alley. Before leaving, we capped off our walk with a light meal at a quiet Afghan restaurant by Penn’s Landing, which made us both sleepy and sated.
My impression of Philadelphia is a lot more favorable than the last time I’d visited; the vibe is young and lively, and there’s a ton of history there to be had (and not just revoutionary history.) The city is full of architecture, old signage, and excellent food, and we’re already talking about going back for a photo expedition when Jen gets her digital SLR.
Our neighborhood sprouts signs like weeds every spring and fall; usually they are centered around telephone poles by busy intersections, and usually they are hand-lettered announcements of tag, rummage, and estate sales in our immediate vicinity. I dragged Jen to a couple this past Saturday morning, after a particular sign caught my eye: CAMERAS DOWN HERE. We found a salty-haired old gent standing in front of a card table with ten or so different cameras, and one caught my eye: a tall black square with two lenses stacked atop each other, looking like a NASA-certified cousin to my Kodak Duoflex. This was something more, though: Large teutonic lettering above the lenses identified it as a Rolleicord, the inexpensive brother to the famous Rolleiflex medium-format twin-lens reflex camera.
I talked to the guy a bit, and he claimed it had been serviced last year (about $100, if one can find a technician who still knows how to service these cameras), and a test of the shutter proved he was right. I paid him for the camera—probably a little more than it’s worth, to be honest—and brought it home to add to the collection. Some research indicates it’s a Rolleicord III, made sometime between 1950-1953 (s/n 1169169) and it takes regular 120 film, still available at better photographic shops worldwide. The negative is a 6x6cm image, much larger than standard 35-mm film, and with a good lens the image is sharper and lends to larger, clearer blowups.
We took the Duoflex with us on our trip to Ireland last year, filled with black and white TMAX, and shot some pretty amazing stuff.
I’d say the results were good in a LOMO kind of way—the imprecise glass lens of the Kodak added some blurring and distortion to the shots, which added to the general sense of melancholy and mystery.
I’m pretty excited by this find, and it’s something I’ve been interested in for a long time. Thanks to my father, I have an excellent 35-mm Minolta on my shelf, and I’ll never sell it. I spent many expensive months attempting to learn how to use it properly in college, and many more expensive months learning how to develop the film. I have a gaggle of antique 620 cameras, each in perfect condition and ready for a new adventure. They will accompany us on our next trip to parts unknown, and bring back imperfect, atmospheric snapshots that mean more to me than a crisp digital file.
This camera, though, is a step above the average, and it demands I take the time to learn how to use it, which is fine by me.