Kodak Baby Brownie

Kodak Baby Brownie

The emergence of plastic in the manufacture of cameras from the late 1920s into the 1930s allowed for the typical shape of the snapshot camera to radically change. The Kodak Baby Brownie with its Bakelite body, updates the simple, entry-level box camera. One imagines that it looked very modern when first produced, in comparison to Kodak's typical box camera, which only recently would have been made with a cardboard body. The Kodak Baby Brownie owes its distinctive styling to Walter Dorwin Teague who designed many cameras for Kodak: the vertical ribbed designs that run around the camera with the central roundel of the lens makes it a little reminiscent of an Art Deco radio set, while the curves and scalloped edges evoke light wooden furniture, a bureau or a cabinet perhaps. It was not Kodak's first plastic camera–according to Art Deco Cameras, Kodak Ltd in the UK had that honour with the No. 2 Hawkette–the Hawkette however was made for promotional purposes, not for general retail; according to numerous sources, 4 million Kodak Baby Brownies were produced over the two phases of its production either side of the Second World War.

It appears that the rationale behind the design of the Kodak Baby Brownie was Kodak's desire to return to the $1 price point of the original Brownie camera of 1900 (it's worth mentioning that this does not of course account for the effect of inflation over the thirty-odd years–a single dollar must have bought a lot more in 1900 compared to 1934, when the Baby Brownie appeared; the low price of the camera presumably reflects the economies of scale possible with Kodak's manufacturing in the mid-thirties). The Kodak Baby Brownie is simpler than the original Brownie too, partly due to the plastic construction. The meniscus lens is fixed-focus, with a fixed-aperture, and the rotary shutter has a single speed. Most sites profiling the camera do not usually provide lens and shutter specifications: Art Deco Cameras lists the lens' focal length as being 60mm, its aperture as f16 and the shutter speed at 1/50th; the manual states that "everything about five feet and beyond will be photographed sharply". It takes 127 format rollfilm, smaller and cheaper than 120, appropriately for a cheap camera appearing during the Depression, although it does use the 'full-frame' of the 127 format, nominally 4x6cm, giving eight exposures on a roll of 127 film–other cameras had already created the 'half-frame' 3x4cm negative size, which provides sixteen frames on a roll.

The Kodak Baby Brownie had two distinct periods of production. Kodak manufactured the Baby Brownie in the US until 1941; subsequently, Kodak Ltd in the UK made the camera between 1948-52. Given that there appears to be no observable differences between the US and UK made Baby Brownies, one wonders whether the dies and moulds were shipped out to the UK after the Second World War to boost the Kodak Ltd's postwar production, with the Baby Brownie, coming of the Depression, now a fitting camera for Austerity Britain, still in rationing. There was a slight variant model Kodak Baby Brownie for export, distinguished by a metal stud or pin above the lens. This is a 'time' setting: pull the stud out, and the shutter stays open when the shutter lever is pressed. The Brownie Camera Page states that this export version was made in the UK during the camera's second production run; my camera has the time setting, although the lettering on the bottom of the camera clearly reads "MADE IN USA". If exactly the same moulds were used for the UK-made camera (the time setting requiring a single small hole to be drilled through the front), this might explain this discrepancy, although I would have thought that any camera made in the UK would have to be marked as such. As well as the 'export variant' there was also a commemorative version made for the 1939 New York's World Fair, which has a rectangular name plate around the lens with this lettering: the camera itself has 'BABY BROWNIE' embossed around the lens.

Kodak Baby Brownie with viewfinder raised

I bought my Kodak Baby Brownie at the Place du Jeu de Balle flea market in Brussels in late spring last year for €10, haggled down from €15 (there were many other cameras there, but I was on a tight budget after a week abroad, and knowing that there's usually very little that can go wrong with a simple box camera, the Brownie seemed a safe investment). I used it last year on the 127 Day in July, but did not scan the negatives at the time, a couple of which illustrate this post below. When I bought the camera I wasn't aware of the export variant, but was pleased that was what I had, a small difference which does increase the conditions in which the camera can be used–although with some caveats, mentioned below. The modest size of the camera, with its curved and ribbed shape, as well as the Bakelite itself, does feel good in the hand, perhaps rather like an over-sized netsuke.

To open the camera for loading and unloading film, on the camera's base is a metal lever which pivots between OPEN/CLOSE (and sweeps over lettering stating the camera was made in the USA). The top slides out from the body with the film carrier attached. Opening the camera shows how simply it is constructed despite its Art Deco stylings: the camera is made from three pieces of Bakelite, the body, top plate, and film carrier, with a few metal fixings.

Kodak Baby Brownie - opened for loading

The the camera has a curved film plane, a common strategy to compensate for the limitations of a simple meniscus lens. The inside moulding is ribbed behind the lens inside counter reflections on the smooth Bakelite surface. One can also see that there's a metal stop behind the lens to reduce its aperture and increase definition, another frequent compensation for the limitations of a simple lens. The film spools are held either side of the lens opening on the film carrier by a sprung metal clip, with an additional piece of sprung curved metal on the supple-side to prevent the film from unspooling. Manual frame advance uses the red window in the middle of the camera back.

Kodak Baby Brownie - opened for loading

The rotary shutter on my camera has some rust as can be seen in the image below. To trip the shutter, the lever has to be pulled to the left from the user's position; it springs back into position with a self-capping function. The time setting works by simply blocking the shutter from completing its swing when the pin or stud is pulled out. The shutter lever needs constant pressure for the shutter to remain open: it will close when the shutter lever is released, or if the time pin is pushed back in. Framing is achieved by a fold-up open frame finder on the top of the camera body.

Kodak Baby Brownie - detail of shutter mechanism

My camera had some damage to two opposite corners, showing the fragility of the Bakelite: the chip on the inside rear corner I thought might possibly cause a light leak, which can be seen in the image above. To counter this, I added a small strip of black tape on the inside of the body. Using the camera for July 2023's 127 Day, the few frames from the Kodak Baby Brownie show that the lens has fairly good definition in the centre of the image, but this does fall off considerably towards the edges. When the camera was produced, most photographs for the typical user would probably have been made as contact prints and the limitations of the lens less apparent.

Kodak Baby Brownie with Fomapan 200

I used Fomapan 200 for the images on this post. Despite the photographs being taken in July, the weather was heavily overcast on the day, and a 400 speed film (or pushing a stop in development) would have been a better choice. The manual states for best results "outdoor exposures should be made with the subjects in bright sunlight", the usual conditions for a typical box camera when these were made; using a faster emulsion allows for a broader range of subject conditions for these cameras than would have been the case when first in use.

Kodak Baby Brownie with Fomapan 200

The one aspect of the Kodak Baby Brownie in use that feels to me not sufficiently thought-through is the position of the shutter lever: placed directly below the lens, this keeps the camera's design symmetrical, with the exception of the winding knob. Here, it feels as though it should naturally be used by the left hand (an illustration in the manual confirms this), and the action of tripping the shutter is to pull it away from the camera's centre of gravity (which must increase the chance of some camera shake). There was a successor to the Kodak Baby Brownie, also designed by Walter Dorwin Teague, though rather less beautiful, in the Kodak Baby Brownie Special. It is notable that the shutter button of the Special is on the user's right, and it pushes in to trip the shutter. The position of the shutter lever on the Kodak Baby Brownie being directly under the lens is also inconvenient when using the time function: the camera does not have a tripod fixing, but the camera's based is fairly flush, allowing for it to be placed on a level surface for long exposures–which makes reaching for the shutter lever less easy–almost any other placement on the camera would be better for this. However, this additional function of the export variant of the Baby Brownie, must make it a little more desirable over the standard model.

Sources/further reading
The Kodak Baby Brownie on Camera-wiki
Baby Brownie on The Brownie Camera Page
On Art Deco Cameras with manual (PDF)
Kodak Baby Brownie on Retro Film Camera
Kodak Baby Brownie on Down the Road
A Camera Worth a Thousand Words Cooper Hewitt

127 Day January 2023

Baby Ikonta with Kentmere Pan 400

Last Friday was the first of the year's calendrical 127 Days, and I had time during the early afternoon to expose a roll of cut-down Kentmere Pan 400 in the Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 520/18–the 'Baby Ikonta'–a favourite for its small size, relatively good Novar lens and Compur shutter. I used cut-down medium format Kentmere Pan 400. The weather was mostly overcast, and having a 400 ISO film certainly fitted the lighting conditions typical this time of year in the Northern hemisphere. Even then, in a few situations, such as under the dense branches of bare trees, the light levels were pretty low, and I didn't accurately guess-focus as accurately as I might in a few frames, with the aperture wider than I might have liked to provide little assistance in careless focussing. Developing the film in Kodak HC-110 (at dilution E, 1+47 from concentrate) provided low contrast negatives, no doubt compounded by the uncoated Novar lens of the Baby Ikonta, some flare in a few frames (such as in the second image below), on top of the lighting conditions. In retrospect, a one-stop push might have benefitted both the contrast, as well as being able to use a smaller aperture in some situations. However, regardless of the results of this one roll, having an inexpensive 400-speed film newly available in medium format is ideal for the purposes of being cut down to 127 size–a rather cheaper alternative to the few films currently available in the niche 127 rollfilm format, which, somehow, still survives in 2023.

127 Day July 2022

Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 520/18 with Rollei Superpan

Although I've not devoted much time to this blog of late, I didn't want to miss 127 Day earlier this week. This occurred towards the end of a spell of hot humid weather, with a dip to slightly more comfortable temperatures and humidity, a lull before the forecasted extreme heat in a few days' time. Taking some photographs on a walk in the early evening, it was still very warm, and the lighting had a peculiar heavy overcast quality (I was also recovering from a second Covid-19 infection, which, with the weather, gave a slightly soporific feel to the evening, and possibly as a result I wasn't really giving that much sufficient attention to subject matter and composition). I used the reliable Baby Ikonta, and a roll of cut-down Rollei Superpan 200, a film I've used a few times before, and had tested a fair bit in Rodinal to get a workable time/dilution; however, the roll of film I shot on 127 Day I developed with Kodak HC-110, a new developer for me, and so I went with the Massive Dev Chart's recommended time/dilution. Somehow, to me at least (and it may just be my own associated memory), the resulting negatives convey the airless quality of the day, with glimpses of the grass looking bleached by the sun, the foliage of the trees beginning to get the dusty dark tonality of high summer, possibly in part thanks to the extended red sensitivity of Rollei Superpan. Possibly most of the images might also have benefited from a yellow filter too, although I don't have any filters which fit the Baby Ikonta's lens: the constraints and conditions of exposing just a single roll on the day didn't really allow for any of these considerations.

 

127 Day January 2022

Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 520/18 with Ilford HP5 Plus

As I wrote in my entry for December's 127 Day, I rarely miss the opportunity of shooting 127 format cameras on the calendrical 127 days, and last Thursday's January iteration was no exception. It was however a working day, and in addition, the day began very dull and overcast, with very low light levels on the way to work shortly after sunrise–not dissimilar to the weather in December. I used the Baby Ikonta again, which has a moderately wide aperture lens at f3.5, compared to other 127 format cameras which I might have chosen had the weather been better. Partly as a result of the low light levels I took very few pictures on the way to work; then, with a busy day at work, I took fewer photographs than I might have done, just one roll of cut-down Ilford HP5 Plus, but the light did improve later in the day as the clouds cleared, and I made use of this, taking a few frames around windows before the light went. Had the day remained overcast, I might have been tempted to develop the film to compensate by adding a stop to increase contrast (I'd estimated exposure with reference to the 'Sunny 16' rule) but I went with box speed after the light improved, using Adox Adonal diluted 1+25 for 6 minutes at 20ºC.

127 Day December 2021

Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 520/18 with Ilford HP5 Plus

I haven't posted very much on this blog for the last few months, for various reasons, but I didn't want to miss observing 127 Day yesterday, and I did also have the time to develop and scan the negatives, not wanting to add to a backlog of half-written blog posts or unresolved tests of films and cameras. I shot one whole roll of cut-down Ilford HP5 Plus, and a couple of short rolls of off-cuts from having previously cut down medium format HP5 to 127. I chose the Baby Ikonta in order to get as many shots from the film as possible, with the nominal 3x4.5cm negative format (and, with a little care, on a whole roll of 127 film with the Baby Ikonta one can get 17 pictures rather than the 16 numbered frames). I revisited a number of the shots that I'd taken in this summer's 127 Day in July (although not using the Vest Pocket Kodak due to its light leaks); the weather condition were less conducive than the overcast July day then, with very flat and dull light and increasing rain. I did consider pushing the film one stop in development to increase contrast, but went with the standard time for box speed as I'd taken quite a few shots with the sky featuring rather prominently, and I thought that this might make any definition in the sky even more difficult to pull out. The results were very much as I would have expected given the lighting conditions, and even with a 400-speed film I did shoot with wider apertures than I might have liked for the Baby Ikonta's Novar lens, but for a ninety-year-old triplet lens, it performs well enough.

127 Day July 2021

Vest Pocket Kodak Autographic with Ilford Selochrome

127 Day is one of the film-themed calendar days which I endeavour to observe, especially in its July iteration. This year I had two rolls of Ilford Selochrome 127 film, both dated September 1970, and I chose to use the Vest Pocket Kodak Autographic camera, having not used this for a few years (had I thought about it, perhaps I should have used it last year, to mark a hundred years since my particular model had been made). I'd previously realised that the camera didn't quite focus on infinity (the camera itself is fixed-focus, but the lens seemed to be set much closer than infinity), and prior to using it last Monday, I had thought to attempt to work out how far from the film plane the lens should be positioned to achieve infinity focus. As the lens is erected on scissor struts, it might be possible to not fully pull out the lens and achieve this. I roughly calculated this to be around 4-5mm. I cut a piece of card to the length of the distance between the camera body and the front standard, so that, in theory, I could pull the lens board out from the body, then push it back in to the piece of card as a guide.

127 format Ilford Selochrome

In practice, this wasn't so easy. It was difficult to push the lens board back in toward the body equally on both sides and keep it parallel to the film plane; it also had a tendency to work itself back towards being closer to fully pulled out, due, I imagine, to the spring of the struts. Nevertheless, I persevered with this approach. The Ilford Selochrome film was originally rated 160 ASA; I generally shot it at 1/25th 'wide' open at f11, or used it for longer exposures stopped down to f22 balancing on walls or railings where I could. Conditions on Monday were heavily overcast, not ideal for using such an old film in a camera with a slow lens. The weather had been a little brighter earlier in the day, but by the time I left the house a mass of dark clouds was looming, and this was the weather front that caused flash flooding later that day in London, the same weather system which caused catastrophic floods in Europe a few days later.

Vest Pocket Kodak Autographic with Ilford Selochrome

I shot both rolls and semi-stand developed these in Ars Imago #9 for an hour at a dilution of 1+100. When I took the films out of the wash, it was immediately evident that on top of the focus issues, the negatives clearly showed that the bellows had light leaks. When I first used the Vest Pocket Kodak I had more or less repaired these with applications of acrylic ink to the rather worn corners of the bellows. Although I'd hardly used the camera since then, clearly this hadn't been a permanent fix and had deteriorated over the years. The length of time the bellows were extended was the main factor as to how intrusive these light leaks were, the image below being the worst; obviously, the time taken with fiddling around with the distance of the extension of the struts to try to get the lens in focus meant that this longer than using the camera 'normally'. Only a couple of frames seemed to largely escape the light leaks. Some frames also had a few losses of emulsion (seen in the image above), not entirely surprising given the age of the film, and the negatives had a pronounced curl, making scanning less easy than it might be, as well as an added difficulty in loading the tank for developing.

Vest Pocket Kodak Autographic with Ilford Selochrome

Once scanned, it was clear that my attempts correct the focus with the Vest Pocket Kodak had not been that successful. In the image below, a stray tip of grass at the bottom of the frame is the only part of the image in focus. I think this was where the lens board had worked itself back towards being more or less fully extended; I probably would not have been able to get this result if I'd tried, and despite the light leaks in the frame, the result wasn't entirely unsatisfactory.

Vest Pocket Kodak Autographic with Ilford Selochrome

Overall, the best frames were those where I stopped the lens down, and used the B or T settings, placing the camera on a wall or railing for exposures ranging from 1 second to something like 12 seconds for the image at the top of the post, probably the best from the two rolls of film, which has just a hint of shake given how difficult it was to keep the camera completely still. Using the Vest Pocket Kodak meant that I got eight frames on a roll, and I did try two or three frames for a couple of the subjects, given all the problems with the camera. In retrospect, perhaps I should have used the films in a different 127 camera, such as the Baby Ikonta, which would have given me twice as many shots; the film itself was an unknown quantity, I had no idea how this had been stored in the decades since it had been manufactured, but the near-pristine condition of the boxes was a hint that the Selochrome might still give good results, as it did, despite all the problems with the Vest Pocket Kodak.