Point and Shoot Pity Party Part 5: Pentax IQ Zoom 160

This is Part 5 of a recurring series on basic point and shoot consumer cameras, the details of which can be found here.

To be offered something for the cost of shipping is a tough thing to turn down, particularly when one has the tricky habit of adopting point and shoot cameras that few people want.  On a recent post of mine about my "Point and Shoot Pity Party," a kind reader offered to send me a few examples of point and shoot cameras languishing in his possession for the cost of shipping.  I got only a general idea of what was coming my way but thought the endeavor would certainly be fun.  Among the treasures in the box was the Pentax IQ Zoom 160, a late model mega-zoom P&S that was among the top tier among traditional point and shoots of its era.  I quickly took to this camera, and spoiled it on a Spring outing with some fresh Ektar film to see just what it might be able to do.  

Front View (open)

Top View (extended) - talk about overcompensating!

Through the decently sized viewfinder.  The bracket marks actually compress as you zoom out to assist in focusing. If you focus on a close object, the top of the viewfinder screen will grey out to assist with parallax correction.   

Name: Pentax IQ Zoom 160

Format: 35mm

Type: Autofocus Point and Shoot 

Year: 1999

Features: Fill Flash, Flash Off, Night Portrait, Bulb with and without flash, Self Timer, Remote Trigger, Multiple Exposure, Spot AF and Forced Infinity Focus, Backlit top LCD, Panorama Mask, Parallax Mask in VF, Red Eye Reduction Mode.

Lens: 35-160mm, f/4.5-12.0 (11 elements in 7 groups).
Battery: 1 CR-123 cell.
Manual: http://www.derrybryson.com/manuals/Pentax/35%20mm%20Point%20and%20Shoot/IQZoom160.pdf

Ricoh Rarity: The 520M CDS Rangefinder

Rarity and value in the film camera collecting world can often have no seeming relationship.  One can head over to ebay and see a huge quantity of "rare" cameras for sale at the same time, and see people snapping them up at extreme prices.  And then there are those unknown models with truly small production runs that appear for sale only on rare occasion, and for a comparative song.  Witness the following:

Simply adorned but easily navigated, the Ricoh 520M CDS, occasionally seen as a model of the Sears 35RF, is an infrequently spotted example of mid-late 1960's rangefinder.

The camera model depicted here is Ricoh's 1966 vintage 520M CDS, and it is a surprisingly rare find on the film camera marketplace.  Head on over to eBay, Etsy, or Goodwill right now, and I can largely wager that you won't find one for sale. Heck, even searching the web for ANY mention of this camera model or its older sibling that lacks the "CDS" suffix will yield a pitifully modest bit of results.  As such this review for this rare camera that few seem to care much about is likely to sit about as the only formal review of this camera model on the web for some time, provided that late 1960's Japanese styling doesn't suddenly become the must have in late 2017, and the 520M CDS doesn't become the next big hipster thing.

Univexed: In Color!

When Univex introduced the AF-3 in 1936, it was promoted as having a "Color Corrected Duo Achromatic" Lens.  This is fittingly ironic in quite a few ways.  Keep in mind the year is 1936, a time long before the time of color negative film and C-41 mini-labs.  The first incarnations of Kodachrome color slide film were near to hitting the shelves, but were only suggested for use in cameras with exposure controls and specifications that could work within the confines of their slow speed.  And truth be told, there never was color film offered in Univex's proprietary "00" format, either in 1936, or at any time afterwards.

Perhaps the verbage was a sign of things to come in the mind of the designers at Univex. Perhaps it simply indicated a lens that would portray better images on panchromatic black and white film. Perhaps it was over-inflated hype by the marketing folks.  One can only wonder.

Still, as rare as any shots are taken using Univex cameras of the "00" format, they are all but non-existent in color.  Or at least they were.

Ironically, acquiring the similarly named UniCOLOR (see what I did there?) kit this past Summer became something of an enabler for me.  For now, not only could I develop my own color film in conventional formats, but also in any UNconventional format as well, as long as I could get it into a usable tank.  I'd already determined how to do this with Black and White film cut down to the width of "00" film, so I jumped at the chance to attempt this in color.  I slit a roll of 120 Ektar 100 to provide me stock for both the AF-5 (that presumably should have as good or better "color correction" as its AF-3 predecessor) and the Iris, and took both out on sunny lunch time strolls in Washington, DC, to see just what life looks like in color through the lens of a Univex camera. 

My first shot taken with the AF-5 is a bit subdued in nature, with some slightly muted pastel hues. 

Lots to Come

I realize that posts have gotten to be erratic, but I can assure you that my enthusiasm hasn't waned, or that I'm not working on material.

In fact, I'm in the process of one of my most ambitious projects: namely that to develop color negative film myself, and it requires a lot of shooting, batching of rolls and processes to make as cost effective as I want.

The good news is that my initial attempts at it have met with success, and once I finish up this mega batch of film, I'll be able to give quite a bit more dimension to camera reviews, film reviews, and I've got a nice bit of truly quirky stuff up my sleeve that this project will help me in as well.  

For now, a sample result of self-processed film, taken on the Argus Argoflex Forty on Ektar 100.  

Stay Tuned! 

Baby Billy: The Agfa Billy 0

And this is why the resistance was futile!  Finally, a "prequel" to my Boxy Beasts of 127 article to explain how I finally adopted the 127 film format. 

From all perspectives, it was my "final frontier" of the world of roll film.  I'd dived back into 120 film and had finally conceded to add 135 film back into my stable of adopted film formats.  Later, I would come to willingly work with the potential for bigger negatives by using 116 and 122 film, and finally (or so it seemed), I had worked out the gremlins that would allow me to readily and easily use a modified 120 film to stock an increasing brigade of 828 cameras. But there was one other roll film format that I'd been hesitant to touch, despite it having a wealth of both quirk and interesting history - 127.

In fact, as I took inventory of the various film formats in the earliest days of this blog, I even noted specifically "You'd think a niche like this would be perfect for a quirky guy with a camera, but I've never really been swayed by the lure." Even as I got comfy with 828 (particularly "making" the film stock), I couldn't picture adopting the curiousness that was 127 format.  It didn't help that even when I entertained the idea of trying out the format, the cameras I would typically see available for sale either had disappointingly dumbed down feature sets or exorbitantly expensive "collector" price tags.  While it was hardly a priority with me, I did keep the idea of a 127 acquisition in my occasional sights provided I could find a decently featured camera available at a reasonable price.  And if said camera took advantage of the largest 127 format of 6.5 x 4.0 cm, it would really offer an incentive to give 127 a try.

Unexpectedly, two such cameras came into my sights. One was an Ansco Vest Pocket with a folding strut mechanism that began to make me think I had found my gateway into 127. Further browsing however would help me truly find a 127 camera perfect for me: the gorgeous Agfa Billy 0. 

In my humble opinion, one of the loveliest folding cameras there ever was - The Agfa Billy 0

Boxy Beasts of 127: the Bell and Howell Electric Eye and Revere Eye Matic 127

Resistance was futile.  

I kept telling myself I had no need to go into the format of 127.  I continually insisted that there was no benefit or interest in my part into making a mad foray into yet another largely forgotten format.

Resistance was futile.  

I discovered one really neat camera (article forthcoming!) that made the perfect gateway into this rather obscure format, so I snapped it up, dipping my feet into the 127 pool in the process.

And then with the format being formally introduced to me, I dove in.  I should have known just how futile resistance really was.

Often known originally as "Vest Pocket" format, the 127 roll film format provided snapshooters of the early part of the 20th Century with a truly compact option for photography when compared with the substantial cameras in 116 and 122 format also available at the time. The format was in many ways the most interesting of any, particularly given that it had a unique tendency to fade in interest, only to rise again as camera makers were able to create new ways to capitalize on its film size or convenience to reinvigorate interest in the format yet again.

As my own interest in the 127 format began to grow, and having finally made the leap into this sort of "mini-120" format, I happened upon a pair of square format 127 cameras that hit the market in 1958, both making use of selenium cell "Electric Eye" technology to be able to provide a rudimentary automatic exposure on its images, making them easier for the casual snapshooter to use.  The emergence of the fad of"Super Slides" around this same era helped to give both of these cameras an initial boost in the market when they were introduced.

And while many 127 cameras made through history were created with designs that emphasized portability and compactness, neither of these tend to follow that mantra. Instead, adjectives such as obnoxious, obtrusive, or even ungainly may come to mind when seeing the form factor of these cameras that make use of the miniature roll film format.

Meet the Bell and Howell Electric Eye 127 and the Revere Eye Matic EE-127!

An Autographic Experiment Part 2 - Shooting 120 Panoramics in a 122 Format Camera

The thirst continued:

The images from my initial test 120 roll in the Autographic 1-A 116 format camera had not even returned from the lab when my curiosity of the possibilities got the best of me. I looked into information on other discontinued roll film formats, and began to research which could be adapted to utilize 120 film.  

My goal was to be able to get the largest possible image on a frame of 120 film, one that approached panoramic dimensions.  After some minor research, I'd made the decision to pick up a new acquisition, none other than a Kodak Autographic 3-A camera, using the 122 format.  Whereas my existing 120 cameras could take images ranging from 6 x 4.5 to 6x9, and the Autographic 1-A could bump that up to an impressive 6x11 format on 120 film, the 3-A could trump these, producing a 6x14 size image on 120 format film.

After a little bit of searching, I snagged the actual machine itself, a Kodak 3-A dating from between 1916 and 1926, armed with a Bausch and Lomb Rapid Rectilinear lens. Report were that this lens not only could be quite sharp at f/16, but also had some surprisingly good color rendition considering its production in the midst of the panchromatic era.   

The Autographic 3A at left is somewhat larger than the 116 format 1A seen next to it.  Still, it towers over 120 format cameras such as the Super Ikonta 531/2 and the Ikonta A 521.

Sounds great! But it comes with a hitch.  Unlike the 116 camera that is only slightly wider than 120, and thus, can be fed a roll of 120 film by simply laying the supply roll in the chamber and threading the film to the native 116 roll, this 122 format is appreciably wider than 120, about an inch in fact, so using the same methods is sloppy at best, and could result in poor framing and skewed horizon lines. I had to step it up with this experiment if I was going to come away with anything usable.

Imitation Perle: Whispers of the Welta

It is often said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  This definitely rings true for consumer products. It was often with much amusement that I would see "COBY" headphones done in a style and typeface that looked just like those from "SONY." There are many more examples to be sure, but I don't need to belabor the point.  

But what about products that look just like another established brand, but lack any markings whatsoever, leaving you to wonder if they are made by the brand itself? Is that flattering, or just downright odd?

And herein lies the mystery of my latest acquisition. It minces no words when it comes to who made the lens and shutter, but is totally "hush hush" on the actual manufacture of the camera itself.  Still, it is close enough in form to a Welta Perle to make me think it might be a product of this German manufacturer.  Thus, I can't resist the play on words in calling this new acquisition my "Imitation Perle." It turns out that this may be a Welta made camera marketed as either the Rodenstock Citonette, or alternately a Schaja 100, but I'm not entirely sure.  In any event, I'll stick to my moniker for now.

I stumbled across this camera upon perusing classified listings at the Analog Photography Users Group.  The seller listed the camera as an "Antique 120 Folder With Rodenstock Trinar 75mm 4.5 Lens," quite possibly also seemingly baffled by the lack of a maker to the camera itself. Initially listed for $37, the price for this working camera had just been dropped to $22 including shipping.  It seemed like a good buy with no big risk, and I'd been contemplating getting a second 645 folder to supplement my Ikonta A 521, so I wasted no time in making contact with the seller to make the purchase.

The camera arrived quickly and safely, and looked to be in good working condition.  It showed some signs of use, but considering it was over 70 years old, it was to be expected.  A gentle cleaning and some checks of the shutter confirmed that it was at least ready for a test roll. The shutter sounded like it fired pretty accurately, but instead of color transparency film, I elected to test this camera using a roll of Kodak Ektar 100 color print film to allow some degree of exposure latitude if the shutter speeds were off.  

The "Imitation Perle" on the left bears a lot of striking resemblances to the real article, seen at right, and has a nearly identical form factor despite a few interesting differences.