There has always been a demand for simple photographic tools that produce an acceptable image with little effort. Today we have fully automatic point-and-shoot cameras such as Canon’s Powershot line or Nikon’s Coolpix series. Before there were compact digital cameras, moms at birthday parties used those disposable cameras that just ran a roll of 35mm film past a cheap plastic lens. And of course, who can forget about Polaroids, the classic instant camera still beloved by hipsters (and myself) to this day.
But before all of that, there were Kodak brownies.
History Lesson!
There has always been a demand for simple photographic tools that produce an acceptable image with little effort. Today we have fully automatic point-and-shoot cameras such as Canon’s Powershot line or Nikon’s Coolpix series. Before there were compact digital cameras, moms at birthday parties used those disposable cameras that just ran a roll of 35mm film past a cheap plastic lens. And of course, who can forget about Polaroids, the classic instant camera still beloved by hipsters (and myself) to this day.
But before all of that, there were Kodak brownies.
History Lesson!
A Brownie is not a specific camera. It is a brand name, a series, almost a genre the way Polaroid is a shorthand for instant photos or Kleenex is a stand-in for all facial tissues. Who actually uses the term "facial tissues" in a sentence? Brownies are boxy, simple, dirt-cheap cameras that helped bring photography to the masses. They were introduced in the year 1900, and sold for about the equivalent of $30 in today’s money. The great and venerable Wikipedia tells us that “The Brownie is among the most important cameras in history.” and I concur wholeheartedly.
Also: they look like they are a cartoon character puking or shouting or something.
But they weren’t just big because they were a quality product at a low price. Don’t be naive. Kodak marketed the crap out of these things. For good reason: these were the inkjet printers of their day. The hardware is cheap and simple to get, but the accessories and supplies only come from one place and the profit margins there are muuuuuuuuuch higher. I suspect that Kodak intentionally used obtuse film formats to lock people into their system. To be fair, it was a good system, but once you were in you could only get your fix from Kodak.
In 1912, very very early in motion picture history, Kodak went ahead and commissioned a short film advertising the wonders of brownies with the help of the Boy Scouts of America. It makes sense from a marketing perspective. Kodak is creating synergy between its brands and building a cohesive identity across multiple independent markets with diverse user targeting and broadly desirable demographics! Coincidentally (or not?), the Boy Scouts had begun issuing the Photography merit badge just the year before, in 1911. Did Kodak just seize on popular demand? Did they encourage the adoption of the badge? Who knows! Let’s watch a goofy film called Camp Brownie!
Brownies went to war, brownies into stockings. They were the definition of intro-level photography, with respected shooters of the day doing the same schtick they always have: insisting that skill can overcome any gear limitations and ignoring that gear limitations can inhibit the building of skills. Inevitably, this leads to some sort of silly challenge where the master creates a beautiful image with a shit camera. In 1950s England, that was Bert Hardy, the head photographer for Britain’s top photo-journalism magazine. He took this stunning image to remind us all that he can take better Brownie photos than you ever will, dropped the mic, and went back to being an internationally-renowned documentarian.
Shooting
Shooting with the Baby Brownie was a fantastically weird experience. It was designed with 127 film in mind, which marks each frame on a paper backing that shields the film so that you know how far to crank the film advance. That film no longer exists, so I instead spooled a roll of 35mm into the camera. This meant I was essentially flying blind - I had no sense of where one frame ended and the next should begin. I cranked the amount that I thought felt right, crossed my fingers, and ran with it.
I also realized immediately that the camera had no discernable exposure guides. What aperture was the lens? How fast was the shutter speed? It only has one control - a trigger that fires the shutter. I decided to proceed on the assumption that it was designed for daylight use only, and that film stocks of the time were probably pretty insensitive compared to what we are comfortable with today. I chose 100-speed Kodak film (it somehow felt blasphemous to use Fuji) and ventured out into the daylight.
My guesses were spot-on. The developed roll of film was beautiful, strange, and experimental in the best possible way. I had, of course, judged the spacing of the images completely wrong and so one bled into the next, sometimes triple-exposing at the edges.
I have not been able to take the full-sized brownie out for a spin yet, so keep that as your disclaimer. But that is not to say that photography is not possible. Indeed, with a simple adapter you can easily run standard 120 film through your 616 camera. I know, that’s a lot of numbers. Just know that 120 film is the only surviving medium-format film still made today, but that it shares enough of the dimensions and characteristics of its deceased relatives to be adapted to just about anything. When in doubt, just google “load 120 film in a ____ camera,” - in this case, a 616 camera.
Operation of the Six-16 is pretty simple, given that it only has three controls. There is a trigger for the rotary shutter, which only has one speed. There is a pull-tab that allows you to choose from *two* different apertures (two!), and then theres a pull-tab that switches you into bulb mode, allowing for long exposures. And that’s it! Seriously, this is about as complex as disposable film cameras are today. I think most Polaroids have more control than this thing. If you want portraits, you hold it vertically and pull the trigger. If you want landscapes, you tilt it on its side and look down into the other viewfinder. The Brownies were seriously built to be “Operated by any school boy or girl.”
Conclusions
These cameras are beautiful in their simplicity and ease of use. There’s some kind of childlike playfulness and curiosity that these cameras bring out in me, and that I don’t get from modern disposables or point-and-shoot cameras. Maybe that’s just because Brownies are foreign and unfamiliar enough that I can take them for what they are, and not for what they lack. Certainly every time I pick up a Canon Powershot, I feel a little bit saddened when I realize I don’t have aperture control. Perhaps that’s because they bombard me with meaningless options to cover it up, whereas Kodak’s Brownies are unassuming and willfully uncomplicated. There’s something kind of cool about that.