Gear Review: Diana Mini 35mm camera (or... how I had a mini stroke)

If any of you out there know me, you know I am not a “gear” guy. Yes, I own cameras, lots of cameras, too many cameras, really. But for me they are always a means to an end. I get more satisfaction shooting with the Pentax K1000 that I bought in a thrift store for 13 bucks than I do when I use my Canon 6D. So I guess it’s due to a (pun alert) mini stroke that I’m even doing a proper gear review. Of course, I’m doing it with tongue firmly in cheek, and it all should be taken with a grain of (Sicilian) sea salt.

So the camera I’m about to discuss is the plastic terror from Lomography, the Diana Mini. This little brat takes 35mm film, and looks like the old Diana 120 got left in the clothes dryer for too long and shrank. This thing is tiny, small enough to fit in the weird chest pocket on my Austrian Army jacket. It has minimal aperture control, guesstimated focussing, and well, well, well… a choice between a half-frame 35mm option, or an odd, but lovable square crop. Like a mini Diana should have, amiright? Throw in a roll of 200 or 400 ASA film and hope for the best.

What you lose in control and predictability, you gain in wonderful surprises. Not gonna sell you the Lomo party line of dreaminess here. I like things blurry, soft and grainy… but that’s not a dream for me, that’s more like reality for a film shooter. This camera delivers it in spades. It also delivers a certain degree of frustration, more so than the usual plastic camera experiences I’ve had with a Holga, or other crappy Lomo-esque 35mm cameras.

I’ve struggled with loading film into this camera. Sometimes it just goes in and winds easily, sometimes the advance gears destroy the sprockets and the film jams. I try to be delicate when I load it, but sometimes it just works, and other times it doesn’t. Roll of the dice at best. When it does load correctly, I really have a lot of fun shooting with it. When it doesn’t cooperate, I’ve come close to throwing it in the garbage.

Pros of the Diana Mini are obviously the fact that it takes the more affordable 35mm film. I also love the fact that it shoots in the square format of its big sister. The half frame setting I haven’t used at all, as I leave that task to my wonderful Olympus Pen-EE S, but I might end up playing with that, maybe in combination with the full frame setting, seeing if I can get some overlapping images. The camera seems to like black and white film a bit more than color, as I think there is a bit more exposure latitude there, but what the hell, I’ve got a ton of expired film in the freezer, why not go out and just have some fun with this toy?

Verdict: If you see one for a decent price on Ebay, take the plunge. If you’re not completely satisfied with your purchase… welcome to my world.

Some sample images below.

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A grid of images from Fourth of July Canyon, in New Mexico. Shot on Lomo XPro 200 film.

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Black and white seems to be the charmer, and sprocket scans are even more lovely to look at.

2019: 33 (Josef Koudelka: Wall)

This year I have been making a concerted effort to expand my photo book library by purchasing at least one publication per month. Thanks to a great sale at Aperture, I recently received “Wall” by Josef Koudelka. This mammoth book is a powerful commentary on human intolerance, lack of compassion and our misguided need to separate ourselves from others.

What first struck me about the book is its physical size, and the huge typographical “WALL” on the front cover. Upon opening the book, it is easy to see why it was printed in such a manner. Koudelka’s photographs are all panoramic, and the book format is an appropriate size to let the images come to life as full double page spreads. This choice of format matches the subject matter spot on. Koudelka’s images were created in the Holy Land, and all focus on the barrier between Israeli and Palestinian territories. Most of the barrier is an impenetrable cement wall, but there are also scenes of barbed wire, observation towers and security checkpoints. And although there are images of physical barriers, we also see scenes that depict a vast psychological barrier between two lands, two peoples. This is all complicated, and any discussion is sure to take an emotionally charged turn, but as an artist, Koudelka brings us to a place that we can ponder and explore our own feelings of this place, and perhaps draw our own conclusions.

One thing that struck me quite quickly when I was flipping through the book was that lack of actual people in the photographs. With so many manmade structures… the walls, the wire, the barriers, roadblocks, the graffiti, the fencing, the abandoned dwellings… there is a huge void of actual humanity in these images. And it is that statement right there that finally sunk in. These are stark images of human division; of course we see very few actual humans in the pictures.

Another powerful component to the photographs is the depiction of nature. In many images, we see olive trees that have been destroyed, or moved, replanted… or simply abandoned in the no man’s land surrounding the walls. The abuse of the olive tree, so critical to the subsistence of human life (and commerce) in this region, is emblematic of the abuse and inhumanity we can inflict on each other. There are also numerous images that peer beyond the wall, or to the edges of human settlements, where the hills and the desert reinforce their presence, showing perhaps that even as we construct out barriers, nature will have the final say.

Photo by Josef Koudelka / Magnum Photos

While spending time with “Wall” I could not ignore the obvious connections with a wall so much closer to home. I live in New Mexico, and along our southern border there is the much discussed, much debated, highly polarizing border wall between the US and Mexico. I will set aside any overtly political discussion (i have my opinions, you have yours) but I must acknowledge the sobering thoughts this connection provokes in me. While the images in Koudelka’s book may be depressing to view, I have the luxury of distance from this reality. These photos were taken half a world way from me, in a place I have never been, and my opinion has been shaped by years of news accounts that can feed misperception or bias. Yet, a few hours south of where I sit right now, a similar barrier exists. A wall that separates human beings both physically and metaphorically. Why are we so good at building things that keep us apart, yet so poor at building understanding and empathy?

Beyond / Além featured on Shifter

Thank you to photo publishing evangelist Daniel Milnor for the very nice profile on his website, Shifter.  I love this quote in particular:

“Classic black and white photography, classic layout with nice paper and rich color... There are images in here that remind me of Depardon’s Voyages.”

It's always an enlightening experience when a project I've worked on, in a private bubble, finally gets released into the world. I really never know how it will go over once it's in the hands of the viewer. This review is validating for so many reasons, not the least of which is due to the fact that I respect Daniel and his work so much. Read the entire review here.