New life

Recently, I acquired a Kodak No. 2 Hawk-eye folding camera. Versions of this camera were common and popular between April 1912 through 1934, although various productions and modifications continued until the 1960s. The Kodak foldable or pocket camera emerged as a response to Kodak's Eastman Brownie series, which was released in 1900. The Brownie was a simple camera with a fixed lens and shutter, designed in a box form, but it offered the significant advantage of being America's first mass-produced camera.

The Brownie was inexpensive to produce, which transformed the photography industry from one primarily aimed at professionals—due to the cost and size of equipment—into one with a consumer-grade option. Up to that point, large format cameras were common despite their high cost. The Kodak Brownie popularized medium format film, giving rise to countless amateur photographers and leading to the use of everyday cameras.

Before World War I, Kodak released the Vest Pocket Kodak (VPK), which became popular because it could easily fold up and fit into a vest pocket. This camera was designed to be a more appealing version of the Brownie, offering various focal lengths and shutter speeds. The VPK, known as "The Soldier's Camera," gained immense popularity during the war, as many servicemen used it to document the realities of trench warfare.

It's often discussed how video footage during the Vietnam War changed the public's perception of conflict. However, before video, there was the VPK, which became so widespread that its use was restricted due to concerns about its potential applications. After the war, Kodak released higher-quality versions with their Kodak folding series, though tracking these cameras has proven difficult since there was no standardized production. At one point, Kodak boasted that they had the longest name for a camera. Many names and versions had slight variations that distinguish them, but few are clearly noted, often lost to the sands of time.

Kodak realized that by producing higher-end versions of their cameras, more people would be inclined to purchase their products. The camera became a staple in everyday life and was more accessible than ever. By the 1920s and 1930s, amateur photography had exploded in popularity. When I found this Kodak No. 2 Hawk-eye fold, I was struck by its pristine condition. This particular model dates from between 1924 and 1925, making it 100 years old. While these cameras are not rare, finding them in good condition can be challenging.

After testing it, I was pleased to discover that it still functioned well, with the shutter speeds and mechanisms in tact. An added benefit is that it uses 120 film. Many old Kodak cameras from this time period used 160 film, which is a different medium format configuration. Kodak began transitioning to 120 film during this era, and it has become one of the few medium format film configurations still available today, while many others have disappeared over the past century.

Due to its condition and functionality, I decided to see if I could make the camera usable again. All folding Kodaks have a bellows system. The bellows is an accordion-like fabric that stretches with the focusing mechanism. Unfortunately, these bellows tend to wear out over time and need to be replaced. If they crack, they can produce light leaks, resulting in haze on the photos.

After shining some light through the device, I discovered that I had a substantial amount of light leaks, indicating that a full replacement was necessary. There are two ways to approach this problem. Some people, instead of replacing the bellows, try to re-tape them or apply an adhesive. In my opinion, this isn't a long-term fix. However, it's much easier than the second option, which is to remove, source, and replace the bellows.

After conducting some research, I realized I could still find unused replacement bellows from old stock. Because these cameras were so common, countless replacement parts are available on the secondary market. The primary issue was finding the correct part number, which involved an extensive search to find the model of my camera and identify the appropriate bellows part number. Eventually, I found the part number I believed would work, buried deep within a forum post. Thankfully, this reference number matched a listing on eBay. I took a gamble and ordered the bellows, hoping it would fit correctly.

After a week, the part arrived, and I proceeded with the replacement. There were two videos available on YouTube regarding bellows replacement, both of which I relied on heavily. The process seemed straightforward enough: cut and remove the old bellows, release the holding prongs, drill through the brass rivets, and reattach. Little did I know this would turn into a grueling three-hour ordeal.

The first hurdle, after cutting out the old bellows, was releasing the steel prongs that held the back of the bellows to the body of the camera. These are similar to clips designed to keep the bellows fixed to the body so light won't expose the film when the camera is extended. Sometimes, these clips can break when removed, so as I was pulling on them, I nervously hoped I wouldn't cause any further damage to the camera. As luck would have it, these steel prongs were nearly invincible to my attempts to remove them. I had a set of dental tools that I use for working on fountain pens, which, interestingly enough, were recommended by both videos for this part of the project. While the dental tools were small enough to slip underneath the prongs, they were not strong enough to release the clips. I ended up bending three of my six dental tools in the process of trying to remove the clips. Eventually, I resorted to brute force and a pair of small pliers, accepting the fact that I might break the clips.

After much effort, I successfully released all ten clips, and the back of the old bellows slipped out. What I thought would take me ten minutes ended up taking just over an hour. Instead of watching the video for the next step, I excitedly grabbed the replacement bellows and lined it up with the old bracket — it was a fit! I hurriedly placed it in position and reattached the ten clips, but in my haste, I failed to fully secure three of them. It wasn't until I finished that I realized my mistake: I had correctly placed eight of the ten clips, which meant I would need to either completely remove the bellows, risking damage, or find a way to release the clips on the bellows' steel plate.

I chose the latter and spent the next thirty minutes trying to release three clips using a bent dental tool. If I slipped even slightly, the dental tool would puncture the bellows, causing damage and likely necessitating a second replacement. By some miracle, I managed to release the three clips and reattach them to the frame of the bellows. However, I soon realized I had made yet another mistake. Because I had clipped in the bellows, I now had limited space to remove the front plate, which was attached to a body post that held the lens of the camera and the front bellows. This was fixed with two brass rivets that needed to be drilled through for removal, but this also required a tool I didn't have.

The day was still early, and with Amazon offering same-day delivery, I ordered a tool I needed—a small hand drill designed for removing rivets. The drill arrived later that day, but due to my earlier mistake, I had to work within the cramped confines of a small lens hole at the front of the bellows.

I started drilling slowly, applying minimal pressure at first, but soon realized I needed much more force. Brass rivets are stronger than you might think. Eventually, I managed to puncture both rivets and remove them. After that, I would need to drill a larger hole and replace the rivets with two tiny screws and bolts, which I had ordered earlier that week.

This process required me to perfectly align two plates: one that held the bellows and another that cupped it, preventing light from leaking in. I also needed to mount the lens to the body of the camera. This task involved holding the screw in place while simultaneously aligning a microscopic bolt that had to be held and spun before I could release the pressure. It was a momentous and frustrating task. Every time I got the bolt in place, I either lost the traction I needed or the three components shifted, forcing me to restart the process. This happened too many times to count. To make matters worse, I was working with pieces the size of watch screws and tweezers to hold everything in place.

After countless attempts, I finally managed to mount the bolt and screw, which allowed me to complete the second screw and bolt without much trouble. However, as I went to place the lens back in the camera, I realized that the bellows weren't aligned correctly, causing the lens to drop from the camera. This meant I had to use the old mounting plate, which required me to remove the front bellows (screws, bolts, and all) and add an additional plate. It also necessitated drilling a larger hole in the face of the camera and using longer screws.

As you can imagine, I was feeling quite distraught at this point. Nevertheless, I was determined to see this process through. After disassembling everything and enduring another challenging round, made more difficult by the extra plate, I was finally able to reattach the front of the bellows.

The process was extensive, and in many ways, the time spent outweighs the value of the product. However, as I've developed an interest in these vintage items over the years, I've realized that the industries once surrounding them have diminished over time. Those who once built careers around the craft of maintaining these objects have either passed on or moved to more lucrative industries.

In many ways, these items were designed to last, and with a little effort, they can continue to function for many years into the future. Working on them has reminded me of an era when you could repair your own possessions, and maintaining things was achievable with some tools and knowledge.

While the life of these cameras has faded with the use of film, I love knowing that someday, someone will be able to pick one up, load some film into it, and it will work just as it did a hundred years ago. It's the life I enjoy giving—offering a second chance and limitless possibilities to capture the world through a lens that long ago lost its relevancy, yet can still capture beautiful moments much the same way it once did.

It's simple, yes, but for those who have possessed these cameras over the years, they brought joy, enabled happiness, and captured beauty. More importantly, they served their purpose. And now, they can do so again.