Here is some more funny stuff I've been handling for a while:
Express Delivery from crapland
The Nippon AR-4392F. Talked about by more experienced people long before, this technology wonder from China is already considered a time-proven and classic design (In other words, not just useless crap, but decades-old one). Unlike the one tested on the link, mine is different by having a changeable aperture (On that later) and no flash power switch. Otherwise, pretty much the same old lump of unlucky plastic. The fit and finish are ridiculous, with the seams changing size wildly under finger pressure. This has a better side to it - huge tolerances (if barely fitting pieces squeaking against each other can be called tolerances) mean that the camera can be dropped or thrown at stuff (or people, as self-defense) with no worries. Not that you'd worry for a 100 ruble camera (~$3, that is) any much at all.
The tuning:
Inspired by the great tradition of tuning toy cams for them to fit whatever perverted needs the users have, I decided to try and play a little with what I got. First step was not much more than making the back removable for easier and less embarrassing loading. Then, after opening it up, finding out half the screws have eaten through the plastic threads and cleaning the primitive mechanics (which, unsurprisingly, take up less then a third of the insides), I decided to give that diaphragm sistem a look. As it turns out, the blades and lens themselves can easily achieve the 1:6,3 setting written on the fake lens barrel, but a plastic mask was, well, masking everything up to about 1:11. So I cut around it with a pair of scissors. Crude, yes, but pretty effective. (Though flare might be a problem).
The next step after that and putting it back together (Not without super-glue, because of the aforementioned screws) was to do something with the stupid curved lens cover. Doing something in such cases usually means ripping the shitty part out. But a naked lens isn't good either, so I took a mysterious (later down)filter I found and glued it to the front of the barrel. Now this camera seems to have a more precious metal then the chromed foil for the hot shoe. This also gives me the ability to attach real lens accessories to the 52mm thread. But more importantly...
The filter:
A dirty at first, dirty forever piece of colored glass in an aluminum ring. Found in what basically is a trash bin, it has some unusual things to it. The ring writing indicates it is a LZOS K*5,6 red filter, but red it isn't. Instead, it's blue through and yellow-reflecting, with some age-induced stains somewhere inside. Theorecically (after trying it out on my phone and other cameras) it should just serve as a roughly-dirty-light-blue filter, but the unusual looks have won me over!
The result:
After all this mess (and filling the missing sticker-spaces with Olympus Trip 35 body coverings) I have a fun toy camera for going crazy with pictures. Like a Holga, only more affordable (~20 times so) and a lot more funny and special.
Express Delivery from crapland
The Nippon AR-4392F. Talked about by more experienced people long before, this technology wonder from China is already considered a time-proven and classic design (In other words, not just useless crap, but decades-old one). Unlike the one tested on the link, mine is different by having a changeable aperture (On that later) and no flash power switch. Otherwise, pretty much the same old lump of unlucky plastic. The fit and finish are ridiculous, with the seams changing size wildly under finger pressure. This has a better side to it - huge tolerances (if barely fitting pieces squeaking against each other can be called tolerances) mean that the camera can be dropped or thrown at stuff (or people, as self-defense) with no worries. Not that you'd worry for a 100 ruble camera (~$3, that is) any much at all.
The tuning:
Inspired by the great tradition of tuning toy cams for them to fit whatever perverted needs the users have, I decided to try and play a little with what I got. First step was not much more than making the back removable for easier and less embarrassing loading. Then, after opening it up, finding out half the screws have eaten through the plastic threads and cleaning the primitive mechanics (which, unsurprisingly, take up less then a third of the insides), I decided to give that diaphragm sistem a look. As it turns out, the blades and lens themselves can easily achieve the 1:6,3 setting written on the fake lens barrel, but a plastic mask was, well, masking everything up to about 1:11. So I cut around it with a pair of scissors. Crude, yes, but pretty effective. (Though flare might be a problem).
The next step after that and putting it back together (Not without super-glue, because of the aforementioned screws) was to do something with the stupid curved lens cover. Doing something in such cases usually means ripping the shitty part out. But a naked lens isn't good either, so I took a mysterious (later down)filter I found and glued it to the front of the barrel. Now this camera seems to have a more precious metal then the chromed foil for the hot shoe. This also gives me the ability to attach real lens accessories to the 52mm thread. But more importantly...
The filter:
A dirty at first, dirty forever piece of colored glass in an aluminum ring. Found in what basically is a trash bin, it has some unusual things to it. The ring writing indicates it is a LZOS K*5,6 red filter, but red it isn't. Instead, it's blue through and yellow-reflecting, with some age-induced stains somewhere inside. Theorecically (after trying it out on my phone and other cameras) it should just serve as a roughly-dirty-light-blue filter, but the unusual looks have won me over!
The result:
After all this mess (and filling the missing sticker-spaces with Olympus Trip 35 body coverings) I have a fun toy camera for going crazy with pictures. Like a Holga, only more affordable (~20 times so) and a lot more funny and special.
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