I paid twenty pounds for this camera on eBay. It is ninety years old. It folds down to something that fits in a coat pocket. The lens is a Tessar f3.5. The shutter goes to 1/500th. The results are genuinely good enough to put alongside cameras that cost twenty times as much.
If you do not currently own a medium format folder, this review is going to try to convince you that you should. Specifically, that you should be looking at the Zeiss Ikon Ikonta range from the 1930s to the 1950s, and that the original Ikonta 520 is one of the bargains of all of film photography.
I am not exaggerating about the price. £20. About $25 in US money. For a fully working ninety-year-old precision camera with a Zeiss Tessar lens. Madness.
The Ikonta range, briefly
The Zeiss Ikon Ikonta range and its variants ran from the early 1930s to the late 1950s, with hundreds of individual models in the family. The basic taxonomy:
- Ikonta: standard folders, various sizes and lens-shutter combinations
- Super Ikonta: fancier versions with coupled rangefinders for accurate focusing
- Nettar: the budget version of the Ikonta, simpler lens and shutter options
Within each model line, Zeiss offered a wide selection of lens-shutter combinations. The cheapest had three-element Novar or Nettar lenses with simple shutters. The expensive ones had four-element Tessar lenses with the better Compur or Compur Rapid shutters. So the same model number could appear in markedly different configurations, with markedly different image quality, at markedly different prices new and now.
For collectors and serious users, the variant matters as much as the model. The Tessar-equipped Compur Rapid versions are the ones you want for image quality. The Novar-equipped versions are perfectly usable but noticeably softer and produce images that look more obviously vintage.
The specific camera I have
This is the original Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 520, first produced in 1932 and continued through to 1937. Not the 520/2, the 520/16, the 520/18, or any of the other “520” suffix variants that came in different formats. The plain “520” is the 645 model, eight half-frame-of-6x9 exposures on a roll of 120 film.
The configuration I have is the top-tier lens-shutter combination for this model:
- 70mm f3.5 Tessar lens, four elements, the classic Zeiss formula
- Compur Rapid shutter, speeds from 1 second to 1/500th, plus B and T
It is in remarkable condition for its age. Tiny bit of haze in the glass. A speck of fungus starting on one inner element. Bellows are sound. Shutter works at all speeds, running slightly slow at the slower speeds, which I compensate for by rating film slightly higher than box speed. The leatherette covering is intact. The folding mechanism opens and closes cleanly.
For a ninety-year-old camera that has clearly been used and lived with, this is in genuinely good shape.
![PLACEHOLDER: the Zeiss Ikon Ikonta 520 folded down, showing how small it is in the palm of a hand]
The frame-counting trick
The Ikonta 520 was made before 645 was a common frame size standard. When you look at modern 120 backing paper, you see three rows of frame numbers: 6x9 along the top, 6x6 in the middle, and 645 along the bottom. The Ikonta 520 was designed before the 645 row existed.
This means the camera uses the 6x9 frame numbers on the backing paper, but you get sixteen frames instead of eight by reading the same number twice. The procedure:
- Wind until you see frame “1” in the red window
- Take a photograph (this is frame 1)
- Wind until “1” appears in a slightly different position in the same window (this is frame 2)
- Wind until “2” appears (frame 3)
- Wind until “2” appears in the second position (frame 4)
- Continue alternating, all the way through to “8” in the second position (frame 16)
It sounds awkward but it becomes second nature after a few rolls. You count to sixteen frames in your head as you work through the 6x9 numbers. The only real risk is winding past frame 1 at the start, which I have done before because of bad habits. You stop loading carefully when you see “1” the first time.
There is no double-exposure prevention, no automatic frame counter, no advance lock. The camera is genuinely as simple as it gets. You wind, you focus, you set aperture, you set shutter speed, you fire. If you accidentally fire twice without winding, you get a double exposure. If you forget to wind, same thing. The camera does not protect you from yourself.
The shoot
I took it out to the banks of the River Severn near my home, on a cold misty December morning that turned out to be a perfect light for a slow exploratory shoot.
The cold raised one practical concern. The shutter was already running slightly slow at the slower speeds in my workshop tests. Cold weather might make it gum up further. I compensated by rating my film slightly higher than box speed and shooting at faster shutter speeds where possible.
Kodak T-Max 100 loaded into the back, rated at around ISO 200 for safety against the slow shutter speeds. Spot-metered with a Sekonic L858-D, which is comically much larger than the camera itself.
The frames I worked on:
- The misty far bank of the Severn, with low winter sun catching the water
- Cows looking over a fence (one moved as I fired the shutter)
- A small wooden cross down by the water, someone’s memorial
- The nuclear power station looming in the distance, which gave the image a slightly menacing quality
- Various landscape compositions playing with the low light
At one point I stepped firmly into some dog mess with the foot of my K&F Concept tripod, which is becoming something of a recurring theme in my outdoor shoots. The tripod is reviewed here and continues to be otherwise excellent. The owner of the dog responsible is, however, still at large.
![PLACEHOLDER: a landscape frame from the Severn shoot, showing the misty water and far bank, with the nuclear power station in the distance]
The light leak mystery
A few frames came back with a soft light leak across one edge of the image. Not every frame. Some frames adjacent to leaked ones came back clean. The leaks were intermittent and I have not yet worked out where they are coming from.
It is not from the red windows on the back. Those would produce a horizontal line across the bottom of the image, which is not what I am seeing. The bellows look sound, but bellows leaks can be subtle. The folding mechanism around the lens has several potential points where light could creep in if a seal is slightly worn.
For now I am working around the issue by keeping the camera out of direct sunlight when I am not actively shooting, which seems to reduce but not eliminate the leak. None of the frames I shot indoors leaked at all, which strongly suggests the issue is direct-sun related.
This is the kind of thing you accept with a ninety-year-old camera. Modern cameras with light-tight modern materials would not have this problem. A 1932 folder will sometimes have a quirk. The frames I get are good enough to overlook it.
The afternoon plan that died
The original plan for the day was to take the camera into Chepstow town centre in the afternoon and do some handheld street photography. By lunchtime the weather had become properly grim: wet, flat, miserable. No light worth working in.
Plan B was kitchen portraits of my daughters, with the lights set up to make the scene visually interesting despite the dull conditions outside. I bribed an unwilling child with extra pocket money to come and stand in front of the camera.
Shot wide open at f3.5, very close focus, asking her to hold still at a specific distance from the camera (which, with no rangefinder on this Ikonta variant, requires hopeful guessing rather than precise measurement). The depth of field at f3.5 and close focus is genuinely shallow on 645, with the lovely soft falloff that a good Tessar lens produces.
![PLACEHOLDER: the daughter portrait, wide open at f3.5, close focus, showing the depth of field and lens character]
The results, honestly
The frames I got from this camera, from a single day’s shooting at one location plus an afternoon in the kitchen, are properly good photographs. Tack sharp where focus is correct. Beautiful tonal range from the Tessar. Nice depth-of-field rendering. The kind of negatives that, if you handed them to someone and said “look at these,” they would not guess they came out of a ninety-year-old folder bought for twenty pounds.
The daughter portrait specifically blew me away. Shallow depth of field, beautiful skin tones, character from the Tessar without it being intrusive. I would happily put this frame alongside one from a Bronica or a Hasselblad and not feel I was bringing inferior work.
This is the case for folders. People do not buy them because they are unfashionable, they look quirky, and most photographers default to SLRs and rangefinders when they think about medium format. But the optics on the better folders are properly excellent, the cameras are mechanically simple and reliable, and the prices for non-collector examples are absurdly low.
Why folders are underrated
A theory. The hobby of film photography is, increasingly, a hobby of consumption alongside a hobby of practice. People buy cameras as objects almost as much as they buy them as tools. Modern brands like Leica understand this and have built a market on it. Vintage SLRs (Hasselblad 500, Mamiya RB67, Bronica S2A) have visible presence and design that photographs well on Instagram and shows well in a camera bag.
Folders are stealth weapons. They live in a coat pocket. They do not have a visual presence when you carry them. When you open one in front of someone, they look surprised that the small folded object turns into a real medium format camera. The camera does not impress strangers. The negatives do.
For a working photographer or a serious amateur who cares about what comes out of the camera more than what the camera looks like, folders are an outrageous bargain. You get medium format negatives, real glass, mechanical reliability, and portability that no other format can match. And you get it for less money than a roll of professional film at retail.
Buying advice
If you are tempted, here is what to look for and what to avoid.
Configuration matters more than model. A 520 with a Tessar lens and Compur Rapid shutter is a different camera from a 520 with a Novar lens and a basic shutter, even though both are technically “Ikonta 520.” Check the lens markings on the front of the lens (Tessar or Novar) and the shutter ring (Compur, Compur Rapid, Klio, etc.).
Condition matters a lot. Look for clean bellows (no pinholes when shone through), working shutter at all speeds (or honest disclosure that some speeds are slow), clean glass, intact leatherette. Tiny haze and minor fungus are tolerable. Major bellows damage is not.
Price range. A Tessar-Compur Ikonta 520 in good condition will typically go for £20 to £80 on UK eBay, depending on cosmetic condition and the patience of the buyer. The Super Ikonta variants with coupled rangefinders run £100 to £200. The cheaper Nettar variants with Novar lenses are often under £10.
Where to buy. UK eBay has plenty. Camera shops with knowledgeable staff (B&H in the US, Ffordes in Scotland) will charge more but verify functionality. Camera fairs are excellent if you can hold and inspect before buying.
What I am taking forward
This camera is going to become a travel companion. It is small enough to live in a coat pocket without me thinking about it, light enough that I do not notice carrying it, and capable of producing genuinely good photographs whenever I bother to pull it out and use it.
For the channel, I have a box of folders that have been waiting their turn for proper attention. Most of them I have had for years and not done justice to. The Ikonta 520 has reminded me what these cameras can do, and I expect to do more folder content in the coming months.
If you want a way into medium format that does not require a substantial financial commitment, do not look at modern cameras. Look at folders. They are out there, they are cheap, they are properly capable, and the photographic world has not yet remembered how good they are.
A ninety-year-old camera, properly looked after, will outlast both me and probably whoever buys it from my estate.