The Kodak Retina IIIc Saga Continues…
The anticipation of receiving a new to me camera in the mail is a feeling that resonates deeply with any photography enthusiast. After the trials and tribulations recounted in my previous article about purchasing a Kodak Retina IIIc on eBay, I was cautiously optimistic when another Retina IIIc arrived in the mail. My last order took a grueling three weeks to arrive, so when this one showed up in just five days, I was nothing short of astonished. The speed of delivery felt like a small victory, a promising start to what I hoped would be a better experience with this iconic folding camera.
There’s something undeniably thrilling about unboxing a vintage camera, especially one as storied as the Kodak Retina IIIc. It’s not just a piece of equipment; it’s a tactile connection to photographic history, a vessel of potential adventures wrapped in a sleek, compact body. As I carefully unwrapped the camera from its packaging and slid it out of its well-worn leather case, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. Life, I’ve come to realize, is not like a box of chocolates, as Forrest Gump famously quipped. It’s more like an eBay order, you truly never know what you’re going to get. Sometimes, that unpredictability leads to a nightmare; other times, it delivers something even better than you’d hoped.
As I held the Retina IIIc in my hands, I noticed something immediately; the previous owner had etched their personal information into the top plate. It was a minor imperfection, a testament to the camera’s trajectory through time and human hands before reaching my possession. My primary concern, however, wasn’t the cosmetic imperfections but the condition of the cocking rack—a notorious weak point in the Retina series, including the IIa, IIc, IIIc, IIIC, and IB models. My previous Retina IIIc had arrived with a faulty cocking rack, rendering it nearly unusable, and I was determined not to repeat that disappointment. If this one’s cocking rack was also defective, I was ready to swear off Kodak Retinas for good.
To my relief, the cocking rack was in mint condition. I spent some time meticulously inspecting the camera, testing its mechanical functions, and familiarizing myself with its quirks. The shutter fired smoothly, the aperture ring clicked with satisfying precision, and the film advance lever, uniquely located on the bottom of the camera, operated as it should. But, as with any vintage purchase, there were imperfections. I noticed a small spot on the front lens element, and the built-in light meter was sluggish, struggling to respond accurately to changes in light. These issues, while not deal breakers, meant the camera wasn’t quite ready for action.
In my previous article, I had mentioned the possibility of using my first Retina IIIc as a parts body if its issues proved insurmountable. That’s exactly what I ended up doing. The first camera, despite its faulty cocking rack, had a pristine front lens element, a fully functional light meter, and an unmarred top plate. With a bit of careful disassembly and some tinkering, I swapped these components onto the new camera. The result? One fully functional, almost perfect Kodak Retina IIIc, albeit with mismatched serial numbers.
For some, mismatched serial numbers might be a dealbreaker, a blemish on the camera’s collectible value. But I’m not a collector, I’m a photographer that uses my cameras. My goal isn’t to display this Retina IIIc on a shelf; it’s to take it out into the world, capture moments, and tell stories through its lens. With the best parts from both cameras combined, I now had a folding camera that was not only functional but also a joy to use.
Last week, I took my newly restored Retina IIIc to green valley park here in Payson, AZ to test its capabilities. As I framed shots and adjusted settings, an older gentleman walking his dog approached me. He watched me for a moment before asking, with genuine curiosity, “How are you able to take pictures if you’re blind?”
It was a question I’ve heard before, and in that moment, a dozen responses flashed through my mind, some witty, some defensive. Instead, I opted for a simple analogy: “If you’d been doing something for 40 years, would you stop just because you couldn’t see anymore?” He paused, nodded thoughtfully, and said, “That’s a great point.” With a smile, he continued on his walk, his dog trotting happily beside him.
That interaction stuck with me. Photography, for me, is more than just seeing through a viewfinder. It’s about muscle memory, intuition, and a deep understanding of the craft honed over decades. The Retina IIIc, with its unique design and tactile controls, complements this approach perfectly.
The Kodak Retina IIIc is a remarkable piece of engineering, a camera that was undeniably ahead of its time when it was introduced in the 1950s. Its compact, folding design made it portable, while its high-quality Schneider-Kreuznach lens delivered sharp, vibrant images. The built-in light meter, a rarity for its era, added a layer of convenience that set it apart from many of its contemporaries. But, like any piece of vintage technology, it has its flaws—chief among them, the infamous cocking rack.
The cocking rack is the Achilles’ heel of the Retina series. Models like the IIa, IIc, IIIc, IIIC, and IB are all susceptible to issues with this critical component, which advances the film and cocks the shutter. A faulty cocking rack can render an otherwise excellent camera useless, as I learned the hard way with my first Retina IIIc. For anyone considering purchasing one of these models, my advice is simple. Seek out a camera that has been recently serviced (CLA’d—cleaned, lubricated, and adjusted) or one with a well documented history. If you’re buying on a budget, as I do, be prepared to purchase two cameras to cobble together one fully functional unit. It’s a gamble, but when it pays off, the reward is a camera that’s a joy to shoot with.
One of the standout features of the Retina IIIc, compared to its sibling the IIc, is the inclusion of a light meter. This meter works in conjunction with the camera’s Exposure Value (EV) system, a method of setting exposure that some photographers love and others loathe. For me, it’s a game-changer, especially given my severe visual impairment.
The EV system locks the shutter speed and aperture together based on a single EV number, simplifying the exposure process. Once the EV is set, adjusting one parameter automatically adjusts the other to maintain the correct exposure. For someone like me, who relies heavily on tactile feedback and muscle memory, this system is a blessing. Setting the EV number is straightforward, and from there, it’s just a matter of counting the clicks to dial in the desired shutter speed. What initially seemed like a quirky, outdated system has become one of my favorite features of the Retina IIIc. Like the camera’s bottom-mounted advance lever, it’s a design choice that feels foreign at first but becomes second nature with practice.
The Kodak Retina IIIc is not a perfect camera, but its strengths far outweigh its flaws. Its compact size, exceptional lens, and innovative features make it a standout choice for photographers who appreciate the charm and challenge of vintage gear. Yes, the cocking rack is a persistent issue, and sourcing a reliable example can be a gamble. But when you get it right—whether through careful selection or, in my case, a bit of parts-swapping—the Retina IIIc is a camera that rewards you with every shot.
For me, photography is about more than just capturing images, it’s about the experience, the process, and the stories that unfold along the way. Whether it’s the thrill of unboxing a new-to-me camera, the satisfaction of resurrecting a broken one, or the unexpected conversations sparked by a day at the park, the Retina IIIc has already given me more than I could have hoped for. If you’re willing to embrace its quirks and invest a little patience, this classic camera might just surprise you, too.
What are your thoughts? Are you a Retina skeptic? Let me know what you think in the comments. Photographs are below the article.
