The Wuppertal Suspension Railway or Schwebebahn is up and running again after many months of repairs and Covid/Corona lockdown. It is unique in Germany: an elevated railway passing through a city. The Schwebebahn was built in 1901. Carrying passengers along a stretch of 13 kilometers between Vohwinkel and Oberbarmen, mostly following the course of the river Wupper, the trip takes about 30 minutes one way. Of course, most Germans associate the railway through Wuppertal with “Tuffi” the elephant. In 1950, she was supposed to perform a publicity stunt for the circus on the railway but fell into the river once the train started (she survived). Several directors have used the Schwebebahn as a backdrop in movies and commercials. Millions of passengers take the railway every year, and with very few accidents over the years, it is a very safe mode of public transport.
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An olive gem from behind the Iron CurtainNot the Werra but the Rhine river. A shot that would have pleased the East German government during the Cold War – a paved tank crossing. (Fuji 200)
The Werra, named after a small river in Central Germany, has gone from an ugly duckling to a cult camera. It has several unique features: It was made by a company renowned for lenses, but not for camera bodies. The Werra originated behind the Iron Curtain, where the Communist government considered consumer products a bourgeois luxury. The design and ergonomics remained largely untouched by modern tendencies to entice a customer to purchase the product. Time, however, has made the “made in GDR” product a classic. Today, the Museum of Modern Art has a Werra in their collection. ( I am deeply indebted to Yves Strobelt and Marco Kroeger and their fabulous website www.zeissikonveb.de)
The East side: Towers of the Remagen railroad bridge. (Fuji 200)
The Werra would not garner much attention in a 1960 or 1970s photography shop. It is small, distinctly NOT shiny, and offers few spectacular specs. If you place it next to, say, the Kodak Retina range, the Werra would place a distant second. Even the most affordable Retinette model offered more capabilities. But customers rarely saw these cameras side by side in the showcase. The Kodak Retina was created and designed in West Germany, the Werra was the brainchild of engineers in East Germany. During the Cold War, few copies of these cameras made the journey to the other side. Most likely, there were more Werras in the West than Kodaks in Communism.
The peaceful Ahr river. In July 2021, a massive rainstorm created havoc in this valley.
Carl Zeiss Jena ( the “Jena” is pronounced YEH-nah) is a storied company, surviving mergers, wars, dictatorships and overseas competition. Optical glass was and still is where Carl Zeiss rules supreme. At the height of the East-West divide, diplomats negotiated trademark violations as the company had been split in half by the division of Germany. It remains a distinction that for a period of time, the company just put the name of the town on their lenses as a makeshift trademark. “Aus Jena” (“from Jena”) was enough to convince the prospective buyer that the cut glass inside the lens was of the highest quality. Soviet kosmonauts relied on the optical glass from the German Democratic Republic (GDR).
Vinyards along the Ahr river. (Fuji 200)
The Werra originated as a quirk of camera production in East Germany. With the establishment of VEB Zeiss Ikon (1955) and later VEB Pentacon (1964), East Germany had created a mammoth conglomerate to supply much of the Eastern world with photographic equipment. Dresden and its environs, with its long tradition of fine mechanical engineering, now produced a range of products from medical-scientific cameras to space observation telescopes. Most Westerners got to see a by-product, the Praktica range of cameras. The export models were sold abroad to gain valuable hard currency. They emulated the Soviet Zenits, unremarkable but solid, sturdy, unkaputtbar.
The Werra coolly displaying its reversible hood systemCologne in Covid times. (Fuji 200)
By contrast, the Werra was designed by VEB Carl Zeiss Jena. The lensmaker started from scratch: what would they want in a consumer camera? It is ironic that their expertise resulted in a camera which literally revolved around the lens: Famously, the Werra film advance is not by lever on the top plate, but by a twist of the lens which advances the film and tensions the shutter. It also advances the film counter. Play a trick on your friends and let them take a picture with the Werra and have them look for the film advance lever.
Bridge at Remagen: Now a museum of peace and understanding (Fuji 200)
Bare bones it is. No electronics, no battery. No self-timer. The color scheme: olive, like a military uniform. Then the next iteration: black, as trendy then as now. Of course, the lens is the magical component: Zeiss Tessar 50mm f.2.8. Sharp as a whistle. Beware of the aperture ring which can move very easily during handling. My example, on the other hand, has a very tight focus ring. Your fingers will get plenty of muscle exercise. Once you get the film advance move right (it’s the “Werra twist”), you can fire away.
Classic Vista: The Rhine river at Remagen. Notice the basalt lava rocks of the Erpeler Lay. (Fuji 200)
Holding the Werra means holding a piece of history. The small consumer camera originated as a result of the death of a dictator. Stalin had always preferred tanks to butter. People did not need any fancy luxuries if the Soviet camp needed weapons to defend itself against capitalism. His death in March 1953 sparked unease and revolt across the Soviet orbit. In June 1953, Soviet tanks crushed the demand for more freedoms in East Germany. Subsequently, the Soviet leaders would pay more attention to the needs and wants of the population. Private consumption would alleviate widespread dissatisfaction. The “Little Brother” GDR soon followed suit with the declaration of the “New Course”.
Japanese Garden in Bonn (Kodak 200)
Top-down: The East German Ministerrat (Council of Ministers) suggested the dedication of resources to a range of consumer items, even private automobiles. Carl Zeiss was ordered to produce a simple camera for the masses. Ideally, the camera could also be exported and earn hard Deutschmarks across the barbed wire in West Germany. The later Werra I (1955) was offered for 128 DM in West Germany, about 300 Euro in 2021. Photographic items such as ORWO paper and film, and cameras were among the few products “made in GDR” which could find customers in the West.
Covid times around the Cathedral. (Fuji 200)
The first models proudly sported the “Tessar” lens design name. But the officials quickly realized that in order to compete on the Western markets, you had to abide by the rules, and that included copyright law. The West German Zeiss company owned the “Tessar” brand name for lenses. To avoid costly lawsuits, VEB CZ Jena replaced the “Tessar” designation with a simple “T” on their lens ring. Advertisements in West-Berlin praised the “Ernst -Abbe Jena” origin to indicate the long tradition. Of course, the design had its origin in the prewar “Tessar”, before the company split. East German legal worries also explain that you will not find any mention of the manufacturer “VEB Carl Zeiss” anywhere on the Werra’s outside.
Ready for the picknick. (Fuji 200)
In typical Socialist style, the order to build the camera came from (East) Berlin. A completely new factory was established in Eisfeld in Thuringia, on the Werra river. VEB Carl Zeiss Jena had never produced a camera. They had to start from scratch. Eisfeld itself had no significant photography tradition, and no engineering university nearby.
Living underneath the towers. (Fuji 200)
This allowed a fresh look at all parts and resulted in a few novel solutions. No wonder the marketing campaign (yes, there was a marketing campaign in the GDR) praised the “camera with a new face”. However, as the VEB Carl Zeiss had to answer to ministries, not the market, the Werra suffered from bureaucratic intervention and the overall disadvantaged position of East Germany in global trade. Because of scarce resources, the GDR was unwilling to purchase parts abroad, for example by paying licensing fees to West German or Japanese companies. Everything had to be developed in-house, so to speak.
Springtime among the wealthy. (Kodak 200)
Unfortunately, a clever undercover maneuver from prewar times now came to haunt the East German engineers. In the 1920s and 1930s, Carl Zeiss secretly bought up companies like Alfred Gauthier and Friedrich Deckel, securing a controlling interest in the manufacturing of camera shutters. But the Iron Curtain had severed the ties between Jena and these manufacturers located in West Germany. Now the GDR had to produce its own shutter which became a long and complicated struggle. The Werra therefore came with a new but instantly outdated shutter, the VEBUR. The lack of sophisticated features made sales in the West nearly impossible, and Carl Zeiss had to request additional funds to purchase the Synchro-Compur shutter in Munich for later models.
Protestant church (Kodak 200)
A vicious cycle had started: the product, intended to gain Western currency, was a flop. Any upgrades involved purchasing parts from the West, further reducing the original intention as a money-maker. No wonder the East Berlin bureaucrats started to become fiscally conservative.
Summertime along the linden trees (Fuji 200)
When the Werra hit the market, photographers had started using color slide film and demanded sophisticated light meters. The Werra I had none, of course.
The Rheinaue park in Bonn (Kodak 200)
As the photographic industry hit major milestones of innovation in the 1960s, the Werra designers haplessly carried on, with several models incorporating light meters and flash synchronization which were also outdated by the time they hit the shelves. Frustrated designers tried to re-invent complicated mechanisms already incorporated into Japanese models. Fortunately, the main customer base inside the German Democratic Republic remained unable to purchase “capitalist” cameras. A captive audience indeed which also hampered the innovative spirit of the (very capable) engineers. They hit the wall. Money was allocated by the central government, and the officials did not want to hear costly proposals for improvements.
A swan finds his way along the riverbank. (Fuji 200)
While the Werra seems to have been exported to the United Kingdom, the United States remained “Werra”-free. Maybe there is an explanation for today’s interest in the model. Certainly, the East German government eventually understood the limited appeal of the outdated specs: shutter, light meter, handling: Japanese makers were winning the battle in the marketplace against the West German camera industry, and East Germany could not compete. In 1965 the company decided not to continue the Werra beyond the year 1968 “due to the unfavorable returns in hard currency”.
The Werra captures capitalism: Stately home (Fuji 200 expired)
The vulcanized appearance with the trademark green color apparently originated with the preferred color of Zeiss binoculars, and managers also referred to the green of the Thuringian forest as an inspiration. The Werra invites categorization as one of the few admired GDR products. Some call the overall design “spartan”. other compare it to “Bauhaus-style”.
Mission Impossible: The Werra captures the Villa Hammerschmidt, the residence of the Federal President in Bonn (Kodak 200)
Another unique design feature is the lenscap – it is shaped like an upside down shot glass. If you unscrew it, you can re-attach it the other way round to have it serve as a lens shade. It provides the Werra with a very futuristic appearance. Taking pictures with the Werra, regardless of the model, gives you a fascinating insight into the Cold War, industrial history, marketing, the flaws of Socialist production, and the remarkable achievements of designers, engineers, craftsmen, and assembly line workers behind the Iron Curtain. It is therefore a great example of a camera with a history. About 500,000 copies were made during the production period. As Mike Elek has concluded, there are few cameras like it!
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Classic camera, classic view: The Cologne cathedral with the Leicaflex SL 2 (Kodak Gold 200)
The camera that nearly broke a company. The Leicaflex SL2 is heavy, solid, clunky. But combined with Leica glass, it’s a marvel of German engineering. The attempt to capture the SLR market might have failed, and Leica might have gone belly-up with this product. Clearly, the Japanese camera companies had gained the edge by this time, producing acceptable quality at a lower price. Leica designers and engineers did not want to compromise and lost the bet. Fortunately for film aficionados nowadays, a Leicaflex SL2 is not out of reach. It still represents a happy marriage between German ingenuity and wonderful sharp lenses.
Kilkenny, Ireland (Kodak Gold 200)
This was my first foray into the Leica universe. Imagine my surprise when I found out that the body was cheaper than the lens! Any Leica-lover will know what I mean. The 50mm Summicron is simply fantastic. Try it out, and you will be amazed at the crisp sharpness. It is as if you were seeing the world in a new light.
Cologne Central Station, detail. 135mm Elmarit-R (Kodak Ektar 100)
This is another solid camera, made to last. The workmanship is supreme, no plastic here. The controls are where they should be. Nothing fancy, nothing elaborate but simply designed to appeal and to convince. Fully manual, all-mechanical. The Leicaflex SL2 is heavier than the Japanese competition. It is a brick. But what a pleasure to attach one of these magical lenses and lug this brick around.
Evening sunflare on the banks of the Rhine river (Kodak Ektar 100)
The shutter sound is loud and comprehensive. It is impossible to accidentally expose a frame. The film advance is long and significant. You can sense that the designers cared for their customer. No simple solutions, but mechanical pleasure. Metal-based satisfaction.
The Dom in Aachen as seen through the Summicron lens. (Kodak Portra 400)
This camera conveys a sense of seriousness. You go out and feel you need to capture the world, fix a moment in time on the emulsion of choice. Funnily I never think of loading expired film in the Leicaflex. It seems like blasphemy, as if the camera would be offended. Leica demands the freshest and best available for your budget. What might be next for this gem?
Slightly too much sun: the moat around Schloss Augustusburg in Bruehl (Kodak Potra 400)
No, the Leicaflex SL2 so far has not been my go-to camera for experimental shots. It is the elegant grande dame of my collection. The one you spoil with extravagant outings and exotic locales. Not for her the nitty-gritty of street-art and multiple exposures. Take it with you for the stately homes and the cathedrals of the world. Use it for portraits of your loved ones. It will repay you with the cleanest, sharpest vistas imaginable.
My home is my Schloss: Leicaflex SL2 in Augustusburg. (Kodak Portra 400)
I also have a 135mmElmarit-R lens for the SL2. Yet another superb piece of glass. Sometime I think what if I sell a bunch of other cameras and invest in Leica glass? Then I calculate and find out that even if I sold all of my cameras, my car, and plenty of other possessions, my ability to afford Leica glass would be slim. Ok. Moving on. Maybe adapters.
Even in a democratic republic, some names bear witness to the imperial age: The Hohenzollern railway bridge in Cologne (Kodak Portra 400)
Anytime I venture out with the Leicaflex SL2, I am proud of the hard work that went into producing an artifact like this. I am conscious of the history that went into the development, the research, the craftsmanship, and even the marketing. Sometime I think of Oskar Barnack, the pioneer of camera design, and the Wetzlar employees today continuing a long tradition. IN retrospect, the Leicaflex SL2 might not have been the epitome of photographic innovation. But it sure feels good in your hands.
Rain and rust will not destroy our love (Kodak Portra 400)Fishing nets on the Heider Bergsee. (Kodak Ektar 100)The 135mm Elmarit-R at work: Detail of the Cologne Cathedral (Kodak Ektar 100)
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