Blog #9 - Medium Format, Medium Expectations, Maximum Lessons

Brilliant vs. Ikonta: The 6x6 Roll-Off

It started, like most things in this house, with a slightly impulsive purchase and the usual question: “Do you think this will actually work?”

I’d ended up with two cameras, both older than my dad. One came from West Germany, the other from pre-war Dresden. Neither was designed with modern film stock or flatbed scanners in mind, and

certainly not built for a middle-aged paramedic in the East Midlands trying to rediscover something creative in the 2020s, a century and a world away from the men who originally built them.

The Voigtländer Brilliant TL and the Zeiss Ikonta. A twin-lens reflex versus a folding bellows camera. Waist-level focusing through ground glass versus zone-focused rangefinding through something the size of a postage stamp. Both loaded with 120 film. Both part of a slightly overambitious plan to get to grips with medium format using gear that smells faintly of bakelite and whatever was in old camera shops before the smoking ban.

After weeks of waiting for the lab to finish, the scans finally landed. And honestly, the results were exactly what I hoped for: completely inconsistent, slightly broken, and full of charm.

The Voigtländer Brilliant TL: A Charming Disaster

The Voigtländer had already seen some attention. I’d taken it apart, cleaned the viewfinder, fiddled with the mechanics, and spent more time than I care to admit trying to load film into a design that predates most modern supermarkets. It’s technically a twin-lens reflex, though it has no moving mirror, just a surprisingly bright ground glass panel and a flip-up magnifier built into the hood if you fancy squinting a bit harder.

It’s a quirky thing. Simple, but not always in a good way. Focusing is more a question of faith than measurement. Aperture and shutter settings are marked, but there’s no real feedback, and the whole process of winding film feels like you’re trying to crank open a tin of corned beef from 1954.

But here’s the thing: I loved using it. Standing in the street, looking down into that big square viewfinder, you feel like you’re borrowing someone else’s era. People glance over curiously. Bow watched me patiently while I debated which way the focus ring should turn, even though the result probably wouldn’t change either way.

And somehow, it worked. The images were full of character. A few were sharp enough to make me stop and check the metadata, and others had that soft, hazy feel that only seems to come from a combination of old lenses, imperfect glass, and dumb luck. Every frame, though, had one unmissable flaw: thin, vertical lines running down the image like someone had scratched them with a biro. Possibly something mechanical inside, maybe the rollers, maybe the pressure plate. Annoying, but strangely consistent.

Still, despite the scratches, the Voigtländer had something. Depth. Mood. Texture. It was, against all expectations, usable. And more than that, it was enjoyable.

Firing off one of many (5) garden shots

Bow at the office

Trying to use the roll

The Zeiss Ikonta: Classic Looks, Crispy Numbers

On first impressions, the Zeiss Ikonta feels like it should be the better camera. It folds down into a tight, all-metal rectangle, opens with a clean mechanical click, and holds itself like it was built to last forever. There’s no light meter, no battery compartment, nothing superfluous. Just a folding lens, a fixed-focus frame, and a red window on the back to count the frames.

The process is simple, but feels archaic. Wind the film until you see the number in the little window. Frame, shoot, wind again, fold it away. The viewfinder is tiny, and the shutter button placement is awkward. But once you’re out in the field, it feels decent. Light. Minimal. Reliable.

At least, it should have felt that way.

In practice, the Zeiss let me down more often than it delivered. Many of the frames were underexposed. I can’t say for sure whether that was me, the shutter lagging behind its markings, or something else, but the roll came back flatter than I expected. Centre sharpness was there on a few images, and the contrast was okay when the exposure landed, but when it didn’t, it really didn’t.

And then there were the numbers.

Not on the frame edges, in the frames. Faint, ghostly outlines of the backing paper markings, imprinted right across the image. Frame numbers. Dots. Little geometric echoes from the inside of the roll. They burned through, either from pressure, heat, or loading errors. They shouldn’t be there, but there they are, a reminder that the Ikonta’s design comes from a time when emulsion wasn’t made to withstand summer windowsills or clumsy fingers.

It was frustrating. But, in a weird way, useful.

Because now I can point to those shots and say, “That’s real film. That’s what happens when 1930s camera tech meets a modern lab and someone still figuring it out.” And I’m glad it happened, because I learned more from those twelve frames than I would have from getting it all right first time.

Photo set by "Dad", taken by "Bow".

Photo set by "Dad", taken by ""Dad".

Trying to use the roll

Fed up wife shot by model "Emma"

Brilliant vs. Ikonta: Side-by-Side

With both rolls finished and scanned, it’s tempting to pretend it was a fair comparison. That each camera had its moment and delivered its own flavour of medium format magic. But it wasn’t close.

The Voigtländer was better. Sharper, more consistent, and far more satisfying to use.

The Zeiss Ikonta definitely wins for portability. Folded down, it fits neatly into a coat pocket and opens quickly, ready for action. If you want something that doesn’t draw attention and can handle being carried all day, it has the edge. But it also fights you. The viewfinder is tiny, range guessing is hit and miss, and there’s no real feedback from the film advance. It looks fantastic, but it feels like hard work.

The Voigtländer, by contrast, is a bit of a lump. It’s not elegant, and you’ll need a bag to carry it. But once you start using it, it makes more sense than it has any right to. The waist-level finder slows you down, the manual controls force you to think, and the whole thing feels deliberate. It’s clumsy, but in a way that gives you time to see what’s actually in front of you.

Image-wise, the difference was even clearer.

The Zeiss roll had moments, but too many frames were underexposed or flat. Even the better shots lacked the tonal richness I was hoping for. And the backing paper issue sealed it. There’s something disappointing about seeing frame numbers float across a landscape.

The Voigtländer roll had those annoying vertical lines, yes. But the exposures were solid, the contrast was more alive, and the tones had that classic medium format feel. Textured. Moody. Real. I’d take that, flaws and all, over a clean but empty frame.

If I had to pick one to run another roll through tomorrow, it wouldn’t even be close. The Voigtländer takes it.

The clarity of this image blew me away a bit. (Voigtländer)

Final Thoughts: Learning in Squares

This wasn’t meant to be a test. I wasn’t trying to review anything. It was just me, two cameras, a couple of rolls of 120 film, and an afternoon or two where I wanted to see what happened when old gear meets present-day curiosity.

And what happened was this: I learned.

Medium format film is unforgiving. You don’t get many frames. You mess up the spacing, or you miss the light, and that’s it. Gone. You don’t get to fire off five backups and fix it later. You get twelve chances, if you're lucky.

Old cameras will absolutely lie to you. They look solid, but their internals are often tired. Shutters stick. Lenses haze. Pressure plates press just a bit too hard. You don’t always notice until you see the scans, and by then it’s too late. But that’s part of it. That’s what makes it interesting.

I learned that the Voigtländer Brilliant TL, despite being the heavier, clunkier, and less elegant of the two, is the one I’ll be loading up next. It might scratch my negatives, it might be off by half a stop, but I trust it now. I’ve started to understand how it sees the world and with each roll, I’ll dial it in a little more. The next one will be better. And the one after that. Constant fire and adjust, like everything else I’m trying to get the hang of lately.

The Zeiss Ikonta will get another go eventually. I’ll try a different roll, be more careful with the loading, maybe shoot it on a colder day. But right now, it’s going back on the shelf for a bit. I’ve got other square frames to make.

Because apparently, I’m a camera guy now.