Diane Kaye Photography                                                    Back to Toy Plastic Gallery


                                    Confessions of a Toy Plastic Fanatic

 

In 1992 I befriended Joe, a photographer from Philadelphia who showed me his magical toy camera prints, color images with rainbow flare marks.  I was so enthusiastic that he gave me old Banner and Revue cameras from art school days, no longer wanted because he couldn’t figure out how to modify them to get a bulb setting.  To this day, the Banner remains my favorite, a camera you have to be crazy to love.  When I see an interesting scene, I’m curious to discover how the Banner “sees” it.  Waking up in the morning, myopic and astigmatic without my glasses, I see a lot like the Banner.  It has no aperture, shutter or distance settings and every seam leaks light. 

 

I’ve devised a way of working with exposure, even though the shutter speed varies depending on how fast you move your trigger finger away, and the aperture also remains forever a mystery.  I know its favorite EV on my hand held meter and I’m always ready to hold a red and maybe a green filter over the lens if the day is too bright for TRI-X.  That, of course, produces the added feature of exaggerated skewed tonal values, which just enhances the inebriated viewpoint. Another priceless feature is the “bite mark” signature—the particular shape of the ragged edge of the bottom of each negative.  I almost died once when a well-meaning engineer friend went inside the camera and tried to smooth off the jagged plastic that makes the film stumble and get mutilated there.

 

I’ve sat on park benches in foreign cities as people stared and pointed, both of my arms trapped fumbling in a sweaty black bag, trying to unload a loose roll of 120 film from the camera, rubber band it and quickly sneak it into a safe carrying bag, and good luck at the airport x-ray!

 

Never crazy about too much “reality” in my photography, documentary, literal depictions of detail don’t generally add to my enjoyment of a photograph.  I’m after the emotional quality, and only those details, tonal values and perspectives that contribute to that aspect.  With the toy plastic cameras I can photograph everyday familiar objects in brilliant back lighting, for example, and with its “special” optics and the lack of lens coating, I get a, shall we say, “spiritual quality”, only the essential true Buddha nature of the subject.  Basically, the light enters, bounces around and kind of dies somewhere near the film, resulting in negatives only a mother could love.  I’ve heard of Leicas having contrasty lenses—this lens is unlike a Leica, and I think of the camera as my un-Leica.  Joe told me how to cook the daylights out of TRI-X in straight D76 to have a fighting chance at ever making a print.  Printing from the Banner is an unbelievable experience.  All I can say is you have to want the print very very badly, and you might get just one after 2+ hours – forget about ever duplicating it! 

 

In 1997 I showed work in my first toy camera show.  After the reception came the raffle we were all waiting for.  We patiently watched people win dinners for 2, and even very nice photographic prizes, but in the end when they called out the winner of a real Diana in the vintage antique box with a yellow screw-on filter, and little carrying case, I was stunned to realize it was me!  There were ~ 80 deeply passionate toy plastic fanatics who would give anything to be in my shoes.  The mob came after me to my car, like I was the Pied Piper as I made my guilty escape.  There’s a great kinship with other insane toy plastic photographers.  For some of us who truly love photography, independent of any possibility of financial gain, the Diana and her sisters take us back to the innocence of our first encounters with the medium, the magnetic mesmerizing pull of it, the childlike joy of playfulness, curiosity, hope, disappointment, and magic.

 

The images here were made with the Banner, Revue, and Diana.
Toy plastic cameras use 120 medium format roll film, make square negatives, were made in China in the 50's or 60's, have uncoated plastic lenses, springs instead of shutters, and very crude settings.
The Holga toy camera is currently manufactured, available from Freestyle Photography.  Its vision is generally a bit more sober than most vintage versions and it features a flash shoe and choice of negative size.

Diane Kaye

                                         Back to Toy Plastic Gallery