View allAll Photos Tagged Bakelite
This is my Kodak Brownie 127, made in England in probably millions of copies in a production run over three models from 1952 to 1967. Bakelite plastic was the real thing back then.
This is model 2 made from 1959 to 1963. Fixed focus lens at f11 and fixed shutterspeed at probably at something like 1/50 sec with a rotary shutter. This camera is very common in Europe but more rare in America from what I understand.
Sample shots:
Nam June Paik
Bakelite Robot 2002
One-channel video installation with 2 4” LCD monitors and 3 5.6” LCD monitors.
For Danbo; he missed my Tate Modern visit and he would have happily stared at this for hours.
One taken earlier this year with a Brownie 127. You can read about the experience with it on a recent blog post at: www.quellinimages.com/blog/2024/7/analogue-blog-bakelite-...
House phone in a hotel.
Probably made of Bakelite. The original ones were.
"Bakelite (/ˈbeɪkəlaɪt/ BAY-kəl-eyet; sometimes spelled Baekelite) or polyoxybenzylmethylenglycolanhydride was the first plastic made from synthetic components. It is a thermosetting phenol formaldehyde resin, formed from a condensation reaction of phenol with formaldehyde. It was developed by the Belgian-American chemist Leo Baekeland in Yonkers, New York, in 1907. "--Wikipedia.
Bakelite Caravan
This Pod caravan is onr of several at the now closed Bekerlite Museum. Constructed from the Bakerlite composite, early form of plastic.
The museum was an Aladins cave of all things Bakerlite, and on our visit i had the pleasure of speaking to the Museums owner Patrick Cook who told me at the time that his collection was now must to large to be housed at the three storey former water mill it then occupied in Williton Somerset and that only about a third of the collection was actually on display. Considering there were literally thousands of items you have to wonder what other gems lie in wait.
But if he is able to reopen at a bigger and more urban location a visit to the collection is a must.
That is if Saint Greta patron Saint of killjoys allows
Thanks for a stunning 61,070,837 views
Diolch am olygfa anhygoel, 61,070,837 hoblogaeth y Lloegr honno dros y Mynyddoedd
Pob lwc i'r bechgyn, yn chwarae yn erbyn Twrci heddiw
Shot 04-07-2017 at the Bakerlite Museum, Williton, Somerset REF 128-331
I'm on etsy (see profile for a link) but my name was changed to Ebenezer since there was already a Gomer, ooops.
A Bakelite body camera made in England in 1937.
The camera has a retracting lens, and an intriguing gravity-driven exposure (shutter/slit) mechanism. This changes the exposure speed for the square 127 roll film as you tilt the camera to the left (90 degrees) for fast, or right (90 degrees) for slow.
Photographed stopped down with a Tomioka Auto-Revuenon 55mm f1.2.
(And possibly the most Moiré-inducing object I've ever photographed!)
Shot with the iPhone11ProMax, through the viewing window of a 1940’s bakelite ViewMaster. The Thriller disc was in the ViewMaster when I bought it.
Photo taken with a "VEB Rheinmetall Perfekta", a recent € 6,73 ebay shot.
It is a DDR bakelite camera built around 1954, very archaic looking:
lippisches-kameramuseum.de/Rheinmetall/Rheinmetall_Perfek...
Just one speed (1/25 sec) and three stops (7.7 - 11 - 16) and no focussing (fixfocus).... and here we go....
Perfekta (VEB Rheinmetall)
Achromat 80mm 7.7
Shanghai Film ISO 100
Negativscan
IN ENGLISH BELOW THE LINE
La Kodak Brownie 127 és una càmera de baquelita extremadament barata i senzilla. Fou fabricada al'engròs durant els anys 50 i 60 del s.XX.
Aquesta és el segon model d'aquesta camera, el que es va fabricar entre el 1959 i el 1963. L'objectiu és un Dakon, de plastic i tipus menisc.
www.camarassinfronteras.com/cesion/brownie_127/brownie_12...
www.flickr.com/photos/64947908@N05/32302218657/in/photoli...
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The Kodak Brownie 127 was a quite cheap and easy to use bakelite camera, made in England in the 50's and 60's.
This is the second model, made c. 1959-1963. It has a simple plastic "Dakon" meniscus lens, and uses 127 format film, which by now has to be adapted expressely.
www.camarassinfronteras.com/cesion/brownie_127/brownie_12...
www.flickr.com/photos/64947908@N05/32302218657/in/photoli...
Kodak Bantam RF en bakélite Objectif Kodak Ektanon 50mm f/3.9 et synchro flash. Obturateur Flash 300 et télémètre. Film 828 en bobine. Vitesses B, 25, 50, 100, 300. Année 1953.
My prized collection. I have been collecting this beautiful material for over 20 years..... can't get enough of it.....most of it got at flea markets, thrift stores and yard sales.....
Visit my shop: retrogoodies.co.uk
No, this isn't a yoyo. It's a retractable cloths line. Made of urea/plaskon/Bakelite, I believe
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Tonight, we are in the little maid’s room off the Cavendish Mews kitchen, which serves as Edith, Lettice’s maid’s, bedroom. The room is very comfortable and more spacious than the attic she shared with her friend and fellow maid, Hilda, in her last position. The room is papered with floral sprigged wallpaper, and whilst there is no carpet, unlike Lettice’s bedroom, there are rugs laid over the stained floorboards. The room is big enough for Edith to have a comfortable armchair and tea table as well as her bed, a chest of drawers and a small wardrobe. Best of all, the room has central heating, so it is always warm and cosy on cold nights.
Edith has returned to Cavendish Mews after spending Christmas with her family in Harlesden and New Year with her beau Frank at a pub in Rotherhithe, arriving a few days ahead of Lettice who will shortly return from her own Christmas holiday spent with her family at their country estate, Glynes, in Wiltshire. Edith is luxuriating in the silence of the flat with no Lettice present. Although not overly demanding and a very good mistress to work for, Edith always knows when Lettice is home, sensing her presence in the soft clip of her footfall on the parquetry floor, the distant sound of her favourite or latest American records on the gramophone, the waft of her expensive French perfumes about the rooms of the flat, the peal of her laughter as she giggles over tea or cocktails with visiting friends or the jangle of the servants call bells bouncing about in the kitchen near the back door. For now, it is just Edith with only the tick of the clocks about the house and the distant burble of late night traffic along Bond Street to disturb her quiet.
She sighs and takes a sip of tea from the Delftware teacup, part of the kitchen set she uses and places it back on the tea table next to the pot, covered with a cosy knitted for her by her mother three years ago as a Christmas gift. She glances around the room at her possessions. In comparison to her mistress, what she has amassed is meagre to say the least, but she is very happy with her own personal touches about her little bedroom. Her hat, a second hand black straw cloche she came by at Petticoat Lane* decorated with bits and bobs she picked up from her Whitechapel haberdasher Mrs. Minkin, sits on her hat stand, also acquired from Petticoat Lane, on one end of the dark chest of drawers. Her lacquered sewing box, a gift from her mother when she first left home to go into service, sits at the other. Behind it is wedged her latest scrapbook that she fills with newspaper articles about fashion, films and the advances of women. Next to the sewing box sit the latest editions to her library, three romance novels from Lettice as a Christmas gift. Next to her hat stand, her collection of hat pins, and next to that, the brass framed portrait photo of she and her parents taken at a professional photographic studio in the Harlesden High Street. If she squints and concentrates hard, Edith can just remember the occasion, with her pressed into her Sunday best white pinny with lace, made for her by her mother, and starched by her too, being a laundress. The needlepoint home sweet home Edith made hangs on the wall in a simple wooden frame above the drawers. Her eyes return to the chest of drawers’ highly polished surface where the eau de nil Bakelite**dressing table set from Boots***, a gift from Lettice the previous Christmas, sits and then she sees the face of Bert, her first love, gazing out at her. Although he is sitting stiffly and was possibly ill at ease dressed in his Sunday best when the photograph was taken, it cannot hide the kindness in his eyes, or the cheeky smirk that plays at the corners of his mouth.
“I wonder if it’s time.” Edith muses quietly to herself, taking another sip of tea.
Edith’s young man was the local postman in Harlesden, and that was how Edith first met him, delivering mail in her street. The Watsfords, Edith’s family, never had much post, but Bert would always find an excuse to stop if he saw her in that last year before the war before she had her first live-in post as a maid and was still living at home. She was fourteen and he was eighteen, and Edith’s parents, George and Ada, said they were both too young to be tethering themselves to one another, what with all their lives ahead of them. Bert’s mother wasn’t too keen on him courting a laundress’ daughter about to go out into service either. She had expectations of Bert. She always felt that being employed in a steady job with the post office, he could make a successful career for himself, and could do better than a local girl with a father who baked biscuits at the McVitie and Price factory and a mother who laundered clothes for those more fortunate than she. But they didn’t mind what their parents said. They loved each other. What might have been, Edith was never to find out, for then the war broke out, and Bert took the King’s shilling****, like so many young men his age, and he died at the Battle of Passchendaele in 1917.
“I think you’d like Frank,” Edith addresses Bert’s photograph. “He’s a hard worker, just like you were, and he rides a bike too.” She smiles. “He thinks he’s on the make, and maybe he is. He’s certainly trying to improve and better himself, and me too if he has his way. He wants to take me to an art gallery or two this year. He told me so on New Year’s Eve when we were down at The Angel by the Thames. Can you imagine me going and looking at paintings in a big gallery? I can’t, any more than I can imagine you doing it, Bert, but I’m willing to give it a go for him.”
She sits and thinks for a while, recalling moments spent with Frank on their days together.
Edith chuckles to herself again. “Last summer when the weather was fine, Frank and me, we would sometimes go to Hyde Park on our Sundays off rather than going to the pictures up in West Ham, and listen to the brass bands play in the rotunda. Frank paid for our deckchairs – he’s a gentleman like that you can rest assured – and we’d sit and listen to them play.” She sighs. “Oh it was grand! The sun shining warm on my face and only the distant burble of the traffic to even remind me that I was in London. And then on the way home, we’d stop and listen to the speakers***** if Frank thought they had anything decent to say. I bet you can’t imagine little me, your sweet and gentle Edith, listening to political speeches. If you had kept your head down over there in France, I might never have. We were never into politics, you and I, were we, Bert?” She takes another sip of her tea. “Not that we really knew each other all that well. We were both so young and probably really still finding out who we were ourselves, never mind each other.” She sighs more deeply as she ruminates. “The truth is that quite a lot of it goes over my head, Bert, but Frank takes the time to explain things to me so that I can understand it too. Frank is quite a political chap really, and he says that I should show an interest too. I asked him why, when I don’t even have the vote******, but he says it won’t always be the way it is now. He says that now is the time for the working man, and woman. He believes in the emancipation of women. There you go, Bert! That’s a big word for me isn’t it? Emancipation!” She smiles proudly. “It means to be set free from social or political restrictions.”
Edith stands up and wanders over to Bert’s photograph and picks it up. The Bakelite feels cool in her hands as she traces the moulded edges of the frame.
“I wonder if you’d come back from the war whether you would have come back a changed man, Bert, and whether we’d even still be together. Would I have been enough for you? Would you be a man like Frank, not that he went to the war. Being the same age as me, he just missed out on being old enough to enlist. Would you have come back different? So many did. I mean some came back with the most awful injuries you can imagine, and then there were the injuries you couldn’t see, which doctors are still considering.” She looks into Bert’s frozen face. “Mental damage, I mean – something the doctors are now calling shellshock. But for all of them, there were plenty of men who weren’t hurt in the war, and they all seem to want change. They haven’t gone back to their old jobs as footmen or other domestic staff or working on farms. Women too. Women who worked in the munitions factories during the war. Canary Girls, they called them, because their skin turned yellow from building the shells. They all want better jobs, better pay and better standards of living. Would you have joined their ranks, I wonder, and would I have been there to support you? I just did what Mum told me to do and went into domestic service proper, and I tell you what, Bert, with less men there to do the jobs in big houses, the work falls to women, and there are fewer of us too. Older staff mutter about women waiting at table and answering doors nowadays, because there are fewer footmen and butlers, but there are fewer parlour maids and kitchen maids too. I’ve read in the newspapers that it is called, ‘the servant problem’. I still keep scrapbooks, Bert, but the things I paste in them are different these days. There is less about Royal Family and more about fashion and the pictures, and ladies doing things they’ve never done before. Have I changed? Would you like the Edith Watsford I am today, I wonder?”
Edith runs her hands over Bert’s face, forever young, forever captured with that slight hint of smile and sparkle in his eyes.
“Frank wants me to meet his granny, Bert. His parents died of the Spanish Flu after the war, and he only has his granny now. I’d like to meet her, but at the same time I’m terrified. I’m not frightened of her, in fact I want to meet her.” She takes a deep sigh. “No, what I’m frightened of is the significance of meeting her, and what that meeting means. Mum and Dad have been crying out to meet Frank. They wanted him to come and join us in Harlesden for Christmas dinner, since my brother was at sea on Christmas Day, but I told them that Frank wants to do things correctly, which means I meet his family first and then he can meet mine. Meeting Frank’s granny means that I will have to let go of you, and I can’t really ask you how you feel about that. When you died, Mum just told me to get on with things, and not to worry about the past. Now I’m doing that. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone to love again, Bert, but I do love Frank. If I’m honest, now I’m older and know myself and the world a bit better, I might love Frank even more than I loved you. I was only fourteen after all, and didn’t really know much about love, other than what I’d read in romance novels.” She looks at the brightly coloured paper cover of one of the novels Lettice gave her for Christmas. “I still read them, but I know that what appears in those pages isn’t necessarily really love. I don’t expect a man to sweep me into his arms and confess his undying love for me. No, a mutual understanding and agreement about where we are going in life is what love is, or part of it anyway. Just look at Mum and Dad. Not that I don’t want a bit of romance along the way, and Frank is a good kisser. I’m sure he’d be happy to do a little more than kiss if I let him, but Mum told me not to let that happen until after I get a ring on my finger. By meeting Frank’s granny, Bert, it means it’s a big step closer to getting that ring on my finger. It means that I’m serious about him, and he me. It means that we are sure we want to be together and get married.”
Tears well in Edith’s eyes, even as she speaks.
“If I have to leave you behind in order to move on with Frank, would you let me, Bert? Would you be happy for me? Would you wish me well? Would you wish us well?”
Carefully Edith moves the latches on the back of the frame holding Bert’s image in place. She feels the backing come away and fall slightly into her fingers. The glass tilts, reflecting back a ghostly image of herself across Bert’s smiling face. She realises that no matter how she feels about Bert, there will never be a photograph of the two of them together. She thinks of her friend Hilda, who now works for Lettice’s friends Margot and Dickie Channon in a flat within walking distance of Lettice’s flat. Hilda longs to meet a man whom she can step out with the way Edith and Frank have been ding for almost a year now, yet she has no prospects. There are far fewer men to choose from than before the war, and plenty more women vying for interest in those who have returned from the conflict. Edith considers herself lucky to have such an opportunity with Frank. Perhaps the time for change has come.
Gently she slips her fingers between the photograph and the glass. She withdraws Bert’s photograph.
“If I’m serious about Frank, Bert, which I am, I can’t keep carrying you around in my purse, or in a picture frame. It’s not fair to Frank, or to me really. But, I’ll always carry a little of you in my heart.”
She opens one of the small top drawers of the chest of drawers, which squeaks on its rungs as it is pulled out. A waft of lavender from a small muslin sachet inside drifts up to her nose. She slips Frank’s photo underneath a stack of clean pressed handkerchiefs and then closes the drawer firmly. She opens the next drawer and places the frame into the empty space.
“I’ll take you out again when I have a photo of Frank to put in you.” she assures the frame as she closes the drawer again.
*Petticoat Lane Market is a fashion and clothing market in Spitalfields, London. It consists of two adjacent street markets. Wentworth Street Market and Middlesex Street Market. Originally populated by Huguenots fleeing persecution in France, Spitalfields became a center for weaving, embroidery and dying. From 1882, a wave of Jewish immigrants fleeing persecution in eastern Europe settled in the area and Spitalfields then became the true heart of the clothing manufacturing district of London. 'The Lane' was always renowned for the 'patter' and showmanship of the market traders. It was also known for being a haven for the unsavoury characters of London’s underworld and was rife with prostitutes during the late Victorian era. Unpopular with the authorities, as it was largely unregulated and in some sense illegal, as recently as the 1930s, police cars and fire engines were driven down ‘The Lane’, with alarm bells ringing, to disrupt the market.
**Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.
***Boots the chemist was established in 1849, by John Boot. After his father's death in 1860, Jesse Boot, aged 10, helped his mother run the family's herbal medicine shop in Nottingham, which was incorporated as Boot and Co. Ltd in 1883, becoming Boots Pure Drug Company Ltd in 1888. In 1920, Jesse Boot sold the company to the American United Drug Company. However, because of deteriorating economic circumstances in North America Boots was sold back into British hands in 1933. The grandson of the founder, John Boot, who inherited the title Baron Trent from his father, headed the company. The Boots Pure Drug Company name was changed to The Boots Company Limited in 1971. Between 1898 and 1966, many branches of Boots incorporated a lending library department, known as Boots Book-Lovers' Library.
****To take the King’s shilling means to enlist in the army. The saying derives from a shilling whose acceptance by a recruit from a recruiting officer constituted until 1879 a binding enlistment in the British army —used when the British monarch is a king.
*****A Speakers' Corner is an area where open-air public speaking, debate, and discussion are allowed. The original and best known is in the northeast corner of Hyde Park in London. Historically there were a number of other areas designated as Speakers' Corners in other parks in London, such as Lincoln's Inn Fields, Finsbury Park, Clapham Common, Kennington Park, and Victoria Park. Areas for Speakers' Corners have been established in other countries and elsewhere in Britain. Speakers here may talk on any subject, as long as the police consider their speeches lawful, although this right is not restricted to Speakers' Corner only. Contrary to popular belief, there is no immunity from the law, nor are any subjects proscribed, but in practice the police intervene only when they receive a complaint.
******It was not until the Equal Franchise Act of 1928 that women over the age of twenty-one were able to vote in Britain and women finally achieved the same voting rights as men.
This cosy room may be a nice place to keep warm on a winter’s night, but what you may not be aware of is that it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The eau-de-nil dressing table set on Edith’s chest of drawers, which has been made with incredible detail to make it as realistic as possible, is a Chrysnbon Miniature set. The mirror even contains a real piece of reflective mirror. Judy Berman founded Chrysnbon Miniatures in the 1970’s. She created affordable miniature furniture kits patterned off of her own full-size antiques collection. She then added a complete line of accessories to compliment the furniture. The style of furniture and accessories reflect the turn-of-the-century furnishings of a typical early American home. At the time, collectible miniatures were expensive because they were mostly individually crafted.
The photo of Bert in the eau-de-nil frame and the family portrait in the brass frame on the chest of drawers are real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The brass frame comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers.
Edith’s black dyed straw hat with purple roses and black feathers was made by an unknown artisan. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. This hat is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. The hat stand it sits on also comes from her.
To the right of Edith’s hat is an ornamental green jar filled with hatpins. The jar is made from a single large glass Art Deco bead, whilst each hatpin is made from either a nickel or brass plate pin with beads for ornamental heads. They were made by Karen Lady Bug Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
Edith’s scrapbook wedged behind her sewing box is a 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe, as are the three novels you can see on the surface of Edith’s chest of drawers. Most of the books I own that Ken has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. When open, you will find the scarpbook contains sketches, photographs and article clippings. Even the paper has been given the appearance of wrinkling as happens when glue is applied to cheap pulp paper. To give you an idea of the work that has gone into this scrapbook, it contains twelve double sided pages of scrapbook articles, pictures, sketches and photographs and measures forty millimetres in height and thirty millimetres in width and is only three millimetres thick. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The sewing box, the ‘home sweet home’ embroidery and the pencil all come from various online shops who sell dollhouse miniatures. The franked postcard in the foreground on the tea table comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
Also on the tea table, the tea cosy, which fits snugly over a white porcelain teapot, has been hand knitted in fine lemon, blue and violet wool. It comes easily off and off and can be as easily put back on as a real tea cosy on a real teapot. It comes from a specialist miniatures stockist in England.
The Deftware cup, saucer and milk jug are part of a 1:12 size miniature porcelain dinner set which I acquired from a private collection of 1:12 miniatures in Holland.
Edith’s armchair is upholstered in blue chintz, and is made to the highest quality standards by J.B.M. Miniatures. The back and seat cushions come off the body of the armchair, just like a real piece of furniture.
The chest of drawers I have had since I was a teenager. I bought it from the toy section of a large city department store.
Photo taken with a "VEB Rheinmetall Perfekta", a recent € 6,73 ebay shot.
It is a DDR bakelite camera built around 1954, very archaic looking:
lippisches-kameramuseum.de/Rheinmetall/Rheinmetall_Perfek...
Just one speed (1/25 sec) and three stops (7.7 - 11 - 16) and no focussing (fixfocus).... and here we go....
I sacrificed a Shanghai film and frankly, I was expecting the worst. Much to my surprise, the quality of the images is not bad at all - at least when taken with f11 or f16.
Perfekta (VEB Rheinmetall)
Achromat 80mm 7.7
Shanghai Film ISO 100
Negativscan
Bakelite Caravan
This Pod caravan is one of several at the now closed Bekerlite Museum. Constructed from the Bakerlite composite, early form of plastic.
The museum was an Aladins cave of all things Bakerlite, and on our visit i had the pleasure of speaking to the Museums owner Patrick Cook who told me at the time that his collection was now must to large to be housed at the three storey former water mill it then occupied in Williton Somerset and that only about a third of the collection was actually on display. Considering there were literally thousands of items you have to wonder what other gems lie in wait.
But if he is able to reopen at a bigger and more urban location a visit to the collection is a must.
That is if Saint Greta patron Saint of killjoys allows
Thanks for a stunning 61,070,837 views
Diolch am olygfa anhygoel, 61,070,837 hoblogaeth y Lloegr honno dros y Mynyddoedd
Pob lwc i'r bechgyn, yn chwarae yn erbyn Twrci heddiw
Shot 04-07-2017 at the Bakerlite Museum, Williton, Somerset REF 128-333
Photo taken with a "VEB Rheinmetall Perfekta", a € recent 6,73 ebay shot.
It is a DDR bakelite camera built around 1954, very archaic looking:
lippisches-kameramuseum.de/Rheinmetall/Rheinmetall_Perfek...
Just one speed (1/25 sec) and three stops (7.7 - 11 - 16) and no focussing (fixfocus).... and here we go....
Perfekta (VEB Rheinmetall)
Achromat 80mm 7.7
Shanghai Film ISO 100
Negativscan
Photo taken with a "VEB Rheinmetall Perfekta", a recent € 6,73 ebay shot.
It is a DDR bakelite camera built around 1954, very archaic looking:
lippisches-kameramuseum.de/Rheinmetall/Rheinmetall_Perfek...
Just one speed (1/25 sec) and three stops (7.7 - 11 - 16) and no focussing (fixfocus).... and here we go....
I sacrificed a Shanghai film and frankly, I was expecting the worst. Much to my surprise, the quality of the images is not bad at all - at least when taken with f11 or f16.
Perfekta (VEB Rheinmetall)
Achromat 80mm 7.7
Shanghai Film ISO 100
Negativscan
On the left is a Brownie No.0, made from 1914 to 1935. It's a much smaller version of the Box Brownies No 1, 2 etc. Next to it is a Baby Brownie, made from 1935, with a Bakelite body, in an art deco style. A very simple, small camera that actually took quite decent photos - using 127 film type (6 x 4 cm).
And then on the right is a Vest Pocket Kodak, made from 1912 to 1935. This pocketable folding camera was a scaled-down version of Kodak's large folding cameras. Next to it is the Jiffy Kodak V.P., manufactured from 1935. The body was made from Bakelite, and V.P. stood for "vest pocket".
The two Bakelite cameras cost me a total of £25, including pp, from two different vendors. You can still pick up some historically important, but mass produced, vintage film cameras for not a lot of money.
during a brief visit to our house in Maine... that we are now in the process of selling... my first visit since before the pandemic... I rediscovered some cameras left behind, including this bakelite toy camera circa 1960.
Bakelite 1930's Sportscar
Stylish Bakelite Sportscar, just one of thousands of items displayed at the now closed Bakerlite Museum in Williton, Somerset
The museum was an Aladins cave of all things Bakerlite, and on our visit i had the pleasure of speaking to the Museums owner Patrick Cook who told me at the time that his collection was now must to large to be housed at the three storey former water mill it then occupied in Williton Somerset and that only about a third of the collection was actually on display. Considering there were literally thousands of items you have to wonder what other gems lie in wait.
The first synthetic thermosetting plastic was phenol formaldehyde. It was patented in 1909 by Belgian-born chemist Leo Baekeland (1863-1944) who had emigrated to the US in 1889. The substance forms a useful mouldable plastic when combined with a wood flour filler. It is known by its trade name ’Bakelite’, after its inventor.
But if he is able to reopen at a bigger and more urban location a visit to the collection is a must.
That is if Saint Greta patron Saint of killjoys allows
Thanks for a stunning 61,070,837 views
Diolch am olygfa anhygoel, 61,070,837 hoblogaeth y Lloegr honno dros y Mynyddoedd
Pob lwc i'r bechgyn, yn chwarae yn erbyn Twrci heddiw
Shot 04-07-2017 at the Bakerlite Museum, Williton, Somerset REF 128-337
Some testing with a Skolnik Camera (an old Bakelite Russian 6x6 camera).
Original shots taken on film for B/W, almost no post processing, just scanned.
Keep the suggestion: View On Black
1955-1960, USA, by Spartus Corporation. Bakelite. 4x4cm / 127 film.
(This camera made in 1960; Earlier versions of this model–back to 1955–say "Herold Products" on the front)
From Sylvain Halgand's collection-appareils.fr:
"This very nice bakelite camera is a little bit like Kodak’s Starflash, even though the location of the flash reflector is different: here it is on the side of the finder, and not above the finder. The finish is far better than Kodak’s. The flash uses two AA batteries. The box mentions that the camera can take black & white, color or slide film.
There is a pull-button on the left side of the camera that can be positioned on either Color or B&W; pulling this button will change the aperture."
Some background on Spartus camera history here:
www.web4homes.com/cameras/spartus.htm
And a nice little Bakelite recap: www.web4homes.com/cameras/bakelite.htm
I grew up listening to the old proverb, “clothes maketh the man” whenever my Grandparents and I were fitted for, or went shopping for new clothes, or dressed up for an outing. The idea that people will judge you by the clothes you wear is sad but true. I personally don’t judge others by what they wear, but rather by who they are and what they do. However, my childhood experience has given me a sense of pride in building and maintaining a comprehensive and interesting wardrobe. The other saying I grew up being told by my beloved grandmother was to “march to the beat of my own drum”, and I am living proof of her words. As a result of combining those two sayings, my wardrobe is never out of fashion, because it was never in fashion. I set my own trends and make my own fashion: literally designing my own clothes with an array of interesting fabrics and buttons made of many different materials. That way I am always wearing something unique that expresses my own personal taste and flair.
Best viewed large.
This year the FFF+ Group have decided to have a weekly challenge called “Snap Happy”. A different theme chosen by a member of the group each week, and the image is to be posted on the Monday of the week.
This week the theme, “material” was chosen by Gary, Gazman_AU.
At first I thought, what better way to create something for the theme than to photograph fabric swatches from my creative (and theatrical according to my partner) wardrobe. Then I thought that since the theme was “material”, I could also celebrate my love of different and interesting buttons which are also made of many different materials.
Top row, left to right:
1.) a cut steel waistcoat button from Yorkshire made in 1845 sewn onto a waistcoat made of Liberty Tudor Rose upholstery fabric.
2.) A white on blue polka dot plastic shirt button sewn onto a blue on white polka dot fabric shirt.
3.) A small parasol covered button on a shirt made of the same Japanese cotton fabric.
4.) A white 1940s Bakelite daisy shank button set against a bolt of Liberty “Chester Row” Tana Lawn (shirt yet to be made).
5.) A 1920s Art Deco Bakelite coat button set against a bolt of Morris & Co “Willow Bough cotton lawn fabric.
6.) An excess Alannah Hill pink resin blouse button used on a shirt of cotton sunflower print.
Second row, left to right:
1.) A black fish scale plastic shank button on a shirt of Japanese cotton featuring the symbols of several ancient Japanese houses.
2.) A 1950s blue plastic button set against a bolt of “Forget-Me-Not” cotton (shirt yet to be made).
3.) A large shank button covered in 1960s embossed golden yellow chrysanthemum satin on the French black velvet cuff of a theatre coat.
4.) A red gingham plastic button on a red gingham shirt.
5.) A Union Jack plastic button from Britain set against a bolt of “Taxi!” cotton (shirt yet to be made).
6.) A metal Viennese coat button from the 1920s set against a bolt of “Hera” peacock feather Liberty Tanna Lawn (shirt yet to be made with different buttons).
Third row, left to right:
1.) A large shank button covered in Liberty “Yellow Nouveau Poppy” cotton sewn onto the shoulder of a “tea-shirt” of Liberty “Blue Nouveau Poppy” cotton. Tea-Shirts are my own original design. They are a take on a t-shirt crossed with an Edwardian tea gown: with a rounded neck, a long and loose fit and no buttons down the front, but with buttons on the shoulders to allow it to be put over the head without messing up the hair.
2.) A rather whimsical orange fox shirt button set against a bolt of “Fantastic Mr. Fox” cotton (shirt yet to be made).
3.) Made by the jewellers W. Wright Ltd (est. 1848), this button is part of a set of six of what are known as “Bachelor Buttons”. Bachelor Buttons usually featured ladies in some form, either allegorical figures, or (as in this case) real women. Made circa 1905, this waistcoat button features the famous Edwardian actress Camille Clifford (1885 - 1971). Each button was made by taking a lithograph of a photograph of the actress, painting it my hand, and once dry then coating the image in celluloid to protect the image. The protected image was then inserted into a 9 carat gold frame and backing. It is placed against a bolt of figured pink and blue satin.
4.) A blue wooden button with metal housings against a bolt of Eighteenth Century calico print of “Poppies in Blue” (shirt yet to be made).
5.) A white polka dot on navy plastic shirt button on the cuff of a white and white polka dot on navy cotton shirt.
6.) An Art Deco glass dress button on a theatre jacket of high thread count Japanese cotton featuring a chrysanthemum pattern.
Fourth row, left to right:
1.) A collar button covered in 1970s burnt orange and black kimono fabric on a theatre coat made of a converted kimono in the same Japanese fabric.
2.) A black 1930s resin button featuring flowers set against a bolt of Japanese cotton featuring a print of different Japanese match brands from the 1920s (shirt yet to be made).
3.) A 1930s jade green Scottie Dog Bakelite button set against a bolt of green polka dot on white cotton (shirt yet to be made).
4.) A large metal Art Nouveau shank button on a theatre coat of high thread count Japanese cotton featuring a chrysanthemum pattern.
5.) A metal and powder coated flamingo shank button on a pink gingham cotton shirt.
6.) A vegetable ivory diamond shaped button, dyed magenta specifically on a pink cherry blossom shirt of Japanese cotton.
Fifth row, left to right:
1.) A floral resin button on a theatre jacket of high thread count Japanese cotton featuring an iris pattern.
2.) A plastic cherry button from America on the sleeve of a shirt of red cherry cotton.
3.) A large button covered in gilt weave chrysanthemum Japanese cotton on the tail of a theatre coat featuring panels of red chrysanthemum Japanese obi fabric.
4.) A blue “tulip button” sewn onto a shirt of Liberty “Blue Nouveau Poppy” cotton.
5.) A large parasol covered button on a “tea-shirt” made of the same Japanese cotton fabric. Tea-Shirts are my own original design. They are a take on a t-shirt crossed with an Edwardian tea gown: with a rounded neck, a long and loose fit and no buttons down the front, but with buttons on the shoulders to allow it to be put over the head without messing up the hair.
6.) A large 1940s taupe plastic button sewn onto a shirt of Japanese cotton featuring colourful parasols on a taupe background.
Bottom row, left to right:
1.) Made in Japan and imported to Britain during the late Nineteenth Century as part of the Japonism craze, this two-tone blue cloisonné waistcoat button is part of a set of six, and is set against a bolt of blue cherry blossom Japanese cotton.
2.) A square red vegetable ivory button on a shirt of Liberty “Morris Waterlilies in Red” cotton.
3.) A Black Japanned wooden 1920s coat button on a theatre jacket of embroidered Shanghai cherry blossom satin.
4.) A lacquered plum and black button on the cuff of a pink and red polka dot on white cotton shirt.
5.) A large shank button covered in Morris “Brown Poppies” cotton sewn onto the shoulder of a “tea-shirt” of the same fabric. Tea-Shirts are my own original design. They are a take on a t-shirt crossed with an Edwardian tea gown: with a rounded neck, a long and loose fit and no buttons down the front, but with buttons on the shoulders to allow it to be put over the head without messing up the hair.
6.) A pink and white candy stripe resin button on a pink gingham cotton shirt.
Photo taken with a "VEB Rheinmetall Perfekta", a recent € 6,73 ebay shot.
It is a DDR bakelite camera built around 1954, very archaic looking:
lippisches-kameramuseum.de/Rheinmetall/Rheinmetall_Perfek...
Just one speed (1/25 sec) and three stops (7.7 - 11 - 16) and no focussing (fixfocus).... and here we go....
Perfekta (VEB Rheinmetall)
Achromat 80mm 7.7
Shanghai Film ISO 100
Negativscan
Photo taken with a "VEB Rheinmetall Perfekta", a recent € 6,73 ebay shot.
It is a DDR bakelite camera built around 1954, very archaic looking:
lippisches-kameramuseum.de/Rheinmetall/Rheinmetall_Perfek...
Just one speed (1/25 sec) and three stops (7.7 - 11 - 16) and no focussing (fixfocus).... and here we go....
I sacrificed a Shanghai film and frankly, I was expecting the worst. Much to my surprise, the quality of the images is not bad at all - at least when taken with f11 or f16.
Perfekta (VEB Rheinmetall)
Achromat 80mm 7.7
Shanghai Film ISO 100
Negativscan
I recently found an old Capta camera on the market 'Encants' in Barcelona. It is a spanish camera from the 40's or 50's I think. I couldn't find much info about it. It is made of bakelite and shoots 120 film in 4,5 x 6 cm. The lens says 'Objetivo especial', and it's something special indeed. I really like the unsharpness towards the edges.
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Capta camera
TMAX400
Developed in XTOL for 6.30 min
Scanned with Epson V700
Lightroom 3
IN ENGLISH BELOW THE LINE
La Haneel Tri-Vision és una càmera força inusual, i molt de l'estètica del seu temps. Tota ella diu "anys 50". Es tracta d'una càmera stereo per al encara més dificil de trobar format 828. L'obturador no funciona. De fet s'en varen fer dos models estèticament diferents, ambdos en baquelita, i per desgracia aquest que tinc no és el més espectacular, ja que és la versió negra. L'altra era en imitació fusta!
Fou fabricada a Los Angeles, Estats Units entre 1946 i 1949.
Sembla que el model en negre és el darrer, de 1949.
www.camarassinfronteras.com/haneel_tri_vision/haneel_tri_...
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The Haneel Tri-Vision is a rather unusual camera, and very much of the aesthetic of its time. She says "50s" all over her. This is a stereo camera for the even harder to find 828 format. The shutter does not work in this camera.
In fact, several aesthetically different models were made, all in bakelite, and unfortunately the one I have is not the most spectacular, as it is the black version. The other was in imitation wood!
It was manufactured in Los Angeles, United States between 1946 and 1949.
It looks like the black model is the last one, from 1949.
This year the FFF+ Group have decided to have a weekly challenge called “Snap Happy”. A different theme chosen by a member of the group each week, and the image is to be posted on the Monday of the week.
This week the theme, “animals” was chosen by Cheryl, Cheryl - Vickypoint.
I have no pets of my own, which is too long a story to go into as to why. However, this enabled me to be creative with the theme. So I decided to choose this 1920s jade green Scottie Dog Bakelite button set against a bolt of green polka dot on white cotton. Why did I entitle this photo “A Good and Faithful Friend”? I did so because like other unusual buttons, he travels wherever I go, and never strays far, as I search for fabric to go with him. He always comes out when I call him!
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are not at Cavendish Mews. Instead, we are just a short distance away in London’s busy shopping precinct on Regent Street, where Lettice has joined the throng of Londoners and visitors and is doing a little bit of Christmas shopping. Already she is noticing that the shops are busier than usual, and even though Christmas is still a good few weeks away, there are signs of Christmas cheer with bright and gaudy tinsel garlands and stars cut from metallic paper hanging in shop windows and gracing shop counters.
She breathes a sigh of relief as she walks through the white painted double doors of Boots* opened for her by a liveried doorman. As the doors close behind her, Lettice expects the general cacophony of Regent Street shoppers to die away beyond the plate glass, however whilst the sound of noisy automobiles and chugging busses dissipates, the vociferous sound of women chattering seems only to increase. Looking around the shop floor of Boots with its floor to ceiling cabinets of goods, she can quickly see why. Every counter around the shop, from the perfumes to the Boots Book-Lovers' Library is besieged by clusters of mostly female shoppers in stylish three quarter length coats with fur collars or fur stoles and elegant autumn and winter hats, all clamouring for different things, and all being assisted by obliging Boots shop girls.
Lettice sighs and considers which counter she needs. Spotting a gap at the perfume counter, Lettice walks across the room with the gait of a viscount’s daughter: elegant, unhurried – as a lady never runs, she was taught from a young age – yet purposeful and driven. She gently slips between two older women in felt hats and black coats, one with a fox fur collar and the other with a mink stole. Both ladies are being served by smartly uniformed women with Marcel waved** hair and the air about them fills with the cloying fragrance of different scents all mixed together in a thick fug that makes Lettice want to sneeze. She wonders silently as she stands patiently at the counter and hooks the black leather handle of her green umbrella over the raised wooden edge of the glass top to stake her place, how either woman can choose a scent when they are so intermixed as the assistants spray atomiser after atomiser onto small cards that the ladies then raise to their noses. She smiles to herself as the lady on her left screws up her nose in distaste at the scent card she has just been given.
Lettice looks across the counter and scrutinises the wooden shelves where brightly coloured boxes and faceted glass bottles are arranged attractively, promoting rose, gardenia and lily of the valley perfumes. However, she doesn’t see what she wants amongst the stylised Art Deco patterns.
“May I help you, madam?” asks a rather buxom assistant with mousy coloured hair framing her slightly pudgy face.
Lettice considers her for a moment. Before the war this girl’s figure with its full bosom and ample hips would have been most desirable, yet in the new decade where a flatter chest and slimmer hips are more in vogue, she seems to be a throwback to a long forgotten time. Her face is flushed, probably from running hither and yon satisfying customers’ needs, and a sprinkle of freckles grace the bridge of her pert nose. The clean faces of Boots’ assistants seems to be at odds with the fact that one of the mainstays they sell is makeup. Ever since Harry Selfridge made makeup fashionable just before the war and brought it to the front of his department store, more and more women have taken to wearing at least a little powder and some lip rouge.
“Is madam looking for something in particular?” the assistant asks again, breaking Lettice from her inner thoughts and scrutiny of her.
“Yes,” Lettice announces clearly, drawing the momentary attention of the women either side of her. Placing her crocodile skin handbag upon the glass top of the counter she continues, “I’m looking for a dressing table set. Do you have any?”
Admiring the tailored cut of Lettice’s forest green coat, thick arctic fox fur stole and smart hat cocked at a jaunty angle over her freshly coiffed hair, and hearing her clipped upper-class tones, the assistant thinks it is unlikely that anything she presents to her customer will be good enough for her. Nevertheless, she replies with a well practiced smile, “Certainly madam. We have some stylish silver plated sets.”
“No, no!” Lettice waves her dark green leather glove clad hands dismissively. She looks down disdainfully. “Not silver.”
“Is chrome more to madam’s taste?” the Boots shop girl asks.
“Is there really a great deal of difference between the look of silver and chrome?” Lettice tuts as she gives her a slightly withering look.
“We have a smart faux tortoiseshell set that is very popular.”
“If I wanted tortoiseshell,” Lettice remarks offhandedly as she considers her gloved fingertips. “I’d not waste my time on faux and buy the genuine article.”
“Of course, madam. I beg your pardon.” The young girl’s shoulders slump, the disappointed sigh she quietly emanates muffled by the animated chatter from the customers about her. “We have a rather pretty pink faceted glass set that comes on its own tray.” she suggests rather hopefully.
“Oh no!” Lettice says again, shaking her head. “Not pink! That will never do! No! What I want, is something… something modern.” Her shoulders square and her back straightens as she speaks the words. “I need something that embodies the young working woman. Well,” She looks the girl on the opposite side of the counter squarely in the face. “Well, like you really.”
The Boots shop girl falls silent, unsure what to suggest to her fussy upper-class customer as she looks awkwardly anywhere but into her face, and thereby avoiding direct eye contact.
“If you could have your choice of any dressing table set in the shop,” Lettice continues, saving the girl from having to proffer another unsatisfactory choice. “Which would you choose?”
“Me, madam?” the assistant balks in surprise at being asked her opinion, her hand rising to her chest.
“Yes.” Lettice replies matter-of-factly. “Do you not have desires of your own?”
The shop girl doesn’t quite know how to respond to such a question at first, taken aback by Lettice’s very direct words. Finally, she mutters, “Well, yes.”
“Excellent!” Lettice clasps her hands together enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t you like a dressing table set for Christmas?”
“Well, I would, but…”
“Now! Now! No buts!” Lettice counters, laying her hands flatly on the counter, indicating her refusal to argue the point. “Tell me, which one would you choose?”
“Well, we do have a rather nice eau-de-nil Bakelite*** dressing table set that I have taken quite fancy to.” the girl admits almost guiltily, her face flushing with embarrassment.
“Now that sounds just the thing!” Lettice enthuses. “I would like to see that set, please.”
“Yes madam!” the Boots shop girl replies in surprise as she reaches into a drawer beneath the counter and withdraws a brightly coloured carboard box covered in geometric patterns.
She starts to set out the items from within it on the glass surface of the counter: a brush, mirror and comb, a shoe horn, a powder pot and a hair tidy, an emery board, button hook and clothes brush.
“It comes with its own tray, madam.” the assistant says to Lettice hopefully.
“I don’t suppose this set comes with a picture frame, does it?”
“Why yes madam, it does.” She bends down to the drawer and withdraws a square frame with a scalloped edge which was not in the box.
Lettice’s eyes light up in delight when she sees the frame. Picking it up in her hands she admires its simplicity. “This is perfect.” she sighs with pleasure.
“It is, madam?” the young girl asks, unable to keep the incredulousness from her voice.
“Yes, could you have this gift wrapped for me, and sent to my address, please?” Lettice asks.
“Of course, madam,” the assistant replies enthusiastically. “But don’t you want to know the price of it, before you say yes?”
“Not particularly,” Lettice replies. “However, if it makes you feel better, you’d best tell me.”
“Well it’s six shillings and sixpence, madam, if that suits.”
“Yes, yes!” Lettice waves her hand breezily, as if sweeping away the price and the connotation of money. “Please, just gift wrap it, and have it sent, if you would.”
The Boots shop girl smiles as she fetches a notepad and pen. “If you’d care to write down your particulars, madam.”
Placing the frame back down on the glass top of the counter, Lettice smiles satisfactorily to herself, pleased that she has found the perfect Christmas gift for her maid, Edith. After seeing the worn photograph of her fallen sweetheart on Remembrance Day, Lettice has been constantly troubled by how easily damaged it could become, being housed in Edith’s handbag. It is the only photograph Edith has of her lost love, and she is unlikely to ever get another one. Lettice is most keen to ensure its survival and pride of place on Edith’s chest of drawers in her little bedroom at the Cavendish Mews flat, even if Edith’s mother might not agree with her.
*Boots the chemist was established in 1849, by John Boot. After his father's death in 1860, Jesse Boot, aged 10, helped his mother run the family's herbal medicine shop in Nottingham, which was incorporated as Boot and Co. Ltd in 1883, becoming Boots Pure Drug Company Ltd in 1888. In 1920, Jesse Boot sold the company to the American United Drug Company. However, because of deteriorating economic circumstances in North America Boots was sold back into British hands in 1933. The grandson of the founder, John Boot, who inherited the title Baron Trent from his father, headed the company. The Boots Pure Drug Company name was changed to The Boots Company Limited in 1971. Between 1898 and 1966, many branches of Boots incorporated a lending library department, known as Boots Book-Lovers' Library.
**Marcelling is a hair styling technique in which hot curling tongs are used to induce a curl into the hair. Its appearance was similar to that of a finger wave but it is created using a different method. Marcelled hair was a popular style for women's hair in the 1920s, often in conjunction with a bob cut. For those women who had longer hair, it was common to tie the hair at the nape of the neck and pin it above the ear with a stylish hair pin or flower. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.
*** Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.
This shop counter display and the shelves behind it may not appear to be what they really are, for however lifelike they are, they are in fact part of my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The eau-de-nil dressing table set, which has been made with incredible detail to make it as realistic as possible is a Chrysnbon Miniature set. The mirror even contains a real piece of reflective mirror. Judy Berman founded Chrysnbon Miniatures in the 1970’s. She created affordable miniature furniture kits patterned off of her own full-size antiques collection. She then added a complete line of accessories to compliment the furniture. The style of furniture and accessories reflect the turn-of-the-century furnishings of a typical early American home. At the time, collectible miniatures were expensive because they were mostly individually crafted.
The faceted glass perfume bottles on the counter and the shelves behind it are all handmade by an English artisan for the Little Green Workshop. Made of cut coloured crystals set in a gilt metal frames or using vintage cut glass beads they look so elegant, exotic and terribly luxurious.
The stylish Art Deco eau de cologne boxes are all 1:12 miniature versions of real 1920s perfume boxes. They are made by hand by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
Lettice’s snakeskin handbag with its gold clasp and chain comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature Shop in the United Kingdom. Lettice’s umbrella also comes from Smallskale Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
This little red Bakelite pot with the letter L embossed on its lid is a pot of 1930s “Mandarin” Leichner Cosmetics rouge, which still contains its original sponge, a mirror on the inside of the lid, and most of the contents, which are a wonderful shade of scarlet.
This year the FFF+ Group have decided to have a monthly challenge called “Snap Happy”. A different theme, or a selection of themes to choose from or combine is provided on the 5th of every month, and the image is to be posted on the 5th of the following month.
The theme for January is “scarlet”. I thought this simple little scarlet lidded pot met the theme perfectly. With the black background I thought it really brought out the scarlet colour of the Bakelite lid, and the mirror helps give it a sense of luxury, which of course this little pot of makeup once would have been when released in the 1930s.
In 1878 Ludwig Leichner started a business producing stage make up. Over the years it soon established a strong reputation for vivid colours and reliable products for the stage and screen. By the mid thirties many female artistes who were delighted with the Leichner Stage Make-Up were demanding a cream, which they could wear off stage. The Camera Clear range was introduced starting with the famous Camera Clear Tinted Foundation which is unchanged to this day.
Mid-Century Modern, 1959, Setchell-Carlson, 17" Portable Color TV, Model P-62, Chassis Model #5277, Model C-101 or C-105, 17AVP4A Picture Tube, UNIT-IZED , R.C.A & Hazeltine, New Brighton MINN., Bakelite handle and knobs
Thanks so much for the 7,000 views!
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The image is dedicated to my true-blue Flickr friend, _davidh_. Thank you for your wonderful testimonial, Dave, and unwavering encouragement and support!
Dave loves experimenting with new techniques and themes and his work always has a clever, original and often humerous slant. I recommend you check out his photostream:
www.flickr.com/photos/davidh3160/
AWA is a legend in Australia - virtually every home in Australia had an AWA radio and television at one time. As I often call David a legend, this seemed like an appropriate image to choose as a tribute to him. It is not meant to be indicative of your vintage, Dave, but if the cap fits - wear it :-D
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AWA (Amalgamated Wireless Australasia) sold their first "Radiola" home radio receivers in 1924. The model in my collection is circa. 1950, probably 1955. It is a four valve mantle set in a cream bakelite case, and still works like a charm after all these years.
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Fabulous vintage wallpaper texture courtesy of:
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today we are in her drawing room, which has taken on a festive air with a smart Christmas tree, expertly decorated by Lettice taking pride of place in the middle of the room. A collection of gaily wrapped Christmas gifts sit beneath its boughs, awaiting either for the arrival of their intended at Lettice’s invitation or to be taken to their intended by her. A garland drapes elegantly over the fireplace, the mantle of which is decorated with brightly coloured cards in the latest Art Deco style.
Lettice rises from her black japanned Art Deco tub armchair and goes to walk to the green baize door that leads from the dining room into the service area of her flat. She stops suddenly, remembering what Wanetta Ward said about her maid’s feelings about Wanetta walking unannounced into her kitchen, and thinks. Walking over to the fireplace, she depresses the servants’ bell, which she can hear ring in the kitchen.
Edith, Lettice’s maid, walks through the door, steps across the dining room and appears before her mistress. “Yes Miss?” she asks, making a bob curtsey.
“Edith, I’d like to have a word with you.” Lettice replies. Then, without further ado, she bends down and starts fossicking through the gifts beneath the Christmas tree.
“With me, Miss?” Edith suddenly looks perplexed down at her mistress’s derrière, clad in a deep blue serge skirt, as she moves parcels wrapped in brightly coloured festive metallic paper about.
“Yes,” Lettice glances up at her maid. “Oh, do sit down, won’t you Edith? I can’t have you standing about, cluttering up the place.”
The maid looks at what she calls the guest’s chair rather nervously. She feels awkward sitting down in her mistress’ presence on her white upholstered tub armchair, dressed in her black moiré uniform and lace frilled apron and cuffs. However, she knows better than to argue with her somewhat eccentric employer. “Yes Miss.” she sighs resignedly. She feels a blush warming her skin as it rises from her collar bones, up her neck and throat and to her cheeks as she timidly perches.
The maid watches her mistress continue her search.
“Ah!” Lettice’s triumphant cry is somewhat muffled as she calls from beneath the bauble decorated boughs surrounded by gaily wrapped gifts. “There it is!”
“What is, Miss?” Edith asks squinting to see what Lettice has. Feeling redundant perched on the edge of the armchair, she adds, “Can I be of any assistance, Miss?”
“No. No, Edith.” Lettice resumes her seat, placing a beautifully pink foil paper wrapped gift with a card tied expertly to it with silver satin ribbons on her lap.
“Then, pardon me for asking, Miss, but I do have a few things still to do before you and I go home for Christmas.” She looks hopefully at Lettice. “You said you wanted a word?”
“I actually have two words for you, Edith!” Lettice replies with a beaming smile, as she deposits the gift on the table and settles herself back in her tub armchair. “Merry Christmas!”
“For me, Miss?” Edith says in disbelief, her eyes widening with shock at the beautifully wrapped parcel between them.
“Yes, Edith,” Lettice replies with a sweeping gesture of her elegant manicured hand.
“Oh Miss!” Edith gasps. “I… I don’t know what to say?”
“That’s what you said, last year, however you still managed a polite thank you.” Lettice replies with a benevolent smile, smoothing down her dress.
“Oh yes!” Edith blushes. “Where are my manners?” She rises, drops a bob curtsey and then sinks back down onto the seat again, sitting almost imperceptibly more comfortably upon it. “Thank you, Miss.” Edith replies humbly as she withdraws the card from the satin bow of her gift.
Inside the envelope is nestled a rather sentimental and old fashioned card of Father Christmas, quite unlike anything Lettice has on her own mantlepiece, but a card greatly to Edith’s taste.
“This is your second year of working for me, Edith,” Lettice begins as Edith opens the card and reads it. “And once again you’ve been a real brick! I couldn’t have held such a wonderful soirée for Dickie and Margot without your help, and I know you hated talking to the Duchess of Whitby on the telephone.”
“Oh I wouldn’t say hate, Miss.” the maid defends.
“Edith,” Lettice looks her directly in the eye and says matter-of-factly. “If I hated talking to her on the telephone, I can only imagine what fear she must have struck into you with her icy tones, that nasty old trout!”
Edith bows her head but doesn’t reply, instead toying with the satin ribbon, gently working its soft presence through her careworn fingers.
“Well don’t just play with your gift, Edith, open it!” Lettice’s palpable excitement charges the air.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful. It’s almost too beautiful to unwrap, Miss.”
“Nonsense! Now don’t be a spoil sport! I thought long and hard about this gift for you, and I think it is perfect. However,” she adds tempering her tone. “I just want to be sure.”
Edith carefully unwraps the bow from the present and places the discarded ribbon on the green brocade stool next to her. The crisp sound of the foil wrapping tearing fills the air about the two women. Beneath the pretty metallic pink Edith finds a box prettily decorated with a still life of roses in a vase.
“Oh Miss!” Edith gasps.
“Well don’t stop there!” Lettice laughs. “Open it up. I was going to have them put it into a nice Art Deco patterned box, but I thought this was perhaps a little more you.”
“Oh, it is! The box on its own is enough of a present, Miss.” She runs her hands lovingly over the brightly painted surface
“Well, you may think that Edith, but I don’t. Keep going!”
Edith removes the box lid and finds it filled with a froth of bright blue tissue paper. Peeling back the layers she discovers the eau-de-nil Bakelite* mirror first, and then the hairbrush, followed by the shoehorn, the lidded box and then the frame.
“Oh Miss, I… I really don’t know what to say.” the maid says, holding the frame between her hands, looking down at its smart, slightly curved shape.
“Do you like them?” Lettice asks hopefully, her fingers steepled before her in anticipation.
“Like them?” Edith gasps. “I think they are most beautiful and stylish things I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Edith stands again. “Thank you, Miss.” She drops another quick bob curtsey.
“Oh I’m so pleased.” Lettice claps her hands in delight. “When I saw your picture of Bert on Armistice Day, I knew you needed a better home for him than the inner pocket of your handbag.”
“I don’t know what my Mum will say,” Edith begins.
“Well, she doesn’t need to know, does she?” Lettice interrupts. “It’s the only photo you have of him, so you best take good care of it and put it safely in the frame.” She looks at her delighted maid holding the frame for a moment. “And maybe one day there might be a new photograph of someone else to go in there, but for now, put Bert in there.”
“That’s very generous of you, Miss.”
“Not at all Edith,” Lettice flaps the compliment away with a languid hand. “You deserve it for being a brick of a maid. I’m only pleased that you like it!”
“Oh I do, Miss! I like it ever so much!”
“And you can always take the brush, mirror, and I think there’s still a comb in the box,” Lettice cranes her neck and peers into the crumpled blue tissue spilling from the box where she can see the eau-de-nil Bakelite tray peeking out. “When you go home to stay for Christmas. I’m sure your mother would appreciate seeing some of the gift I’ve given you. Just don’t mention the frame.” She smiles in a conspiring way. “That can be our little secret.” She taps the side of her nose with her finger.
“Yes Miss.”
“And is your brother going to be home for Christmas this year too?”
“Yes he is Miss!” Edith gushes. “His ship docks in Southampton just before Christmas. Mum got a postcard from Melbourne just the other week. He’s been a saloon steward on a ship that sailed all the way to Australia! Can you believe it, Miss?”
Lettice smiles indulgently at her wide eyed maid as she replies, “Goodness, that is a very long journey isn’t it? Well, it sounds like you will have a lovely Christmas with everyone reunited.”
“Merry Christmas, Miss.”
“Merry Christmas, Edith.”
Edith settles ever so slightly further back into the cushions of the tub chair and admires her beautiful new dressing table set.
*Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.
This upper-class Mayfair drawing room may look very real to you, but it is in fact made up of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The eau-de-nil dressing table set, which has been made with incredible detail to make it as realistic as possible is a Chrysnbon Miniature set. The mirror even contains a real piece of reflective mirror. Judy Berman founded Chrysnbon Miniatures in the 1970’s. She created affordable miniature furniture kits patterned off of her own full-size antiques collection. She then added a complete line of accessories to compliment the furniture. The style of furniture and accessories reflect the turn-of-the-century furnishings of a typical early American home. At the time, collectible miniatures were expensive because they were mostly individually crafted.
British artisan Ken Blythe was famous in miniature collectors’ circles mostly for the miniature books that he made: all being authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection. However, he did not make books exclusively. He also made other small pieces like the brightly decorated box, which is actually a memory box and came filled with miniature cards, keepsakes and even legible letters in envelopes! To create something so authentic to a life sized original in such detail and so clearly, really does make these miniature artisan pieces. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago and through his estate courtesy of the generosity of his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The Christmas card on the table is just one of twelve handmade traditional style Christmas cards that arrived in their own Christmas box from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in Essex.
The Christmas wrapping is actually foil from a small chocolate egg I ate during Easter 2021, but I think it does the job of pretending to be Christmas paper.
The elegantly decorated Christmas tree is a hand-made 1:12 size artisan miniature made by an artist in America. The presents beneath it come from various miniature specialist stockists in England.
The 1:12 miniature garland over the Art Deco fireplace was hand-made by Karen Lady Bug Miniatures in England and the 1;12 Art Deco card selection on the mantle came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature store in England.
The Elite Styles magazine from 1921 sitting on the lower tray of the black japanned coffee table was made by hand by Petite Gite Miniatures in the United States.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. To the left of the fireplace is a Hepplewhite drop-drawer bureau and chair of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs, even down the legs and inside the bureau. The chair set has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven. To the right of the fireplace is a Chippendale cabinet which has also been decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks.
On the top of the Hepplewhite bureau stand three real miniature photos in frames including an Edwardian silver frame, a Victorian brass frame and an Art Deco blue Bakelite and glass frame.
The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.
On the left hand side of the mantle, behind the cards, you can just glimpse the turquoise coloured top of an Art Deco metal clock hand painted with wonderful detail by British miniature artisan Victoria Fasken.
In the middle of the mantle is a miniature artisan hand painted Art Deco statue on a “marble” plinth. Made by Warwick Miniatures in England, it is a 1:12 copy of the “Theban Dancer” sculpture created by Claire-Jeanne-Roberte Colinet in 1925.
The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
Made by Kodak from December 1947 to September 1950, this camera had a Bakelite body with metal fittings and trim. It used 620 film and the original cost was $22.