Ondu 6x6 Mk II Review and Photos

Ondu 6X6 MK II Review

What is a camera, in its most basic, most fundamental level? When a camera works, when we use it, the camera-ness of it, I argue, is fundamentally different than the camera-ness it exudes when we talk about it or look at it. When we talk about or look at cameras, they should look and be like cameras, which is to say recognizable as the tool and – in a perfect world – aesthetically pleasing in and of themselves. As an object of conversation or aesthetic appreciation, the camera should garner attention and get in the way of our thoughts and conversations. When a camera does that, it succeeds as an object.

When we use a camera, however, the purpose and camera-ness is, and must be, different in nature. When we use a camera it should melt, or erode. The camera-ness of a camera in use should be to become an extension of ourselves, to be forgotten as we use it. A camera in use should feel non-existent, immaterial, perhaps it should even feel like it does not exist. When a camera does that, it succeeds as a tool.

Ondu 6X6 Mk II | Benton Hot Springs Bungalo | Kodak Ektar

The Ondu is certainly a striking camera to look at. The curved lines, contrasting wood tones, simple and functional design. These aspects make it much more of a conversation piece than any other camera I’ve used. The Ondu gets as many questions and conversations from strangers as my Anniversary Graphic and Pentax 6X7. The Ondu stands out and succeeds as an object to be discussed.

But when I use it, perhaps because of its Spartan simplicity, the camera melts away and all that exists are photographer, scene, and composition. During an image sighting and exposure, the Ondu evaporates into vapor, leaves the scene, and allows the photographer to exist in a vacuum with the subject. The Ondu stands out as a success as a tool to be used.

Ondu 6X6 Mk II | Vail, Colorado | Fuji Velvia 50

We load film into cameras. The important parts of that film are kept in perfect darkness until the briefest flash imprints an image into their emulsions. Humans, by our DNA, fear the dark. We fear the unknown. We want to know what will happen and what has happened. Digital cameras make that easy. We take a photo and in a seconds we can see the result. We keep our film in the dark, the very place we fear. The history of photography is one of bringing ourselves into the light, to make the images we capture more predictable and to never have to fear the results.

Pinhole photography strips us of that safety. Pinhole cameras thrust us into the dark alongside our film. We don’t know if the images will turn out. There’s no digital preview, no viewfinder, no reflex mirror to show us what we’ve take or what we will take. We can place, align, and then hope that we have both the scene and the exposure correct. We are in the dark about the results our film will deliver until we see the developed negatives. Pinhole photographers embrace the fear of failure, the lack of knowledge about our imagery’s success or lack thereof.

Ondu 6X6 Mk II | Valley Oak | Rollei Digibase Color Negative 200

Pinhole work embraces a soft, anti-technical aesthetic. That doesn’t mean that pinhole photographers are sloppy or imprecise; in fact, we have to be more careful and more precise than any photographer using an automatic camera. We accept and embrace soft aesthetic as a reward to a precision image capture process.

Ondu has an aim: simple use and beautiful design that connect photographers to the roots of our photographic history with a camera that will outlive us. That’s exactly what each generation of their progressively better cameras deliver: A way for photographers to walk in the artistic footsteps of all the lensless photographers to come before us. A way for photographers to embrace the dark, embrace the fear, and when we get our results, see that there was nothing to fear in the first place.

Ondu 6X6 Mk II | Joshua Tree National Park | Ilford PanF+ 50