The USSR, the land of mud and wooden spoons, also produced its only line of wooden cameras, FKD, for several decades (I feel in my bones that the acronym means something, but I haven't looked up what).

The design is a classic variant of the German Reisekameras produced since 1860, the final iteration of which was the Soviet FKD until 1980. This ranged in size from 13x18cm to 30x40cm.

Either way, it's the magnum opus of Soviet photo-carpentry, fitted with a default Industar 210mm f4.5 lens - and both are pretty light and compact, thus fulfilling the essence of these types of cameras, produced as portable, or travel cameras. The camera was also accompanied with a stylish tripod and holders or travel case (therefore what Kharkov factory has joined together, let no one separate!). Everything was produced by the millions as everything, which is still favourably reflected in the price compared to other manufacturers.

But unfortunately, the positives kind of end there. Getting a holder that has not any light leaks are almost impossiblle.

The tripod is about as stable as if you put the camera on a puppy with ADHD, and with the camera itself you're not sure if it was manufactured in millimeters, centimeters, or just beaten with a rock. But considering that the factories were mostly making furniture, but maybe also tractors, tanks and sewing machines, it's actually a pretty impressive result. The camera smells of vodka, and when you lift the ground glass and insert the holder, the quiet tones of The Internationale occasionally waft from within, lost in the wind.

As a first camera, though, it's absolutely brilliant. You learn the basic mechanics, it's really funny (kind of hysterically funny) and you never know what's going to come out of it. Anyway, you can always make a lamp or a mushroom steamer out of it eventually. But I remember it fondly in spite of it all. My first large format. Thanks, FKD.