Voigtländer Superb – Just Superb

If you don’t have time to read this review of the Voigtländer Superb, I can read this to you with the Photo Thinking Blogcast! You can find it on most podcast platforms or here.

Voigtländer Superb

A few cameras come to mind when you use the word striking.  The Voigtländer Superb is one of them.  This 1930s Twin Lens Reflex (TLR) gives off a steampunk vibe, but at the same time you can see and feel the quality.  Functionally it is even different from the standard TLR formula.  It’s almost as if Voigtländer were trying to capture market share from another well-known and popular TLR brand.

I had wanted a Superb for quite a while when I came across this copy.  Not only that, but I also accidentally bought two of them at the same time.  I’ll expand on that story later in the article, including the amazing journey the second Superb took after I moved it on.

TLRs require a unique mindset for shooting.  Apart from the obvious, where the image on the ground glass is reversed, they are held differently and controlled differently than most other cameras.  Not to mention the attention they garner out in public.  I have lost track of the number of times a stranger will walk up and ask me what type of camera the Superb is.

I am a true believer that the tools we use should be as stylish and beautiful as the output they produce.  For instance, I drive a nice car rather than a basic model for the same reason.  My favourite watches are beautifully made timepieces, again for the same reason.  In both cases they get me to the same destination or tell me the same time, but I appreciate the workmanship and quality of the tool.  Why should cameras be any different?

The Voigtländer Superb easily falls into that category.  It is a TLR, as many others are, but it has a design that is elegant, easily recognisable and a quality that you see clearly to the minutest detail.  Whether the brass finishes, the thought into how it would be used, right through to the long-lasting materials in manufacture.  An easy example is this copy which is now hitting the ninety-year mark. I’d love to know what it has been used for in previous lives and what this lens has shot.

Call it wishful dreaming, but sometimes I reckon I can see images from many years ago in the ground glass.  Someone or something that has left an imprint from a time long ago swirling within the camera.  Then again, it could just be that it is a bit hard to see in bright daylight due to the old mirror and dim ground glass image.

I do have to give props to Voigtländer with the naming of their cameras.  How many companies would have the courage call their cameras names like Superb, Brillant, Prominent etc.

I’ve had the Superb going onto a couple of years now.  It is a camera I enjoy reaching for and has been my go-to TLR during that time.  As mentioned earlier, it did come to me with a sibling, and there is an extraordinary story attached to that one, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here and find out a bit more about the camera.

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History

The history of the Voigtländer Superb is a story of missed opportunity and possibly regret.  Many people know the story of Paul Franke and Reinhold Heidecke bringing the TLR to the world.  While some small numbers were produced a bit earlier, it was in 1929 where the Rolleiflex was available and started its journey to becoming one of the world most iconic cameras.

What many people don’t often realise is that both Franke and Heidecke, which is also what they called their company, both worked for Voigtländer earlier in the 1920s and had presented the idea of the TLR to Voigtländer management.  It was based on existing stereo camera design flipped on its side.  Needless to say, the idea was rejected and eventually they left Voigtländer.

After four years, taking it from the time from general availability, the Rolleiflex was quite a success story, and we can just assume there was some regret within the Voigtländer hierarchy.  What to do?  What they did do is create their own TLR and over engineer the life out of it.  In 1933 the result was the Superb.  And what a work of art it is!  

The Superb eventually came with two lens options.  Initially it came with the four element 7.5cm f/3.5 Skopar.   Later Voigtländer released a version with more expensive five element Heliar.  

Voigtländer had the Superb available only for six years.  In 1939, at the beginning of World War II, it was discontinued.  In the 1950s a prototype was built in preparation of the company’s two hundredth anniversary, but that never made it to market.

While it was short lived, the Superb is probably one of the more unique looking TLRs, and one that has not been replicated.  Now they are very much sought after, especially the Heliar version.

Camera Specifics

The Voigtländer Superb is a 1930s TLR that shoots 6x6cm square frames on 120 roll film.  It has a slightly unusual appearance for a TLR, in that it has a couple of bulges on the sides.  This is due to the unique design where the film is transported horizontally rather than the more established vertical direction.

Construction is with a metal body, covered in leatherette with elegant brass fittings.  This is topped with the blue and yellow “V” Voigtländer logo viewfinder cover.  The Superb logo is across the top in a semicircular shape.

Being a TLR it has two lenses on the front of the camera, the viewing and the taking lenses.  The viewing lens is an Anastigmat Helomar f/3.5.  On this copy the taking lens is a four element Anastigmat Skopar 7.5cm f/3.5.  Both lenses are uncoated.  There is an upgraded model with a Heliar lens, with the appropriate price attached.

Focusing is achieved by rotating the bottom lens using the handle attached to it while viewing through the waist level ground screen.  Minimum focus is 3 feet according to the manual, but it does focus beyond that to roughly 2.6 feet (80cm).  You can see what the focusing distance is with the markings at the top of the viewing lens, which rotates with the focusing.

The shutter speed is selected by rotating the ring around the taking lens.  If you look at the lens from the front, you will notice the shutter speed numbers are engraved in backwards.  That is because there is a little mirror attached so that you can see the shutter speed from above without having to look at the front of the camera.  This was a really advanced design for the 1930s.  Shutter speeds range from 1/250 second through to 1 second, time and bulb.

The shutter release lever is on the right of the lens and can be released once the shutter cocking lever has been pushed.  For bulb and time exposures, this is not required and if forced can break the camera.

Aperture can be set through a knob on the right side of the camera, in between the viewing and taking lenses.  It also has the settings viewable from the top.  Apertures are wide open at f/3.5 through to f/22 when closed down.  Selection of the right aperture is helped by a depth of focus table on the back flap of the viewfinder shade.

Viewing, as per most TLRs, is from the top once you open up the shades.  The screen represents the scene, but this is also where the Superb has an interesting trick up its sleeve. While most TLRs suffer from parallax error for framing, the Superb handles this in a rather elegant way.  Parallax error occurs when the viewing lens or viewfinder are separate from the taking lens, basically anything where it is not through the taking lens viewing like an SLR.  When focusing on something close, the difference between viewing and taking lenses increases.

The majority of TLRs generally do not address this, or they have some parallax markings showing roughly how the shot will be framed when focusing to something up close.  Voigtländer engineers took this to the extreme and implemented a solution where the angle of the viewing lens is adjusted the closer you focus.  This is a very complex way to handle it, but for the user it is a great experience.

Detail focusing can be achieved through the use of the magnifier which rests inside the front flap of the shades.  A further aid in framing is the ability to align the horizon with the little circular bubble level built into the camera just above the viewing screen.

Loading film into the camera is also different from the majority of other TLRs, in that the spools are loaded in vertically. There are two swinging doors on the back of the Superb, held together by a brass catch.  Once you release the catch, the left door can be opened.  This is where the take up spool resides.  The right door, which has a ninety degree design to it, can also swing open revealing where the loaded film spool is placed.

It is a matter of just threading the film from right to left and closing the doors, and making sure the latch is secure. Using the film transport handle on the left side of the camera, pull the film through until you see the number “1” in the red control window, which is located near the bottom on the right side.  The square knob above it opens and closes the cover. 

Once at “1”, close the cover to avoid light leaking onto the film.  Then use the little switch on the right side of the camera to disengage the counter and rotate itself back to 1.  If like on this model, which not all do, it has a frame window in the middle of the back, it should also be set to “1”.  The reason this works is that the red control window is located where the 6×9 film numbers are, the frame window is for 6×6, as per this camera.

Between each frame shot, wind the film on with the film transport handle until the next number appears in the counter or the frame window.

Normally I do not talk about the ever ready cases which I get with many cameras, but this is an exception.  Voigtländer went all out with this camera, and the case itself is worthy of a mention.  Very good quality leather was used, and the case is actually functional, not to mention beautiful.  Pockets on the side are handy to store spare film or a light meter.

Some models of the camera do have differences, for instance the frame window is one.  But Voigtländer strived to build an engineering marvel with the Superb, which unfortunately was discontinued as the world entered a war.  If this camera had evolved to continue to compete against the Rolleiflex, who knows where the design of TLRs would have led to by the 1950s.  But for now we get to enjoy what is an appreciation of something special from a distant past era.

The Experience

I mentioned earlier that when I won the Voigtländer Superb at auction, I actually won two.  That happened when I joined the bidding on a major camera auction in New Zealand.  In this auction there was quite a few Voigtländer and Zeiss cameras amongst others.  I finished up winning roughly fifteen cameras if I recall correctly.

One camera I was quite keen to win was a Superb, but there was two on auction.  I picked the first one as my main target, as it was in the nicer cosmetic condition.  Being far away, I had no way of knowing if either worked.  So, I bid the amount I was willing to part with on the first one, and put a minimum bid on the second as a backup in case I was not successful.  

The auction was being held in prime time for New Zealand, and by default, Australia.  For Europe, Africa and the Americas, it was at night-time.  So, without knowing it, I was not competing with the generally more aggressive American and European collectors.

Not only did I win the first Superb for a decent price, I also won the second at minimum bid.  You would then think the story ends there, but you would be wrong.  When I received the cameras, I was relieved to see my preferred one was fully functional and clean.  The second one though, was jammed up and not as cosmetically well kept.

As many of you may know, I am a co-host on the Camerosity Podcast.  One of the other co-hosts is Anthony Rue.  He had been on the lookout for a Superb for years, but generally they are quite expensive to find.  I offered it to him and since Jess at Viva La Film is local to me, we decided to get it repaired and cleaned up here first.  After a great repair job, I sent it off to Anthony in Florida, USA.

Again, you would think the story would end with him receiving the camera and shooting happily ever after.  And again, you would be wrong.

First, the camera sat in the local Australia Post sorting office for three or four weeks.  Then it shipped to the USA, and we had no update for another two weeks.  After that, when it suddenly appeared in Florida, nothing happened for another three weeks. Suddenly it popped up that it was out for delivery.  That is the last thing we heard, it never made it to the destination and after many visits to both main and branch post offices, US Postal Service eventually marked it as a lost package.

You must be saying now, surely that is the end of the story.  And it is not. 

About three weeks later, some random strangers dropped the package off at Anthony’s café, which was the delivery address.  They had found it in a gutter, about ten blocks from the address.  The box was very wet through, as it was winter and it had even snowed, rained and all sorts of bad weather.

Anthony opened the box, and found a few things I had included had perished.  When I packed, I had put the camera into another inner box, but also, within a zip lock bag, with more bubble wrap and desiccant within the bag. The camera survived and Anthony is still using it to this day and producing some stunning photos.  You can see some of these photos on his great Flickr album. As far as Australia Post and US Postal Service are concerned, it is lost and at some point might have wondered why we never put in an insurance claim.  And that is now the end of that story!

But this is now where the story of my Superb begins.  As soon as I picked it up, I knew I had something special.  Sure, there are TLRs with better lenses with coatings, ergonomics which are more advanced by the 1950s, and just a bit less fiddly.  But I could feel the quality, the design for its period and just the plain old engineering that went into it.  Apart from that, the camera is just beautiful.

The first film I loaded into it was Kodak Portra 160 VC, which had been expired for a considerable amount of time.  I went out to Centennial Park for some sunset shooting.  Results from that roll came out looking very vintage.  Expired film with an uncoated lens gave it a very interesting look.  

I then made a mistake.  The next film loaded was Kodak Portra 400.  With a maximum shutter speed of 1/250 second, this was a very hard roll of film to shoot.  I learnt my lesson, 100 ISO films or less from that point.

I really enjoy using it, much more than I can convey here.  While the viewing screen is hard to see in the bright light being my biggest complaint, using the camera is a pleasure.  Everything can be seen from the top and winding the film on is nice and easy with the lever.  Not having to worry about close focus and parallax errors also made it more of a pleasure.

It was also through this camera that I started to fall in love with Agfapan APX all over again.  The original emulsion.  When I find it, I buy it now.  With the slower speed, I shoot the 100 at 50 ISO, it is so creamy and beautiful through the Superb’s lens.  It is a really good match.

In terms of the results, the lens on this camera is sharp.  Much sharper than I would have expected a 1930s camera to be.  It does fall off though, as does the exposure.  There is some clear vignetting in both cases.  For black and white, it is not as noticeable, but when you load colour, it is a different story.  We do have to remember, colour was not an option when this was a new camera.

Colour rendering is interesting.  With the lack of coating, it does not render the film as you would expect modern colour would look.  It is attractive, but it must be a look you are looking for.  Flare can also be visible when shooting into the light and needs a little care to be taken.

I also hit a second mistake with the Superb.  At one point, I shot a whole roll of Cinestill 50D without the latch securely closed at the back.  I only noticed it at frame nine.  It gave me a look at what a light leak looks like on that roll, as per the examples here.

I had not expected to be using this camera for as long as I have.  There were some periods where I did not, but generally over a period of eighteen months it has been quite busy and will continue to be so.  I also know that Anthony is loving using his copy of the camera.

The question on whether I would recommend the Voigtländer Superb has had me thinking.  If you like to use older cameras, and appreciate the quality and advancements of that time, the answer is an easy yes.  Otherwise, if you are looking for something more modern, I would say there are other options.  But for myself, I am very glad to have it, and it will remain in my collection permanently.

Related Links

Anthony Rue has a wonderful Voigtlander Superb Flickr Album.

Mike Eckman has a great write up in Voigtländer Superb (1933).

Dan Cuny has written about his in a couple of places, on his website Voigtlander Superb and on 35mmc Voigtlander Superb – My New Favorite TLR.

Kamera Store has an article The Voigtländer Superb: Still Superb After 88 Years.