A Pawn Shop Treasure
“Film has a way of humbling you, and then, when you least expect it, rewarding you.”
At the train station in Trnava there is a small pawn shop on my birthday as I was walking past it. I saw a vintage film camera on display of course curious me walked in to see what the camera was and how much it was for. It was a Soviet camera called the Zenit 11 and the price shocked me. The camera was only for €35 unfortunately for Me they did not take card so I didn’t have the cash and therefore I had to leave it behind fast forward to January 14 where I happened to have cash in my wallet and the camera was still on display. You better believe I got myself a birthday present that very same day I loaded it with film and I went out to test it it was also perfect because there was snow on the ground that day which added to the Joy of shooting with this camera yesterday I finally had the opportunity to drop off my film for development because I had an appointment where they develop my film in Central. To my surprise by the evening my scans were ready and I was pleasantly surprised when I get my scans back from any of my film cameras I feel defeated. It isn’t exactly what I want but these scans from the Zenit 11 were some of my best scans that I’ve had in a very long time and I would love to share them with you!
At the train station in Trnava, there is a small pawn shop. On my birthday, as I was walking past it, I noticed a vintage film camera sitting quietly in the display window. Of course, curiosity got the best of me and I walked in to see what it was and how much they were asking for it.
It was a Soviet camera called the Zenit 11. When I asked for the price, I was genuinely shocked. It was only €35.
Unfortunately, they did not take card, and I did not have cash on me that day. So I had to leave it behind. I walked away trying not to think about it too much, but you can imagine that I did.
Fast forward to January 14. I happened to have cash in my wallet, and the camera was still there, waiting in the same spot.
You better believe I bought myself a very belated birthday present that day.
I loaded it with film almost immediately and went out to test it. It felt especially perfect because there was fresh snow on the ground, which added to the quiet joy of shooting with such a solid, mechanical camera in my hands. There is something deeply satisfying about slowing down, adjusting manually, listening to the shutter, and trusting the process.
Yesterday, I finally had the chance to drop off the film for development. I had an appointment in the city center, so I stopped by the lab and handed over my roll. To my surprise, by that same evening, my scans were ready.
Whenever I get scans back from any of my film cameras, I often feel a little defeated. They are rarely exactly what I envisioned. Film can be humbling.
But this time was different.
The scans from the Zenit 11 are some of the best I have received in a very long time. I was genuinely surprised. The tones, the light, the softness against the snow. It all came together in a way that felt honest and beautiful.
And I would love to share them with you.
They are beautiful pictures with tones that are soft and muted, the reds feel restrained and honest, and the snow carries that quiet film grain mood I love. There is something very Eastern European winter about them. Nostalgic but not forced. Calm but alive.
There is something about film that keeps teaching me patience. I cannot see the result instantly. I cannot correct it immediately. I have to wait. I have to trust. I have to accept what comes back.
This old Zenit reminded me why I fell in love with photography in the first place. Not for control. Not for perfection. But for discovery.
After 22 years behind a camera, I still get surprised. And maybe that is the greatest gift of all.
