I found a dusty old brownie flash six 20 at a garage sale last weekend, and it honestly reminded me why I got into photography in the first place. There is something about holding a heavy piece of Art Deco metal that just makes you feel more connected to the process. It's not like pulling out your iPhone and snapping fifty identical shots of a latte. With this thing, you've got to mean it.
The Kodak Brownie line has a massive history, but the brownie flash six 20 holds a special spot in my heart. Produced roughly between 1940 and 1954, it was one of those "everyman" cameras. It wasn't designed for professionals; it was designed for families, hikers, and hobbyists who wanted to capture memories without needing a degree in optics. Looking at it now, it's remarkably simple, yet it feels more "real" than half the gadgets I own today.
The Aesthetic of the Box
Let's be real for a second—most modern cameras are just black plastic blobs. The brownie flash six 20, on the other hand, looks like it belongs on the set of a noir film. It's a vertical box camera with these beautiful horizontal stripes and a rugged metal body. It doesn't feel cheap. If you dropped it, you'd probably be more worried about the floor than the camera.
The "flash" part of the name comes from the two pins on the side. Back in the day, you'd attach a massive flash unit that used single-use bulbs. When those things went off, it was like a small explosion in your hands. I haven't actually tried the flash on mine—finding the right bulbs is a bit of a treasure hunt—but even without the attachment, the camera looks iconic. It's the kind of piece that people notice when you're walking around. They'll stop and ask, "Does that thing still work?" and it's always a fun conversation starter.
Getting Over the 620 Film Hurdle
If you're thinking about picking up a brownie flash six 20, there is one "elephant in the room" we need to talk about: the film. It uses 620 film, which Kodak discontinued decades ago. Now, don't let that scare you off. The film itself is actually the exact same size as 120 film, which you can still buy at any decent camera shop or online. The only difference is the spool.
The 620 spool is slightly thinner and has smaller flanges than the 120 spool. If you try to jam a standard roll of 120 film into a brownie flash six 20, it just won't fit. You have two choices here. You can either buy "re-spooled" 620 film (which is a bit pricey), or you can do what I do: sit in a pitch-black bathroom and roll the 120 film onto an old 620 spool myself.
It's a bit of a rite of passage, honestly. It's fumbly, your hands might get a little sweaty, and you'll definitely swear at least once, but there is something incredibly satisfying about "hacking" a 70-year-old camera to make it work in the modern world. Plus, once you have that first roll developed, the effort feels totally worth it.
The Joy of the Waist-Level Viewfinder
Shooting with the brownie flash six 20 is a slow process, and that's a good thing. It has two tiny brilliant viewfinders—one for vertical shots and one for horizontal. You don't hold the camera up to your eye; you hold it at waist level and look down into it.
This completely changes how you interact with your subject. Since you aren't hiding your face behind a big lens, you can actually maintain eye contact with people. It feels less intrusive. The view through those little glass windows is reversed, too, which takes a second to get used to. If you move the camera left, the image moves right. It's a little brain-teaser that forces you to be intentional with your framing.
You don't have a focus ring. You don't have a light meter. You don't have shutter speed settings. You basically have two modes: "Instant" (which is about 1/40th or 1/50th of a second) and "Long" (for as long as you hold the button). Because the shutter is so slow, you really have to hold your breath and stand still to keep the shots sharp. It's a meditative way to take photos.
The "Brownie Look"
What do the photos actually look like? In a word: dreamy. The lens on the brownie flash six 20 is a simple Meniscus lens. It's not going to give you the razor-sharp, clinical perfection of a modern digital sensor, but that's not why you use it.
The images have a soft, vintage glow. The corners might be a little blurry, and you'll get some beautiful natural vignetting. Because the negative is so large (2.25 by 3.25 inches), the level of detail is surprisingly high despite the simple lens. You get eight shots per roll, and each one feels like a mini-painting.
I've found that the brownie flash six 20 excels at portraits and landscapes with a lot of texture. Old barns, forest paths, or even just a friend sitting on a porch take on this timeless quality. It's like the camera adds a layer of nostalgia to everything it sees. It's the original "filter," but it's all physical and optical rather than digital.
Maintenance and Reliability
One of the best things about these old box cameras is that there is almost nothing to break. There are no batteries, no circuit boards, and no complex gear systems. If the shutter gets a little sticky, a tiny drop of lighter fluid or a quick clean usually fixes it.
The mirrors inside the viewfinders can get a bit dusty over seventy years, but you can usually get in there with a Q-tip and some glass cleaner to brighten things up. The brownie flash six 20 was built to last, and it shows. It's a tank. You could probably leave it in an attic for another fifty years, and it would still click just fine when you took it out.
Why You Should Try One
If you're tired of the endless "gear acquisition syndrome" in the digital world, I highly recommend picking up a brownie flash six 20. They are incredibly affordable—usually ranging from $15 to $40 at antique malls or on eBay.
It strips photography down to its barest essentials: light, a lens, and a shutter. It teaches you to wait for the right moment. Since you only have eight shots, you don't waste them on things that don't matter. You check the light, you check your distance (stay about 10 feet away for the best focus!), you hold your breath, and you click.
There's a specific sound that the shutter makes—a metallic "clack-thump"—that is so much more rewarding than a digital beep. And when you finally get that roll of film back from the lab and see those big, beautiful black-and-white negatives, it's a genuine thrill.
Final Thoughts on the Six 20
The brownie flash six 20 isn't just a relic for a shelf; it's a bridge to a different era of storytelling. It's a reminder that we don't need the fastest autofocus or the highest megapixels to create something beautiful. Sometimes, all you need is a metal box and a bit of patience.
Whether you're a seasoned film photographer or someone who has never touched a roll of 120 before, there is a lot of fun to be had here. It's quirky, it's a bit of a challenge with the film spools, and it looks cool as hell. If you happen to see one sitting on a shelf at a thrift store, don't pass it up. Grab some film, head outside, and see what kind of magic that old lens can still produce. You might be surprised at how much you enjoy the "slow" life.