Retro charm, happy accidents, and why the Chuzhao Toy Camera was impossible to put down.
When I bought the Chuzhao Toy Camera in May, I thought it might be a fun novelty. I didn’t expect it to become my most-used camera for weeks. The big caveat? You have to appreciate the lo-fi, toy camera aesthetic. I think someone with a background in film photography is more likely to “get it,” while those who grew up admiring only the razor-sharp look of modern digital photos might not connect with it in the same way.
I, however, loved it. I almost completed a minor in photography in college, where we only shot on film. We started with black and white before moving to colour, and I think that’s why I have such a soft spot for monochrome. In my second black and white module, and later in colour, we were encouraged to experiment with all kinds of film and cameras. While I mostly shot on a Minolta Dynax SLR, I also played with Holgas, plastic cameras, scratched lenses, even a disposable Kodak that I cracked open in a dark bag, reloaded with new film, and taped back together. Crazy fun.
So the Chuzhao was pure nostalgia. It had that retro look I loved, and it was so small I could take it anywhere — and I did. I think I shot with it almost every day for six to eight weeks before I slowed down and picked up my other cameras again.
The thing about the Chuzhao is that there’s very little you can control, much like the plastic cameras I used to shoot with. You can choose the in-camera B&W filter (which adds a touch of sepia) or stick with colour. You can toggle autofocus, but the focus point is fixed in the centre and you can’t reframe. In fact, you control even less than on a phone.
Weirdly, even though my phone could do far more, I mostly used it for quick snapshots. With the Chuzhao — despite its limitations — I ended up shooting with more intent. I think the TLR design and top-down viewfinder just made me feel more deliberate.
Its small size also helped. I think I fell into street photography by accident. I used to shoot mostly landscapes, but now I was capturing street scenes and even experimenting with motion blur and panning shots — on a toy camera. How crazy is that?
I still preferred converting to B&W and adding borders — something I’ve done since college, when we had to mount prints on matte board before submitting them. It just made the work feel finished and ready for a portfolio.
After a while, I got curious about what other people were doing with the
Chuzhao. That’s when I found plenty of criticism — some even calling it
scammy. Okay, I’ll admit, if you overpaid (and some sellers charged an
exorbitant amount), it was a bit of a scam. But at around SGD 40–50,
I think it’s fair value.
It seems a lot of people had mismatched expectations. This camera was never going to deliver high-resolution images — a mid-range Android would do better for that. But if you can embrace the imperfections of toy cameras the way you’d embrace the quirks of a plastic lens, the Chuzhao is an awesome little addition to a photographer’s arsenal. And honestly? It reminds me why I fell in love with photography in the first place — not because everything was perfect, but because it wasn’t.
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