Camera Adventures into orbit

A camera adventure with Valentina Tereschkova

This time we got a special story for the Camera Adventure section. Lomo camera's almost gained the status of a cult object. The first lomo we bought was the white Diana+, and we instantly fell in love. With the great help of Katja Kulidzhanova from the Lomographic Society International we give you a story that will take us into space. So sit back and enjoy this special camera adventure..we got the amazing story of Valentina Tereschkova, who took her camera into orbit..

The Diana camera

Dating back to the early 1960's, the all-plastic Diana camera is a cult legend - famous for its dreamy and lo-fi images. Crafted in Hong Kong, the original Diana was a dirt-cheap and simple camera that cost about one dollar. As a mainstream product, the Diana was pretty much a failure – and was discontinued in the 1970's. But as an artistic tool of avant-garde photographers, it was a rousing success! They loved its soft images, super-saturated colors, unpredictable blurring, and random contrast. Even as the original camera died in production, it lived on through a thriving community of Diana fans.

Valentina & the Vostok 6

When buying the new re-created Diana camera's from the Lomography shop you recieve a cool book with pictures taken with this plastic hero. But...there is also this amazing story about Valentina Tereschkova, the first woman in space. The society hooked us up with this story..enjoy reading!

Tri, Dva, Odin… ignition! Valentina Tereschkova was thrown back against her seat, grinding her teeth as an enormous force of gravity attempted to crush her body into half the size. Despite all of her training, the real thing had caught her off-guard, and she felt a heady mix of elation and raw, uncut terror. “My god,” she thought. “This is really going to happen!” It was 1963, and Tereschkova had just become the first woman in space.

As the final flight of the Vostok spacecraft program, Vostok 6 was intended to test the female's reaction to spaceflight. Several males had been sent into space, but it remained to be seen how this overwhelming experience would affect a woman: Would she crack under pressure? With Valentina at the controls, it wasn’t too likely; you’d have to search long and hard for a stronger and more dedicated woman than this hardy 26-year-old. She was determined to make history and to prove the equality of females - even in the extreme conditions of space travel. After all, if a woman can pilot a rocket into the sky, then she can sure as hell do any job on Earth that a man can.

Once in space, Valentina planned to orbit the planet a total of 48 times over three full days. Her tasks inside the rocket were fairly routine: She had to maintain a strict log of her body's reaction to the experience. She had to manually manipulate the spacecraft and investigate nuances of the Earth's atmosphere. And she had to take photos.
It was this last assignment that most excited Valentina. Ever since she was a teenager, Valentina was absolutely amazed and taken with the art of photography. Her desire to shoot was insatiable, and she documented all of the sights, smells, and handsome male admirers (of which she had plenty) of her hometown. People loved to pose for Valentina, and her hobby was entirely positive - except for the actual development of her film. The issue wasn’t the price of film processing, but the man who actually did it: A surly, pot-bellied fellow named Nicholai.

“What is this?” he would ask. “The little girl is out snapping pictures again. How cute! But good photos can only be taken by men. Surely, you know this.” Oh yes, Valentina was very knowledgeable of this old misogynist's take on photography. Every time she dropped off her film, she had to endure this fool's sexist opinions.

“Look, Nicholai,” she hissed. “I can do anything a man can do. And I can certainly do anything better than you, fat slob that you are.”

“Really, my little Valentina,” he scoffed. “A woman taking a good photograph is about as crazy as a woman going into space. It could never happen.”

As Valentina headed home that day, Nicholai's words burned in her head. “How dare he!” she thought. “There's nothing ridiculous about a woman going into space.” In the spring of 1961, Yuri Gagarin had become the first human being in space, piloting the intrepid Vostok 1 mission; ever since then, Valentina had dreamt of following Gagarin's path. “If Yuri can do it, then I can do it,” she thought. “And I'll shove this achievement right into Nicholai's face.” She decided that such a momentous event should be photographed, so she headed over to the local general store, intent on purchasing a new camera. As she perused the rack of Zenit's and Moskova's, she happened upon a camera called the “Diana,” named after the immortal goddess of the hunt. “This is a new Chinese model,” said the shop owner. “But it takes lousy photos. You’re much better off with a nice Smena rangefinder.” Despite his pitch, Valentina was drawn to the Diana. What better way to document a woman's emancipation and quest for equality than with a camera named after a powerful goddess? Not to mention the fact that it was dirt-cheap. She bought one.

Over the next year of her training for the Soviet space program, Valentina used her beloved Diana to document all of her experiences. The lo-fi and grainy images lent a lovely appearance to her shots, and successfully captured the dreamlike trance she felt at the time. As she was debriefed for her mission, she was elated to know that photography was a part of it. Although she’d have to officially use the state-issued camera, she could shoot the Diana in between her scheduled tasks. After all, she’d have three full days in orbit. You can run through a lot of 120 rolls in that time.

By the time Valentina took her trip, she was a Diana expert, and as she prepared to re-enter orbit, she kept at her side a lead-lined shielded bag of surely unbelievable Diana film rolls. Sergey Korolev came onto the transceiver to guide her through the first stages of re-entry; the tiny spacecraft shuddered and burned wildly as it rocketed back through Earth's atmosphere. Once the proper altitude was reached, Valentina ejected over the Pavinskiy Collective Farm in the Altai Region. Unanticipated crosswinds blew her parachute from side to side and tossed her about in her rapid descent. She could hear Nicholai's tobacco-stained laugh in her mind as a strong gust blew her compass bag across her body, slamming against her pouch of Diana film, detaching it from her utility belt, and dropping it 200 feet from the ground, straight into the Collective Farm's irrigation lake.
Once back to base and cleaned up, Valentina faced her new future as a celebrity and champion of women. She spoke on talk shows, addressed university graduations, and inspired millions of young girls with her incredible accomplishment. She successfully shut up Nicholai for the rest of her life as well. All would have been perfect had it not for the film-bag-sized hole in her heart. Despite all of the good things, Valentina could never dodge the regret of those lost Diana rolls. Try as she may, she was unable to muster the energy to shoot a camera again.

A good forty years after the flight, Valentina desperately needed a vacation. She spun a globe in her study, closed her eyes, and rested her finger upon the first country she encountered: Thailand.
”Well, well,” she thought. “At least I'll get an authentic Massaman curry.” Hoping that this trip might re-inspire her lost passion for photography, she decided to pack her Diana camera. It couldn’t hurt.

Following her arrival in Bangkok, Valentina set out upon the streets. She took in the sights, the smells, and pretty much all of the Massaman curry that she could stomach. But despite the wonder and spice around her, there was just no getting her index finger to click the Diana's shutter. She hailed a traditional tuk tuk scooter to return to her hotel. On the way, they hit some extremely fierce traffic, and Valentina was stuck boiling in the sun and staring aimlessly into the street. Out of nowhere stumbled a gaunt and slightly desperate-looking beggar. There was a certain spark and vibrance in his eyes, a quality that Valentina had never seen in a street beggar. She looked at the Diana in her hands and speaks to it quietly: “I haven’t been able to use you in more years than I care to count,” she said. “Perhaps this needy young man can once again capture the world through your lens. Goodbye my love.”

She studied the beggar with her eyes.

“Try this, my friend,” she uttered. “I see great potential in you.”

As he held out his hands, she placed her Diana into them.

CFYE likes to thanks Katja Kulidzhanova and the Lomographic Society International for the amazing help and material.