And hope for the best.
It helps if you remember to set the focus, but when it comes to toy cameras, it can be an optional step.
But in some ways the Diana Mini reminds me of a Leica rangefinder.
Leica owners across the world are probably spluttering and swearing and spitting out coffee in disgust at the comparison, but bear with me. I’m not talking about the quality of the lens, or the robust build, because in truth, the Diana Mini has neither. But what is does have is some strange magic at work that means that even if you have the sinking feeling that you have no idea what you’re doing, even if your heart tells you that this is never going to work out, something wondrous happens between the shutter and the emulsion and apparently against all odds, the shot comes out.
And the Mini has to be the lightest camera ever (if you don’t don’t the cardboard pinhole Dirkons and their clones) so I could take it along with Vlad on a snowy walk and not even notice the weight of it in my pocket. (I noticed the weight of Vald every step of the way).
In some ways I wish I’d had the presence of mind to take the same shot on both cameras, but Vlad’s not competitive like that. He knows his strengths – he’d never be rude enough to compare the size of the negative and the weight of the glass against the dinky Diana’s plastic lens. And he’d the first to point out that you simply can’t just point and shoot with a Hasselblad.