The Story Behind the Cameras on Our Walls

When I first opened Fotografi on Skólavörðustígur in 2007, I had a simple idea: create a space where photography could be more than just a transaction. A place where people could hold a print, feel its weight, and remember why they fell in love with Iceland in the first place.

But something unexpected happened. Customers started bringing me cameras. Old ones. Beautiful ones. A Pentax K1000 wrapped in faded leather. A Hasselblad with its original case. A Rolleiflex that had survived decades in someone's attic. Each one came with a story—a wedding, a road trip, a moment when someone decided to slow down and really see the world through a lens.

I couldn't throw them away. So I started hanging them on the walls.

How the Collection Grew

Seventeen years later, we have over 300 cameras displayed throughout the store. It wasn't a planned collection strategy. It was organic. Collectors visited from around Europe and left us their duplicates. Tourists cleaned out their parents' camera bags and donated what they found. Local photographers gifted cameras they'd outgrown. Each acquisition felt personal—a small ceremony of respect for a tool that had served someone well.

The walls became a living archive. Walk through Fotografi, and you're walking through the history of photography itself.

The Eras and Brands You'll Find

We have rangefinders from the 1950s—Leicas and Contax models that still feel impossibly precise in your hands. There are SLRs from the golden age of film: Canon AE-1s, Nikon FM2s, Pentax Spotmatics. Medium format cameras that required patience and intention: Hasselblads, Mamiyas, Bronicas. And the quirky ones—the Fisheye Takumars, the Soviet Kievs, the Olympus Pens that were so compact they fit in a jacket pocket.

• 1950s–1960s: Precision German and Japanese rangefinders; early SLRs when autofocus didn't exist
• 1970s–1980s: The mechanical revolution; cameras built to last decades; aperture priority, shutter priority, full manual
• 1990s–2000s: The bridge between film and digital; advanced metering; autofocus systems that felt revolutionary at the time
• Specialty cameras: Instant cameras, twin-lens reflexes, panoramic formats, even a few 35mm cameras from the Soviet era

What strikes me most is that nearly every camera on these walls still works. Some need cleaning. Some need new seals. But they're not museum pieces gathering dust. They're proof that good design endures.

Why the Cameras Matter Here

I keep these cameras on the walls because they're a conversation starter. When someone walks in looking for a print of a Icelandic glacier, they see a Mamiya 645 and remember their grandfather's darkroom. They pick up a Leica and feel the weight of intention. They understand, in their bones, why we do what we do at Fotografi.

Photography—real photography—is about slowing down. It's about choosing your moment instead of spraying a thousand digital frames and hoping one lands. These cameras on our walls are silent teachers. They remind us that a photograph should mean something. That it should be worth printing, worth framing, worth keeping.

When you buy a print from us, you're not just buying an image. You're part of that same tradition. You're saying: this moment matters. This place mattered. I want to hold onto it.

Visit and See for Yourself

The collection keeps growing. We've got vinyl spinning on the phonograph most days, and there's always a camera on the counter that someone's brought in recently—sometimes with its own remarkable story. If you're in Reykjavík, stop by Skólavörðustígur 22. Take your time. Run your fingers along the camera bodies. Ask us about any of them. We love talking about these machines and the photographers who trusted them with their most important moments.

Then find the print that captures your Iceland. The one that makes you feel what you felt when you were actually there.