The Lomo is a camera Or at least what one understood in the Russia of the sixties. So far agreement prevails. Who believes however to do Lomographie possibly something would have with photography is on the wrong track Further information here
General Igor Petrowitsch Kornitzky, right-hand man to the USSR Minister of Defense and Industry, slammed a little Japanese mini-camera onto the ornate desk of his comrade Michail Panfilowitsch Panfiloff. Mr Panfiloff, Director of the powerful LOMO Russian Arms and Optical factory, examined the camera closely, noting its sharp glass lens, extremely high light sensitivity and robust casing.
The two gentlemen, realizing the superior nature and extreme potential of this strange little item, gave immediate orders to copy and improve the design - with the ultimate goal of producing the largest quantity possible for the pleasure and glory of the Soviet population. It was decided - every respectable Communist should have a LOMO KOMPAKT AUTOMAT of their own.
The LOMO LC-A was born, and millions of cameras were promptly produced and sold. The Soviets and their Socialist playmates in Vietnam, Cuba and East Germany snapped happily away throughout the nineteen eighties, fully documenting the last gasps of Communism, and the occasional beach vacation on the Black Sea.
Weakened by dirt cheap, battery-powered imports from Asia, the LC-A's popularity was waning, and it was available only at quirky, old-school camera shops. It was at an establishment such as this, where the Viennese students happened upon the adorable camera, and bought a couple for fun. Back on the resplendent streets of Prague, they zipped through the first few rolls of film: shooting from above and through their legs, shooting from the hip, and even sometimes looking through the viewfinder.