Embedded Files
Canon PowerShot ELPH 350HS
September 24, 2025
Unfortunately it's not all that uncommon: a dreaded "Lens Error" message on a digital camera. It's the sign that your camera's most critical part—the lens assembly—has gone on strike. This time, the patient on my bench was a Canon PowerShot ELPH 350 HS. It would power up, the screen would light up, and then that ominous message would appear. When attempting to power it down, the lens would make a clicking sound, refusing to retract. It seemed like a classic case of a lens assembly that had been jostled out of place.
My mission was clear: get inside and fix the lens assembly.
My first thought was that perhaps dirt had gotten lodged in the lens rings, preventing movement as the camera was filthy. A quick blast of compressed air was a good first attempt, but it made no difference. The lens was truly stuck. It was time for a full teardown starting first by removing the battery and the camera strap and then it was time to move on to the screws.
Two screws on the left.
Two screws on the bottom.
Two screws on the right side, hidden behind the HDMI/USB cover.
With all the screws removed, I used a spudger to carefully separate the front and rear case shells. This is always a delicate dance, as you never know what brittle plastic clips are lying in wait. I gently removed the left and right side panels, then carefully unseated and unthreaded the LCD flex cable through the camera's body.
Next, I unclipped the top controls and carefully released the microphone. With that out of the way I disconnected the flex cable for the Wi-Fi card, removed a single screw holding it in place, and set the card aside.
The rear case half was now completely free and I removed six more screws from the LCD frame before disconnecting the two flex cables for the flash assembly and unclipping it from the rest of the camera.
Finally, I was getting close. I removed one screw from a small shield on the front that covered the lens flex cables. I disconnected both cables—one required lifting a latch, while the other simply popped out of its socket. The lens assembly was now free to be removed.
LCD frame
Flash assembly
Front lens flex shield
Removing the lens assembly was accomplished by gently manipulating it out of position, watching carefully not to pull on any flex cables surrounding the assembly. Once it was on the bench, I removed the sensor by taking out three screws on the back. A little bit of glue was holding them in place, but a quick dab of isopropyl alcohol (IPA) made quick work of it. While removing the sensor wasn't strictly necessary for the next step, it was a good opportunity to clean it and given how filthy this camera was it's likely warranted.
The top of the lens housing was secured with several delicate plastic clips. I carefully worked my way around the housing, releasing them one by one. At this point I was able to lift and shift the top of the housing out of position but I had to be careful as several flex cables were still connecting it to the bottom.
And there it was. The moment of truth. With the top of the lens housing finally out of the way, I could clearly see the problem. One of the flex cables from the lens motor was completely sheared off. It wasn't a loose connection; it was a clean, catastrophic tear. This was the source of the dreaded clicking and snapping sound I had heard. What terrible abuse had this camera seen?
I scoured the internet for a replacement part, but unfortunately I couldn't find any leads on a replacement lens assembly or any other parts that would have made this a feasible repair.
This little camera's journey came to a sad end. The sheared flex cable was its fatal wound rendering the entire device useless. This adventure is a reminder of the challenges of repairing electronics. Sometimes, the best we can do is learn from the experience, document the teardown process, and hope that our next patient has a more promising diagnosis.
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