The Origins of Lust
As a new and young photographer, at a point I believed I needed a Leica to fully pursue my passion.
I saw Leica as the ultimate ‘end-goal’. If I didn’t end up with a Leica, it would be as if I never once did ‘real’ photography.
The romanticism and culture around Leica has an incredibly strong allure. It’s a culture within a culture, what was then in my eyes the ‘elites’. My fascination with not only the equipment, but photographers themselves grew rapidly.
Leica lust fully seduced all of my senses to the point of losing my peace. I could not focus on actual photography. A compelling sense of infatuation plunged hours of my time, and also headspace, into reading and watching reams of online Lecia content.
You will find lots of naysayers purporting Leica has no real benefit other than being a status ‘status symbol’, some cannot fathom why in the era of accessible, advanced, more affordable cameras you spend the same amount for a house deposit on a camera that doesn’t even autofocus (well, nowadays some Leicas do).
Off the top of my head, I can think of a handful of worthwhile reasons people like Leica (other than possibly having more money than sense); heritage and craftsmanship is a legitimate appeal, along with a long line of magical M-mount lenses (granted, adapters are now a thing), a small yet rugged full frame body, a minimalist, durable and responsive design, and perhaps most importantly the resale value.
For some, it may extend to other philosophies of photography like having minimal gear or the craftsmanship (so, I can imagine, if you want it minimal, you’ll want the ‘best of the best’).
On top of the the hardware itself, Leica photographers do a good job of selling the brand, not just by their unequivocal vouching, but the air of being highly skilled artisans. No other camera brand has as strong a sense of correlation = causation as part of it’s branding.
There is no such thing as ‘iconic photos taken with a Canon/Nikon/Olympus’ sentiment the same way there will always, year after year in history, be a remembrance of historic photos taken with Leica. That’s the power of branding.
Alas, being only a University student, with little cash to hand (in fact, a decade later I still don’t have as much surplus cash to hand), coming to the realisation a Leica is totally out of the question did not stop me regularly fantasising about Leica or plunging hours into Leica videos and blog posts. It only made the desire grow even stronger.
So, financial restraints meant seeking alternative solutions.
Seeking satisfaction
I am not ashamed to say my purchases aimed to emulate the ‘Leica experience’.
The Lumix GX80 was the first attempt — I already invested into the M43 system with a Lumix G6 (my first camera and most disliked), and a trio of solid prime lenses.
The GX80, with a set of small prime lenses (28mm, 50mm, 120mm in full frame terms) did quell my appetite for quite some time. From a technology perspective, the GX80 was a phenomenal piece of R&D, all for under £200 mint-condition. However, I was not at all concerned with all the bells and whistles (or knobs and dials, however you see it).
I’m here to try and get that ‘Leica experience’, remember?
So retrospectively looking back, this leads me to think… what exactly is the ‘Leica experience’?
There’s a few possible explanations.
Aesthetics.
Without question. I thoroughly enjoy the range-finder, vintage styling. It is unquestionably part of the appeal and experience, the design is pleasant to feel, hold, and look at. It’s also a nice conversation starter with hobbyists and non-photographers alike.
It could be, in fact probably is, just my imagination or the perceived benefit that rangefinders are dextrally liberating. It does feel much easier, and comfortable to switch between horizontal and vertical shooting, which is more important than you may think when reactively photographing.
You could possibly argue a rangefinder is a modular body with the option of screw-in or hotshoe grips, along with shutter-releases, to tailor the shooting experience to preference.
Holding and carrying a rangefinder style body just feels nicer too. It slips into camera bags neater (of course, lens pending) and takes up less space on a table (for all the café dwellers out there). The weight factor can also be a benefit (but, really, in this world of smaller cameras being more accessible this isn’t a strong point).
The off-side viewfinder is romanticised to be functionally intimate as it does not obscure your face from your subject (at least, if you’re a right-eye photographer), and allows you to see what is happening around the frame. Still, I will say there is some merit to your face being visible when photographing proximate people, if you’re sociable.
Obviously, I am only talking about digital mirrorless cameras styled as rangefinders. Meaning, much of the discussion around actual rangefinder vs SLR is moot. But you can find an interesting discussion here:https://theonlinephotographer.typepad.com/the_online_photographer/2018/06/the-pros-and-cons-of-true-rangefinder-viewfinding.html (and, as a bonus, a very interesting take here: https://theonlinephotographer.typepad.com/the_online_photographer/2009/05/a-leica-year.html)
So beyond the above points, there is not a great deal to say about the practicality of a rangefinder design. Despite preferring a rangefinder styling, I’m not interested in attempting to suggest it is the ‘superior’ design or convincing anyone otherwise. It’s simply a preference and conclusion you can only reach through personal experience.
As has already been alluded to above, Leica is in and of itself a culture. Some people will just want to be a part of that, and the red dot is worth the price tag for whatever is represents to the user.
So when trying to define the ‘Leica experience’, I’ve detailed some possible, yet vey subjective arguments for the aesthetic design – But the rangefinder ergonomics minus the red dot can be easily replicated by other manufacturers.
I could at this point further plunge into the cultural experience of Leica, however a sociology discussion for something I have not experienced or researched would obfuscate any tangible matter for such a short and informal blog post.
Moving on attempting to define the ‘Leica Experience’…
Image Quality
Surprise surprise, image quality is a very contentious topic within some circles of photographers. It depends on how much of a geek you are I suppose.
To my eyes, Leica images emit a certain je ne sais quoi.
If you’re willing to jump down a rabbit hole, Yannick Khong has some interesting food for thought from a technical perspective on what factors responsible for good image quality: https://yannickkhong.com/lens-articles. I like Yannick’s blog as a starting point, floating around on forums I have seen lens theory contentions dismissed as some consider discussion over such minutia to be pontification. You will have make up your own mind (if you care enough that is).
So, yes, I drooled over Leica image quality. Or, was I drooling over the image because it came from a Leica? There is a hazy discussion to be had here, and it stems back to what you believe to be true about optical theory.
There is a belief older lenses carry a special charm and character not found in modern lenses. I believe this to be true.
Image quality is a combination of your film stock/sensor, and lens. Both will work in tandem and seldom are two ever exactly the same. Despite digital photography being well established by now, it seems only in the last decade or so have we seen real advancements with image processing and smarter digital editing tools.
Unfortunately, a very interesting video which did the rounds of forums (again causing much dispute) demonstrated how some cinema lenses appear to have a greater sense of ‘depth’, you can find an article with the same samples here: https://www.filmmakersacademy.com/leica-summilux-c-cooke-s4/#:~:text=The%20Leica%20had%20much%20nicer,stop%20other%20than%20wide%20open. Funnily, the Leica cinema lens here has a more compressed look with the Cooke appearing more ‘organic’.
It has been a long time since I last looked into these discussions and I must admit I am glad to leave it behind for the most part as it is such a time sink and distraction away from more beneficial photography practice and education! But I still think it’s worth a peek.
The purpose of the above points is not to prove anything other than to demonstrate there is some subjectivity on what constitutes ‘image quality’. I personally found many digital Leica images to have a special glow of sorts — which again could be multiple factors pre and post-editing. One explanation could be the quality of the M-mount optics, such as lower numbers of lens elements along with the coatings of said elements.
In fact, constructing lenses with less elements and using a certain combination of coatings (I am not familiar enough to further detail) is suggested to create a sense of ‘lifelike’ images, or at least what is responsible for the lifelike quality, ‘microcontact’.
Which leads to an important point… aren’t all lenses of that era similarly constructed?
There was no shortage of high quality lenses from manufactures now, such as Pentax who have no shortage of ‘magic’ lenses. It’s why photographers in pursuit of artistic character obsess over vintage lenses from all scope of manufactures.
To avoid digressing into further discussion on image quality, I’ll end on this point: I absolutely did not enjoy the image quality of my GX80.
The Micro Four Thirds sensor simply could not keep up, and, investing into higher quality lenses were not an option, I lost patience with the sensor. I felt it needed far too much hard work and almost more than ideal scenarios to truly get the stunning results I sought.
I found MFT images quite ‘flat’, and ‘compressed’ (and this is long before I stumbled upon any of the above linked posts). I have seen beautiful MFT images but the success rate was far too inconsistent. You really needed the best of the best lenses like the PL 15mm or 25mm F1.4 for great lifelike images, or even more expensive and bigger the Olympus 25mm f1.2. On top of that, you’d need one of the newer sensors and more than ideal lighting conditions. I simply did not want to invest anymore into MFT.
Shooting Experience
My final point for trying to explain the Leica experience is again very subjective. You may possibly think this point alone is enough to label any Leica user insane.
Why would anyone in this day and age of phenomenally advanced cameras and lenses, spend so much money on such a ‘stripped back’ camera?
The answer is right there, many enjoy the simplicity of Leica form and function. It could be an age thing, but personally I too find myself less amazed by glitz and glamour, seeking to cut through the noise and get to the core of something. Anything beyond the basics gives me a headache at this point.
Whilst we have advanced beyond manual focussing, there is no denying the tactile, enjoyable feedback tinkering your camera settings directly. It’s the same cathartic satisfaction as any creative craft.
A simple metering system, no automatic settings, and manual focus means no choice but to demand more from the photographer which carries an artisan gratification, surely. Feeling more ‘involved’ with the process makes the end result feel much more satisfying and personal. The learning curve and challenge could also be a great appeal.
Such a simplistic camera forces a lot of your ‘soft’ photography skills to develop, such as reading light, anticipation, patience.
I fear sounding pretentious, but once you learn how to confidently manual focus, it really does become second nature, you intuitively compose your image by muscle memory with enough practice. It does feel liberating to adjust your focus precisely subverting fidgeting with any focus points or buttons. Dare I say, in some instances I get exactly the plane of focus I want quicker than AF?
The above three possible explanations are a stream of thought from the top of my head.
I still do not own a Leica, nor do I ever intend to own one, in fact I no longer crave a Leica. The realisation of Leica’s being somewhat a professional, certainly costly, luxury, and obviously no more than a preference tamed my Leica lust.
I came to realise much of the perceived ‘Leica experience’ can be found in other systems and comes down to where you’re at in your journey.
At the time of writing, I am content with my current equipment.
Cue my second solution for seeking the Leica experience, the Fujifilm X-E3:
Without repeating myself, the X-E3 is obviously everything I enjoy about rangefinder styling, except this time around much better image quality. This set up is purely, solely, greedily all for me. In an ideal world it’d be the X-Pro2/3, alas bills and rent still take priority.
I’ve become wiser than to think this will be my one and only set up, needs and wants change over time but much of my itches for an enjoyable photography experience are duly scratched.
It is of course not a like-for-like replica of using a mechanial full-frame rangefinder. The EVF is however very bright and responsive with a high refresh rate, meaning manually focussing with a barrel as smooth as the 7artisans feels seamless.
The f0.95 is as much shallow depth of field I can squeeze out of the sensor to subdue any full-frame cravings. Thankfully the 7artisans is refreshingly free of bizarre optical abnormalities typical of affordable fast lenses, paired with the Fujifilm X-trans sensor I get rich, detailed files with great consistent colours.
At this point my initial Leica fascination started dissolving. Much of what I sought was found in my Fujifilm set up. And it became much more evident the ‘Leica experience’ extends into varying needs and wants (and bank balances).
The most important lesson I’ve learned seeking the ‘Leica experience’, is what I am really seeking is a set up to meet my evolving wants and needs.
At this point, I wanted better image quality, tactile controls, a rangefinder style body, and a sense of community linked to my gear.
As of now, the Fujifilm has sufficed all of that. Next year, if my wants change, it may not.
Gear is not finite. No gear is an end goal in and of itself, you simply buy and sell according to your wants and needs.
And guess what? It never ends. Because, at this point (04/12/23), I am exploring the ‘Fujicron’ lenses for a more ‘practical’ set up. You see how it works? Once my ‘Leica experience’ was quenched, I began to muse over seeking another equipment experience.
So having reached a somewhat satisfying point in my journey of gear, I’m left wondering what lesson are there to learn from all the above.
First, we have certain expectations about gear, which is predominantly influenced by marketers and reviewers. Not every expectation will necessarily become a reality, e.g. ‘If I get a Leica, my images will be beautiful’. You only need to watch a few videos of more-money-than-skill rich kids with Leicas to know this isn’t true, they’d take the same lame photos with a Canon 600D.
Second, and this is perhaps controversial and contradictory to the above point, you sometimes just need to get the gear you want, or at least close enough. In many forum discussions M43 users swayed me away from ever considering jumping ship to pursue a more satisfying experience, “become a better photographer instead of getting new gear” being the main justification.
Yet, it was exploring different gear is what in turn lead me to stop feeling like I’m somehow ‘missing out’ or that there’s an unattainable ideal far from reach.
In turn, through this exploration, I realised that any gear, specifically brand, isn’t a finite end goal. It’s about finding equipment that aligns with evolving needs and wants. Moreover, the journey taught me that while gear matters, it’s not the sole determinant of photographic satisfaction… yet can matter if you’re really not happy with your cameras image quality.
All in all, whilst I still think there is something special about Leica, I no longer feel Leica is the end-goal, getting better at photography is.
