Gear matters, just not the way you think

Leica 1 Model A

As the title says, gear matters, just not the way you think.

This is less of a story behind a photo and more of an opinion piece about the misunderstood importance of gear and how it affects one’s photography. I say opinion piece, because, like most things, this is subjective. Photographers will feel differently about different types of gear. 

I took a photography class in high school, and although at that age I didn't fully understand or appreciate the art, it was my introduction to photography. My parents bought me a Minolta SLR. I remember putting a roll or two through it, though none of the photos were worth holding onto, and I didn't take the class too seriously anyway. In the years following high school, I owned a few incredibly cheap digicams, though I still didn’t hold on to any of the photos I took. I was more interested, however. Years went by, and I took more pictures with digicams and phones here and there. Most were not kept, but some, I think, were becoming notable.

Was that introduction you just read, wasting the last few minutes of your time, necessary? No, of course not, but I appreciate you. 

Fast forward a few years. I decided to get serious and dive into the deep end, with encouragement from my wife and some close friends. I bought a Canon M50. It was great for a few months. I made a point to never use any of the auto functions, allowing me to learn quickly and become proficient in the craft, but I quickly felt that I had outgrown the camera. I became bored with it and felt limited by it. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I wanted more. I sold the M50 and bought a Canon R, which lasted about a year, and once I reached, let’s call it, professionalism, I upgraded to two Canon R6’s and started a photography business. I have an old friend named Ari, who is an incredible guitar player, and he always used to say, “ amateurs practice until they get it right, professionals practice until they can’t get it wrong.” That always stuck with me and is what I mean when I say professionalism. I had reached a skill level where I had the confidence to start a business, knowing I was capable of delivering quality results every time, for every client.  

That being said, I made the same mistakes everyone makes on their journey. I kept upgrading my gear, thinking better gear, more high-tech gear, was the answer. Don’t get me wrong, The R6 is a workhorse, and Canon RF lenses are amazing. Obviously, the R6 is a better camera than the M50, especially for something like weddings and events. That, however, is not why I kept upgrading my gear. I was upgrading my gear because I was bored and disconnected. The R6 did its job very well, never skipped a beat. It had great resolution, weather sealing, tons of helpful functions, and a million other things that guaranteed I'd always get the shot. You know what it wasn’t, though? Fun. Those cameras weren’t fun. None of them inspired me. Eventually, I moved to Fujifilm, finding the retro look, the tactile buttons, and dials more appealing. That, too, wore off. The Xpro3 I bought was great for a time, but still felt too disconnected, clinical, if you will. At least I knew what I was searching for. 

This brings me to my current lineup and the brand I shoot 99.9% of the time. Leica. More specifically, Leica M models, I have a few film models and a few digital models. The ages of these cameras vary; I have some that are newer digital M’s, like the M11, and some film M’s that are decades old, like the M2. I know Leica shooters get a lot of hate sometimes; people see a photographer shooting with a Leica and assume it’s a status symbol and nothing more. Maybe, sometimes, but not most of the time. Leica M cameras offer something no other brand can. Simplicity and immersion. These cameras are absolutely bare bones, exactly what you need to create an image and nothing more. Manual focusing through a rangefinder, manually achieving proper exposure, and no aid whatsoever, though newer digital models do have some very limited auto functions. I choose not to use them. The camera features a dial for exposure and a dial for shutter speed on the camera body, and you control aperture and focus by adjusting the rings around the lens. That’s it.  Leica M cameras require knowledge, skills, and experience, and they require that you become fully immersed in the moment. The camera is an extension of you, of your creativity. When you create an image, it’s all you, how you want that image to look and feel. You may miss focus here or there, but that’s part of the uniqueness of the art and, in all honesty, is often what makes such photos more meaningful. It's the human element. You created that, not autofocus, not shutter priority, just you.  Do you know what else these cameras are? They’re fun. All I want to do is have them in my hands, to use them, to immerse myself in moments with them. They inspire me to explore my creativity, to keep immersing myself in moments, and to strive to become a better photographer. Leica M cameras are never just about the photos; they’re about the experience of capturing moments. That’s what photography is about, but too often, that immersion, that emotion and experience of those moments becomes disconnected by an electronic viewfinder, a camera that does all the work for you, or a camera that simply isn’t fun. There are a million reasons why a camera system, or any other type of gear, might create that disconnection.

These Leica M’s are very limited cameras; there’s a lot they can’t do, and they aren’t right for everyone. For me, however, they’re perfect. They make me want to use them. The photos you see at the top of this article were shot on my Leica 1 Model A (also pictured above), affectionately known as a Barnack Leica, the predecessor to the M. If you don’t know who Oskar Barnack is, look him up. His history with Ernst Leitz is fascinating, and Leica, no, photography, would not be what it is today without either of them. This camera was not only the first commercially produced 35mm camera by Leica, but also the first standard 35mm camera in the world. The Leica 1 Model A is even more limited than the M models. It has a lower maximum shutter speed, and it doesn’t have a rangefinder, though an external rangefinder can be bought for a hefty price. I won’t buy one, I use this camera by zone focusing, meaning I set the aperture and focus tab on the lens to approximate the field, or zone of focus, based on distance. The viewfinder on this camera is only a window that gives an approximation of what’s in your frame, no framelines, just that little window. This camera also has a fixed 50mm lens, which cleverly collapses into the body, making the camera incredibly small. A fixed lens can also be a hindrance because that’s the focal length, whether you like it or not. Using this camera can be a lot of guesswork. I love it. It’s by far the most fun camera I have ever used, and it always has a place in my camera bag. Another important thing to add about Leica is that all their cameras are meticulously hand-built. Their craftsmanship is unmatched, and that is something you immediately feel when a Leica camera is in your hands.

Other brands may be more advanced, more flawless and clinical, but Leica, their cameras and lenses, they sure as shit have a fuck ton of character, and I think that further adds to the richness of using these cameras, as well as the look and feel of the photos captured by them. Now, not everyone will feel the way I do about, say, Leica, but I know everyone feels this way about a camera or brand. Perhaps some people haven’t discovered these feelings yet because they haven’t found the right camera, the right brand. Some people will always have the mindset that the most high-tech gear is the gear that matters. That’s okay, if that’s the right gear for that person, for what they need it for, and they enjoy using it, perfect.

To put an end to my rambling, what I’m trying to say is the gear that excites you and inspires you to go out and use it; that’s what matters. Because, if you’re not inspired, if you’re not having fun, what’s the point?

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