My Road to a Leica: a Tale of Experiences and Acceptance
“Leica” looms over cameras much like Rolex does watches. It’s a name with both meaning and stigma. On one hand, it speaks to quality, provenance, tradition, and a culture of dedicated enthusiasts. Conversely, it speaks to snobbery, wealth, style over substance, and exclusivity. Being who I am, I’m always suspicious of overly adored things, especially when they are expensive, as I can’t help but keep value in mind. Over the years, I’ve avoided the red dot despite countless recommendations. They just felt like too much of a thing I didn’t want to be a part of. A brand name for people who wanted to appear to be photographers, regardless of whether or not they had any skill or even a desire to shoot. Or maybe they didn’t even care if they appeared as photographers; the camera just served as an accessory to a lifestyle. Part of a kit that said, “Yeah, I do alright,” and looked great with a vintage Sub. *Side note: I wrote this intro before Griffin Bartsch covered the new SL3, and thus, I still thought myself clever for the Rolex comparison. As I now know it’s quite banal, I feel a tinge embarrassed, and yet, it holds a true statement, so it remains. As a former art major, I’ve always felt that cameras were tools, much like my paintbrushes. They could be used to create art or to document life. They weren’t lifestyle objects; they were a medium. I only got into photography in the first place to shoot my work in grad school. And then, I had to learn more ...
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