After 20 years on the sports photography circuit – rain, mud, sidelines, airports – I hit a wall. What once lit me up became a job, just another deadline. The adrenaline rush of nailing the shot gave way to the thud of burnout.
I’d been glued to the Nikon system for decades, loyal to a fault, but somewhere along the line my passion got lost under layers of high-speed burst modes and autofocus settings. Then, out of nowhere, a Leica landed in my hands – and everything changed.
The first time I held that Leica, something shifted. It wasn’t just a camera, it was a feeling. Suddenly I wasn’t tweaking settings for clients or shooting from the hip at 14 frames per second – I was framing deliberately, breathing again, seeing again.
I wasn’t chasing images any more, I was falling in love with them. It was like swapping a treadmill for a walk in the woods. I’m not saying Leica is magic (well, maybe just a little), but it reminded me why I fell for photography in the first place.
And here’s the weirdest part: the photos actually got better. Not because the camera is objectively sharper or faster – though it is gorgeous – but because I was enjoying myself. There’s something about using gear that makes you feel good, something tactile and emotional that puts you in the zone.
When you want to shoot, you see more. You play more. You fail more, yes, but you also learn faster. I found myself experimenting again, embracing the unexpected – like a creative muscle finally stretching after years of sitting still.
Now I catch myself grinning every time I walk past my Leica on the table. I should probably dust it. Or maybe not – odds are I’ve just put it down five minutes ago. Whether it’s digital or film, that thing doesn’t get much rest.
I’m constantly planning my next wander just so I can take it with me. It’s like owning a beautiful car that you actually drive – not one that sits in a garage under a silk sheet. Except with the Leica, there’s no petrol bill and the view out the window is always changing.
To be clear, I’m not saying that buying a Leica will turn you into Cartier-Bresson overnight. It’s not about brand snobbery or gear worship. It’s about connection.
If a camera – any camera – makes you excited to shoot, you’ll shoot more. And as every grizzled old pro will tell you, “Your first 10,000 photos are rubbish.” So the sooner you burn through them, the better. If your camera is a joy to use, you’re already halfway there.
So go find that camera that makes you smile when you pick it up. The one that feels right in your hands, the one that whispers, “Just one more frame” even when your feet are sore. Because when photography stops feeling like a chore and starts feeling like play, that’s when the real magic begins.
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