Great expectations...

Well, two years have flown by and another Photokina is upon us. The Techno-Tubbies and up-before-the-dawn Early Adopters have been wetting themselves with excitement for weeks at the thought of some tasty new bit of bloatware or “shiny thing”. The internet fora have been rife with onanistic speculation as to what would be served up to the eager faithful. With camera product cycles now measured in weeks and rapidly approaching something that would compare to the life of an average mayfly, the expectations placed upon camera manufacturers are now more unrealistic than a TV advert for mascara.

In order to feed this insatiable appetite for the novel, manufacturers are forced into unnatural acts of marketing hype. “Innovations” that would never have been deemed as newsworthy a few years ago are now trumpeted to the World with all the zeal of the Second Coming. Even the venerable Leica cannot ignore the “need” to feed. Unfortunately the NIRN (Need It Right NOW) Brigade, brought up on a diet of instant gratification – from mashed potato to fame – do not share the same planet as the Gnomes of Solms. Leica have always pursued a policy - either deliberately or through Teutonic indifference to the more excitable elements of society - of “never apologise, never explain”. Now this works if you are an absolute monarch, or an absolute bastard, but is not what sits well with the posters in the opinion-rich, patience-poor online communities to which Leica is both paramour and pariah.

The howls of indignant and righteous frustration that have greeted the announcement of the M9 Titanium special edition would put a cuckolded husband to shame. Never have I seen so many middle-aged men united in universal derision and condemnation of a product launch. You would have thought that Dr Kaufmann and Stefan Daniel had stood up and announced the joint development of a nuclear-powered electronic viewfinder M10 with Iraq and North Korea – the axis of EVIL itself – rather than a simple special edition. In the stream of thoughtless bandwagon-jumping vituperation few seem to have stopped to consider that this is effectively a "concept camera" a mule, or testbed for "new" ideas. The clever bit is that Leica are offering those with more money than sense the opportunity to own something limited to just 500 pieces worldwide. Leica have been offering luxury versions of standard models since the Luxus in 1929 - at least this is more than just some gold-plating and a lizardskin cover.

What did people expect? It is only just over a year since the M9 saw the light of day. The factory has been going flat out to meet demand, not only for that but for M lenses and the ugly duckling X1. The fact that Leica has managed to introduce anything significantly novel at all should be applauded rather than derided.

But no.

“...embarrassment...”

"...betrayal...”

“...ugly...”

“...obscene...”

“...unreal...”

These and many other brickbats have been hurled like so many cups and saucers in a domestic tiff. Messrs Mills and Boon will never run out of authors; all they need do is sign up some of the more waspish internet commentators and they will have an endless supply of melodramatic hissy fitters to fill their pages.

Don't get me wrong – Leica is not squeaky-clean in all this. Their biggest “mistake” (for which read “tactical error”) is not that they are not listening to their faithful followers, it is that they are not being seen to listen. Middle-aged men make toddlers look sanguine in their ability to pout, stamp their Mephisto-shod feet and hold their breath until they turn HDR-sky blue. Middle-aged men regard it as their God-given right to hold forth on their opinions and be listened to in rapt attention. It is a consequence of having nobody to order about now that their children are old enough to tell them where to go. Hell hath no fury like a middle-aged man scorned by the object of their affections.

And make no mistake, “affections” is the right word, It is clear that the wailing and gnashing of teeth is coming from those who feel that they have been cruelly betrayed by the love of their life. How DARE Leica not make a camera EXACTLY to their fantasy specifications? How DARE they make a camera that is more expensive than a diamond-tipped dental drill? How DARE they put that red dot on the front? It is only their corporate logo, after all. Do hip-hop chaps complain, I wonder, when Nike puts their swoosh on the side of their latest gym-shoe? I think not. The only reason the faithful take issue with a red dot on a titanium camera is because they know how hard it is to find titanium-coloured insulating tape.

At least they are trying to break out of the straitjacket of expectation and traditionalist inertia that is both their greatest asset and biggest millstone. Leica MUST innovate to survive, but they forever tread the unreasonable tightrope of expectation. In the past you didn't buy a Leica; you took it into your life, nurtured it and shared decisive moments with it. In time you passed it on to a new carer - a younger relative, or a stranger - and it lived on. But now we are in a new Millennium - expectations have changed, Leica must change - and so must its followers.

I shall continue to watch this soap opera with interest; the week is still young...

--o-O-o--

- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.

The weakest link

In today's mindlessly competitive world, a lot of rubbish is talked about what is the best... The best lens, the best camera, the best film, the best memory card, the best processing software, the best printer and so on. Internet fora thrive (if not exist) on this type of discussion (and uninformed speculation). There is a particular type of grown man who spends hours painstakingly photographing brick walls, newspapers, book spines and rulers to prove that the lens that they have spent a young fortune on is infinitesimally better (or unacceptably worse) than another. Similarly there are others who will blindly chant the sales straplines of their chosen "team" like the worst sort of football supporter. Insults and ad hominem attacks abound as the debate rages - Nikon vs Canon, Summicron vs Summilux, GF-1 vs EP-2, Sandisk vs Lexar, Aliens vs Predator, and so on.

There are three fundamental flaws in the vast majority of these arguments. The first is clear. "Best" is a relative, not an absolute concept, qualified and informed by the simple question "Best for what?". Context is vital, as is intended use. One man's best is therefore another man's "you must be joking".

The second flaw is more subtle, but clear once you focus upon it. Having the best of anything does not in or of itself deliver the best end result. This is of course nothing new - the realisation that "a chain is no stronger than it's weakest link" has been around as long as, well as long as chain. In photography, the optical "supply chain" has to be optimised just like any other. It's no good having the "best" lens if the film or sensor is not up to snuff. Similarly, the whole thing falls apart if you drop your films into the local high street chemist or or photo dealer currently offering "advice for life" (They don't, by the way - I asked an assistant in my local branch how I could eat more healthily and he offered me a Canon Ixus) or process your digital images with the freeware that you downloaded off a mirror of a mirror of a mirror site in Ulan Bator.

In business systems implementations, the current fad is to speak in terms of process flows; "Procure to Pay", "Hire to Retire", "Order to Cash", etc. Each flow is made up of a series of standardised and proven steps. Do a step well and the process is improved. Do all the steps well and the process is optimised. The same logic can be applied in the photographic world.

So. It's simple, isn't it? The image excellence flow is:

Lens=>camera=>capture medium=>post processing=>output medium

In fact, let's be more snappy and call it "Snap to Show". Optimise every one of these elements and everything will be fine.

Won't it?

No.

Because there are other contributory elements. You could be using an MP or M9 with a 50mm Summilux and if you stick a hokey-cokey filter on the front, or if you don't use a lens-hood you have compromised your carefully thought through Snap to Show flow at the outset. Similarly, step through all the other stages in good order and only show off your finest photos as "optimised for web" and you may as well be using a Box Brownie. One interesting aspect of this particular chain is that if you get it wrong at an early stage, there is little or no opportunity to get it right later. A poorly exposed negative, or badly captured file is a recipe for later misery; you truly cannot turn out a silk purse from a sow's ear.

Okay, let's say we've got those bits right... what else? Now it gets interesting. Having the best is not the same as being the best. The single most important influencing factor on the quality of your photos is you. Do you know how to handle your equipment, how to get the best from it? How do you feel? A bit hung-over? A bit out of breath from walking up all those steps, perhaps? Should you have had that second expresso at lunch? Looking a bit shaky there... Oops... It's started to rain - and you without a coat...

...and so on.

I'm not suggesting that photography becomes an Olympic event - Heaven forbid - I cannot envisage photographers the world over eschewing lie-ins, beer and cigarettes and embarking on intensive fitness regimes to compete to achieve the ultimate cat snap - but why put so much thought and money into the camera and lens then skimp on such a key element? There are easy things you can do - avoid stimulants, catch your breath before trying to handhold a shot - you are a basic part of the equation.

You see where I am going with this... EVERY contributing factor must be taken into account, it's virtues and drawbacks weighed up, and the decision made. The holy trinity of flexibility - portability - image quality cannot be ignored, otherwise we would all be carrying around large format cameras on studio stands, but each and every one of us has to decide what, and how much, to compromise to achieve the desired result.

It's all in the mind...



The last flaw is so basic, so elemental, that if you do not get it right you may as well throw away all your gear and buy a postcard. The most optimised Snap to Show flow in the World will not enable you to turn out a decent photo if there is a creative gap between your ears - if you are unable to "see" in the first place. A boring photo is a boring photo. It may be technically excellent, but if the subject matter itself is more tedious than a late night chat show on Belgian TV in August nothing will save you. It really is as simple as "Garbage in, garbage out". If you cannot see - or edit - to save your life, then it's true.

You are the weakest link.

Goodbye.

--o-O-o--

- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.

Humble

No, not in a Uriah Heep way.

Humility is a rare commodity in middle-aged males. We have spent years cultivating an air of omniscient superiority second only to politicians, or maybe Bible-belt preachers. We KNOW we are right; we KNOW we are good at what we do, and we KNOW women find a 0ne-pack irresistible, otherwise we would all look like Arnie...

...that's why it comes as a shock when one realises that one is confronted with evidence of one's own mediocrity.

Well, maybe mediocrity is too strong a term, but it is a sobering experience when it is graphically demonstrated that in one's chosen pastime there are those who can knock out a snap that makes anything you can do look pedestrian.

I am currently editing the Leica User Forum Charity Book. This very worthy project has already raised over seven thousand pounds for an international cancer charity, AICR. The idea is simple; members of the Leica User Forum community have been invited to submit up to three photos of their choice in one of a number of categories - effectively the chapter headings. Each entry "cost" the entrant ten pounds to the charity; a maximum of thirty pounds in all. The first surprise was those who donated more - in some cases much more - than the required sums; I am honestly proud to be a member of the human race at times like this.

The second surprise was the sheer volume of entries; over 600 photos to choose from, and whittle down into the 140-odd that would make it into the final version of the book. A team of sub-editors, every one with a better eye than my own, worked hard for weeks to make their selections.

The third surprise is the eye-searing, jaw-dropping downright stunning quality of the final submissions. For weeks now I have been downloading them, one by one, in full-size file format for insertion in the book. I am therefore privileged to be the first to see the photos selected for the book in all their glory.

And glory is not too strong a word. I am truly humbled (you knew I would get to the point in the end) by the quality of these photos. Images from all around the world, captured using cameras from the latest state of the art M9 all the way back to 50+ year old Barnacks. Images of people, of events, of landscapes, architecture... Images of the world, and of how we live in it today. There is not a duffer among them.

Every year I buy a copy of the World Press Photo Yearbook - I have them going back to 1993, the year my Son was born. My idea is to give them all to him on his 21st birthday - a unique photographic record of the world that he has grown up in. The Charity Book - this book made up largely of the work of of passionate amateurs, of hobbyists, of those who view photography as a pastime rather than a career, will take a similar place on my bookshelf.

It is a book of snapshots, and in so being, a snapshot of the world in it's own right. I am honoured to have instigated it, and humbled to be a part of the project.

This will be the first entry to this blog that does not have an illustrative photo. There's a reason for that - nothing I have is good enough to illustrate this topic.

When the book is ready to be purchased, I will let you know. Please buy it; not just because every book sold raises more money for AICR, but because you too can see what I have seen - true quality.

It does the soul good occasionally to be reminded - even as a know-all middle-aged man - that you do not have all the answers. Most, maybe - but not all. It will certainly make me think - and hopefully raise my game - the next time I raise my camera to my eye.

Bill

--0-O-o--

- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.

Tiger, Tiger burning bright...

Change.

A six letter word. Surely that makes it 50% better than a 4-letter word... or is it 50% worse? What's your gut reaction when confronted by change? Do you embrace it, or shy away? Do you see it as a good thing, or bad? Or does it not touch you at all? There are many types of change - climate..., small..., ...for the better, ...for worse. How we react to change is a measure not only of our own stability and confidence, but our own mutability, and the extent to which external events can touch us within.

This is a time of change for me. I have already changed cars; in the next week I shall also change job, phone, email - each in itself is not a major thing, but added together, the faff factor is significant. But am I bothered?

No.

Quite the contrary. This change has been a long time coming; it's time has come and I am both ready and eager for it. Those of you who have asked - or wondered - about my avatar, follow the next bit carefully; the 14th of February is the start of the Chinese Year of the Tiger; my own sign. The following day I start my new job. Tiger years are years of change; they pass in a whirlwind of activity. You either run like the wind, or get blown away by it. I intend to do the former.

Which will you do?

Hold that tiger...


I was on a course once, which addressed personality types in meetings. The presenter made it simple for us. He explained that there are only four basic types of behaviour to watch out for:

The Tiger - knows how to play the game, and plays it;
the Owl - knows how to play the game, but chooses to sit back and watch;
the Donkey - thinks he knows how to play the game, and tries to do so;
and the Sheep - doesn't even realise there is a game, and becomes a plaything for the others...

As in meetings, so in life. Some play the game, some spectate, and some are the ball.

So what does all this have to do with photography in general, and Leica photography in particular?

Good question. Give me a moment...

...only joking.

There was a massive upheaval in the world of Leica last September - 09/09/09, to be exact - when the M9 hit the streets. The first full-frame digital camera, it caused a minor riot. Pent up demand exploded, and as I write the waiting list is measured in weeks if not months. The evolutionary dead-end that is the M8 was deserted in droves as the early adopters vied with each other to be the first kid on the block with the new shiny thing. Those who embraced change led the charge, while others sat back, happy with what they had, unable to afford (or justify) the expenditure, or simply unconvinced that the M9 was really the sine qua non.

What has been surprising has been the extent to which we have seen the armchair CEOs and kitchen-table designers pour scorn on the M9. There have been a number of voices raised expressing dissatisfaction with the new Leica, and "designing" the M10 already.

Why?

I think that there are two reasons. First is a "disappointment" - the M9 did not go "far enough" for some. These are the same people who want the M10 to more closely resemble a Canon DSLR than a Barnack. Their philosophy is simple - "newest is best" and anyone who disagrees risks being branded a "Luddite". Change cannot happen fast enough for them; their greatest frustration is that they are not driving the pace. "The Disappointed" run the risk of throwing the baby out with the bathwater; there is genuinely a faction that believes autofocus can be added with minimal upheaval. Their answer to the "Luddites" who do not want it is that it can be turned off.

Yeh right.

The second group is more complex, more nuanced, in their thinking. These are those who will always say that they are waiting for the next thing, because it is safer than embracing the current change. When the M10 comes out they will assiduously justify why it isn't quite what they need, and why they will be saving their pennies for the M11. On the surface, they look like The Disappointed, but they are even harder to please - we will call them "The Dissatisfied". Their expressed frustration for Leica not having delivered what they want is just the tip of the iceberg. Their entire lives will be characterised by a general feeling of unhappiness with everything they own and encounter - nothing will be quite good enough, nothing quite up to their standards. They resist change by calling for more, more more - and never quite getting there.

Change is a fact of life. You can embrace it, become part of it and shape it, or you can resist it and like the rock on the seashore, eventually get worn away. Change is not to be feared, but does have to be understood and guided. If you ignore it, you cannot complain when the change affects you in a way and at a time not of your choosing.

So, whether you say Gong Xi Fa Cai or Gong Hey Fat Choy, in this, of all years, ride the Tiger of change - don't let him ride you.

Bill

--0-O-o--

- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.

Snob value...?

If I had a Pound (or a Euro, or a Dollar, etc.) for every terabyte of server space devoted to the subject of snobbery - particularly pertaining to photo equipment - I would almost have enough to afford an M9. I mention the M9 because as a brand Leica seems to attract more snobbery - both real and inverted - than any other brand of equipment with a lens on the front.

One of those ghastly on-line dictionaries - you know, the ones that claim that "lense" is a word - defines snobbery as "...the trait of condescending to those of lower social status". In this context "social status" is defined not by birth but by financial clout. There is no such thing as a "cheap" Leica; even second-hand they command a premium over comparable equipment - assuming that anything comparable exists, which is frequently not the case anyway.

So why are Leicas so expensive? And why do people with more money than sense buy them? Finally, why does Leica ownership inspire such envy in others?

To understand this phenomenon we have to understand the unique place that the Leica camera holds in both history and mythology. Long ago, it ceased to be just a picture-taking machine. It became a lifestyle choice, before the term was even invented. When Leitz Camera introduced the Luxus in the 1930s it set the tone for years to come. Never let anyone tell you that the Leica was a professionals' camera that has been adopted by well-heeled amateurs - the well-heeled amateurs got there first, at the time the professionals were still using bulky full- half- and quarter-plate folders and 120 rollfilm and looking down their noses at the new-fangled "miniature" format as inadequate for serious use.

It didn't take long, however, for canny pros to realise that those pesky amateurs were on to something worthwhile; the light and compact Leica and its contemporaries taking 35mm film loads were turning up all over the place and producing publishable results. From the Arctic to the Antarctic, from the gondola of a Zeppelin to the pyramids of Egypt, the world was being viewed through a small viewfinder and captured through an Elmar.

The Leica was never cheap. It was hand-made with quality materials and for years represented the acme of German manufacturing ingenuity. Have a look at a Leitz product catalogue from 80 years ago and you can see that the camera itself was just at the tip of an ever-increasing iceberg of accessories and attachments, each identified by its' own five-letter designation - LYCAN, FODOR, FODIS, VALOY and of course my all time favourite, NOOKY. The complexity of the system of course appealed to the boy within the man - it's the same thing you see today with modern gadgets - iphones, bluetooth headphones, GPS keyrings, Nespresso coffee makers - boy toys one and all. The Gnomes of Solms (well, the Gnomes of Wetzlar at that time) were quick to realise that the acquisition of the kit was as important to the experience as the end result.

Fast forward to today; Leica is no longer at the bleeding edge of camera design; instead the company and its' products occupy a niche that was until recently almost unassailable - the cost of entry is prohibitive to all but the most resourceful - or obsessed. Nikon, Canon, Olympus and the rest have left Leica to it, abandoning the rangefinder as the SLR moved into the ascendant. And with a few notable exceptions - Voigtlander, Epson, Contax, Zeiss, Rollei (has anyone actually SEEN a Rollei m-mount rangefinder?) that is the way it has largely stayed. Only with the advent of micro four-thirds has there been a resurgence of the non-SLR "serious" camera as - belatedly - the big boys have realised once again that there is a market for small, high quality interchangeable lens system cameras.

Snobbery abounds there too, though. When Panasonic announced the GF-1 interchangeable lens micro four-thirds camera it took about 24 hours before it was being derided on the internet as the "GirlFriend-1" - a camera that no "serious" photographer would be seen dead with. This is of course bollocks, but sadly is a school of thought to be found almost exclusively among middle-aged men with more money than sense.

...and there is the crux of the problem. Like many quality items in this world - expensive sports-cars, high-end watches, bespoke tailoring - Leica ownership is not a young man's game. Forking out the thick end of £5000 for a camera body is not something that the average thirtysomething trying to bring up a young family is going to regard as a high priority.

Snobbery - or is it passive aggressive racism? also surfaces in the form of the perennial "Where is it made?" question. To some, it is not a Leica if it isn't made in Germany. Leitz Midland in Canada and the Portuguese facility are dismissed as not quite good enough, and heaven help a lens made under licence in Japan! The highest opprobrium is reserved, however, for the products of the partnership with Panasonic. Derided as "Panaleicas", they are regarded as the bastard spawn of a desperate marketing manager's wet dream. The reality - that they are built in close co-operation to a high standard, that they bring in a newer, younger clientele that would otherwise never go near Leica, and the fact that they provide an "on-ramp" for new customers who graduate to the more expensive products - is conveniently ignored. This has reached new heights with the recent announcement of the X1 - the very thought that a Japanese company may have had a hand in its' manufacture sends some into a fit of the vapours.

Lastly, we have the "It's good but it's not a Leica" snobbery that is displayed at the sight of a non-Leica lens mounted to a Leica body. Cosina Voigtlander (CV) and Zeiss have brought to market some groundbreaking lenses in recent years. They may not be the match of the equivalent Leica glass, but more often than not they are not specifically designed to go toe-to-toe with Solms' finest. Until very recently, there was no overlap at all between the CV and Leica lens ranges. Either focal length, aperture or both varied. To this day Leica still do not offer a 12mm lens, for example, or a 40mm 1.4, both of which CV introduced. Above all, CV revitalised the screw-mount ("LTM" or "Barnack") market with a slew of new lenses, offering modern glass in the classic mount and bringing a new lease of life to the older bodies alongside their own offerings. Lenses should be regarded as a palette, or perhaps more accurately as a selection of brushes; each delivers a different result, in support of the photographer's vision. Sharpness may be a quantifiable absolute, but since when was photography about absolute technical perfection?

So.

There are Leica snobs - elitism is rife. But does that explain the bitchiness and envy that abounds? Every time Leica puts a foot wrong - or even dares to go quiet for a time - the nay-sayers and doom-mongers gather. Every time somebody dares to praise the company or its' products there are those who will crawl out of the woodwork to point out that somebody else does it better/cheaper/faster. Buyers are derided for spending so much money on something that is far more capable than they are.

It seems to me that, like Montblanc, Rolex, Porsche etc. Leica has fallen into the "lifestyle" niche - a discretionary purchase that says as much about the purchaser as it performs the task it is designed for. iPods are egalitarian - everyone has one and they are cheap and plentiful. Leicas are elitist because they are expensive and (relatively) rare.


Posh "porn" - Montblanc and Leica...

Ultimately, it doesn't matter. If you can afford it, buy it. Personally, I have a simple philosophy - "buy cheap, buy twice". I bought my M7 new back in 2002 when they were first introduced. Since then I have lost count of number of SLRs and DSLRs and compacts (with various innards) that have sat alongside it in my gadget bag. It has long since paid for itself, and will continue to do so for as long as I can get film to feed it. It has been joined in recent years by an M2 and a II - neither of them in the first flush of youth, but both capable of superlative photography for years to come.

Snobbery? No. Lifestyle choice? Maybe. Lifelong choice? Yes.

Bill

--o-O-o--

- All images on this blog are copyright Bill Palmer and may not be reproduced in any format or medium without permission.
- More imagery at: Lightmancer

Early adopting for beginners

The Leica - indeed the high-end amateur and professional photographic - world was set alight just over a week ago with the introduction - not just announcement, mark you, but actual, bodies-flying-off-shelves introduction - of the full-frame M9 digital rangefinder camera.

Leica conducted a masterful guerrilla marketing campaign which mixed absolutely watertight secrecy with the odd accidental leak so viral it made the Black Death look like the work of an amateur. The eager faithful were tantalised and teased with details, images, flashes of websites, word leaking out from impatient (and imprudent) dealers. In the meantime the trusted few were wandering around with M9s slung around their necks disguised as M8s.

I have always been clear in my personal dislike of the M8. I thought it was a remarkable achievement for a small company to bring to market a digital rangefinder given the technological challenges; "ye cannae fight the laws of physics" as a famous Scotsman will say in 200 years or so. But the M8 was flawed; the problems with sensor, rangefinder and other aspects of the design all pointed toward something that was brought together in a rush and held together by inspiration, genius and hope. Mark Norton famously dissected one to show how it was made and what it was made from - not a pretty sight. The M8 also attracted to the Leica brand culture a whole new user demographic, many of whom had never used a film Leica and for whom the M8 represented their first exposure to the world of the rangefinder. They brought with them different attitudes, different expectations. They looked on the M8 not as the latest evolution in a long line of excellent cameras but as a computer with a lens on the front that would boot up first time, every time. The MTV generation met the M rangefinder with a bang...

Leica learned a huge amount from the M8, not just in terms of the product itself, but also the need to handle the digital rangefinder user base in a very different fashion. You don't have to go back too many years to the days when nobody knew what problems anybody else was having with their camera; all communication was "hub and spoke" - a one to one relationship between user and manufacturer. In today's internet-savvy world companies such as Leica constantly find themselves in the dock of "public opinion" where a few verbose and opinionated individuals can make their voices heard out of all proportion to the significance of what they have to say.

That is not to say that openness is wrong; Leica have the benefit of being able to look into a strong and vibrant user forum that is for the most part populated with intelligent and experienced people. Sensible requests and suggestions are given the weight of popular support and no doubt have an influence on thinking in Solms. I am sure that, like most, they can tune out the sometimes high signal to noise ratio and ignore the trolls and armchair CEOs that appear to be attracted to the brand like flies to fresh shit.

The early adopter of the title is a particularly important component part of the Leica (indeed of any) community. They are those who will not - do not - cannot - wait for somebody else to form and communicate an opinion. They are those who long to be the first kid on the block with the new "toy". Sometimes it is purely and simply about bragging rights - "I have enough money to buy this expensive camera without batting an eyelid"; sometimes it is out of genuine curiosity, or pent-up demand, sometimes an altruistic desire to find out, and share the experience with others. Two weeks down the line it looks like Leica, in the M9, have a real hit on their hands. There has yet to be any shock-horror revelation such as the need for UV/IR filters that so crippled the M8, and long may that be the case. The M9 is a far more serious proposition than the M8 - a finished product brought to market when it is ready. The early teething problems appear more concerned with firmware and third party editing software than with fundamental optical or hardware issues.

So what of the early adopters of yesterday? Those hardy souls who dropped coin on the M8 and who lived with, and through, its spotty adolescence. They seem to have divided into three camps. Those who are (rightly) content with their M8s and M8.2s - they have a mature product that produces images as well as it did the day before the M9 was announced. They are happy with what they have and see no reason to change. In that they find themselves much like the film Leica users when the M8 first arrived who were not swayed by the lure of digital. Then there are the serial early adopters - those who live their entire lives on the bleeding edge. They have resigned their previously "perfect" M8s to the bottom of the camera bag or to the hands of a dealer in order that they can embrace the new best thing in the world.

Bless 'em. Patience is as alien to them as stilettos on a bullfrog. They probably stand at home in front of the microwave shouting "hurry!"

The third group is those who have an M8 but would really like to be over there with the cool kids fondling a new M9. Some will extol the virtues of what they have, but a small and vocal minority will rubbish the new product, either by querying the need for it, or by saying that they will wait for the M10. They will damn the product and the company with faint praise, while at the same time muttering darkly under their breath. They feel, bizarrely that they are no longer "in the mainstream" and they resent it.

The M2... Did M3 owners gnash their teeth when it came out, I wonder...?

Finally, we really ought to spare a thought for the trailing-edgers - those who bought into the outgoing product just as the new one hit the streets. The adults among them will shrug and accept the situation - they bought the M8 recently because they could finally afford it, or because they felt that the time was right. They have no right to feel aggrieved because the M9 has arrived - but some do. There are actually people out there who are angry with Leica for bringing out a new product without warning...

...I'm glad I don't live in their world...

For me, I held off from the M8 for all sorts of good reasons. At times I have been made to feel like the man at the party who says that he doesn't like football - there must be something odd about him - he doesn't "get it". The M9 - full frame, no UV/IR filters, robust and well-thought through - is the digital rangefinder that I have been waiting for and as soon as someone hits the "Buy It Now" button on my Granny on eBay I shall be in the queue at my local dealer...

Bill

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