After One Weekend with Leica, I Can’t Go Back
For the longest time, since the very beginning of my career, I’ve been a Canon loyalist. A fan. An ambassador in spirit, if not in title. And for just as long, I was convinced—Canon is the best. No other camera brand could compare. No other brand could pull me away.
Then Sony came along. I watched what they were doing with mirrorless cameras. I saw the A7S III in action, the way it revolutionized low-light video. I saw Chris Burkard, Shortstache (aka Garrett King) using Sony, and I thought, Maybe I’m missing something.
Then Nikon bought RED, and suddenly, I found myself wondering what that meant for the future of video. What kind of insane technology they were about to integrate into their cameras.
All the while, I stayed with Canon. I looked, but I never left.
And yet, Leica? Leica wasn’t even on my radar. Not even a thought. Until last weekend.
I rented a Leica SL2-S to photograph one of the biggest snowmobile races in the country at Kelly Canyon in Eastern Idaho. I paired it with the newly announced Sigma 300-600mm f/4. And over the course of two days—kneeling in the snow, watching riders charge toward me at 50 mph, pushing the camera to its limits—I realized something.
This wasn’t just a camera. This was an experience.
I had reviewed the SL3 before, but I didn’t get it back then. Leica’s approach—this blend of sophistication and minimalism—didn’t fully click for me at the time. But sitting there on the mountainside, in the freezing cold, immersed in my work, something changed.
Shot with the Sigma 300-600 f/4 on a Leica SL2s
The images. The feel. The way I was shooting.
I say all of this because for my entire career, I’ve been a Canon fanboy. And I probably always will be—to some extent. But this morning, as I stood in the shower, letting all of this process, a thought hit me:
A camera is just a camera… until you use it.
Because for the client? It doesn’t matter. It’s just gear. If the work is great, that’s all they care about. But for the person behind the camera? The creator? The storyteller?
It does matter.
That experience behind the camera—it has to mean something. It has to be felt. Because when it is, that passion, that drive, that emotion—it translates into the images you create.
And I have never felt more in tune, more immersed, more connected to what I was doing than when I shot with the SL2-S.
After that, everything changed.
And suddenly, I found myself asking a question I never thought I’d ask:
Am I willing to give up my Canon 1DX Mark III—my workhorse, my prized possession—for something I now value even more?
Because if the Leica SL3-S is everything I think it will be—30fps, improved autofocus, insane video capabilities—then why am I holding on to something when I know, deep down, that this could be far greater?
Far more immersive.
Far more intentional.
Far more than a camera — an experience.
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Have you felt something similar? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.