When the Leica Q came out, the internet did what the internet does: it reviewed the spec sheet instead of the camera. Too expensive. Fixed lens. For that money you could buy… And then everyone moved on, confident they’d figured it out without touching one.
They were wrong. I know because I shoot with one, and the Q is one of those cameras that makes no sense on paper and complete sense in your hands.
First, the lens. A 28mm f/1.7 Summilux that never leaves the camera, designed for exactly one sensor. No mount compromises, no good-for-the-price asterisks. It’s just superb, wide open, every time. People compare it to interchangeable systems and miss the point: this lens will never be the wrong choice because it’s the only choice, and it’s a great one.
Second, the experience. The Q gets out of the way in a way few cameras do. Aperture ring, shutter dial, simple menus, and files that need nothing. I shoot JPEG, and the Q’s JPEGs have a quality that’s hard to describe without sounding like a wine reviewer, so I’ll just say: they look expensive. In a good way.
Third, the fixed lens thing everyone complained about is actually the feature. 28mm teaches you to move your feet and commit to the frame. No zooming with your fingers. You either get closer or you don’t get the shot. My photography got better the month I stopped being able to be lazy.
Was it a lot of money? Yes. Is it worth it? That’s between you and your accountant. But the criticism was never really about the price. It was about a camera that refused to play the spec-sheet game, judged by people holding scorecards for a different sport.
The Q doesn’t try to be everything. It tries to be one thing, perfectly. And in a world of cameras that do fourteen things adequately, there’s something to be said for that. The they in the title were wrong because they never asked the only question that matters: does it take good pictures? It does. Case closed.
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