Fans of Leica's famous 35mm rangefinders might argue until the last frame in the last silver halide film in existence is exposed, but of all the variants of this magnificent German camera, produced in one guise or another since 1925, the M6 is the one I like best.
Along with my 27-year-old Canon A1 35mm SLR, this is the camera I have enjoyed using most. Small, solid, crafted with the precision of a Swiss wristwatch, wholly reliable and – best of all – silent: here is a camera you can carry in a jacket pocket into the depths of some fearful religious shrine and still take worthwhile pictures without anyone noticing (except the all-seeing God, or gods, of course).
What makes the M6 special is its build quality: it's a mechanical camera with modern through-the-lens metering, a foolproof viewfinder and a flawless lens. Manufactured until 1998, it was made at Leica's modest Wetzlar factory some 40 miles north of Frankfurt, and from 1986 at its equally self-effacing new works in nearby Solms. Factory tours are well worth taking; they're a joy for anyone who still respects industrial craft. Leicas are not built by robots.
Like all Leica rangefinder cameras, the M6 needs to be learned before you can even begin to get the best from it. But the best from a classic Leica is very good indeed; you can enlarge prints as you might never have dared to before. It has been designed not for a few years' service with a hard-pressed photojournalist, or as a jewel-like accessory for a quickly forgotten celebrity, but for life. Maybe even well beyond. In fact, any well-looked-after M6 will easily outlive its owner.
The M6 is a derivation of the Leica M3 (1954-66), the first of a new range of Leica rangefinders equipped with quick-change bayonet lenses. This made the M3 – and its successors, including today's M7 (2002) and digital M8 (2006) – a favourite among photojournalists. The M3 was a direct descendant of the pre-war Leicas invented and designed by the brilliant German mechanic Oskar Barnack (1879-1936), an employee of the Leitz Optische Werke, Wetzlar. It was Barnack who first came up with the idea of a compact, hand-held camera using 35mm cine film rather than glass plates. His Ur-Leica, the prototype, went on display in 1914. Production was delayed by the first world war, and only got going in 1925.
As for the quietly handsome M6, it is truly a mechanical extension of hand and eye. M-range Leicas have been much loved and respected by hardworking professional photographers over the decades. The list is long, but includes the likes of Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa, Leni Riefenstahl, Robert Doisneau, Diane Arbus, René Burri, Elliott Erwitt and Sebastião Salgado.
Leica has faced up to the digital world with its M8, a camera blessed with the spirit of Oskar Barnack, and looking very much like its 35mm M7 sibling, offering all the benefits of digital photography without having to look like a hand-held trainer. The M7 and M8 will be sold alongside one another as long as film lasts, or Leica decides on another slow change in specification and model number.
The one thing a Leica camera will never be is cheap. But it's designed to last. Save for it while using the best you can afford at the time. And, as long as you tape over its distinctive red logo, its old-fashioned appearance will be unlikely to attract thieves – even in the meanest of the world's streets. Because of its silent action and little or no need for flash – you can dare to walk with your Leica in hand. And who knows – the images you capture might just rival those of Bresson, Capa and all.
Funmi Tofowomo Okelola