A love letter to the Leica CL

Entering the world of Leica

Back in 2017, I purchased my first Leica, the Q. I responded to a local classified ad. Driving up to the owner’s home in the hills of the East Bay, I didn’t know what to expect.

He turned out to be a former US ambassador who had also worked as a photographer for National Geographic. He greeted me like an old friend. He offered to show me his studio, full of shots he had taken over the years. I was inspired by seeing someone still so lively and engaged with photography, long after any professional obligation to it had passed. I asked him why he was selling the Q and he said that he found the newer electronic interface too complicated and went back to film, with which he did his best work.

What made me realize the Q was special was a particular duality I noticed over time. On one hand, I’d forget it was around my neck — it was so intuitive that I could always count on picking it up and getting exactly the shot I wanted. On the other hand, after a long day of traveling I’d set it down and find myself just looking at it. It’s a tool that disappears when I’m using it, and demands my attention when I’m not.

That camera taught me a lot. I took it all over the world on my travels. It showed me how powerful a simple but extremely high-quality camera can be. It also taught me something more personal — that I’m far more likely to pick up a camera and take it with me if I genuinely love how it looks and feels. And the Q is a camera I wanted to have with me. I could put on a suit, sling it around my neck and walk into a fancy restaurant and it fit right in. I could also take it through a crowded, dusty city street in India and shoot just as naturally.

I’d shot Canon, Sony, Panasonic, and Fujifilm before, and found all of them a little overcomplicated — by design, because they’re each trying to serve many different kinds of customers. The Q was more focused. I loved the simple aperture ring and shutter speed dial — I could turn the camera on and set up my shot simultaneously, just like a film camera. With most modern cameras, I have to wait for the software to boot before I can change anything.

Then the pandemic hit, and I sold the Q. I wanted to try new ways of shooting and new focal lengths after we had our first child. I tried the X100V briefly before it became a TikTok sensation, but sold it. The software annoyed me and the build quality still didn’t match the Q.

So I bought the Leica T, which I’d had my eye on for a while and had come down to its lowest price. I fell in love with its build quality, the beautiful software interface, and the ability to change lenses.

The T has an interesting place in history — it was the first camera to use the lens mount that was later became the centerpiece of the L-Mount Alliance. Back then it was a quirky thing standing alone, with a small lens selection. I still own it and reach for it in specific situations, like when the built-in flash produces a fun effect at a party. But I knew I wanted something closer to the Q for daily use — a viewfinder, better handling. So I bought the CL. The moment I picked it up, it felt like a smaller Q — but one I could put different glass on.

The body

The CL and the TL2 were released together in 2017 and share the same internals, but their philosophies are completely different. The TL2 follows the path of the original T — a near-smartphone approach built around a large capacitive touchscreen, minimal physical controls, and an optional hot shoe EVF. The CL goes a different direction.

The CL name has history. Leica sold a CL decades ago — the baby sibling to the Leica M, born out of a collaboration with Minolta. The modern CL is a spiritual descendant — a younger sibling to the M in the same way the original was. The comparison only goes so far, though; autofocus and electronic lenses put it in a genuinely different category.

It’s a remarkably small camera. The footprint is the same as the Q body, but shorter. It has a built-in viewfinder — the kind of thing that sounds minor until you’re trying to compose a shot in direct sunlight. Like much of the Leica lineup, the CL also supports Leica’s grip system. Sometimes I want the camera completely bare when I need something exceptionally compact. Other times — especially with a heavier lens — I want more to hold onto. The hot shoe thumb grip is machined metal and sits beautifully on the camera. Add the front grip via the tripod mount and the CL starts to feel like a small DSLR in terms of handling — lightweight, but with a secure, ergonomic hold.

The main controls are two dials, one on either side of the top screen, each with a button in the center. One button cycles through modes like aperture priority and shutter priority, the other controls ISO. In manual mode, both wheels drive the exposure triangle directly. In a priority mode, one wheel handles the chosen parameter and the other handles exposure compensation. It’s a logical system, and it fits naturally within the broader L-mount family, where soft dials and wheels are the common language — unlike Fujifilm, whose cameras lean heavily on dedicated aperture rings and shutter speed dials.

The last major firmware update arrived in 2020, and it was a significant one — it brought the interface first introduced on the SL2, which has since become standard across the Leica lineup. One of my longstanding frustrations with most cameras is that pressing the menu button feels like opening a filing cabinet — finding things takes you completely out of the moment. The CL’s updated menu doesn’t work that way. It’s a focused overlay, not a list — the things I actually change are surfaced immediately, and the full menu is one tap away.

The CL is far more planted and substantial than almost anything else in the market, aside from its older siblings the Q, SL, and M. The shutter release, which can feel loose and imprecise on so many cameras, has real resistance and intention to it. And where the edges wear down with use, they reveal the aluminum underneath in a way that echoes the brass patina of a well-used M. It’s a camera that feels purpose-built.

That combination matters more than it might sound, because it directly affects how the camera fits into daily life. The beauty of the camera encourages me to pick it up more and carry it along my adventures.

Shooting

After getting the CL, the one thing I missed from the Q was the speed and simplicity of a dedicated physical aperture ring and shutter speed dial. The CL’s dial system works well, but there’s an extra step involved.

What makes up for this constraint is the user profiles feature — something found across the modern Leica lineup.

User profiles let me save every setting to a single slot. Switch profiles and the entire camera reconfigures instantly. I have a few set up, and the three I reach for most are: a standard profile in aperture priority with center focus; a second with face detection for portraits; and a third with a slow shutter speed dialed in for tracking shots and long exposures.

Leica CL · 18mm · f/5.6 · 1/60 · ISO 100

That third profile brings me to something I want to single out — the mechanical shutter. I rely on it heavily. It eliminates the flicker and banding that LED lighting introduces into electronically-shuttered shots. But more than that, it’s what makes blurred tracking shots of moving cars possible, which has become a staple of how I shoot.

Leica CL · 23mm · f/7.1 · 1/40 · ISO 100

It feels like a game. I’ll be outside waiting for a bus, flip to that profile, and start working the cars going by — panning with the movement, trying to hold the shutter release at exactly the right point in the motion. Most frames are just blur. But occasionally something clicks — the car’s body is sharp, the wheels are spinning, the background is streaked — and it looks like nothing a phone or an automatic mode could produce.

Two main kits

Over time I’ve worked through much of the CL’s limited but carefully curated lens selection, and I’ve settled on two main setups.

Leica CL · 18mm · f/2.8 · 1/160 · ISO 100

The one I reach for most is the combination of Leica’s 18mm f/2.8 Elmarit pancake and Sigma’s 56mm f/1.4. In full frame terms that’s roughly a 28mm and a 90mm — the wide end gives me something versatile and everything-in-focus, much like the Q, great for interiors or landscapes.

Leica CL · 18mm · f/5.6 · 1/50 · ISO 1250

The 56mm lets me play with depth of field, isolate a small subject, or shoot a portrait.

Leica CL · 56mm · f/1.4 · 1/160 · ISO 640

Two very different lenses that cover a lot of ground without overlapping. This is the kit that fits in a jacket pocket or a small bag, which means it’s the one I can have strapped across my back while carrying my kids, or tucked under my arm at a restaurant, ready to pull out before a moment is gone.

Leica CL · 56mm · f/1.4 · 1/200 · ISO 100

What makes the 18mm possible in that form factor is the mount itself. When Leica designed the T mount, they gave it a very short flange distance and a much wider inner diameter than something like Sony’s E-mount. Together, those decisions gave lens designers considerably more freedom — the ability to design a genuinely fast aperture into an extremely compact package without the usual optical compromises.

Leica CL · 18mm · f/2.8 · 1/200 · ISO 100

Shooting the Q at f/2.8 always produced exactly the depth of field and sharpness I wanted, and the 18mm on the CL delivers similar quality of rendering in a lens that disappears into a jacket pocket.

Leica CL · 18mm · f/4.5 · 1/50 · ISO 1250

The 56mm is remarkably small given the huge aperture and long focal length. Its plastic construction, while a bit cheap, is a big plus, keeping the setup light.

Leica CL · 56mm · f/1.6 · 1/2500 · ISO 100

When I only have room for one lens — a nice dinner out, for example — I’ll bring the 23mm f/2. It’s an all-around focal length that in practice feels a lot like shooting the Sony RX1R II with its 35mm equivalent. It’s also the original prime the Leica T shipped, and it still holds up beautifully.

Leica CL · 23mm · f/2 · 1/400 · ISO 100

Leica CL · 23mm · f/2 · 1/160 · ISO 100

Leica CL · 23mm · f/2 · 1/60 · ISO 400

Other lenses

Of all the lenses available for this system, two stand apart — the 60mm f/2.8 macro and the 35mm f/1.4. These are the only TL lenses made in Wetzlar. That’s not a knock on the others — they’re made by contract manufacturers and are genuinely good — but the signal is clear — Leica put something extra into these two. The telltale sign is that the focal length numbers on the Wetzlar-made lenses are engraved, not printed in Leica’s proprietary font.

But the whole TL lens lineup reflects serious optical ambition. They were designed to produce perfect postcard-size images — the same standard Barnack and Berek set for the original M lenses — except that because of the 1.5× crop factor, the lenses actually need to deliver 1.5× the performance. In one of his webinars, Peter Karbe, the optical engineer behind the APO-SL lens series, explained that while classic M lenses target 40 line pairs, the TL lenses were designed to hit 60 line pairs at 50% MTF contrast.

The 60mm macro gets extensive use for my review posts and product shots. It’s a true 1:1 macro, meaning small objects reproduce at their actual size on the sensor.

Leica CL · 60mm · f/5.6 · 1/400 · ISO 100

I also have the 11-23mm super wide zoom. Though I don’t use if often, it earned its place for when the 18mm isn’t wide enough. The 11mm end, roughly equivalent to 16mm full frame, lets me get everything in. I have to manage distortion, but for the situations I need it, the tradeoff is worth it.

Leica CL · 23mm · f/4.5 · 1/320 · ISO 100

Leica CL · 21mm · f/4.4 · 1/640 · ISO 100

I’ve been thinking about picking up the 35mm f/1.4. A 50mm equivalent field of view has never been my instinct, but I think it could be genuinely compelling paired with an SL3 shot in crop mode. It feels like a compact, more affordable Karbe-approved alternative to the 50 SL or 50 APO SL.

The honest reason I haven’t pulled the trigger is that I already tried the Sigma 30mm f/1.4, which covers similar ground, and I learned something about myself in the process. To use the 35mm f/1.4 the way it deserves, I’d have to rewire how I see — get genuinely comfortable shooting with a 50mm equivalent field of view, which has just never been how I’m wired. I’ve gotten used to seeing the world around 28mm to 35mm in full frame terms. Plus, 30mm and 35mm are a bit too close to the 23mm f/2 in focal length while being much larger.

The Sigma 18-50mm f/2.8 zoom impressed me on paper — small, versatile, fast — but it makes too many compromises, particularly heavy vignetting and distortion, clearly expecting corrections to be applied in post. Compared to just carrying the 18mm and 56mm separately, it didn’t feel like a worthwhile trade.

Leica CL · 50mm · f/16 · 1/20 · ISO 100

The day Leica killed the CL

By May 2022, the CL had been my daily camera for a year and I’d stopped thinking about what else I might want. Then Leica discontinued their entire APS-C lineup — cameras and lenses, all of it.

The business logic wasn’t hard to follow. The APS-C market is brutally competitive. Fujifilm has been positioning itself as a step below Leica for years — similar storied history, but anchored in film, which plays perfectly into their investment in film simulations. Sony, Canon, and Nikon have deep professional followings. Among that company, Leica’s usual advantages — build quality, simplicity, the feel of the thing — become very hard to defend at APS-C price points. I’ve compared Leica to Porsche before — the M is the 911, the Q is the Cayman. Porsche doesn’t make a sportscar below the Cayman, and in the end, Leica couldn’t make the economics of APS-C work either.

I was worried — support would be limited going forward, and the system would slowly become an orphan. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I also saw an opportunity. Once people moved on, prices dropped, which allowed me to try all of the lenses I’ve mentioned.

Nothing else fills the gap

What made the CL’s cancellation particularly painful is that it was the only autofocus Leica that maintained the lightness and pocketability of the M system while actually having autofocus. That combination is what lets me pack a camera and a few lenses for a trip and still have room and weight to spare for everything that traveling with kids demands.

I took a serious look at other camera systems and I’m genuinely excited to see cameras like the Sigma BF pushing in entirely new directions. If the market gets more quirky, opinionated cameras that enhance how we experience travel and daily life, I’m all for it.

I’ve also looked at Panasonic S9 and Sony a7CR. They’re interesting cameras, but the lack of a mechanical shutter and a built-in EVF for the former, and complicated menus for the latter are genuine dealbreakers.

Like most photographers I know, I’ve been tempted by other things over the years. The medium format cameras from Hasselblad and Fujifilm offer a completely different relationship with an image. But their size makes them a non-starter for how I travel, and right now that matters the most. I’ve also been drawn to the monochrome cameras. I’ve written about creativity and constraints before, and the constraint of shooting only in black and white — especially paired with the light-gathering advantage that removing the color filter array brings — is genuinely compelling to me.

I could see picking up an SL3 someday if my work shifted toward more studio or local shooting where size stops mattering. But that’s a different camera for a different life.

Still in my bag

I’m still holding onto the CL, four years after it was discontinued. It remains the only camera that hits every requirement I have — autofocus, compact, interchangeable lenses, mechanical shutter, built-in EVF, and Leica simplicity and build quality. It’s a joy to use and to own — one of those objects that beckons me to pick it up and take it somewhere.

Four years later, I keep coming back to the ambassador I originally bought my Q from. He’d spent decades photographing the world on film Leicas — the walls of his studio were proof of what that combination was capable of. He picked up the Q and decided it wasn’t for him. Not because it was worse, but because it wasn’t how he was wired. So he went back to film, and I drove home with his camera.

I’ve thought about that decision more and more over the years. I’ve tried a lot of things since — other cameras, other systems, other focal lengths — and I keep arriving at the same place. I know how I see. I know what I need a camera to do. And the tool that fits that today, for me, is this one. The Leica CL camera is still in my bag.

Thanks to Q for reading drafts of this.