Heavy metal

One aspect of any new camera that will be important is: how heavy is it? 

I don't want anything that I can't carry around comfortably all day, day after day. Remember, I always carry a bag containing my phone, and other things a woman needs, whether or not I take a camera along too. So I want to keep my total burden as light as possible. Nor do I want a big heavy camera pulling my clothing around in unflattering ways.  

My little Leica D-Lux 4 weighs half a pound, and I hardly notice that. I have a small bag for it, with a cross-body strap. Much of the time it's out of that bag, and in my hand. I often wander around with it like that, my fingers curled around its handgrip, all ready to switch it on and shoot.  

The larger Leica Q2 that I've been considering weighs one and a half pounds - three times what the little Leica does. Would that be a major problem for me? 

To refresh my memory of what carrying a larger camera might be like, I fetched my film-era Olympus OM-1N down from the attic, and assessed it for bulk and heaviness. I hadn't used it since going digital in 2000. It was a relic from a different era, but it still looked good, still looked the business. It was an excellent SLR in its day. 

I paired it most often with a fast 50mm f/1.4 lens. I acquired it second-hand, and used it for years with no problems whatever - certainly no electronic problems, as this was a mechanical camera - but I didn't tote it around all the time. It was the smallest and lightest SLR around when originally launched back in 1973, but it was still a little too large and ponderous to carry all day long. All-metal, you see. As with any SLR, you got it out for a particular occasion, with particular shots in mind, then you put it away. It spent a lot of time in the boot of the car, ready for action if needed, but not casually carried around on the bare off-chance of a shot. 

Fast-forward to 2020. I slung the strap of the OM-1N over my shoulder and considered how it felt now. 

Gosh, I must have got flimsier over the years! It really felt quite heavy. I wouldn't want to hump this and my usual bag around all day. No wonder I had mostly purchased smaller, lighter cameras when I went digital. Polycarbonate and aluminium were so much easier on the delicate Melford anatomy. 

What did this tell me about the Q2's weight? The Olympus was only a quarter of a pound heavier than the Leica Q2. This meant that I'd certainly feel the Q2's weight. I'd feel it all the time.  

Would the Q2 seem hefty enough to inhibit my taking it with me, every time I went out? 

Perhaps it would be rendered ethereal and featherweight by that red Leica dot, and the mystical incantations of its Niebelung makers as they cast their spells at the Wetzlar laboratory/factory/sorcerers' cave. Perhaps I could take heart in the fact that the legendary Teutonic Heroes of old used to wield giant swords that must have weighed a ton. And although they were mostly men with rippling muscles, there were slender maidens in there too - and horse-riding female Valkyries - all using big magical swords with strange names. Heavy swords made of steel. Maybe they knew a special wrist technique.  

Some hope then that the Q2's weight would seem similarly negligible. 

And indeed, I hadn't noticed the Q2's weight much when handling it at Park Cameras a week ago. But I had been in an excited state. Might it be different, if the Q2 became my constant companion? Would its weight come to niggle me? And then irritate me?

So now there was another question mark to chasten any enthusiasm for the Q2. Not only was it super-expensive, and appeared to produce JPEGs that lacked vibrancy; it might prove too heavy for comfort. 

Oh dear.