Leica Camera

Sported by the greatest photographers, Leica has defined the history of photography, and in the process became a true luxury item. Blind has traveled to Wetzlar, a small town near Frankfurt, Germany, where it all began. To visit the Leitz Park is to realize the impact the German brand has had. Its story is romantic, tragic, almost too perfect… The Phoenix of photography, Leica has risen from the ashes and now registers record growth rates, even though the company had been on the brink of collapse just a few years ago. Blind was able to visit the archives and the factory, and discover how much of the family history is still alive in Wetzlar, a community of 50,000 just north of Frankfurt. Welcome to Leica Welt. Before there was Leica, there was Leitz, named after Ernst Leitz, who took over the management of the Wetzlar Optics Institute in 1849, which at that time specialized in optical systems and microscopes. The Leica—a contraction of Leitz Camera—is the brainchild of an engineer at the factory, Oskar Barnack. He used the company’s technology to design a camera body that would be much more practical than the bulky view cameras. In 1914, the proto-Leica sparked a real revolution. But it was not until 1924, and the end of World War I, that the small format camera began to be mass-produced. It is also to Oskar Barnack that we owe the 24×36 format based on the 35mm used in the film industry. Why 36 stops? The story goes that this was the length of Barnack’s outstretched arms when he unspooled a roll of film. The museum displays iconic camera bodies, such as Leica Zero – a model which brought 14 million euros at an auction last June -,Leitz Phone 1, the smartphone made at Leica; and the timeless, iconic M series. For Leica lovers, walking these halls is like taking a pilgrimage. The archives are a real treasure trove. One of the representatives opens the doors to brand-new rooms where pieces of history are preserved in a long aisle of rolling shelving. One chest drawer reveals the blueprints of the 1923 model. Our guide’s gloved hands reach into a black box and pull out emblematic devices from foam-lined compartments. There is something wonderful about this solemn act of unboxing. They are all there: from the classics to the most unique, like this refined Leica M model, co-designed by Jonathan Ive, Apple’s chief designer. You can also find derived items, advertising posters, Leica enlargers, and astonishing designs such as a Kalashnikov camera, where “shooting” takes on its full meaning since the camera body is a gun… We also discover the handwritten registers logging serial numbers going back to the very first Leica, put on the market in 1925. At Leica Welt, you carry your camera the way you might wear a suit of armor. To own a Leica is to become part of a big family. Leaving the Leitz Park and heading back to Wetzlar town center, one discovers that the city is also closely linked to the red disc, which had celebrated its 100th anniversary in 2014. The historic factory still stands like a church in the middle of the village. Along the narrow streets, you make your way to the exact spot where the very first Leica photo was taken in 1914, namely the almost unchanged market square. Even at the cathedral, the Catholic and Protestant communities share the organ, which was renovated thanks to donations from the Leitz family. “The people of Wetzlar are very attached to the history of Leica,” says a cab driver. “My father worked for Leica, my first wife worked for Leica, and I met my second wife through Leica,” adds Ibe, one of the guides. The company had also survived the great upheavals of the twentieth century, and its role during World War II is often overlooked. While the Nazi army made use of Leica’s optical technology, Ernst Leitz II, the company’s boss at the time, used the brand’s already worldwide reputation to evacuate German Jews threatened by the regime. It was a London historian, Rabbi Frank Dabba Smith, who only