Examining the Leica Glow

I have a feeling I'm going to regret writing this post - and I don't even know what I'm going to say yet! It's a subject that's been whirling around in my mind for a while. The Leica Glow, myth or magical reality? A genuine phenomenon or the product of imaginative minds? A provable fact or something only the gifted can see? (Back out now, Bruce, while there's still time - Ed.)

Google Trends, which charts the rise and fall through time of various search terms, doesn't even have enough data to form an opinion on the glow, i.e. hardly anyone ever searches for it. It certainly seems, purely anecdotally, to be a term that was in more common usage ten or 15 years ago. Has it been partly killed off by the digital age? Does the glow just not lend itself well to sensors, being a mainly film-based affair? Or do hipsters just not give a stuff?

It's an optical characteristic that has intrigued and fascinated, repelled and invoked scorn in equal measure. As far as I'm aware, the glow has never been shown to exist in side-by-side comparison prints. Although many claim to have seen it, you're expected to take it on trust, just as with UFOs, the Yeti and the Loch Ness Monster. Suggest to a devotee that you can't see it in their print and you're likely to be told that it's not their fault that you lack the necessary sensitivity. It's this intangibility that has ensured it remains a captivating enigma.

What is the glow?

An attempt at a definition would make sense at this point. I'm not sure if there is a universally accepted description but here's one that I hope would chime with most photographers' understanding:

A soft, dreamy, and almost magical effect observed in the out-of-focus areas, particularly in highlights and specular highlights. A unique rendering that creates a sense of depth and dimension, lending a distinct character to the images.

Perhaps a reason that the glow seems not to be talked about as much as I remember a decade or two back might be that it's mainly associated with early Leitz lenses. When the glow was at its cultural height, these lenses were half a century old. Now they're almost three-quarters of a century old and time lends distance, etc. I doubt there are many, if any, Leica lenses produced in the last 50 years that could claim to possess the glow.

Here's what the late, great Leica aficionado (and nice man) Erwin Puts had to say about the subject, "The famous Leica 'glow', has never been convincingly demonstrated, but is part of the Leica myth. You must become a believer to see it. And to protect this elusive characteristic, which for some might be the motivation to buy and use or admire a Leica, all kinds of defensive acts are played...

"But in the Leica world, facts are not always appreciated. Authority, self imposed or not, on the other hand is valued more highly. Facts have a nasty habit. When found true, you are invited to change your mind and opinions. Authority is much more comfortable: you are not bothered by facts, and whatever you say, can be repeated forever, as long as you wish. And you are not forced to change your mind, which for some is very pleasant.

"Well, I am not agent Mulder so I am unable to comment on this 'glow."

Sceptics challenge the notion of the Leica glow as nothing more than romanticised thinking or subjective interpretation. Some argue that the glow is just a by-product of the photographer's perception, influenced to some degree by the reputation and mystique surrounding Leica equipment.

For the faithful, vintage Leica lenses, particularly those with wider apertures and simpler optical designs, are often cited as the prime sources of the "enchantment". Many proponents claim that the glow is most pronounced when shooting wide open or in high-contrast situations with ancient optics.

Old Elmars, Summarits, Summars and maybe the 1st generation collapsible Summicron are generally agreed to be where the glow resides. I have a 2nd generation rigid Summicron that, good lens though it is, isn't a glower. However, I do have a 35mm f3.5 Summaron from the 1950s and it is reputed to be bewitched.

"So why not pitch the Summaron against some more modern glass and see if you can make a name for yourself," whispers a tiny voice somewhere in a distant corner of my voluminous brain. Why not indeed? Where's the harm? Just so long as we're agreed that if I say I see it in a print that doesn't constitute evidence unless you can see it, too. Conversely, if I don't see it, that's not to say it doesn't exist.

Here's what I did. I loaded some Fomapan 100 into the Leica M2 with its 35mm f3.5 Summaron and similarly loaded an OM2 with 35mm f2.8 Zuiko and a Pentax SV with 35mm f3.5 Takumar. Those three lenses spanned the 1950s to the 1980s. The Foma was from the same batch - a 30m roll - and the three sections of film were developed together in the same tank in Rodinal 1+100.

The prints were made using the same enlarger and lens (Leitz 1C and LFE Focotar) and developed in the same developer tray for my standard two minutes. I printed a 6x9 image of each on 10x8 paper basing the exposure on a single mid-tone reading of the same tone on each negative using the RH Designs Analyser Pro. I also printed cropped enlargements the equivalent of 12x16 blow-ups onto 5x7 paper. The 5x7 prints were cut in half and scanned together on my Epson scanner at 600dpi and the file was untouched apart from setting the black and white points. The 10x8 images were scanned the same way but individually.

The actual test photographs were taken within a few minutes of each other under the same lighting conditions, all tripod-mounted with the same exposure settings and cable tripped. They were focused on a target 10m away and I checked the indicated distance on the lens barrels which all read the same. I took some time finding the right sort of conditions for the exercise. There wasn't much point in taking the pictures in the dull weather I favour. Strong side-lighting to backlighting made more sense.

My set-up might not satisfy a science lab but that's as close as I can get to "science" when it comes to repeatability and "empirical" data. And now for the results.

Regardless of its scientific validation, the Leica glow has become part of the brand's allure, driving artistic expression and, for some, the pursuit of a specific look. I think most people would acknowledge that perception and artistic interpretation play significant roles in any discussion of the glow. Photography is an art form, and photographers often seek out equipment that imparts a unique character to their images.

For all we know, the Leica glow may be no more than a result of the emotional connection between photographers, their tools, and the art they create. Objective assessments are complicated. As much as we'd perhaps like to have some independent confirmation of the glow, the issue is muddied by the subjective nature of aesthetic preferences and the difficulty of quantifying and measuring whatever is going on.

Whilst we might not be able to scientifically quantify the glow, it would be unwise to dismiss its impact on the artistic process. At the end of the day, what the Leica glow does more than anything is serve as a reminder that, when it comes to visual story-telling, the art of photography extends way beyond technical perfection.