Advertise on podcast: Living with the F

Podcast Summary: Three Days, Sixty Kilometres a Day, and a Camera That Apparently Needs a Family Tree Welcome to today’s episode. What makes a camera memorable? Is it the specification sheet, the number of megapixels, or the logo engraved on the top plate? Or is it something much harder to define? Today’s story begins with a train journey to Berlin, a Ruffian e-bike named Savanna, and the new Leica SL3-P. Over three days and nearly 180 kilometres of cycling through the German capital, the destination quickly became secondary. Berlin rewarded curiosity. Quiet canals, hidden courtyards, graffiti-covered walls and neighbourhood cafés encouraged a slower rhythm. Instead of chasing landmarks, the photographer simply followed the light. The Leica SL3-P proved to be the perfect companion for that approach. At its core is a 44.9-megapixel full-frame BSI CMOS sensor, paired with Leica’s Maestro IV image processor. It features an advanced hybrid autofocus system combining phase detection, contrast detection and depth mapping, along with 5-axis in-body image stabilisation. The camera is built around a 5.76-million-dot EyeRes electronic viewfinder, a 3.2-inch tilting touchscreen, dual card slots for CFexpress Type B and UHS-II SD cards, professional 8K video recording, an IP54 weather-sealed metal body, and support for Content Credentials, allowing images to carry cryptographically signed authenticity information directly from the camera. Yet during the trip, one question appeared almost as often as the cafés. “Isn’t the Leica basically just a Lumix?” The answer says more about photography than about engineering. Leica, Panasonic and Sigma cooperate within the L-Mount Alliance, sharing the lens mount and selected technologies. But sharing components doesn’t create identical cameras. Leica develops its own firmware, image processing, ergonomics and shooting philosophy. The SL3-P has its own identity. It’s not a rebranded Lumix. It’s a Leica that happens to share part of its technological DNA with its partners. Ironically, the camera’s greatest strength isn’t its specification sheet. It’s that you gradually stop thinking about it. Instead of wondering about autofocus modes or menu settings, your attention shifts entirely to Berlin. A cyclist crossing a bridge at sunrise. Reflections in a tram window. An elderly gentleman reading yesterday’s newspaper outside a café. The Leica quietly fades into the background, allowing the city to take centre stage. The same could be said for Savanna. The bicycle wasn’t there to set speed records. It simply provided the perfect pace to explore a city where every side street seemed to hide another photograph. By the time the train rolled out of Berlin three days later, the memory cards were full, the legs pleasantly tired, and the camera had become almost invisible. Perhaps that’s the real lesson. The best creative tools aren’t the ones that constantly remind you how advanced they are. They’re the ones that quietly step aside, letting curiosity, observation and the joy of discovery become the real focus. Because in the end, the journey wasn’t measured in megapixels or kilometres. It was measured by how often the camera disappeared from your mind, leaving only Berlin, the changing light, and the next photograph waiting just around the corner. Berli, Leica and Savanna

Over three days and nearly 180 kilometres of cycling through the German capital, the destination quickly became secondary. Berlin rewarded curiosity. Quiet canals, hidden courtyards, graffiti-covered walls and neighbourhood cafés encouraged a slower rhythm. Instead of chasing landmarks, the photographer simply followed the light. The Leica SL3-P proved to be the perfect companion for that approach.

Most photographers today can shoot 2,000 images before lunch. Large format photographers can spend the same amount of time deciding where to place a tripod. In the latest podcast, we dive into a simple but increasingly rare idea: photography is not about collecting images, it is about learning to see. Inspired by the lessons of large format photography, we discuss why slowing down, carrying less gear, mastering your tools, and spending more time observing can often lead to stronger and more meaningful photographs than any new camera purchase ever will.

Most photographers today can shoot 2,000 images before lunch. Large format photographers can spend the same amount of time deciding where to place a tripod. In the latest podcast, we dive into a simple but increasingly rare idea: photography is not about collecting images, it is about learning to see. Inspired by the lessons of large format photography, we discuss why slowing down, carrying less gear, mastering your tools, and spending more time observing can often lead to stronger and more meaningful photographs than any new camera purchase ever will. If you've ever returned from a trip with thousands of images but only a handful of memories, this episode might be for you. Sometimes the shortest path to better photography is not a new lens, but a slower pace. Listen in and discover why doing less may be the secret to seeing more.

A phone for snapshots and a camera for people to ignore myself less discreetly.

This project explores analog surrealism by capturing dreamlike imagery exclusively through in-camera techniques rather than digital manipulation. By utilizing medium- and large-format film, the photographer rejects the ease of modern AI generation in favor of a slow, intentional craft. Each scene is meticulously orchestrated within physical environments, such as flooded forests and industrial sites, to ensure that every illusion remains grounded in tangible reality. The artist emphasizes technical precision and traditional darkroom methods, refusing to crop or retouch the final exposures. Ultimately, this series aims to restore a sense of wonder by presenting extraordinary visuals that were achieved through rigorous physical effort and authentic composition. surreal

Letting moments talk to each other is surprisingly creative

The LONDONER method encourages calm observation and natural movement to capture authentic urban moments without force.

Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side

In a world obsessed with speed, standing still in front of a wall can be a radical act.

There’s always another fragment waiting.

In three words I can sum up everything about analog photography: it goes on!

You don’t capture Rome. Rome captures you.

https://cdn.mos.cms.futurecdn.net/eumznwkPN27NRWRwionzAE-1200-80.jpg.webp Meet Caira — The Mirrorless Camera That Thinks It’s a BananaAlright, hold your analog chemicals for a moment and grab your coffee, because something wild just hit the digital photography scene — and even my Leica M film setup twitched a little. The New Kid on the Magnetic BlockImagine this: a mirrorless camera with no screen. None. Zero. Instead, it magnetically connects to your iPhone via MagSafe, and together they form a kind of Frankenstein creative system. The camera body just... exists, while your iPhone does all the showing, editing, and existential thinking. Oh, and the AI brain running it? It’s called Nano Banana — yes, really — built by a company named Camera Intelligence. Their promise: an “intelligent creative partner” that helps you shoot, edit, and generate images directly by text prompt.(Source) My Analog Self Is Screaming (Quietly)“No screen”?Wonderful. Finally, a digital camera that behaves like a film camera — except you need an iPhone just to see what you’re doing. I can already picture you strolling down the street with your camera in one hand and your iPhone magnetically clinging to it like a fridge magnet that refuses to let go. “MagSafe connection”?So: magnets + camera + smartphone = pure trust exercise. If your phone battery dies mid-shoot, your creative partner becomes a stylish paperweight. Don’t even think about shooting in the rain unless you want to test “hydrophobic AI.” “Nano Banana does generative edits”?That’s right — you take a photo and tell it things like “make the light golden” or “add a penguin in a tuxedo.” Boom — done. For anyone raised on 120 film and darkroom chemicals, this is either a miracle or a polite insult to patience. Who’s it for?According to the creators: “Content creators and businesses.” Translation: people who want to shoot, edit, and post in one breath. For those of us who appreciate grain, dust, and imperfect beauty — it’s a fun concept to chuckle at from a safe distance. Final Thoughts (with a wink)So, my friend: if one day you decide you’ve had enough of film, developer fumes, and waiting for negatives to dry — and you’re ready to flirt with AI mid-shoot — Caira might just be your next fling. But if you still prefer to feel the moment — light leaking gently into film stock, textures breathing through shadows — then keep your Makina 67 or Leica close and let the “Nano Banana” crowd chase their next algorithmic sunset. Caira is basically the espresso shot of modern photography — quick, shiny, stimulating.But if you’re more of a slow-brew analog philosopher, stick to your filter coffee and silver halides. ☕️ Brought to you by the ghost of Kodachrome — whispering softly: “Don’t trust a camera that needs a phone to think.” Caira Banana

Film forgives mistakes the way cities forgive wanderers — eventually and with style.