Background
With the resurgence of analogue photography, many photographers, both new and experienced, are reconnecting with the craft's roots - and Leica’s M-D line has tapped into this movement like no other. This article isn’t focused on the technical performance of the new Leica M11-D —it’s similar to the M11 and M11-P. Instead, I want to explore what the M-D concept represents and how it creates a unique shooting experience.
The M-D concept is all about recapturing the analogue spirit by imposing limitations. Without an LCD, playback, or digital menus, the camera forces you to be more mindful. It’s not for everyone, but for photographers who seek the discipline, it offers a more focused shooting experience.
My journey with the M-D concept began with the M60. The first time I shot with it, I experienced a sense of thrill, one I hadn’t felt since using the original M Monochrom camera. For me, although the digital M is an ongoing masterpiece, it has not quite matched the magic of analogue for a few reasons:
1. The film advance lever – ‘Click and wind’ became second nature to me. It was part of my process ever since I got my first M6 at 15.
2. The feel – Analogue bodies have a certain weight and solidity that feels different, even though digital bodies are built just as well.
3. The look of film – While technically inferior to digital, film has a soulful quality that’s hard to replicate.
When the M-D was introduced, it caused some confusion:
1. Why would a digital camera lack a display?
2. Why is it more expensive, despite lacking this feature?
3. Personally, I missed the functional film advance lever—it felt like a key part of the analogue experience was missing.
Even with these concerns, I remained intrigued by the M-D series after trying the M60. While I’ve enjoyed the versatility of the SL lineup, the M11-D’s 60MP resolution and low noise performance were hard to resist.
Adopting the Analogue Mindset with the Leica M11-D
Over the past month, I’ve been shooting with the M11-D. While my SL3 remains my daily workhorse, whenever I could, I reached for the M11-D. What I loved most was how it forced me to stay in the moment. Without an LCD, I wasn’t constantly checking my shots—something I had become accustomed to with digital photography. It also made me think more carefully about exposure.
Having shot in manual mode for the last 30+ years, I’ve gotten pretty good at guessing exposure, but I’ve also grown used to using digital displays to fine-tune my settings. With the M11-D, I had to rely on the built-in meter, an ambient meter, or my instincts.
For new photographers, this might seem challenging, but for experienced users, it feels very natural. I appreciate how it brings the tactile, focused experience of shooting film without the drawbacks.
This camera is for those who appreciate the purity of the analogue mindset, more so than the complete analogue experience.
M11-D: Digital vs. Analogue Advantages
Instant recording, viewable via the Leica Fotos app
Virtually unlimited shooting capacity with an SD card
Better battery life without an LCD
More focus on the moment, less distraction
Solid, minimalist design with fewer parts to break
No issues when traveling through x-ray machines
You can give off the impression you’re shooting film, making subjects more comfortable
M11-D: Digital vs. Analogue Drawbacks
Shorter battery life compared to analogue cameras
Digital images don’t replicate the aesthetics of film
More electronics mean more potential points of failure
No film advance lever, making the process feel more digital
What about the M10-D?
So, let’s address the proverbial elephant in the room. I’m sure some of you, like myself will question Leica’s decision to remove the thumb lever on the M10-D, which mimicked the look of a film advance lever, but really was there as a thumb rest. On one hand, you could see it as a return to their minimalist design philosophy, but I do miss it, even for its aesthetic appeal.
Objectively, though, knowing Leica's design principles, it really didn’t belong on the M10-D in the first place. While some used it as a thumb rest, its original purpose — to advance film — has no practical function on a digital camera, and therefor has been excluded on the M11-D.
Some other differences include:
New BSI CMOS 60MP Sensor vs CMOS 24MP sensor
ISO 64 - 50,000 vs 100 - 50,000
Lighter at 540g vs 650g
256GB internal storage vs SD only
1,800mAh battery vs 1,1000 mAh
Adition of Content Credentials
WiFi, bluetooth and USB-C charging and connection vs WiFi
MFI (made for iPhone and iPad)
Some of the upgrades may not appear groundbreaking, but the enhanced connectivity speed will be a game changer for both existing M10-D users and professionals who can leverage this feature on assignment. The convenience of USB-C charging is another highlight, particularly for those times when I forget to pack spare batteries—a common occurrence when I’m out shooting for personal projects. I’ve become accustomed to it with my SL3, and its reassuring to know I can find power more easily using a power bank if I had to.
While Content Credentials holds the potential to revolutionise the authentication of media, its full impact will only be realised once all manufacturers, including mobile phone companies, implement it as a standard practice throughout all industies.
This won’t just offer greater protection for photographers’ work (to an extent), but it will also uphold editorial integrity, which is increasingly important in an era shaped by AI and misinformation.
Letting go of what I know, and embracing my insecurities
There’s no denying that shooting with the M11-D comes with a learning curve. While I was excited about the idea of an analogue experience within a digital body, I found it hard to escape the fact that I was still shooting digitally. It was all too tempting to pull out my phone to check the images via the Leica Fotos app. I second-guessed my exposures more often than I’d like to admit, often questioning whether I had gotten it right. When it comes to focusing, the M11-D is as precise as any other M camera, and composition due to the rangefinder felt liberating compared to my experience with the SL.
The M is all about freedom — freedom from the constraints of perfection that can sometimes hinder creativity with more technically focused systems.
Though the Leica M11-D matches the performance of other M11 models, the absence of an LCD screen dramatically alters how you interact with the camera, offering a distinctly different tactile experience. It may be just 10g heavier than the aluminium-top black M11 and 100g lighter than the brass-top silver version, but it still feels robust, reminiscent of an M film body. However, with the new strengthened aluminium-top plate, the M11-D offers a lighter, more streamlined handling.
When I first picked it up, I didn't expect the transition to be too difficult — after all, I've spent years shooting film and digital M. However, it wasn’t long before I realised just how much I had come to depend on the LCD in my digital photography workflow. Without the screen, I felt like a safety net had been pulled away. No more "chimping" — frequently checking the screen after various shots to confirm exposure, focus, or framing. I hadn't even noticed how frequently I did it until the option was no longer there. It was a crutch, and without it, I was left to rely on my instincts and the basics of photography.
As someone who had grown used to the conveniences of digital, it was humbling, and at times, frustrating. I even found myself lost in the moment, and not in a good way. To adjust the exposure, I returned to using the internal TTL meter, a tool I have never relied on, but it worked well enough in most situations with some overriding. I’ve never trusted TTL - it’s a somewhat flawed system that is designed to give ‘satisfactory results’ to users who may not be so experienced - so occasionally, I reverted to using a handheld ambient light meter, especially in more challenging lighting conditions where I wanted more control over exposure and consistency.
However, even then, I often found myself relying on my experience — guessing exposure based on years of shooting. It's funny how muscle memory kicks in when the tools you rely on disappear. I’d like to say it was an easy adjustment, but it wasn’t. I found myself second-guessing exposures far more than usual, and without the ability to confirm them immediately, I felt out of my element.
This, however, was the point of the M11-D. Leica intentionally designed this camera to force you to be present, to focus on the scene in front of you rather than on the screen behind.
At first, I felt like I was flying blind, but slowly, the experience became more liberating as I built confidence, and just ‘let go’. Without the distraction of an LCD, I was forced to truly engage with my surroundings. I had to trust myself again if I was to have success with the M11-D. I started to anticipate the light and the moments rather than react to what I saw on a screen. It brought me back to the core principles of photography — focus, exposure, composition, without any distractions, and the way it was meant to be.
The experience of shooting with the M11-D started to reminded me of why I fell in love with photography in the first place.
The rangefinder system demands precision and presence, and the M11-D takes that a step further by stripping away anything that could pull you out of the moment. It’s just you and the light, with nothing in between. In many ways, it felt like I was shooting film again, but without the associated costs or the fear of running out of frames.
The Reward of the Analogue Mindset
One of the more unexpected benefits of shooting with the M11-D was how it changed my relationship with my subjects. Without the LCD, there was no immediate confirmation of the image, which meant I wasn’t constantly disengaging to check my shots. This created a more fluid, uninterrupted experience, allowing me to stay focused on the subject rather than the technology. Interestingly, I found that this also made my subjects more comfortable and their trust in me also grew. In some instances, they assumed I was shooting film, which has a certain nostalgia and authenticity about it, and that seemed to put them at ease.
As I continued shooting with the M11-D, my confidence developed. I began to trust the process more, and in turn, I started to enjoy the experience.
The more I used the camera, the less I felt the need for the instant feedback that the LCD provides.
There was something freeing about the lack of distractions—no menus, no playback, no histogram to adjust on the fly. Instead, I was left with just the bare minimum - a light box: aperture, shutter speed, ISO, and my own intuition. Without the digital conveniences I had grown so used to, I found myself slowing down, thinking more carefully about each shot. I wasn’t racing through frames, nor was I obsessively checking my work. Instead, I was fully immersed in the act of photographing, and that felt like a rediscovery of what photography is really about.
The more I embraced the limitations of the M11-D, the more it reminded me why I fell in love with Leica in the first place. The camera became, as the cliché goes, ‘an extension of my vision’— a tool that allowed me to express myself without getting caught up in the technical details. It felt raw and authentic, like the early days of my photographic journey, but with the benefits of modern digital technology — and thankfully, years of experience and lessons learned.
In many ways, the M11-D distills photography to its purest form, serving as a reminder that the camera is ultimately just a tool.
At times, it can feel like you’re sacrificing a lot with the M11-D. There’s no doubt that the lack of an LCD can be intimidating, and for some, it may feel like too much of a compromise. But for me, what initially felt like a compromise, ended up being an invitation to slow down and reconnect with the craft. It’s not about instant gratification or perfection—it’s about the process, the experience, and the joy of creating. Ultimately, shooting with the M11-D was a refreshing change of pace. It wasn’t easy, and there were moments of frustration, but that’s what made it so rewarding.
By the time I had adjusted to the M11-D’s limitations, I found myself enjoying photography more than I had in years. The camera doesn’t just take pictures — it encourages you to see the world differently, to appreciate the act of photographing rather than the result.
Final Thoughts
For film shooters, the M11-D is a natural progression into digital. It’s familiar but with the benefits of digital technology. There’s a learning curve, but it’s worth it for the ability to change ISO at will and store limitless images.
For digital shooters, it’s a different kind of challenge. The M11-D forces you to slow down, stay in the moment, and make each shot count.
My childhood hero, Michael Jordan, often spoke about turning weaknesses into strengths. The M11-D could expose my own weaknesses, but like Jordan, it pushes me to step outside my comfort zone. Its limitations force me to rely on instincts, sharpen my skills, and embrace simplicity—transforming weakness into strength.
In the end, the M11-D gave me more than just photos. While they aren't necessarily better than what I'd achieve with other cameras, the experience offered something deeper—a renewed sense of purpose. Throughout my career, I've focused on getting the best results with maximum efficiency, and that's important. However, the M11-D feels like a camera I'd use purely out of passion. It reminded me why I started photography in the first place—not just to capture moments, but to engage with the world and see things differently. I learned to care less about the camera and the results, and more about staying in the moment.
Who knew that by removing one simple piece of glass, the entire experience of photography could change so profoundly? This camera certainly isn’t for everyone, but for those willing to embrace its constraints, the M11-D offers an unparalleled experience, albeit with limitations that demand a good attitude and old-fashioned discipline. For me at least, it’s not just a nostalgic nod to analog photography - it’s a challenge to be present, to trust yourself, and to fall in love with the process all over again.