Leica M6 Lightmeter Fail

When Your Leica M6 Light Meter Takes a Holiday in London
Ah, London! The charming city of double-decker buses, endless gray skies, and my dearly departed light meter. Yes, the universe has a sense of humor, and it decided to test mine while I was on a work trip, looking forward to a glorious morning of film photography—just me and my Leica M6. 

After a successful day capturing memories on the bustling streets, imagine my shock when I woke up to discover my trusty light meter had gone on strike. One minute I was happily snapping photos, and the next, my meter was as dead as my enthusiasm for cloudy weather. (And if you’ve ever been to London, you know the feeling—cloudy is basically the national mood.)

Standing right in front of the iconic Westminster, I found myself fiddling with my camera like it was a Rubik's Cube. I jiggled it, I changed batteries, and I may or may not have pleaded with it to start working again. No luck! It was almost poetic—every bit of frustration echoed by the low-hanging clouds above. 

Now, let’s be honest; I don’t live in London anymore. I had been daydreaming about revisiting my favorite snappable locations and capturing the essence of this vibrant city again. Instead, there I was, at the mercy of a meter that apparently decided to drift off into the great unknown. It was a bit like taking a trip back to your childhood home only to find that your old toys have been replaced with nothing but sentimental regrets.

In utter desperation, I glanced upward at the typical London sky: gray, flat, and as welcoming as a wet sock. “Ah, London weather,” I mused, recalling a classic quote: "If you don’t like the weather in London, wait five minutes.” Well, I didn’t plan on waiting—I needed a light meter, and I needed it now!

So, what’s an enterprising film photographer to do? I whipped out my iPhone, turned on the trusty light meter app, and began to gather my readings. First, a shot of the sky—a cloudy palette that would leave every artist in a fit of jealousy. Then, taking a reading in deep shadow, I could feel that creeping sense of strategy begin to replace my initial frustration. Finally, I even measured the gray cement path I was standing on because, hey, every bit counts, right?

With this newfound knowledge, I established my light meter boundaries. I’d keep everything on the middle marker unless I was shooting something in the horizon or deep in shadow; then I’d bump it up a bit. It felt oddly triumphant—like I had cracked a secret code buried deep within the shadows of Westminster. 

With my DIY light meter method in place, I spent the entire day capturing shots—two rolls’ worth of pure bliss. Each frame was well exposed thanks to my unconventional approach, using the magic of Ilford HP5 B&W film. Sure, color film would have turned this exercise into a guessing game, and slide film? Forget it—it would have sent me into existential despair!

In the end, what started as a frustrating morning transformed into an unplanned adventure in urban light management. My Leica M6 and I ended that day not just with excellent exposure but also with a hilarious story to tell. So, let this be a lesson to all you aspiring film photographers: when technology fails you, remember to improvise, embrace the clouds, and always carry an iPhone for backup. After all, creativity often flourishes in the most unexpected situations—just like my photos from that London trip!