I recently did something bold, something brash, something I’m not proud of. I showed up to a Leica Society International (LSI) meeting with a Rolleiflex — a pristine 2.8F “Planar”, to be exact. Oscar Barnack would be rolling in his grave if he knew that I’d arrived at the opening reception with an exquisite, German-made Twin Lens Reflex dangling from my neck. Now I truly understood the idiom: bringing a knife to a gun fight.
As I walked through the doors, I heard a collective gasp; stunned eyes became big red dots; necks turned so quickly they chafed against luxury leather straps. The shock was so great that an unsuspecting Leica M11-D turned monochrome and an old M3 shed the last vestiges of its black paint.
Quickly, I put the Rolleiflex back into my camera bag, realizing the only welcome Rolleis in this room were Rolexes. Indeed, once the astonishment of my entry died down, a glimmering ceramic Daytona reached towards me and said, “Nice to meet you, young man. Is this your first LSI meeting?” I’m 44 years old. It was.
I became an LSI sustaining member a few years ago. But this was the first time I’d attended their annual meeting, which was taking place in Montreal (2025), not too far from where I live in London, Ontario. Realising this might be my only opportunity to attend a formal LSI event on Canadian soil (and wanting to do some autumn street photography), I made the trek to Montreal at the end of October for the three-day meeting.
Montreal, the Paris of North America
I love Montreal. I try to visit it at least once every few years. In fact, if it weren’t for Montreal, I wouldn’t be typing these words. It is the city where my mother and father met, while standing outside the Cock’n Bull Pub during Expo 67.
My father was a nerdy, five-foot-four Englishman studying chemistry at McGill; my mom was an attractive high-school drop-out from rural Nova Scotia working at the Montreal Stock Exchange. Later that night, he serenaded her in his bachelor apartment by playing Elvis Presley on his acoustic guitar, doing his best to hide his Cockney accent.
I have my own consequential memories of Montreal. In high school, I went there to race the World Triathlon Championships (1999). My family, friends, and home-town community were all rooting for me. I’d won the National Championships earlier that summer and there were expectations that I’d do well at worlds.
Unfortunately, I came out of the water behind and was lapped on the multi-loop bike course (on the Canadian Gran Prix F1 track) by the fast-moving lead group and then disqualified. It was heartbreaking and embarrassing, and in my 18-year-old mind was as bad as getting cancer. Ironically, in 2022 I was diagnosed with cancer, and this happened only a few days after returning from a family trip to Montreal. I have a complicated relationship with the city, to say the least.
Street portraits in Chinatown and Old Montreal
Now, I don’t want you to think that I’m some weirdo who gets off by going to Leica events with a TLR tucked under my pants. I brought the Rollei because I wanted to take street portraits in-between the LSI sessions and during the extended lunch breaks.
Sure enough, there was ample opportunity to get out and shoot some black-and-white Kodak T-Max 400 during the overcast autumn days. I spent most of my time in Chinatown, which has one of the best noodle joints in the city, and in Old Montreal, which is quaint with cobblestoned roads and touristy shops. I’ve included some of my favourite film shots from my outings in these areas throughout this essay.
Walking the streets with my Rolleiflex, I had time to reflect on my 2022 trip to Montreal and how much my life had changed in the three years since. A part of me was terrified to revisit the city, thinking that again something awful would happen upon my return home.
Thankfully, I had a hack this time around: I had pre-ordered a vintage Nikon S2 rangefinder that I’d been lusting after. It was set to arrive precisely three days after I got back to Ontario. Providence can put that in its pipe and smoke it.
Cock and bull story
I didn’t have the heart to visit Saint-Catherine Street, where the Cock’n Bull Pub used to be. It stayed open for many decades after my mom and dad’s fateful meeting there in ’67. Sadly, it closed for good in 2015. Two years later my father, too, would shut down shop and move on to the Cock’n Bull in the sky. He was a wonderful man and always carried a camera.
The LSI meeting
Despite my cynical attitude and TLR tendencies, I had a wonderful time at the LSI meeting. The event included talks from Canadian photographers Gaëlle Leroyer, Fred Ranger, and Leica Ambassador Gajan Balan.
World-renowned Leica historian and vintage camera dealer Lars Netopil gave a superb presentation on the history of the Leica MP. The meeting coincided with the international (but not US) release of the Leica M EV1, a digital Leica camera with an M-mount but no rangefinder. The organisers prepared a special presentation about this controversial camera and even had one on hand to test out.
My Rolleiflex antics didn’t stop with the opening reception. I made sure my vintage TLR had a front-row seat for all the meeting’s events, and I even managed to sneak it into the group photo at the end. I was a bit worried when, sitting at one of the conference tables, someone handed me the Leica M EV1 to test out.
Digital lust
It seems like a superb camera, but my Rolleiflex was discernably distraught in its presence, later accusing me of lusting after the “digital” experience. After some personal reflection, I promised that never again would I hold so tenderly another camera, let alone one with so many electronics.
Now, do you truly believe that I travelled 700 kilometers to a Leica event and didn’t take a Leica with me? Had anyone looked, they would have found in my camera bag a well-used and deeply loved Leica M6, snuggling peacefully next to its sibling, the Rolleiflex.
I hope you enjoyed this Montreal photo essay. You can see more of my analogue photography on Instagram, Leica Fotografie International, and 35mmc.com.
Postscript: A few days after returning home from the LSI meeting, there was a notification on my phone. It wasn’t from a doctor, surgeon, or oncologist. It was a notification that a package was waiting outside my door. Some good news for a change, despite being covered in black paint.
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