I don’t fish. But then, Norman Maclean’s words really aren’t about fishing anyway. I’m reminded of his quote every time I see photographers frozen by minutia, mired in the moment by small distractions that matter very little on the path to their grand objectives (better pictures). Do any of these sound familiar?: “There’s dust on my sensor”; “This lens is soft”; “The light was better yesterday”; “The light will be better tomorrow”; “It’s too cold”; “It’s too hot”; “It’s too wet”; and so on.
Near the top of photographers’ list of self-imposed obstacles seems to be an insecurity about their gear. Instead of doing what photographers do (photograph), many spend far too much time reading reviews, scouring specifications, checking prices, and abusing the social media of other photographers. Whether their goal is to justify the expense of new equipment, or to rationalize the status of their current equipment, all these machinations make me wonder how much they enjoy the actual act of photography.
There’s nothing wrong with your camera (or mine)
A related behavior I’ve observed since my switch from a Canon SLR system to Sony mirrorless is an irrational obsession with the photo equipment of other photographers (for example, mine). I’m always happy to answer questions about my photo gear (okay, almost always), but I’ve detected an underlying tone of insecurity in some (not all) of the queries, as if my camera choice somehow invalidates theirs. Some have wanted reassurance that their camera is still okay (it is), and others have actually tried to “suggest” that I’ve made a mistake (I haven’t).
I know I haven’t made a mistake because my needs are my own, I’m quite happy with Sony Alpha gear, and I’m getting pictures I couldn’t have gotten before. End of debate. And for those who fear that my choice means their camera may be less than perfect, let me just say that there are many good reasons to get a new camera, to switch entire systems even, but seeing another photographer do it is not one of them.
A blast from the past
If you have a working DSLR or mirrorless camera of pretty much any vintage, you can get nice captures. To illustrate this point in my workshops and training, I sometimes go all the way back to 2003 and my Canon 10D, my first DSLR.
Shooting with my 10D today, I’d probably be crazy-frustrated with the 6 megapixel, 1.6 crop sensor, its postage-stamp LCD, poor low-light performance, and narrow dynamic range—but that doesn’t change the fact that I got great images from that now ancient beast, images that I’ve enlarged and sold as prints up to 24×36, in person, to people who walked right up and scrutinized each pixel. Images that people still buy. In other words, if the images I got from that prehistoric DSLR are still usable, there’s no reason the images from whatever ancient camera you might have won’t be usable.
Time is on your side
So how long should you wait before replacing your camera? That’s an individual decision based on many personal factors. My general recommendation is to hold off on a new camera until you’ve upgraded all your primary glass (the lenses you might use on any shoot) and your support system (tripod and head) to the best possible.
These things will serve you far longer than whatever the latest and greatest camera might be. In fact, the longer you can postpone that new camera purchase, the better the technology will be when you finally pull the trigger on a new camera.
That doesn’t mean there won’t be temptations. For example, like an ex-girlfriend trying to lure me back with triple-D implants, Canon is now (January 2020) promising an 80-megapixel sensor. Yikes. But if she really understood me, she’d have known I’m not impressed.
Once you have all your lens and support ducks in a row, maybe it’s time to think about upgrading your body. Maybe. Start by asking yourself what’s important to you.
The Canon 5D Mark III filled most of the basic camera criteria for me: full frame, 100 percent viewfinder, pretty good weather sealing, functional live-view (much better than my 1DS Mark III had), and multiple card slots. I ignore many oft-touted features that might be important to others but mean little to me, such as: frame rate, autofocus speed, video, in-body image stabilization, and touch-screen LCD.
Landing the metaphor
I guess the point is that buying a new camera is never an emergency unless you dropped your only camera in a creek (been there… twice). Take your time, set your budget, and be honest with yourself about what you need and don’t need. In the meantime, get off the computer, grab whatever camera you have, and get out and shoot. You can’t land fish without putting a line in the water, and you can’t take pictures without putting the world in your viewfinder.
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