I thought of tossing off a witty reply to show-off to my audience just how glib and cavalier I could be but the question sank into my consciousness and I decided to take a breath or two and try to understand better just what it is that obviously compels me to buy new cameras and lens time and time again even though I have a certain, median mastery, and familiarity with the tools I already own. It would be so easy to explain if the problem was reduced down to the logical nuts and bolts. If the goal of our camera buying was really just to be able to make photographs that reflect how we think a photograph should end up looking it would seem as simple as a little math.
The reader's query was an opportunity, or a push, to make me come to grips with just what I'm trying to accomplish by "churning" through camera after camera in the pursuit of something I hadn't dug deeply into. Probably because I fear the end result is that I'll be embarrassed and ashamed at the simplicity of the answer, and the implications of my compulsion. But I think a behavior unexamined is more dangerous than the psychic cost of coming to terms with reality; and with the understanding that reality might be contextual.
With all this in mind I re-read an academic book on why we desire things by William B. Irvine. It's a book that's a popular, modern tome for college philosophy classes and it covers the topic of desire from evolutionary biology to religion to the basis of human inter-relations.
In one sense, everything we experience at the most basic level of desire stems from our evolution. From solely reactive organisms to fully sentient beings. So I'll start with that.
From the book, "On Desire. Why we want what we want." by William B. Irvine:
"When we humans later came on the scene, we carried with us a few billion years' worth of evolutionary baggage. We possess a highly advanced ability to desire; indeed, thanks to our reasoning ability, we can form elaborate plans to get what we want. But because of our evolutionary past, we find ourselves wanting certain things. Having sex, eating ice cream, and winning the admiration of others all make us feel good, and so we want to do these things. It isn't that we want to want to do them; the problem is that doing them feels good, whether we want it or not, and is therefore intrinsically desirable to us. If our evolutionary past had been different, what we find to be desirable would probably be different as well, and as a result we would tend to form different desires than we do.
If our goal, then, is to figure out why we want what we want, we would do well to take a look at our evolutionary past.
So, our evolution compels us to take actions to ensure our survival and continuation. We need to eat, avoid disease, and procreate with healthy mates. As societies become more complex and our human existence more interwoven and independent on others, our survival and reproductive tactics become more complex and more external to our own basic planning. We now have to compete more competently with others for the benefits and rewards of existence. We feel evolutionarily compelled to constantly evidence some sort of superiority to those around us in order to ascend a social hierarchy that gives us greater opportunity for continuing evolutionary success. We can't control others but we can control how we appear to others in order to attract this success. This means we feel we have to care about how others see us so we have to be diligent about creating a public construct of ourselves that other find...interesting and desirable. Self-branding.
Levine also writes:
"Because we care very deeply about what other people think of us, we go to considerable trouble and expense to create and project a certain image of ourselves. Thus, according to La Rochefoucauld, "in every walk of life each man puts on a personality and outward appearance so as to look what he wants to be thought: in fact you might say that society is entirely made up of assumed personalities." The image we project however, will typically be quite unlike the "real" us: in the words of Schopenhauer, "A man can be himself only for as long as he is alone; and if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free.""
He continues:
"We take great care in constructing this false image of ourselves. In conversations we are careful what we do and don't reveal to others. We might tell someone that we just bought a car, but we withhold the information that we had to borrow from our parents to make the down payment and that lately we have been receiving dunning notices from our creditors. We might tell someone abut the award-winning novel we just finished reading but not about our ongoing addiction to a certain soap opera. We try to project an image of happiness even if we are miserable."
Status, and status signaling, is part of an evolutionary strategy which attempts to attract the best mates and also to willingly surround each other with associates (tribal community?) that help ensure our physical and existential survival. Just ask any male peacock.
In effect, each of us is, at some level, hard wired to create and foster an image of ourselves for an exterior audience which presents us as successful and leads other people to think that by allying with us they will be able to benefit for themselves from association. This gives us a tribe or community. Part of the building of that status is to show off totems or symbols of success and power. For investments bankers this might include acquiring and bragging about lavish mansions. In almost every demographic strata in my country the most mobile and easily presentable status symbol of wealth and position has long been a car. The model and vintage of the car, and the easy to discern price strata are elemental in defining the rewards of society to the owner that the car represents.
Another symbol of success might be fine watches or really nicely tailored clothing. The strength of the symbol is very particular to the group in which it is presented. In fact, the more exclusive the group to which one aspires the more niche and nuanced the symbols become. At some point it's not enough just to be able to afford an object or symbol, one has to know which products represent the most social value to a particular cohort.
Among photographers there is the same hierarchical pattern by which we subconsciously, or even consciously, use to try to broadcast to our group our level of achievement and the beneficial rewards thereof. While most photographers can (and have done) very good work with very basic, plastic and inexpensive cameras (think: Canon Rebel, non- iPhone phone, point-and-shoot) there is a culturally enforced hierarchy that is persistently presented as "proof" of the owner's position and mastery within the hierarchy.
For street photographers an entry level camera might be any....entry level camera. Currently most cameras make successful images. As the desire for positive differentiation grows the kind of camera used becomes a symbol of a person's mastery of the concepts in play for that kind of photography. Our communal delusion, created by the advertising of past masters' predilections and preferences for certain kinds of cameras, informs us that small, discreet, rangefinder style cameras are the way to go. We end up buying a camera like a Fuji X-100V because it is affordable but at the same time its implied complexity signals mastery of craft and a step up the ladder of conferred status within a very specific demographic niche. This is aided in no small way by Fujifilm's very informed advertising which serves to create a mythology about the very nature of "street photography" in which "rebels" re-imagine imaging in a way that creates an effective subculture of fans.
In addition, being able to buy a speciality camera instead of one that can do a bit of everything fairly competently is an obvious signaling that the owners are more affluent. Otherwise they would more logically buy cameras with interchangeable lenses and other features. Tools usable across photographic genres.
Once that step up is achieved the marketplace, and our group belief is that the "actual" ultimate camera for shooting "our" kind of photography is the more prestigious interpretation of the rangefinder style camera; an actual rangefinder camera. Once people progress to the Fuji X100V and use it for a while they are likely to explore the lore of street photography and documentary photography which Fuji suggests is the primary reason for the design and very existence of their camera. However, when digging into the lore about these kinds of cameras one soon discovers that a different and more expensive camera signals an even higher level of success and mastery.
That would be the Leica M series rangefinder camera. It immediately signals that the owner is financially successful since the Leica camera most closely associated with the same style of street photography as the Fuji camera would be the M-10, paired with a 35mm Summicron lens. The combination of which, while basically providing the same benefits and capabilities as the $1400 Fuji, would currently cost well over $10,000. As clear a signal of wealth accumulation as any other mobile totem. The members of the Leica M community are a much smaller subset of the overall community of photographers which is also a convenient status level signaling. Finally, and counterintuitively, the Fuji is easier for people to operate which better insures that they'll be more productive but the manual operation of the Leica M camera, and the need to be somewhat skillful in focusing with a coincident rangefinder, further connote that the owner has attained a higher level of operational skill.
In short the continued climb through the strata of street shooting cameras confers acceptance into a more and more exclusive group of photographers, the value of which is mostly an emotional assuaging of imperfect self-esteem but is also part of the complex dance of appearing more successful or competent which is just a piece of the overall personal branding of the camera-wearer. Evolution.
Anecdotally, I fell for the Leica value proposition back in the 1990's when the disparity in pricing between a Leica and something like a Fuji was much less severe. Also, in the film days the ruggedness of a camera could be thought of as a very worthwhile feature in that all the complex mechanical parts in a typical SLR film camera would make them more prone to breaking down while the simplicity of the Leica promised more reliability.
I took a Leica M camera with me everywhere and on every shoot. When I entered into a corporate suite to make portraits with a Hasselblad or Mamiya or (God forbid) a Bronica, I always had my German talisman of "real photography" swinging over a strap on my left shoulder. I was never asked about any of the medium format cameras I was using nor about various Canons or Nikons but invariably the CEOs of major companies instantly recognized and appreciated the Leica. In fact, several CEOs here in Austin were avid Leica collectors. In my estimation their Leica ownership was not because any of them had much interest in the end product of photography but because they were interested and motivated to let others in their circles understand that they understood the cameras to be precious and valuable symbols of both wealth and prestige. And "insider" knowledge.
Why do I mention this? Because a first impression with a CEO can mean tens of thousands of dollars of revenue if they become an ally of yours within their company. Their approval quickly permeates the hierarchy and gives permission to subordinates to use you without the lingering fear that comes from hiring someone else, the choice of which might be questioned in the future.
In these situations the CEOs' evaluations seemed binary. We would set up our lights in a conference room and wait for the CEO's arrival. A person from marketing would be on hand to make introductions and let the CEO know what the marketing people would like to see from the project. The CEO would shake hands with me (a quaint notion in the time of pandemic) and assess me; from the shoes I wore to the camera on the table in front of me. The assessments were instant and, like stink, stayed with one throughout their tenure with the CEO and the company.
Almost to a person the CEO would mention the camera on the table and descend into a story about their first Leica (invariably a Leica M3 since that was the real inception product of the legend) and which lenses they placed special value upon. Then I'd get quizzed about my Leica M inventory and if the answers were "correct" I would have made an ally for his term. Or, at least I would not be dismissed out of hand.
This is the rawest and nakedest example of status proffering as I can think of in the photography world.
Keep in mind that I was not photographing the CEO with the item of our joint admiration, only wearing it as "jewelry" but it was enough to signal that I was affluent enough to enjoy the symbol and conversant enough to understand the particular cultural value of that camera/symbol.
As the peacock with the most impressive plumage gets his pick of mates so the owner of just the right tool/symbol ensures his acceptance into the orbit of financially successful confederates. While this seems to work with male CEOs it seems irrelevant to their female counterparts.
On a personal perspective, while I owned film era Leicas, which could be purchased used for not much of a premium over other brands of the time I have spent the last number of years feeling that much as I would have liked to own a flagship product from Leica they did not match my understanding of value in my marketplace, at the time. Leica, in the early days of digital, was plainly in disarray and the products they presented to market in those days were not as culturally valuable as the products on offer currently. They seem to have regained their footing quite well in the last six or seven years.
But the Leica versus everyone else is only an example of why we might, as photographers, buy various cameras. With the dawning of the mirrorless age buying a "cutting edge" mirrorless camera was a way of signaling to your tribe that you were an innovative thinker. That you were looking into the future and inventing new ways of imaging which might also change your vision of photography in a way that was industry leading. To your group this willingness to embrace change delivered a learned aura of expertise that elevated your status within the tribe.
The willingness to experiment, promiscuously, with new equipment was a sign that you were more knowledgeable and more conversant with tools. It also brought along with it the promise that your understanding and learning about the new tools would be conveyed back to the group which benefited the other members.
And remember, all of this is exclusive of anyone ever seeing an image, photograph, webpage, etc. of actual photography that might let people know at a glance if you were proficient. But that wasn't the intent of camera knowledge in the first place. It's always been about defining a self image and honing the image presented to your enduring benefit. If equipment ownership was about the quality of photographs being rendered then every website or blog with references to a particular camera would just list the camera as a title and then the rest of the content would be galleries and galleries of images from said camera and lens.
But even that would show nothing beyond the photographer's proficiency because truly talented photographers have shown they can work well with just about any camera in arm's reach.
But this brings up a different question; if, as an example, a Leica SL2 can be thought to be the ultimate status signifier in 35mm style, popular photography then isn't it both logical and positive from an evolutionary point of view for said photographer just to buy one and use it exclusively until an even better Leica SL3 comes along and then switch to that, and so on? Once one attains the camera or lens he sees as the "finest" what is the value, if any, of moving on to another model or brand? What is the value of the "churn"? What is the underlying message of changing camera systems much more often than everyone else? Why are some people happy to sit with the same camera for a decade while others are ready to move on months or even weeks after the purchase?
I see this, in light of our knowledge of desire, in two ways. First, here's a quote, again from Levine:
"A species suited to its environment is more likely to survive and reproduce that one that isn't. The problem is that environments change not just millennium by millennium but also second by second. This, in turn means that members of a species (or of a tribe) benefit from being able to detect changes in their environment and react in a way that increases their chance of surviving and reproducing in that environment."
It's about incentives and rewards. As the need for bigger, bulkier cameras decreased the need for smaller, lighter but equally proficient cameras increased. In a group with aging members exposure to newer, smaller cameras led to jettisoning heavier, bulkier cameras which offsets the disadvantages of aging and muscle loss. There might be any number of reasons to embrace rapid change and increased prominence, and status confers to the early adapter.
To really understand the nature of desire and how it works on someone like me, as a writer and photographer, you also have to understand the emotional rewards of being a vociferous and agile adopter of change. Some of my self-esteem is no doubt tied up in things like the books I've written and the blogposts I've created. In a sense the written product and the acceptance of it by an audience creates a powerful circle of reinforcement and positive emotional value. There is little doubt in my mind that having new equipment gives me a certain amount of purpose that is essentially divorced from the purely photographic aspects of the tools.
Buying a new (example) rangefinder camera not only gives me a new camera but also a continued motivation to go out and experiment and shoot with the cameras. But the end results are less pieces of art than they are components of my journalism. If I shoot well enough and write convincingly enough then I become valued for my contributions.
Were I to become totally stoic and reject any anti-logical aspect about new cameras I might still be nursing along a couple of six megapixel Kodak APS-H cameras and getting adequately good quality images to sell to clients. But I would have had very little with which to enter into conversation with, where photography is concerned. One can only read about the foibles of Ni-Cad camera batteries so many times before wandering off to see if the moss is growing well on the trees.
Yesterday and the day before I was wrestling with my seeming compulsion to sacrifice the sunk value of two magnificent cameras (which are actually profitable work cameras - even though their status signaling value is moderate to low) in trade for one new camera. The thing that would amaze most students of psychology is that both the new camera and one of the cameras I was willing to trade arguably share the same sensor. Without any doubt they share the same lenses. And much of the technology in both cameras is shared technology between the companies. To put it bluntly, I would be trading up at a high financial cost, to purchase a camera with no higher photographic value than the one it would replace.
Therefore, the only logic in the trade would have been the acquisition of a status symbol with which to announce my place in the loosely configured order of gear buyers. Since I can afford to buy the SL2 outright, without trading the other cameras I hesitated. I would probably would have gone forward with the deal twenty years ago because, on some subconscious level, I would think or believe that the new camera would confer bonafides that might enhance my standing among my tribe and also acceptance by a more influential tribe. All of which might hopefully lead to more profitable work along with a rise in stature among my peers.
My final rejection of the idea of "upgrading" was the realization that I am at a point where social signaling has a much lower chance of adding value to my overall position. I am not actively pursuing jobs where I am in contact with well positioned executives and, in fact, most would see a mirrorless Leica as inferior to a rangefinder M Leica. Others in my photographic circle have finally come to the conclusion that all cameras are excellent now and that I would be trading the idea of financial exclusivity for many other features and performance benefits that come from other cameras.
Desire is endless...until you realize that the thing you desire isn't as valuable in one's current situation as it might have been when the symbols of status were first learned and ingrained. Also, what is status to one generation is boring to another. The phone cameras are a brilliant example of this reversal of value perception.
Even the most logical of us are hard-wired by evolution to react in certain ways. Outsiders might couch the desire for a new camera by trying to divine a logical argument that the new camera might improve my photography. Or that it might make photography more enjoyable. I conjecture that those considerations are much less important to most photographers than the idea of camera as symbol, totem, avatar.
We could all be using earlier film or digital camera and enjoying the actual process of taking photographs as much or more. But because of the way we are wired we constantly seek change. We fear being left behind. And why? Because if we weren't hard-wired for a constant struggle to improve our condition we'd still be sitting on some vast plain, scrounging for enough food to enable us to continue scrounging for more food and hoping to breed with an acceptable mate before dying of tooth decay at age 28.
Part of that genetic training is the immutable desire to get ahead and to feel superior to everyone around you.
If you don't identify as a full time photographer your evolutionary ammunition is probably aimed at different targets and so it seems to you that after having covered the basics for a workable camera it's just sensible to move on and work on your other, more core ambitions. But for a life long photographer it may be that those self-branding attempts based on ever better equipment are part of existential survival strategy.
Sorry, there's no cure. Only self-realization and the constraints of budget.
And this is my response to CR Santin's question.
32 comments:
Thanks for your exploration of and understanding of desire and relaying it to us who like you desire the newest or most prestigious of cameras. I made my living in aviation, but I loved photography and wished I could do the things you do and in a modest way I did that with the company I worked for. Back in the film days I was able to buy a Hassleblad with a compliment of 3 lenses and look like I knew what I was doing and with a camera that did not become obsolete in 3 years but worked well for 35 years. But then along came digital and it made me feel like I needed to jump in and spend a lot more money then I ever did in film photography. I am now relatively happy with the equipment I use and the desire is held at bay, but it doesn't go away, but I realize that at this point in my life I am pretty happy with what I have and I hope I can feel that way....tomorrow.
Then there are those of us who just like shiny, new stuff.
Great story on leveraging your Leica with the CEOs. That's one of the most sophisticated bits of marketing I've ever encountered.
The Leica SL2 is just a Panasonic. If your going for Leica it has to be the S2.
https://youtu.be/pcizg6oz6MI
Amazing thats over 10 years ago, I also saw them for less than the cost of your S1 on Ebay.
To quote Reggie Jackson: "The only person I have to impress is me." BTW you don't own gear, gear owns you.
Dear Anonymous, Wow. Just wow. I think you would have written a better comment if you'd actually read the piece. You have no more control over who you desire to impress than any other human (excepting sociopaths and psychopaths). And yes, we do own gear. Whether or not we choose to let it overwhelm us is a different discussion entirely.
If you own a camera you have the use of it until you no longer want it. Then you can dispose of it. If the "gear owns you" them inanimate objects have risen up and changed the order of the universe.
Try not to be so smug.
Ah. The S2. The original was troublesome. Several friends owned them and suffered from the dreaded sensor decay (or contamination or whatever it was called) and were without their cameras for months and months as they waited for Leica to do warranty repairs. The problem with that was the scarcity of replacement sensors which were only manufactured in batches. Couple it with the slow focusing and the need for all new lenses and it doesn't add up to fun for me. I played with the S2 from time to time and found it slow and ponderous to shoot. But many others may have had cheerier experiences.
I think the real play, if the Leica purchase is solely for prestige, is to opt for a current M body and some of the new miraculous glass. Everyone seems to recognize the basic look of that model and understand better the history and concept.
Just my opinion.
You never have to justify your purchases with me! ;-) I'm sure that you are well aware that the vast majority of views from photography blogs are skewed heavily towards gear reviews. I, like I'm sure many others, live vicariously through your relatively frequent gear purchases and thorough reviews with sample pics. Keep up the good work. I so look forward to reading your blog every day.
Speaking as a hobbyist photographer, I can't use the rational of buying the latest/greatest as a means towards getting paid gigs. There has to be a major jump in form/function in order for me to justify an upgrade. The invention of small mirrorless APS-C cameras with small, light lenses was enough for me to break out the wallet, but that was many years ago. Looking forward to what the next major jump in technology will be.
What an article! I'm glad I took the time to read it.
Two little anecdotes:
1. Guys want to impress other guys. We're motivated by "What are the guys gonna think?" An example from "Grease" is Danny being one kind of person when alone with Sandy, but when his gang shows up, he has to play for that audience, and essentially behaves like a jerk.
2. Cameras as jewelry. Watches as jewelry. Both as status symbols. A few decades ago, on vacation in Hamilton, Bermuda, I spotted a watch I liked, a Tag Heuer. Not as expensive nor as ostentatious as a Rolex. I liked it, could afford it, and bought it.
Some years later, my new boss, a VP who was always conscious of his image, noticed my watch and asked, "Is that real?" I answered in the affirmative, then pointed to his Rolex, and asked, "Is that?" (I wonder why we never really got along after that?)
Going on 79, retired December 2019, no need to impress anybody, I sold off all of my watches, plus some film cameras, and other stuff. I look in my closet now and wonder why I'm keeping all those ties and dress shirts. That time has passed.
Very well written piece Kirk and thanks for such a thoughtful response. I've been giving this quite a bit of thought since reading your piece. I agree with everything you said but I'm still somewhat unsettled. First, just a little anecdote similar to your Leica in the boardroom. My wife has her own company, a manufacturing facility here in Canada. Her partner drives a nice Mercedes SUV. My wife is not a car person at all. She wants heated seats for the winter and something easy to drive. She doesn't know a Ferrari from a Ford. When it came time for her to replace her vehicle, her partner insisted she gets a luxury SUV. These are company vehicles, paid for by her company, lease payments, and insurance, etc. The rationale being that if potential clients see the owner of the company driving a Toyota Corolla, well that's not very impressive is it? People with money to spend and business to do don't want to be doing it with people who drive Corollas. And sure enough, when my wife finally picked something upscale, every person who walked in the door for the next month all commented...is that yours in the parking lot? Beautiful car etc. We notice the Rolex watch, the Italian shoes, the big rock on the finger. We can't help it. I think that's why Bernie Sanders was never President. He doesn't cut a very Presidential figure, does he? The meme currently circulating on social media really plays up that idea but I like the man and I don't want to be unfair to him here.
Desire and status signaling are very powerful forces that compel us for sure. So is the constant desire for growth and change. It's what sent us to the moon. Soon we will be on Mars. To be human means to reach. It's wired into our brains. It's a constant march forward. It's the basis of all scientific achievement. So I'm with you all the way yet something just doesn't jive with me here. When the focus is on the equipment then the work suffers, I think. It's a trap. You've often written about looking back at your earlier work and seeing something in it that perhaps is gone. This would be at a time in your life when you had little money, the gear humble. Great art is often created with simple resources. The best food is almost always cooked in simple kitchens with simple ingredients. I don't think I'm generalizing or over-simplifying here. Nothing will ever beat the food from my grandmother's little kitchen prepared with her wooden spoons and simple pots. It's almost as if the more we strive for progress, the more we try to quench that desire...the more we lose or leave behind. Technology for example has taken as much from us as it has given.
I need to give this more thought. These are just some of my initial ideas after reading your terrific piece this evening and I know my ideas are not quite fully formed yet. Thank you again. Terrific discussion.
It would be interesting to see if “wearing” your Fuji X100 had a similar effect to your Leica nowadays, I guess we’ll never know.
A superb piece of writing. It made me think. For example, the reason I tried out the Fuji 50R was its rarity and passing similarity to the Leica M 'look'. And despite having quite a few M lenses, I feel very uneasy about buying a digital M body, mainly because I don't wish to socially signal anything about me, (although, of course, that is impossible not to do). My favourite non-ILC camera is the Ricoh GR, which hides in my trouser/shorts pocket. It looks like a $5 charity shop buy so threatens no-one and ideal for 'street photography', whatever that is.......
Buying cameras is like having sex, just different. 😄
Hugo
I'm prejudiced. I'm less likely to give a like to a photo I see on photo-sharing websites if it was taken with a Leica camera. Just as I am not likely to turn my head if some guy drives by in a Ferrari. That's human nature at work as well.
Years ago (1970s and 1980s), I had Boston's highest-powered art gallery as a very steady client. After a few years, one of the principals said that she needed a b/w photograph of herself in the gallery for various uses. We made an appointment. When I came in to do the job, I was without the customary cart full of gear that I normally brought to photograph the art. She said, "Where's your equipment?" I said, "Right here," and pulled an Olympus OM-4 out of one pocket, a Tota-lite out of another and one of those tiny crappy lightstands out of another. She said, "You're going to use that?" and burst out laughing. It was a great shoot. But of course, it wouldn't have worked without the years of run-up, shooting 4x5 and 8x10 of the art.
dinksdad, we all like to think we're immune or have evolved beyond acknowledging and reacting to status symbols but your "prejudice" (in your words) means you recognize the camera and car as status symbols and you are spending energy trying to nullify their impact on your own self-image. Or that you are a highly enlightened Zen monk. If I see a Ferrari I am not impressed by the actual automobile but the long chain of causation that put the driver into the seat. And I'm affected by my reaction to how other people react to the car. The underlying problem with both Ferraris and Leicas is that with enough consumer credit many people can possess them and when the pool of owners is diluted in any one area the value of implied status through ownership is reduced. To look at it another way, if Leica dropped the price of an SL2 to $999 it's value as a signifier of specific social strata would radically decline and the decline in status signaling would eventually cause Leica to disappear since much of the value of the cameras is the brand. to Paraphrase a line from "The Incredibles" movie: When everyone has a Ferrari no one is special.
You do realize that all of that is just a long winded way of saying "It's new and different from what I have and I want it." I usually want a new camera because it has a feature my current one doesn't. For example I really wanted the Lumix GX-8 because of the flip up viewfinder. Didn't get it (budget). I really wanted an EOS 90 when it came out. Didn't get it (budget). The Canon R series looked cool. Didn't get one (budget). You are examining the wrong thing. Desire isn't the problem. Budgets are the problem. ;-)
SummiCRON? SummiCRON? Excuse Me?
Hi JC, Summicron is the name Leica has used since the 1950's for lenses that have f2.0 apertures. They've used the same name for 35mn, 50mm and 90mm lenses that have the same aperture size.
Here's the current example I was writing about: https://www.bhphotovideo.com/c/product/1217509-REG/leica_11673_summicron_m_35mm_f_2_asph.html
Jim, I think a better way to think about why we might want something but have (so far) refused to buy it is we fear the opportunity loss of committing money to an object that might be desirable but is largely unnecessary while spending the money might prevent us from buying something even more desirable in the near future.
Example: I wanted a used Leica 50mm R series lens I saw on the dealer shelf recently but reminded myself that it would be uncomfortable to stretch the budget when I know that an even more desirable 65mm Sigma lens is scheduled to be delivered to my dealer in the next week or so.
Oh, and JC, by selecting the 35mm Summicron instead of the 35mm f1.4 Summilux version of the Leica lens was an intentional nod to comparing apples to apples in my example.
We buy new gear when we are bored and our creativity is at a low. Fear ensues. When we are busy in the 'zone' gear does not matter.
I should have said: We desire new gear when we are bored and our creativity is at a low. Fear ensues. When we are busy in the 'zone' gear does not matter.
Kirk,
Once upon a time, Jimmy Carter said we needed to make personal sacrifices for the common good, and while that didn't endear him to the American public, I don't think he was wrong.
I was able to ease some of my materialistic longings by seeing myself as part of the carbon-emitting, global-warming problem. And while I'd like to think that installing solar panels on the roof, sorting my recyclables or even purchasing a smart thermostat and electric car would make me an ecological saint ("shopping for change" is fun!) I think the reality is never so simple. While it's true that I wasn't simply throwing last year's toys into the landfill, I had to question whether my hyper-consumerist ways were consistent with my values.
And for what it's worth, the man who popularized the phrase "Less, but better" would like for people to stop buying so much stuff:
https://hustwit.vhx.tv/products/rams
Jeff in Colorado
I was in the camera store the other day and was sorely tempted to buy a SL2-S to upgrade from my steam-powered SL (every time I pull it out of the bag, I get the feeling that people are putting me down). But the moment passed, and instead I put in an order for a 24L Summicron, secure in the knowledge that it won't be delivered or even announced for another year. Even at my age, I'm more into delayed gratification.
The only thing I have FOMO these days is the email informing me when my appointment is for the Covid jab. It's supposed to be Sunday, and I'm starting to get anxious.
Another fantastic insight and expression, Kirk. Thanks for sharing it an making us think.
Having regularly read your blog for several years, what I initially guessed your answer would be was something you didn't even mention.
I thought you were going to mention you were making gear changes as a way to avoid becoming bored. It seemed to me your sticking to one camera system or, heaven forbid, one camera, would make you feel stagnant and no longer creative. You seem to feed off of the constant infusion of new equipment to keep your creative juices flowing.
I can't imagine you being satisfied with gear you already know and are comfortable with. New gear doesn't need to be better or unique; it's the stimulation of learning new camera gear that keeps you challenged and engaged.
Just my 2¢.
Tom
Thanks for the long piece.
For me, I do not want (and I cannot afford) a continuous change of my gear.
In addition, for me it is not buying a new camera a motivation to go out and make photos.
In a sense, I would not like to be a hw reviewer, I would rather be a photographer.
Everybody has a different attitude
Cheers
Thanks for the long piece.
For me, I do not want (and I cannot afford) a continuous change of my gear.
In addition, for me it is not buying a new camera a motivation to go out and make photos.
In a sense, I would not like to be a hw reviewer, I would rather be a photographer.
Everybody has a different attitude
Cheers
Refreshing to read this post and the replies.
I, until recently, had this nagging urge to "need" a Fuji 50R in case the Metropolitan Museum of Art called to ask for an 80"x120" print. Is it the pursuit of perfection? Thankfully, I have managed to keep that under control, and, no, that call has not (yet) come. Perhaps it is the ennui of the Pandemic, or perhaps attaining some degree of maturity as I approach 80, but I am finally (i think) accepting that what I have is more than sufficient.
To quote Kirk Tuck: "You have no more control over who you desire to impress than any other human ..."
Sure I do. Like all generalizations ...
I laugh at your self-delusion. I generalize that anonymous posters are fearful and have complex, unresolved developmental issues that make them combative.
Tired of moderating one snarky, anonymous commenter. I think we've had enough commentary on this post. I'm closing the comments on this one.
Post a Comment