Why GAS might actually turn out to be good for you

One is bad enough. Two is…well, probably a signal that some form of clinical treatment is required. Full disclosure: the second one was supplied as a spare for the Thaipusam video; we didn’t use it.

At the risk of severely contradicting myself, I’m going to offer an alternative point of view to several of my posts from earlier this year (namely, this one on diminishing returns; this one on finding the right camera and moving on; this one on ideal formats for a given creative output). Many of you have pointed out in the comments and subsequent emails etc. that things are not really quite so clear cut; I’ve given this some thought and spent some time rationalising my own equipment journey – especially since from an external standpoint, it might appear that I’m probably the worst offender of all. The conclusion, is of course one of very fine balance – like most things in photography; and like most things creative, a little tension is required to produce not-safe and not-boring results. Here are my thoughts on why…

As always, personal motivations and their underlying psychology sit at the core of things. We must return to the original question of why we photograph at all; even if you do it for a living and you have no other transferrable vocational skills, there must have been something to push photography over an easier profession as a means to make a living. In every case, the answer boils down to there being something about the process or the results that appeals to us. There is an emotional return. There may no longer be an emotional return after an extended period of pursuing photography; this is generally the point at which pros lose their edge and become unmotivated or uncompetitive, or land up exiting the industry; for amateurs*, the first symptom is taking fewer images, then eventually hanging up the camera and no longer having DPReview as your browser homepage. Sometimes the interest returns after a break, sometimes it doesn’t; sometimes overdoing things can result in burnout. Important point number one: we photograph because we enjoy it, and we seek to photograph things or use equipment we enjoy.

*I use these terms in the purest definition of the term: somebody who photographs for personal pleasure and not profit, vs whose primary income derives from photography – regardless of skill level.

There are of course exceptions; in fact, most of the time, hardware and subject choices are a compromise – and not just because the ‘perfect combination’ for every situation is necessarily different, expensive, heavy, or simply does not exist. We use what we can afford (or commercially justify), what we have access to, and photograph places and subjects that are convenient (either easy for us to access, or in the case of pros, offered to us as clients). Depending on your means and ability, this may or may not continue to be sufficiently satisfying over an extended period of time. I’ve had the chance to ask a lot of people what their ideal subject and hardware would be, with no limits imposed: most people actually don’t know, which prompted a whole separate discussion on creative (proactive) vs documentary (reactive) mindsets. Most of us therefore require constant injections of dictated ‘new’ to avoid getting acclimatised and comfortable – whether this takes the form of travel, subjects or lenses. Important point number two: fatigue is environmental, and there’s such a thing as the right amount of choice to spur creativity.

The internet has made two things much easier: firstly, the ability to see what’s possible at other destinations or with other subjects, which has the knock-on effect of either making it very difficult to be satisfied with one’s own images when you see what else can be produced – or leaving the feeling of being jaded because there’s nothing new. (Of course, it’s equally possible to use such resources as a guide to what not to shoot if you want to make a unique image.) Even if one succeeds in creating something unique, that tends to not last for very long: it’s just as easy for somebody else to see what you’ve been up to, which is probably exacerbated by our own desire to use social media share and show off. The second part is obvious: not only do we get new camera information immediately, but we tend to get it before ‘official’ releases thanks to rumour sites and the like – to the point that there is some seriously obsessive behaviour taking place on internet forums as though such speculations were not just religion, but immediate life or death and treasonous. There is no more being contented and un-curious, because it’s not just held up in front of our faces, it comes with a handy ‘buy it now’ link, too. We can blame the marketing people for that. Important point number three: too much information makes you want more information, and yesterday.

Unfortunately, such patterns are probably addictive in the same way as anything else: we need bigger and bigger hits to give us the same amount of satisfaction, eventually leading to other problems when technological or financial limits are reached. One of two things happens now: you quit, or you make pictures. You can of course shortcut the whole process by just ‘going for the best you can afford’ and then on to the making pictures bit; this is probably the most desirable route for all creatives. Execution is an important part of the creative process, too: if you don’t feel like you’re getting a positive emotional return from handling and shooting with the hardware, then you’re probably not going to be inclined to use it as much, which in turn means you shoot less, experiment less, and make worse images. Better, sexier cameras do make better photos – but not for the reasons that immediately come to mind. The fire eventually has to be fed, though, and inevitably – if there’s enough focus on the creative part, ideas will surface that hit executional limitations – and the cycle begins again. Important point number four: beyond technical capabilities, the emotional appeal of hardware also matters because it affects our motivation to make images – which of course in turn affects the images themselves.

This is where I’ve found myself over the last five years: in possession of the best tool for my immediate creative needs and a bit more, but then pushed a little further by client, evolution of own ideas, or simply experimentation leading to inadequacies you cannot compensate for in current hardware being made obvious – then balancing that off with economic return and the state of my bank account. I’m fortunate to have reached the ultimate endpoint in that game – having the very best hardware and not just access to but being involved in development of the next generation – and curiously, I find myself not pursuing absolute numbers and specs so much as considering emotional factors. Whilst it’s a given that we will produce the best image quality we can, and make it as ergonomic and well-made as possible – I’m acutely aware that there has to be something more to drive you to want to pick it up, shoot with it, and not want to put it down. Call it object quality; call it experience; call it tactility – there’s no hiding that any piece of gear that gives us a major itch is going to get fondled, shot and enjoyed a lot more than something unemotional that doesn’t. Given that the market is moving into a more mature state where the hardcore pros keep going even though there are easier ways to make money, and pretty much all requirements for amateur use have been long surpassed – I firmly believe this is the only way to go. MT

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