The Science of Withholding

I think I’ve always had a fascination with cameras. The first camera that I ever had was a little blue plastic and black number that had a flip up plastic sight, a shutter release button, and a winder wheel. I’m fairly certain most of the mechanism for the camera was in the film roll itself, being a 110 camera. I loved that thing; even when I didn’t have the film to shoot, I still brought it everywhere.

Dad and Mom had an old film camera that they wouldn’t let me touch. They were convinced it was broken, it wasn’t worth selling, but I wasn’t allowed to touch it. I don’t remember anything of the details about it, I do know that it was a brand I hadn’t seen before and one I don’t remember seeing since. My father worked at a couple of gas stations that were across from each other on a major interstate, and hard-up people were often trading things for a couple of bucks and a tank of gas. This is actually also how I ended up with a Gameboy.

I think I remember asking a photography buff about it one time and they could recall the brand as a low-end film camera brand. There was no light meter or autofocus, so I could believe that my parents had no idea how to use it. It probably turned out a roll of black photos. Later, we’d get an ugly Vivitar Series 1 soap-bar that used 35mm film. It had a little bit of Optical Zoom available, probably 5x, but I think the only exposure measures were an auto-shutter and a flash. I wasn’t allowed to touch that either.

The rest of my adolescence would be spent buying those instant cameras. Sometimes I’d never get the film developed. Possibly because what you see through the “viewfinder” wasn’t really indicative of what you were taking. I don’t really know why. I imagine I’d have been dangerous if digital cameras had been available by then. Non-stop clicking.

I’d own a few point and shoots when digital cameras became prevalent, tricking myself into thinking that taking weird photos was art. My favorite was a little Canon that used to turn out some pretty crisp pictures. Sadly, I lost the hard drive that held those pictures a long time ago, and I’m locked out of the flickr account that holds the last remnants of them today.

It wasn’t until about the year 2008 that I’d buy my very first DSLR. I remember it well: The Nikon D5000. Why Nikon? I read too many reviews and Nikon glass would stand as the most revered through the ages. Why the D5000? It wasn’t the D3000 and I couldn’t afford a D7000. In retrospect, I really wish I would have found a way to buy that D7000. Some of the best photos I’ve ever taken were with that D5000.

That camera is no longer with me. I gave it away long ago when I upgraded to a Sony mirrorless camera. Thinking about that camera reminds me of all of the times I’d brought it to events, shooting small shows for musicians starting out, spending more time trying to figure out what my best shot would be with the tools I had available: an 18-55mm kit lens, a 55-200mm lens of similar quality, and a 35mm f/1.8 specifically for the DX format.

I learned that there is an important balance between capturing the moment and being in the moment, and that you can’t do both at the same time. I learned that the moment you’re looking for will be gone if you’re not prepared for it, but if you wait long enough, it will come again. I learned that going out with friends was a great way to not get anything done.

Constructive Criticism is definitely a hard pill to swallow. And it can be counter-productive, especially when it comes from someone who doesn’t care. The internet? Useless. Never let anyone tell you how to shoot. The best course of action is to learn everything that everyone is doing and see what speaks to you. Unless you want to make money, then mostly you’re doing everything that everyone else is doing.

Concert/performance, landscape, and stellar (with landscape) photography ended up being my real passions. I’d love to rediscover some of the other venues after . But it has remained important to me to watch. How are they holding their cameras? Does it make sense? Do they actually change lenses? What are they paying attention to? Where does the story fit in?

I would pay special attention to Nikon shooters. Surely they would have the kind of equipment that I would want to invest in. “I should buy FX format lenses for the day I eventually buy a Full-Frame camera body,” I would tell myself, drooling over the $2400 D700 and its beautiful 100% viewfinder, and the ability to control the aperture and shutter speed at the same time without having to turn a dial to switch between the two.

After hundreds of hours of observing people with thousands of dollars in flashes and reflectors and umbrellas wander around with light meters and plan out their shots, it remains clear that no matter how much I know, I will never know enough to be satisfied. In all honesty, I’m still not sure what magicks are involved in flash photography and it’s something I’ll get to when I study portraiture again. One thing that almost every Nikon shooter I observed had in common: the Nikon 24-70mm f/2.8G. A workhorse piece of glass. I would make a promise to myself: I could add that lens to my kit when I finally felt like I deserved it.

As a society, we try to frame reward systems as a positive thing. My favorite philosophy regarding human psychology is that we’re simply apes who learned how to speak. If you know me personally, you know that I repeat that a lot. It’s amazing how we’ll take something positive, like a rewards system, and we’ll twist it into something toxic in the guise of something positive.

I never let myself define what it would mean to deserve it. In the political realm, there’s always talk of “moving the goal posts” as a measure of efficacy by the opposition. Unfortunately, a lot of the time, the opposition in our psyche is pretty much the feeling that we don’t deserve something. Good luck trying to feel like you deserve something when the one setting the standard is your feeling about deserving something.

Jakki was kind enough to encourage and facilitate a new lens, knowing that I was feeling stifled by the two prime lenses that I currently operated with. The 20mm f/1.8 from Rokinon has been a wonderful friend, especially when pointing at the sky and the 50mm f/1.8 from Nikon has been a steady performer. I can’t complain about either lens, but I just can’t hit focus on the Rokinon. Even with Focus Peaking enabled.

While it was pretty easy to make the decision to go with a 24-70mm, I looked into the new Z-mount f/2.8 and found it was almost $2400. The f/2.8E wasn’t too much better, adding Vibration Reduction and missing the function buttons from the Z-mount iteration. The f/2.8G was still a stunning $1600, not too far from the $1800 price tag that I often encountered when I first began looking at that lens more than a decade ago. I resigned myself to a Sigma 24-70mm f/2.8 ART lens, which would be no slouch, but a bit of a compromise from my dream in order to keep the price tag under a stack.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t really look down on lenses that aren’t the body’s brand. I’m actually a fan of the cheaper lenses. I have my eye on an extremely well-hidden 50mm f/.95 because it agrees with me, even with the artifacts and vignetting. I’ve never been the person who thinks a technical imperfection is a fault. Just a quirk. Something different.

But the Sigma wasn’t quite what I’d dreamed about. Inside, it was the choice I wanted to make because the pressure of earning the right to own that Nikon was still something I wasn’t quite ready to deal with and saving a full $600 was a fine excuse to use. Outside, it cemented my commitment to remaining lens-agnostic.

That was, until I found a Nikon for sale used but in “like new” condition on Adorama. You see, it’s not that I didn’t consider buying it used. I did. My research was pretty clear on this: don’t buy this lens used from Amazon or eBay. The counterfeit market for these lenses was real and the performance of those lenses couldn’t be counted on. Adorama could be counted on, though. So I got to order my dream lens for just under $1000.

I received it this last Monday. As soon as I got the notification for delivery, I headed to the office and picked up my package. I almost had to stop myself from running in excitement as I brought it back home to peel the packaging clear of the lens. I removed the 3 layers of bubble wrap. And I just held it. I’m not exaggerating when I say my eyes teared up.

You see, I was never satisfied where I was as a photographer. Now I’m not saying that I know everything or I’m some sort of master now, but I’ve found myself feeling at peace with where I am and what I wish to know. I finally let go of other people’s limitations and their definitions of what good is. I’m allowing myself to composite photos and correct little things. I’m forgiving myself.

I held this lens and after 13 years of study and practice, I felt like I deserved it.