What Would Happen If You Never Bought Another Camera Again?

As I sat in my kitchen on Memorial Day, once again procrastinating by watching my umpteenth gear review video this week on YouTube, a random thought popped into my head. What would happen if I were to never buy another camera for the rest of my life?

Now, up front, I should admit that the likelihood of this happening in the real world is a bit far-fetched. If you look up Gear Acquisition Syndrome (GAS) in the dictionary, you would likely find a picture of me stenciled on the page by Webster's. In fact, the very idea that I would be so intrigued by a life where I never make another camera purchase for all of my days tells you a little bit about where my head is at.

Let me also say upfront that this isn't going to be an anti-gear article. Certain jobs call for certain tools. And if you've got the money, then, by all means, shop away. The only reason I can even entertain this thought is because I've already spent the GDP of a small country on gear over the last couple of decades, making the question of whether or not I would ever actually need to buy another camera a legitimate quandary.

But, with that being said, I thought it would be a fun mental exercise to consider what exactly I would be missing out on if I were to commit to my current camera system for the rest of my life. Period. End. What would I be missing out on? And, surprisingly, what might I gain?

Would I Lose Clients?

Probably not. One of the many ways that we delude ourselves into thinking that we need to constantly upgrade our camera gear is that we justify it by saying we are doing so on our clients' behalf. And it's true. The gear we own can sometimes help us get certain jobs, depending on the type of market we focus on.

But, having been in business now for almost three decades, I can honestly count the number of times my camera choice has had any impact on my earnings potential on one hand. One finger maybe, and, at that, it may be the thumb. Generally speaking, a client who is going to hire you based mostly on your gear is not someone who appreciates the art form at all. If they did appreciate the art form, they'd understand that it's the man or woman who makes the image, not the camera. Thinking a photographer is good because he or she owns an expensive camera is like taking medical advice from someone just because they can afford to buy a white coat.

So if a client's primary question to me is about what kind of camera I'll be using, it suggests that they are really just in search of a button-pusher, not an artistic voice. And, for me personally, I know that's not the kind of job that would fulfill me as an artist in the first place. I'm not saying I've never done a job largely for the money. But one thing I've learned over the years is that there are certain types of potential paychecks that just aren't worth cashing.

Some of my best (and most high-profile) clients over the years not only don't give a fig what kind of camera I'm shooting with, but the rare few that actually have in-house studios that provide me the gear often have what we would term ancient DSLRs that have been around since the first Obama administration.

It's not that they don't care about quality. It's that the better the client, the better the creative director, the more they understand that an image comes from the artist. A camera is just a tool.

Would My Photography Get Worse?

The other reason we delude ourselves into making major investments in gear is that we subconsciously think that buying a new camera will somehow improve our skill set. As if putting down a credit card on the counter will magically replace spending hours in the studio actually practicing our craft.

I teach a filmmaking course at a local college and am inevitably bombarded with questions about 4K, 6K, 8K, 12K. What's really enough? At that point, I always remind them that Roger Deakins shot his Academy Award-winning Blade Runner 2049 largely on ARRI Alexa cameras that don't even shoot in 4K.  The Alexa, a workhorse of the industry over the last two decades, has been hardly a limitation for the best Hollywood cinematographers working today. To make things simple, if it's good enough for Deakins, it's probably good enough for you.

Same on the photography side. People have been taking amazing and jaw-dropping images for a long time, well before we started comparing autofocus speed in milliseconds or claiming that anything short of 100 MP was child's play. Yes, modern technology has made certain things easier for us as photographers. But that doesn't mean that those tools are necessary to creating a great work of art.

One of my other favorite quotes is a reminder that the steel-nib pen replaced the quill in the early 1800s, but the world didn't suddenly become filled with more writers of Shakespeare's caliber. The new writing implement was just a tool to improve a writer's efficiency. It didn't change the fundamental story he had to tell.

To be clear, I am not comparing myself to Shakespeare. But when I compare my own work from decades ago to the work in my reel and portfolio today, the progression comes from my improvement in storytelling, my technical growth from all the time spent learning lighting, color theory, composition, and so on. After all these years of not only photography but life itself, I simply have more to say about the world, and it's reflected in my work. I've certainly upgraded camera systems over that time span, but there's nothing about the camera I used 30 years ago that, given my current skill set, wouldn't have been able to produce very similar results.

Would I Actually Get Better?

This one may be a bit counterintuitive, but making an affirmative decision to never purchase another camera for the rest of one's life may actually make one better. Not worse. Let me explain.

When we remove the possibility of greener pastures on the other side of the mountain, something happens by default. No longer always in search of the next best thing, we inherently shift our focus instead to what we already have.

If you rob yourself of the fairy tale that buying a new camera is going to make you a better artist, then that leaves only one road available to someone who wants to get better. You have to practice. You have to study your craft. If you're not getting sharp enough focus and upgrading to a faster camera isn't an option, you'll just have to practice more with the focusing system you have and make a better study of how things like shutter speed and aperture can affect the perceptual sharpness of an image. If you feel your camera lacks dynamic range, it doesn't mean you can't get a cinematic image. Filmmakers have been getting great images with far less tech than is currently in your iPhone for decades. So maybe instead of harping on lab tests, you go out and learn how to control light to maximize how dynamic range is distributed on your sensor, as opposed to dreaming about a hypothetical one that will solve all your issues.

The truth is that what makes someone a great artist is not their ability to make purchases with a credit card. It is their ability to maximize the tools in their hand. To imagine the impossible and have the skill set to make that dream into a reality. 

So, while it may be true that, if you were to never buy another camera for the rest of your life, you may experience a bit of FOMO and might not have so much to brag about at the next photo club gala, that does not mean that you couldn't still continue to improve as an artist. And, new camera or not, make the best work of your life.