Opinion

Most photographers hit a stretch where the work stops exciting them, direction disappears, and the whole thing starts to feel like a chore. Those flat periods are often what push you toward something new, if you know where to look.

It’s that time again to sit back and dream about a one-size-fits-all camera that doesn’t actually exist, but really should.

Street photography looks like a hobby about cameras and light, but the habits it builds bleed into how you move through the rest of your day. Watch strangers long enough and you start noticing patterns in yourself, not just in the frame.

The FX2 has been one of Sony’s most discussed cameras since its launch. So today, I got my hands on one and decided to take it for a spin.

Most photography advice hands you rules to memorize and light to chase, then leaves you disappointed when your pictures still look like textbook exercises. The alternative is treating light, composition, and moment as choices rather than commandments.

Sharing photography online often follows a predictable pattern. A photographer posts an image to a group or forum, and then the comments start to roll in. Mixed in with the generic "great shot!" remarks, there are always a few that offer constructive criticism. Even in highly respectful photography communities, well-regarded professionals will jump in to offer their notes completely unprompted. We have built an ecosystem where the default response to art is an immediate attempt to improve it. 

There's an advantage to a small camera that doesn't call attention to itself: you can become the gray man. Not invisible or undercover; not some photographic ninja.

The Leica M lineup split into two camps you can hold side by side, and one of them ditches the optical rangefinder that has defined the M for seventy years. The Leica M EV1 trades the mechanical viewfinder for a built-in EVF, and it now sits as the entry point into the M11 generation after Leica discontinued the standard M11.

Most photography advice online pushes you toward the next purchase, the next lens, the next body. The habits that actually move your work forward cost nothing and get ignored in favor of gear.

Canon's RF 45mm f/1.2 STM and the old EF 50mm f/1.2 L USM now sit close enough in price to make the comparison real. The used market has pushed a once-aspirational L lens down to roughly the cost of a modern budget prime, which forces a genuine choice.

Canon has been busy lately, producing a variety of cameras aimed at satisfying a wide array of users. But which one is right for you?

After more than three decades behind a camera, one photographer still stands in the field asking whether he can make an image any better. Knowing when to stop is one of the least discussed parts of the craft, and it separates people who finish a photograph from people who wander away from it.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been trying out the Nikon 28-135mm PZ lens to see how it might fit into my workflow. Here’s what I found.

The tree at Sycamore Gap is gone, and so is any chance of photographing it. That kind of loss sits at the center of a hard truth every photographer eventually learns: the scene in front of you might never be there again.

Leica is famous for its fully manual rangefinder cameras that are based on technology first introduced in 1954. In recent years there’s been what appears to be a huge surge of interest, particularly from younger YouTubers and influencers, all using rangefinders and gushing about them on social media. Some have a digital M, some have a film M, and a large number actually own both. Therefore, one would think that this antiquated system is in huge demand. YouTubers are waxing lyrical about Leica M cameras being “the” camera to own, particularly if street and travel photography is your main interest, and you want a bit of street cred. But all is not what it seems.

Smartphone cameras are good enough now that the question for many casual photographers isn't whether their phone can take the photo, it's whether they should still bother owning a camera at all. The answer has less to do with sensors and lenses than most gear debates assume.

Sony has proposed buying Tamron outright. On July 30, Tamron confirmed it had received a non-binding proposal from Sony to become a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Sony Group, and it has formed a special committee to weigh the offer. Japanese outlet Diamond put the number at around 200 billion yen, roughly 1.2 billion dollars, which sounds enormous until you notice it is less than one percent of Sony's market capitalization. For Sony, this is couch-cushion money.

Travel photography is having an identity crisis. Not because cameras have become worse, not because destinations have become less interesting, and certainly not because photographers have stopped traveling. The problem is something else: too much travel photography today feels interchangeable.

I've studied the exotic and colonialist gaze in photography extensively. I began to develop an interest in it through some texts I read in the Mexican magazine Cuartoscuro, and then I delved deeper into it through a book a friend gave me. Other readings helped me develop an even more complete understanding, such as the National Geographic book on portraits, in which the agency itself acknowledged the colonialist gaze and the exploitation of the "naked bodies of African tribal women" to sell more copies of its magazine.

A few years ago, I got a friend request I didn't expect. It came from Efrem Raimondi. If you're not familiar with the name, you've almost certainly seen his work without knowing it. Raimondi was one of Italy's most respected portrait photographers, the man behind decades of images of Vasco Rossi, Italy's biggest rock star, as well as portraits of Monica Bellucci, Joe Strummer, Formula 1 driver-turned-handcyclist Alex Zanardi, Riccardo Muti, footballer Zlatan Ibrahimović, and even seven-time Prime Minister Giulio Andreotti. He shot for GQ, Vanity Fair, and Rolling Stone and worked with brands like Prada and Trussardi. He sat on the Hasselblad Master Jury. He was, by any measure, a master. So when Efrem Raimondi reached out to me, it stopped me in my tracks.

The visual is cultivated through visions. It may seem like an oxymoron, but we often tend to overlook the importance of nurturing our ability to see. The perception of experience also stems from our cultural background. And if it's missing, we often fail to understand how to photograph.

A comment on an old post accused me of photographing only women, and rather than let it sit, I want to take it apart, because the accusation says far more about how people look at images than about how I make them. What follows is less a defense than an explanation of what I am actually doing when I raise the camera, and why the subject is rarely the point.

The tragedy is believing that loving cameras is the same thing as loving photography.

One of the greatest surprises photography has given me has almost never arrived while I was out walking with a camera. It has arrived afterward, sometimes the same evening, sometimes months later, when I have found myself looking at a photograph I believed I already understood and suddenly noticed something that had escaped me completely while I was making it.

First there was the word, from a creative point of view, but in terms of reasoning, first there was light. Image and content travel within it. If light travels faster than sound, its content is also received much earlier. If, before speaking, we communicate through sight, we must restructure the way we learn.

There's a camera on my shelf that changed how I look at the world: a Yashica Electro 35 GSN. Heavy. Honest. A rangefinder that asked nothing of me except to slow down and pay attention. The 45mm lens acts as a "normal" or standard field of view on the camera's 35mm full frame format, allowing you to make everything from street photography to portraits. That camera is part of why I photograph the way I do today. The company that made it doesn't exist anymore.

It usually starts a few nights before a shoot. You start checking weather forecasts, cloud-cover percentages, and sun angles. You try to judge the likelihood of fog. You pack your bag with the gear you need for the anticipated conditions. You have locations planned out. You know exactly where the car will be parked and what the light should do. You feel prepared. But have you just planned too much?

There is a certain kind of photography that does not begin with a plan, a map, or even a clear idea of what you are looking for. It begins the moment you realize you are already lost and you decide, consciously or not, to keep going anyway.

I love street photography; it’s fun. Everyone can do it because you don’t need to spend a lot of money to travel to far-off destinations. If there are no big cities nearby, no worries, we can do it in our local towns. Perfect!

There is a peculiar type of confidence that thrives in photography today, and it usually arrives wearing the expression of a man who has just discovered absolute truth through a combination of autofocus charts, affiliate links, and an aggressively edited YouTube thumbnail. He speaks with conviction about lenses as if discussing racehorses or religious doctrine. One focal length is cinematic. Another is immersive. One possesses "magic." Another is dead on arrival. And somewhere in this increasingly theatrical courtroom of photographic opinion sits the 50mm, quietly accused of the gravest crime modern photography can imagine: being boring.

Almost nobody needs a dedicated camera anymore. That is the uncomfortable truth sitting underneath every camera launch in 2026, and the sooner the industry says it out loud, the better its decisions get. 

There are cameras people buy because they are new, and cameras people keep because they matter.

I think the Canon 5D belongs to the second category. Long after mirrorless systems took over conversations, long after spec sheets became the dominant language of photography, the 5D series continues to occupy a strangely untouchable space. Not merely respected. Not simply remembered. Mythologized. And perhaps that is the real story, because the Canon 5D was never just a camera. It was a permission slip.

I've never been able to decide whether writing is more demanding than photography or the other way around. Every few years I convince myself I have the answer, and then something happens that proves me wrong.

One of the strangest things about photography isn't the endless debate over cameras, editing software, or artificial intelligence. It is the quiet assumption that mastering one photographic discipline somehow grants authority over every other one.

Netflix just spent real engineering time making its biggest show look worse, on purpose. It's not the only surprising analog bet this summer — Christopher Nolan shot a $250 million blockbuster entirely on physical film — and neither is nostalgia. It's a signal about what audiences want that every photographer and videographer should notice.

Travel is one of the best ways to learn history, to experience new foods and cultures, and to find inspiration. But when a photographer travels for personal fulfillment, it can be tricky to balance the "photographer" and the person.

Most wedding shooters carry a 24-70mm and a 70-200mm so they never get caught without the right reach. That habit can quietly wreck the consistency of your work, and the fix has nothing to do with which lens you own.

There is a particular kind of confidence that only exists on the internet. You have probably encountered it if you've ever published a photograph, written an article, uploaded a YouTube video or, for that matter, dared to have an opinion in public. It belongs to the person who has never shown you a single piece of their own work, yet has absolutely no hesitation in explaining why yours falls short.

There's a fairly common way to begin a piece about two photographers: describing when they met. This isn't that kind of story. Between Luigi Ghirri and Claude Nori, there's no iconic image shared together, no textbook foundational episode, not even the certainty that they ever needed to truly define their relationship.

Most likely, this won't matter to many people, but I'm writing it and proposing it anyway, also because I'm convinced that there's only one person who will be interested in this piece about an antiquated setup that, in my opinion, still works great today. At least it works for me.

One of the arguments I hear most often against street photography has very little to do with photography itself.

Every photographer who has thought about photographing a public space knows the low-humming anxiety of the "worst-case scenario." The fear of someone seeing and confronting us remains one of the steepest mental hurdles to actually getting started in street photography. For years, it was mine. We convince ourselves that the moment we are noticed, the world will grind to a halt and anger will follow. But what actually happens when the nightmare comes true?

There is a particular kind of expectation that follows you when you say you are in a country hosting a World Cup. It is not always spoken out loud, but it sits there in the background of conversations, in messages, in assumptions that come almost automatically, as if geography alone were enough to place you inside the flow of the event.

"How you make a picture is much easier to articulate than why you make a picture." I read this statement in a comment under one of my articles here on Fstoppers, and it inspired me to talk about this in more depth.

I've always wondered what goes through someone's mind when they decide to become a hater. Being a hater is a kind of job: you have to create fake accounts, which guarantee anonymity, and then, from those accounts, launch attacks against the object of your hatred.

There is a peculiar cult operating inside photography. You have seen them: the Autofocus Clergy.

After years of shooting with various "crappy" cameras, I realized they're not always as bad as many would think.

Let's begin with the usual disclaimer:

I am not affiliated with Canon in any way. No sponsorships. No ambassador contract. No free gear raining from heaven. This is simply the perspective of a working photographer who has spent years using multiple systems professionally across documentary, editorial, portrait, and street photography.