Gear
We need to talk about camera gear
From film to digital, Nikon to Canon, and now another change: a personal reflection on how camera gear can shape not just the photographs we take, but whether we take the camera with us at all.

When I started photography, it was with an old Nikon FE2 camera (which I still have). It was film, and I had to learn the basics of photography: shutter speed, aperture, exposure, framing, focal length and so on.
Batteries, modes and buttons, none of that was a concern. The questions were about the subject, composition and light.
Along the way, DSLRs arrived. I still remember buying a Nikon D90 and being amased at the results it produced. All of a sudden, a new set of things needed to be learned: my knowledge of photography now had to be paired with a better understanding of technology and, more importantly, gadgets.
The core elements were still there, but they had to adapt to a smaller frame (APS-C) and new concepts such as dynamic range and increasingly sophisticated autofocus.
I shot two weddings and countless gigs with that camera and a cheap nifty fifty, but, like most photographers, I started craving more. I wanted the full-frame field of view back, so I bought a D700.
With that camera, my photography expanded greatly. I bought extra lenses and dedicated myself to photography much more seriously. As heavy as it was, I brought that camera with me all the time, usually with a small 50mm attached and a compact 20mm in the same bag.
With that setup, I started growing in confidence, taking more photographs and participating in exhibitions. More paid work came as a result too.
Then, once again, I started reaching the limits of my setup.
On large prints, the relatively low resolution started to show, and I also wanted to shoot video. Nikon was very slow to release the camera I needed, at the time, the D850, and even when it eventually arrived, the price would have been difficult to justify.
At the same time, I was using some very old Nikkor lenses with manual focus. I loved their rendering, but I increasingly wished I could make my life easier with autofocus.
So I took a leap of faith and moved to Canon.
I bought a Canon 5D Mark III and happily started taking photographs and videos. Shooting music became easier, and I loved the colours coming out of the camera. Over time, I replaced my collection of lenses with Canon's fast primes.
But then something happened.
I increasingly started bringing the gear only when I planned to take photographs. As a result, the camera progressively stayed at home.
The gear improved, but it also became heavier and bulkier. That stopped me from taking it with me. The phone was enough, and even when I travelled for work or leisure, the camera increasingly stayed at home.
I realised that as phone technology improved, my camera gear started gathering dust. And that eventually led me to a simple realisation: it was time for a change.
So, does camera gear matter?
I think the answer is yes.
Gear has mattered at every stage of my photographic journey. Moving from film to digital changed the way I worked. The D700 allowed me to take my photography further. The Canon system made certain types of photography easier and opened the door to video.
Every camera and lens I owned solved a problem I had at that particular moment.
But somewhere along the way, I started thinking about gear mostly in terms of what it could do better. More resolution, faster autofocus, better video, sharper lenses, wider apertures.
I wasn't asking a much simpler question: would this make me want to take the camera with me?
That, I think, is where camera gear becomes more than a collection of specifications.
The best camera isn't necessarily the one with the highest resolution or the fastest autofocus. It's the one that allows you to take the photographs you want to take, and, perhaps more importantly, the one you are happy to have with you when those photographs appear.
After years of cameras getting progressively more capable, my next change is, in many ways, about going backwards.
Less gear. Less weight. Less planning.
Hopefully, more photographs.
© 2026 Six Photography. All rights reserved.
© 2026 Six Photography. All rights reserved.
© 2026 Six Photography. All rights reserved.