When you start your journey into photography, you feel constrained by how little your stock of equipment is, even though the elders in the profession tell you it doesn’t matter. However, is there a negative correlation between creativity and the number of devices owned? As for me, I doubt there might be.
The equipment envy I had when I first started taking pictures was astronomical. I’m both lucky and unlucky in that I’m part of a community of veteran photographers, some of whom have been taking pictures for twice as long as I’ve lived. When you start anything new, you have to discern the disparity between your results and those of those you admire, and that’s hard work. My photos are basic, dull, and inconsistent, while the photos of the people I’m talking to are beautiful, complex, and they have very few “flaws”.
So why is that so? Well, I know skill plays an important role, but I also know that they all have $10,000 or more camera gear in their arsenal and I have $400. I can’t compete! Now, you know where that story ends, and it’s a very good road, it has eroded itself into a ravine; this is not another article about how unimportant or important equipment is, or how great photographers can create great photos with a basic camera or how a good camera especially the camera you carry with you. This is an article about changes in my photography that I have noticed in reflection.
A chip
There’s a one-time show that I love and watch at least once a year. It’s called Talking Funny, where Ricky Gervais, Louis CK, Jerry Seinfeld and Chris Rock sit down to discuss stand-up comedy and their careers. At some point in this conversation, they discuss starting to make comics, and Louis CK comments that being anything is simply “wanting to be one of those people.” This is really how I became a photographer. I’m on the fringes of a group, looking for some great photographers and I want to be one of them.
While this was my prompt to get into the craft, it’s also where the chip on my shoulder originated. I aspire to reach their qualifications and win their approval, but I can’t afford camera equipment or trips to remote locations, so I’m at a disadvantage, regardless of vision. mine about how deformed its size is. . I’m in college and don’t have much time to earn extra money, so I have to rely on creativity. If I can’t play Hasselblad in Iceland yet, I’ll have to find a way to make my dull surroundings interesting and get every last pixel out of my 10-year-old entry-level Canon.
So I started looking for interesting techniques with long exposures, superimposed focus, and anything else with tutorials online or in print. I scour the forums to find unique places within driving distance and then come up with elaborate stuff to shoot there. I climb the crumbling towers of abandoned military bases (with permission), I wade into frozen swamps at midwinter dawn, and I accidentally burn many antiques. I take risk after risk and push myself in every direction.
Change
Over the next decade, I amassed better equipment, a guaranteed paying job, and made exponential progress as a photographer. Sure there was a time when the chip on my shoulder came out while I had a lot of good equipment, but in the end, I found a way to achieve the good results the client wanted and I was able to deliver. that need consistently. My camera, lenses, lighting, and peripherals are all good, which, to be honest, means I don’t have to work so hard to get what I want. In short, I’ve gone downhill.
Recently, I had to discuss my accolades as a photographer, which I’m not too fond of doing, but I do have a small list of things that I’m proud of the things I’ve done. introduce. I can showcase the impressive clients, editorials and celebrities I’ve had in front of my camera (though not as many as some), but my work is showcased in impressive places — that’s really the hallmark of an exceptional photograph — is all I noticed at or near the beginning of my career.
When I was alone, I thought about this for a while. The photos that go into galleries or magazines are usually unpaid private projects over which I have full creative control and that I brainstorm together. Arguably, my most successful image in terms of where it’s featured and in which gallery it’s displayed is the one above, taken over 10 years ago and on an entry-level DSLR. low with kit lens; this is absolutely true in the chip-on-shoulder era.
Back then, I didn’t know how to consistently produce strong images—my photos were almost completely sloppy—but I tried really hard to get a unicorn. Despite the lack of equipment, I did not strive in the middle. I aim for the top, almost to prove a point. Once I acquired the equipment and skills I needed to consistently create great work, my motivation to create my next unicorn photo was gone. In fact, there’s a clear correlation between the amount of gear I have available and how active I am with my shooting concepts.
This is not to say that I don’t create a lot of editorials that I’m proud of or promote brands that I’m willing to add to my portfolio, but rather, don’t have a chip on my shoulder, I have no motivation to create something unique and outstanding.
Do you find yourself less creative when you buy more photographic equipment? Am I misdiagnosing myself and drawing a correlation in the wrong place? Share your thoughts in the comments section below.
