Daniel Nielsen Photography

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Last Updated: February 4, 2004

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ESCAPE THE CULT OF EQUIPMENT ENVY

By Daniel Nielsen

This page is for you if, like me, you one day find yourself spending more time deciding which camera or lens to buy than you do seeking out or creating photographs.

Some of us are predisposed to becoming gadgetheads. You know the type - constantly studying magazines, Web sites, brochures and articles about equipment. Bodies, lenses, flashes, bags, cable releases, brackets, lens hoods, hubcaps, etc. It's an ailment that pulls the afflicted away from the art of creating photographs. It's a disease that sometimes requires a 12-step plan to keep in check.

Don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with wanting to use a camera and lens that capture the image you quest after. And if your greatest joy is collecting fine machinery, so be it. But if you took up photography because you wanted to create beautiful images for either yourself or others to enjoy, becoming a camera collector can divert you from that goal.

I got into photography when I was in junior high school. When I was much younger, somewhere around eight or nine, I was given a little Kodak Brownie 127 twin lens reflex, and I shot a few rolls with it, then put it away, the fad passed. Years later, when my dad built a basement darkroom for my older brother, my interest in photography was rekindled and became much stronger. My brother bought a Nikkormat and started taking pictures for the highs school yearbook. The first time I saw my brother pull a roll of negatives out of the developing tank and later agitate the tray as the image magically appeared before my eyes, I was hooked. I learned how to shoot with a borrowed camera, learned how to develop film and print enlargements. I loved it.

Over the next few years, I learned the basics of creating technically correct photographs. Eventually, I developed a sense of composition. I worked for the college newspaper. Out of college, I went to work for a small newspaper in northern Nevada. There, I was able to make a living by taking pictures and writing, my other creative love. The more I shot, the more I loved photography. But it seemed there was a stronger demand for writers than for photograpers. Each time I moved - to graduate school, then on to another paper, and another - photography became a less important component of my job. By the mid-1990s, photography was officially gone from my job description.

I still loved photography, and I promised myself that I would keep up my skills with personal work. I dreamed of someday participating in gallery shows, perahps even developing a second income from selling art prints of my work. But the years passed, and the demands of job, home ownership and family ate into what used to be my spare time. What used to be a part of daily life for me - taking pictures - was reduced to a rare occurance.

And I felt the loss. I was driving home from work one day and suddenly realized I hadn't lifted a camera to my eye for six months. I was shocked. Over the next few days, I could feel my the last dregs of my creative juices drying up. I used to see photo possibilities everywhere, but no more. I made a point of taking my camera bag with me everywhere. I'd use lunch hour to go for a walk and look for pictures. But I was very rusty. I used to burn through film, now I had trouble shooting a roll in less than a week.

I resolved that I'd exercise my mind, rediscover my muse, sharpen my eye.

Well, my intentions were good. I did try. But weeks passed, and my resolve was twisted away from its original direction. I rarely had the time to go out and shoot. But I could carve out a few minutes here and there to read a magazine article, a chapter of a book, or a Web article. I devoured lots of material about technique and creativity. Then I started reading articles about gear. Which lens is best for certain subject, how to use flash in daylight, which flash units work with which bodies, etc. After awhile, that was the bulk of what I was reading. It seems the bulk of reading material on photography involves equipment, not creativity. And my mindset eventually became equipment-centric. Without realizing it, I had become a member of the Cult of Equipment Envy.

I came to think subconsciously that all my photographic problems would be solved by acquiring the right equipment.

I was wrong. The only thing that would solve all my photographic problems was to get out and shoot!

The more I thought about gear, the less I thought out subject matter, light, and form. The more I thought about equipment, the less I could create images.