What Camera?

On the misguided idolatry of photography equipment

I have a complicated relationship with cameras. These are the tools I use to feed my family, after all, so of course I value them greatly. But I also kind of resent them. I resent how expensive they are, how complicated they are and how quickly state of the art equipment becomes obsolete. Mostly, though, what I resent about cameras is how we tend to fetishize them. As if they’re the reason for photography, not just the means to a more important end. 

Often the first question I’m asked is “What kind of camera do you use?” I think most folks mean well with this sort of small-talk, but I also suspect it hints at a deeper truth that’s evident whenever photography is being discussed—that talking about cameras is much easier than talking about what really matters when it comes to making good photographs.  

I’m convinced that most people who successfully travel back in time to meet Henri Cartier-Bresson working in the streets of pre-war Paris excitedly run up and breathlessly ask him, “What kind of camera do you use?”

I struggle to think of a topic I’m less interested in discussing than what camera I use, what camera you should use, or what camera anyone uses (with the rare exception of when the work is so uniquely tied to technique that camera specifics are fundamental to the outcome). 

I’m clearly in the minority with this sentiment, as the entire photo-industrial complex is organized around the question of what camera you should use. Did you know there was actually a photo magazine titled What Camera? That’s how essential this question is.

While What Camera? failed (as all other photo magazines have or will) the essential nature of this question remains. Just look at the home pages of your favorite popular photography websites. I won’t name names as I’m neither looking to make enemies nor to call out anyone specific, as this an industry-wide problem. These websites are dedicated to shilling photography equipment above all else—and there certainly isn’t much else. Technique and philosophy (the how and the why) are secondary, if not downright inconsequential. These publications are no longer aimed at photographers, they’re for camera-ists.¹

I don’t want to be a camera-ist. If Henri Cartier-Bresson and Dorothea Lange could make iconic photographs using a glorified box with a hole in it, I should be able to make do with 2017’s finest mirrorless body. 

To paraphrase our good friend Ansel, I acknowledge that the most important part of a camera is the 12 inches behind it. It’s the photographer that’s the focus of the photography discussions I want to be a part of.

Yes, some equipment is much better than others, and I certainly want good gear. Yes, camera-centric publishing serves a useful purpose—to a point. But I’m still a bit glum about the fact that photography publishers (and content creators) have made it harder to read about what matters most, which is not what camera you use so much as how—and more importantly why—you use it. 

Do any of you feel this way too? Equipment is crucial to the effective execution of our work, but it shouldn’t be the focus of it, right? It’s the means, not the end. 

And but so, with all that in mind, I present to you this entirely unglamorous look at the most essential equipment I use, otherwise known as… 

What’s Really In My Bag?

Don’t you love “what’s in my bag” posts? Presumably you’ve seen them before. It’s when a photographer—likely at a sponsor’s behest—arranges their most amazing, state of the art equipment for a photograph and an explanation of why it’s essential and how they could never be as great as they are if they were forced to work with last year’s gear. What they don’t tell you is how much of that equipment is donated by sponsors, or provided at significantly reduced rates, and how much other essential stuff they left out because it doesn’t support their refined influencer narrative.

But I influence no one; ask anybody who knows me! I am unsponsorable. And, as stated above, I don’t care which camera you use and I would go so far as to say it doesn’t really matter. Take that, photo industrial complex.

In all of these “what’s in my bag” posts I’ve seen, never have I encountered a photographer sharing the complete, unvarnished truth. This is what I will attempt to do now, warts and all, in hopes that you’ll feel some sense of kismet, maybe even a spiritual connection, and perhaps we can un-glamorize and de-fetishize the equipment. Yes, it’s essential to our work, but it’s far from the point of it.

For starters, my “bag” is actually a hard plastic case made by LowePro, which I stumbled across about five years ago at a tag sale. It sat lonely and out of place in a booth of secondhand hardware and outdoor accessories. $55 later (I talked him down from $60) I was the proud owner of a brand new bag. 

My bag tells you, by virtue of being a heavy hard case with no realistic possibility of being carried any distance at all, that I am primarily a studio photographer. And when I do go on location it is with a cart loaded with gear including lights and stands and this case. I don’t even own a shoulder bag.²

Below is a carefully itemized list of my case’s contents in what I would roughly consider order of importance. 

• Two (2) Sony A7R Mark III mirrorless camera bodies. This body is such a perfect balance of features and quality. If I were to replace a body I would likely not upgrade even though this model is almost six years old. I’m quite pleased with its bang-for-the-buck-ness, which is improving by the day. 

• Two (2) store-brand Imodium tablets. Ever had intestinal issues on an all-day location shoot? If you have, you now carry two (2) store-brand Imodium tablets. More essential than my favorite lens, I choose store brand because that’s how we roll. #sameactiveingredientcrew

• Sony 85mm f/1.8 GM lens. I will confess that I could likely do 90% of my job with this one lens. It is so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up. My assistant jokes that I need to branch out, try something new, but why mess with success? It’s perfect for waist-up portraits and it’s so sharp and fast. As with so many prime lenses, if you use them enough you start to see the world in certain focal lengths. I definitely see in 85. 

• Sony 70-200mm f/2.8 GM zoom. I don’t love zooms, but this is an exception. This is my headshot lens. I can lock it down on a tripod and pick a spot around 150mm and generally get exactly the composition I need. It’s very practical. The occasional zoom just makes life a little easier. 

• Sony 35mm f/1.4 GM lens. I don’t naturally see the world in 35mm, but I’m getting better at it. National Geographic photographer Ira Block once told me that he sees in 35mm and the vast majority of his work is done with that lens. It really does strike me as an ideal photojournalist’s view: wide enough to provide context, tight enough to minimize distortion. I find when I’m playing documentarian in a client’s lab or factory, I’m tying on this lens. 

• Zeiss 55mm f/1.8 Sonnar. I use this lens a lot. There’s nothing particularly exceptional to say about it, except for what it says about being a professional photographer. Which is that sometimes you make a practical choice rather than a sexy one. 

• Sony 28mm f/2 lens. I chose this one as a cost saver, a bit of a placeholder, when I was first outfitting the Sony kit (after switching from the Canons I’d used for 15+ years). It’s affordable and not terribly slow or unsharp. I can’t give it rave reviews, but I can’t knock it either. It’s been largely usurped by the 35mm and the zoom below. 

• Sony 24-70mm f/2.8 GM zoom. I don’t use this lens a lot because of the type of work I’m doing coupled with the fact that I prefer primes. I use this one when I’m photographing an event and want to be able to get everything from a wide shot of the room to a short telephoto closeup, or when I want to be practical and travel light without changing lenses often. With a 24-70 and a 70-200 you can pretty much shoot anything. 

A top-down view into the deepest recesses of my camera case.

There you have it, my list of hammers. But that’s not all, of course. What prompted me to share my bag is all the other weird and unglamorous essentials it holds.

• Tape. Not only do I carry a partial roll of gaff tape (the full roll is too big and bulky), I keep strips stuck to my case for those instances when I misplace the roll and an inch of tape would save the day. Give me enough gaff tape and I could rule the world. Forget duct tape, gaff tape is the real MVP. #ifyouknowyouknow #gafftapegang

• Pop up reflector. Beat up and old, when you forget your “good” reflector it’s nice to have the backup squeezed into your case. Notice a recurring theme? So much of what I carry is based on backups, and my perpetual worry of forgetting something essential. There’s a military saying that I strive to live by when it comes to photo equipment: two is one and one is none. Things break. Bring backup. 

• Lighting diagrams. Taped to the inside of my case are three oft-used lighting setups so I don’t have to waste precious time trying to remember or, even worse, think. 

• And last but certainly not least… Two pocket wizard transceivers, two lens cloths, a speedlight-style flash, a little Pelican case that holds 12 SD cards, 12 SD cards, two quick release tripod plates, an Elinchrom radio trigger and backup, a couple packets of rice paper sheets for reducing shine on noses and foreheads, two plastic pieces for jury-rigged clamping of a folding v-flat, a Giottos rocket air blaster, a battery charger, a NutriGrain granola bar (strawberry flavor, certainly expired), several pens, Q-tips, a Sekonic L-358 light meter, a dozen AA batteries in a plastic battery holder, three extra camera batteries, Datacolor Spyder color chart, QP Card gray card strips, various scraps of paper, a pilfered notepad, a couple old covid masks, several chunks of half-CTO gels, a newspaper clipping, a plastic knife and one blue paperclip (origin unknown).³

There you have it, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about what’s in my bag, store-brand Imodium tablets and all. I’d love to hear what items you consider essential and always carry in your own bag. The weirder the better, as far as I’m concerned. You’re always welcome to message me, but I hope for the sake of spurring discussion you’ll consider sharing your thoughts in the comments below. 

1. This is, of course, not unique to photography. Bicycling publishers talk about bikes, fishing publishers talk about rods and reels, sewing publishers talk about needles and thread. It’s the advertisers selling goods that drives the market, after all. But I’m not convinced any other industry has so completely abandoned discussion of “how” and “why” in an effort to serve the algorithm that drives web traffic. SEO has exacerbated the problem and crowded out more thoughtful, useful information in favor of detailed examinations of pixel pitch and signal-to-noise ratio, which mean bugger-all when it comes to what matters in most photographs. 

2. Allow me to clarify that I absolutely do own a shoulder bag, in fact I have several. They sit stacked in a closet with many other bags and cases. Shoulder bags, messengers, backpacks, various forms of hard cases and wheeled boxes and the like. I love bags and cases. I dare say I fetishize them. I don’t know if it’s my secret passion for organization or what, but I have the hardest time parting with a bag. So aside from the one I received for my birthday in 1987, I retain every other camera bag I’ve ever owned. It’s unhealthy, I know.

3. Not pictured are the items from two rarely used pockets I forgot to empty. This includes a few random cables, an optical trigger, a handful of business cards, some filters (polarizer, variable ND and UV/haze—which I abhor on principle), a cold-shoe umbrella bracket, and more slivers of fractional CTO and CTB gels.