From the previous part, where I learned the charm of doing the manual exposure, shutter speed and aperture control with the EOS 60D, I guess the good conclusion would have been "I finally realized the beauty of camera and the photography with the EOS 60D and the few new prime lenses I got for it". Unfortunately, I instead got into a reckless spiral that severely burdened my mentality.
After coming back from the photographic journey day in a theme park, I spent the next few weeks in search for a new camera. I was now looking for a new camera to supercede and succeed all of my cameras and the experience - one that has the APS-C or bigger sensor, dials all over for optimal manual controls, and with the availability of superzoom lenses so I don't miss out the 24 to 200mm focal length experience of my RX100.
I first started with looking for deals in EOS 90D, one of the last Canon DSLRs. Then I discovered mirrorless cameras and their conveniences - electronic viewfinder to "see just like how my camera sees", (usually) lighter weight, (not always but) USB charging etc, then the world of full frame cameras for wider views, even better depth of field and details than an APS-C. Throughout the searches, I gradually got hyped up and lessened my sensitivity in my budget limit, thinking this new purchase would be good enough to "change my life for the better again".
In the end, I found a used Sony a7R3. Full frame with 42 megapixels, which not only was a big upgrade from the 18 to 20 megapixel cameras I use, but also a lot higher than the typical 24 megapixel sensors in many full frame mirrorless cameras. There also was Tamron's "budget friendly" 28 to 200mm superzoom lens for the Sony camera mount. Total cost was about 2.2 million KRW (about 1700 USD, of then). A few hours and my dad's aggressive callout to a college boy's planned yet senseless spending later, I let my 70% of total savings and the earns I got from a part-time job to be gone with few mouse clicks.
From the moment after the purchase, I was rather struck with a hardened depression that didn't let me photograph anything for weeks. Other than the disbelief from my parents, the unprecedented extreme levels of anxiety from handing out a big money to an online individual seller, I also realized the hefty learning curve for the new camera and the lens.
The three big realizations were:
- the more megapixels there are, the higher the risk of getting a shaky image (even with things like image stabilization)
- higher megapixels also means less capable autofocus area compared to 20-30 (and lower) megapixels range cameras
- the significance of editing images after photoshoots now matters a lot more, if you want to bring out the best in the images you took.
With new lessons to go through along with my awful college semester, I was in fear of something I constantly said I enjoyed and loved. I was stuck in self-disappointments and uncertainty for every shot I took.
At one moment, I was no longer self-depreciating. I was now starting to get comfortable with holding the camera and the lens (1232 grams combined), and stroll around the Seoul streets.
It also didn't take me long in getting to learn about cameras and editing. I regularly followed the tutorials to learn about the features and the modes to comfort myself in other than 'Program Auto'. I got adobe lightroom (which I ashamedly admit it was only a few months ago that I finally quit paying to their asses) to shove my files in and fiddle around with numbers, and then put in some filters as well.
At the core, it was the "shutter first" mindset - pressing the shutter button for every single moment I wanted to permanently keep. Then I would take this a little further, additionally going through snow and rain as I (over)rely on my camera's waterproof tags in the brochure. And then further by constantly spinning the dials around to see what different results I can for the same situation at the spot. And then I would take those images to my laptop to stare at them for hours and days while constantly clicking my keyboard and mouse.
While I can say photography is something I'm comfortable with again, I also have been gradually earning more stress with it. I'm still in the process of learning about photography with new experiences and knowledge, including the editing process which now easily exceeds the time I spent in actually taking photos. Not to mention the stresses of the cost from having photography as my obsession, (while only occasional so far) unfavorable reactions from camera communities both online and offline, my wanderings in 'comparing' photos to drawings and paintings, the overly idealistic urge in having photography as my career, etc.
There's a core to all of this: I enjoy photography. I am finding values in every process involved, that makes me feel a significance in not only what I do but also in how I live. I love to take a picture in the moments of not just the sceneries, animals and portraits, but the entirety of chaotic yet placid streets and the small things we would so easily pass by. I get excited during the hours and days of editing, from making my favorite moments stand out further to turning what I would've consider 'failed' to one of my favorites.
Amidst my inner chaos of daily crises, curses of the camera industry, and whether to see my photos something like an art, photography gives me a sense of comfort and motivation to continue the walk, the shutter press, and my life. It's something I don't feel obligated to be 'rewarded' with the attention and the praises. It's something I can say I'm happy to just do.
Thank you so much for reading all of the series (or at least this post). It's my first time to be wide open with my thoughts and minds in public online space. I'm glad and happy to be in Cohost.