New Products Are Amazing. Yet, Here's Why I Keep Using 'My Camera' | Knowledge #319
Cover photo by 朽蓮 kyu-ren
New products always seem to embody the future. They are faster, lighter, more accurate, and leave no room for hesitation. It's as if they are designed to eliminate all 'mistakes' and 'happy accidents' in photography. Undeniably, they are attractive, convenient, and exciting.
Yet, in the face of such overwhelming performance, I sometimes feel a bit stifled. And then, almost instinctively, I find myself reaching for 'my camera'—a little heavier, a little slower, but perfectly familiar in my hands.
Photo by Hiroto
The Camera as a Medium of Memories
'My camera' holds traces of my past perspectives. The landscapes I saw through its lens, the moments I almost captured but didn't, and the slightly out-of-focus shots that remain unforgettable.
Photo by filmtaaabooo777
These fragments quietly linger in the faint scratches and textures of the equipment. It's not just about 'recorded photographs'; it's about accessing the very self who was taking those photos.
The Weight of Time in Your Hands
'My camera' carries the years of accumulated shooting experiences. The quirks of the shutter sound, the fogging of the lens, the wear on the grip—these aren't flaws but stories.
Every time I hold it, memories of past shoots and the emotions I felt at the time come rushing back. That 'tactile connection' is deeply tied to my expression, making it hard to part with.
Photo by スサダイキ
Because It's Not Perfect, I Can Engage With It
The latest models offer a sense of reassurance, as if they can compensate for everything. But imperfect tools leave room for your own ingenuity and perspective to shine through.
Photo by yamori｜studio
Soft focus, excessive noise—sometimes these imperfections add character to the expression. Thinking about 'how to shoot with this camera' is also a way of questioning 'how I see the world.'
