Embracing Creation Over Consumption in the Way of the Lens
In the world of photography, there's an affliction that haunts both budding and seasoned photographers alike. It’s called GAS—Gear Acquisition Syndrome. But maybe we should think of it as something more pervasive, more consuming: Gear Acquisition Disorder (GAD). For many of us, the thrill of buying the latest lens, the sleekest camera body, or the trendiest accessory becomes a cycle. We find ourselves caught in the gears of acquisition rather than creation, transfixed by the tools rather than the art they’re meant to forge. GAD isn’t just a distraction; it’s a block, a subtle thief of time and inspiration that tempts us to believe that the next piece of gear will be the missing link to unlocking our creative potential.
This obsession with gear is as much an emotional endeavor as it is a practical one. The weight of a new camera in hand, the glassy promise of a new lens, the unboxing of something pristine—it’s a rush, an elation that, however temporary, fills a craving. But here’s the paradox: as we accumulate, we often lose touch with the very essence of why we started shooting in the first place. We get trapped in the pretense of readiness, telling ourselves, “Once I get this lens… once I upgrade my camera body… then, I’ll be ready to create my masterpiece.” Meanwhile, the moment we’re waiting for never seems to arrive, lost in a perpetual state of almost-being-ready.
True artistry in photography, however, rarely relies on equipment alone. In fact, some of the most powerful photos ever taken were captured on rudimentary cameras, yet they radiate depth, emotion, and story that no piece of equipment could imbue. The wisdom of Bushido—"the way of the warrior"—teaches us that skill lies in refinement and discipline, not in mere acquisition. Just as a swordsman knows that his sword does not make him a warrior, a photographer must understand that gear does not make them an artist. It’s in the seeing, the sensing, and the intention that artistry is forged, not in the tools alone.
So how do we counter GAD and realign with the path of creation? Start by challenging yourself to create with what you have. See your current gear as an extension of yourself rather than a limitation. Understand that every camera, every lens has its own language, its own strengths and weaknesses. By mastering what you have, by getting familiar with every quirk and nuance of your equipment, you not only cultivate your skills but also honor the gear itself, using it fully, as it was meant to be used. Like a samurai who masters a single sword, embrace the idea of mastery over materialism.
Furthermore, give yourself permission to show your work. A photograph, unshared, is like an idea unsaid. The fear of not having “perfect” gear can hold us back from putting our work out there, yet it’s through sharing and interacting that our work truly finds life. Art, at its core, is about connection. The lens you own, no matter its price or quality, has the potential to capture moments that resonate, that move, that tell a story. By letting go of the notion that we must have the best equipment before our work can be seen, we can free ourselves to create in a way that’s authentic and fearless.
The true "way of the lens" lies in the simplicity of expression, in the dedication to seeing the world as it is, and capturing it with sincerity. So next time you feel the pull of GAD, remind yourself that you are enough with what you have right now. Each photo you take with intention becomes a practice in mindfulness, a step in the journey of self-discovery. Remember, there will always be a new camera, a new lens, another accessory. But what makes each photograph uniquely yours is not the gear—it’s you. Let your art be a testament to your vision, not to the gear that captured it.
