Last Friday, I bade farewell to a good friend. A friend who’d been with me at all the important events of the past few years. A friend who’d joined me on roadtrips and Failboats adventures and had even shared my cabin on a Pacific Island cruise.
Before things start to sound unnecessarily maudlin, I should explain that this friend is an inanimate object and I actually sold it, so I brought all of this on myself. It doesn’t stop me from feeling as though I’m missing something important, though.
Because last Friday, I sold my DSLR.
It feels strange. I’ve been willingly lugging around a cumbersome camera since 2010, when I acquired my 1000D as a bonus for a laptop lease. Within a year, I apparently decided the 1000D wasn’t nearly heavy enough, so I upgraded to a 60D, which was bigger, bulkier and yes, heavier. I took it to the lookout tower at Kangaroo Ground so it could enjoy some pretty scenery for its first time out in the world.
Unfortunately, a better camera didn’t immediately make me a better photographer, but I fixed that by attending a amazing day-long workshop in the company of the Halfway Quilter. My camera has been permanently on manual since that day.
I am genetically pre-disposed to photography, thanks to the DNA input of my dad and his dad – the grandfather I never got to meet. This means I’ve pretty much had a camera in my hand since digital photography became affordable and half-way decent, but it wasn’t until those DSLRs that I began to take it even more seriously than before. I’ve loved the opportunity to develop my own style and approach to photography. And while the style changes, the approach stays pretty much the same: I love to capture the ordinary moments.
The thing is, it’s a darn sight easier to capture those ordinary moments if your camera isn’t roughly the size of your own head. Even so, I’ve carted my heavy camera to Pacific Islands, to beautiful caves far underground and across paddocks to explore old ruins. I’ve found inventive ways to pack it and I’ve always put it on the top of the list of Important Things To Take on any given trip. And I haven’t regretted a minute of it, because it’s been there to capture so many memories. Seriously, if I ever held a slide night, you’d probably need to bring supplies for sleeping over. Hopefully you wouldn’t mind.
Then I bought my OM-D and everything changed, mostly thanks to the full-size version of this photo, which became my desktop image:
Every time I turned on my computer or shut down a window, I’d be drawn to the quality and crispness of the image. It’s every bit as good as your 60D, a voice would whisper (thankfully in my own head, otherwise things would have gotten a little creepy). This could be your only camera…
Lighter. Smaller. Yet still good enough to satisfy my definition of quality.
There was no sense in having two cameras of approximately equal quality. One had to go. One had to be sacrificed so I could buy better lenses for the other.
Although I didn’t know it at the time, this is one of the last photos I took on the 60D:
My camera has gone to a good friend and I know he’s going to have fun with it but it still feels weird not to have it around.
On the up side, it feels even better to know my new camera will fit easily into almost any bag and will hang around my neck without causing my head to bow down from its weight. Only time will tell what sort of memories we’ll capture together.