I keep finding that the pandemic unearthed unintentional ideas inside of me. Like rediscovering video games as I became bored with being inside my home. I started posting video on social media from Procreate of my artwork being created in a time lapse. My followers liked it. I started to think about other opportunities to document my work.
We have these miraculous pocket computers, smartphones, that are so ubiquitous we don’t think about how incredible they are. Your phone is a wonderful device for documenting and filming your life. For using it as a video camera to post on social media. But also for everyday photos, because as they say “the best camera is the one you have with you.” I’ve uttered that phrase since I took the first iPhone with me on an impromptu trip to NYC instead of my Canon Powershot SD1000 (a fantastic little point-and-shoot camera I did a significant amount of research on in 2006).
I have an iPhone 13 Pro Max. I bought the Pro Max thinking “surely, this is the year I get back into photography,” a phrase I’ve used to justify top-of-the-line iPhone purchases for at least 12 years. I started using it to document my artwork as I was creating it. I got fancy lenses to enhance it. But one thing I noticed is that it’s not purpose built for this. It’s a slab of glass and metal with state of the art software making choices for you based on the conditions it is in. It is hard to physically hold on to. And think about the last time you stumbled into a candid moment that you wanted to take a photo of. It takes a minute to get your phone out, get the Camera app open, and to try to get close enough to capture it. So while the “camera you always have with you” argument certainly holds water with an iPhone, how many moments have you missed?
After what felt like a lifetime deep in the YouTube mines digging for content, I bought my first camera in close to two decades. I have the Fujifilm X-S10, which suits my needs for capturing photos and video. But it made me start taking photos all the time. Just by existing. The moment you hold it, and its form factor begs to be held, you want to use it. Several lens purchases later, I have what I would qualify as a… hobby? I have a hobby.
When you work all day and draw all night, you don’t have time for much. Comics aren’t a hobby to me. They are work. They can be fun. But they are work. Photography is not work. I have no aspirations at being a professional photographer. I don’t even think I’m particularly good at it. I was once, when I took photography classes in college. I shot on an old 1969 Kowa with a fixed prime 35mm lens. No zoom. If I wanted to get something close up, I had to get close to it. It was my grandfather’s camera. He bought it for when he traveled, which he did, all around the world.
Shooting with this digital camera is astounding. I feel like a caveman who got an iPad after I’ve been drawing on cave walls. Fujifilm cameras in particular are fun. They have built in film simulations that mirror what their film looks like in real life, based on 120+ years of experience. Think of them as accurate Instagram filters. And now that I’m a dad, I am always shooting photos of my son.
I may get one good-to-great shot per 30–50 shots. That ratio is narrowing as I remember how to shoot in manual mode. But I don’t care. The pure act of composing and capturing a moment in my life is reward enough. And at least once a day, I can take a picture. I can safely make that promise to myself.
