The Best Camera
I had an appointment after work and brought my camera bag along, hoping to catch the light as it settled over the plains to the east. The conditions were exactly what I’d hoped for—stormy, shifting clouds and that specific, heavy light that makes the Colorado landscape feel so alive.
But when I opened my bag, I realized I’d left my main camera at home. All I had was my phone and a point-and-shoot film camera from 1961.
Initially, I was bummed. I started thinking about the resolution I was losing and the "quality" I’d be missing by not having the R6. But as I stood there looking at the scale of this massive tree and the quiet patience of a vintage truck against the horizon, my perspective shifted.
Once I started shooting, the gear didn't matter anymore. Capturing the scene was the only thing that was important.
In a way, forgetting my "real" camera was a gift. It forced me to stop being a technician and start being a witness. It stripped away the safety net of high-end specs and forced me to rely on composition—to truly see what was being presented to me rather than just trying to manufacture a high-quality file.
The beauty was already there, designed and waiting. It didn’t need a specific sensor to be real; it just needed someone to notice it. These shots are from my phone, a reminder that the best camera is truly the one you have with you.
I’ll share the film shots once I get the roll back from the lab.
