The Real Reason for our Love of Gear

The other day, I thought about getting myself a Voigtlander Bessa R3M. Of course, the question you would be asking me is how could I? In reply, I would counter how could I not! In terms of specification, the Bessa R3M is everything a Leica M-mount rangefinder should have been. It has a shutter sync speed of 1/125s, a top shutter speed of 1/2000s, 100% viewfinder magnification, and is completely mechanical - except for its internal meter which requires batteries. It is just much more usable in much darker and in much brighter shooting situations.

But then, there is that vexing matter of its current market value. To put it into perspective, we are talking about Leica M6 valuation for something that is downright tinny (as described to me by one trusted Leica expert) and fragile (as described to me by another trusted Leica expert). Plainly, the Bessa R3M is not worth it. Still, doesn't it make you wonder why the folks at Wetzlar haven’t come out with a mechanical rangefinder that is at least on par with the Bessa R3M? It can’t be more difficult than developing apochromatic M-mount aspherical lenses.

Clearly, I am getting restless. For the last twenty three months, the only new piece of gear I purchased was the Leica 50mm f/1.2 Noctilux-M Heritage Edition - which if I could be perfectly frank, is not a new lens for me. I do have the original version, if you recall. And now that I’m not getting the Bessa R3M, my search to fill this empty hole continues. How sad. That said, I know you all know the feeling. To only have a dry box full of gear. But, this is only a setback. To paraphrase Vivien Leigh, if God is my witness, I will never be without more gear again!

Gear. How we love gear. In no way can we ever have too much of it, given the many varieties there are. There’s just about every kind of gear for just about every shooting situation. There’s gear for shooting from a distance, there’s gear for shooting close up, there’s gear for shooting at high resolution, and there’s gear for shooting at low light. There’s even gear to shoot underwater if you ever have the inclination to photograph sea life. There’s just so many different types of gear that no one could possibly get them all - not that we don’t try our best.

Still, can you blame us for trying. Gear is the meaning of life. All our troubles can be solved with gear… or more gear. To paraphrase John Lennon, is it not true that all we need is gear? Who does not love the smell of gear in the morning? It smells like possibilities, to paraphrase Robert Duvall. Thus, gear gives us direction. In knowing that, should we not do everything we can to amass as much gear as we can? That said, what are we to do with all this gear? To paraphrase Gene Hackman, is it just for show or do we get to shoot people, once in a while?

Obviously, we would like to believe that our gear will be put to good use. But of course, nothing can be further from the truth. For the most part, gear is not for shooting people. In fact, it is not even for show. When it comes right down to it, gear only exists to be coveted. To be caressed in the privacy of our homes. How can it not be? Gear beguiles us with its clean lines and its sensuous forms. It must be handled with the utmost of due care at all cost - even if it is never used. Gear is too precious. Our precious, our precious, to paraphrase Andy Serkis.

Who’s kidding who. With gear - especially new gear - we got to bring it out at least once - just to see the green in the eyes of all those poor pitiful souls longing for their very own. It is only when our gear is used as intended that the magic begins. Exposed to the real world of possibilities - with Dolby-Digital Wagnerian determination trumpeting the advance of our resolve - our gear promises us a world full of photo opportunities to document. Knowing that, how could we not be totally motivated to take photos, the instance we grasp it in our hands?

There is something truly alluring about the tactile sensation of handling a proper camera with one hand and a lens with our other hand. It is the weight it carries which signals to us to take photos seriously. Because of that, gear sets in motion the photo taking process by putting us into a trance-like symbiotic state that possesses us to realize the dictum I take photos, therefore I am, to paraphrase René Descartes. In that state, the prospect of taking photos becomes real. As a result, gear makes us step up to seize the moment, to paraphrase Horace.

Once in that moment - with gear in-hand - we get a rush of adrenaline. Our pulse begins to race. It pumps our heart and makes our blood flow. The changes in metabolic state make us come to life. This means that gear is instrumental in enlivening us to face the world without apprehension, by acting as a mask, crutch, or facilitator that helps us climb out of our comfort zone, so we can pursue the moment for that picture perfect opportunity - composed, clicked, and captured. In short, gear changes us. With it, we are not the same person anymore.

So like magic, gear transforms us to become the photographer we want to be. In doing so, it makes us believe we can accomplish any photographic feat. Nothing feels better than that. Gear makes us believe we can take the photos we want to take - which is an intoxicating feeling. For that reason, we will never let go of it from our cold dead hands, to paraphrase Charlton Heston. Gear is what makes us believe in ourselves because we can always depend on it. To paraphrase James Earl Jones, the one constant through all the years has been gear.

Given that, how can we not love gear? Without gear, we are nothing - or worse still - a poor pitiful smartphone user making visual records. Gear is what separates us from the lesser beings playing photographer with their camera app and filters. Real photographers are made of sterner stuff, to paraphrase William Shakespeare. We have real gear. In fact, we have stockpiles and reserves of it, because we shoulder the weight of commitment. Thus, the photos we take are substantive - unlike the temporary and frivolous snaps taken on smartphones.

That is to be expected with real photographers, whose gear is not a pocket’s reach away. Real photographers have real gear that’s heavy, bulky, and never a pocket’s reach away. We do not take out our gear for temporary and frivolous snaps. We only take out our gear for substantive photos. Hence, heavy and bulky means that the photos we take must be deliberate, which signifies professional intent. So by extension, it means that the user of such gear must be able to take photos in a professional way. That makes gear a mark of professionalism.

We love gear because they are beguiling; because they offer us possibilities; because they make us feel alive; because they give meaning to our lives; because they are precious; because they make us seize the moment; because they are a mask, crutch, and facilitator; because they transform us to become the photographer we want to be to take the photos we want to take; because we can always depend on them; because they require professional intent to shoot properly; and because they make us look good by making us look professional.

There are many reasons to love gear. However, the real reason we overlook is as plain as the nose on our face. We love gear because it enables us to pursue our love of photography. It’s just that simple. Without gear, there will be no interacting with the subject, no immersing ourselves in the setting, and no involving ourselves in the moment. Without gear, there will also be no resulting photo - composed, clicked, and captured. You see, it is not the gear we love. It is what it does in granting us admission to experience the wonder of photography.

As such, gear is a means to an end. In other words, we love gear because we love photography. That said, our love of gear often grows malignant when we begin to love gear for itself and not for photography. Clearly, that is the trap we must avoid because it makes us forget why we love photography in the first place. Gear enables us to engage in photography, which then brings us in contact with new experiences, new sensations, and new memories to document. For that reason, gear is the implement that makes loving photography possible.

To be frank, I love my gear. That said, I do not recall which of my much loved gear was used on this photowalk. However, what I do recall on this photowalk is how much I love engaging in photography. In conclusion, is that not the point? Gear granted me the admission to experience the wonder of photography. Without it, I wouldn’t have had this experience. Frankly, could you imagine me playing photographer with just a smartphone on this photowalk? Of course, it can be done, but the experience wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be photography.

Still, I suppose it’s fun to love gear. Just don’t go overboard with it. To paraphrase Jack Nicholson, all gear and no photography makes Jack and Jill a dull bunch. And believe me, gear without photography is pointless.

Special thanks to Ania for accompanying me on this photowalk.

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