Photographer without Camera
Recently, I stopped working with the company that was providing me with gear for my gigs. That decision left me with no professional equipment, only my old Canon 2000D with an 18–55mm lens. For those who don’t know much about camera gear, it’s not considered a professional setup, especially for the type of work I’ve been doing.
For the past ten months, I had been shooting with a Canon 5D Mark IV and a 16–35mm f/2.8 lens provided by the company. The main purpose of that setup was printing photography: taking photos of people, printing them on the spot, and selling them immediately. That’s how I got into photography more seriously in the first place. It taught me speed, consistency, and how to work under pressure. But recently, I’ve felt like I’ve outgrown that phase. Not because it wasn’t valuable, but because I know I need to step outside my comfort zone and do more.
Printing photography gave me more than technical skills. It forced me to talk to strangers, sell myself, and handle rejection daily. If someone told me years ago that I’d make a living approaching random people and selling them their own photos, I wouldn’t have believed it. Yet that experience led me to running my own business and building confidence I didn’t know I had.
It also helped me grow personally. I used to be intimidated by managers and venue owners. When I joined the company I worked with, I promised myself I would close a venue deal for them. That venue ended up being Nikki Beach, a globally known beach club. If you told me four years ago I’d be capable of closing something like that, I wouldn’t have believed it either.
Most importantly, I learned how to make good images in any situation. Bad lighting, rushed moments, unpredictable environments — I learned how to adapt and still deliver a solid shot.
Now, with the rise of video and everything shifting toward motion and storytelling, I feel the urge to evolve again. We’re clearly entering a video-first era, and I don’t want to ignore that. I want to learn it, understand it, and grow into it. That’s why branching into video feels like the right next step, even if it means starting from a place of learning again.
For the first time, I feel confident enough to invest in my own camera. I’m leaning toward the Sony a7 III or a7 IV, depending on how I plan my budget. I’ve always loved Canon, but the DSLR era feels like it’s coming to an end. After trying several mirrorless cameras, the difference is undeniable. The speed, autofocus, and flexibility feel like a completely different world.
I didn’t get the chance to try the Canon R5 or R6, and the price and lens ecosystem are a bit intimidating right now. I want something flexible, something that allows me to experiment with different lenses and formats. A friend of mine, Frank, kindly lent me his Fujifilm X-S20 when I needed gear for a few shoots, and I’m genuinely grateful for that. I was surprised by the results and reminded how far technology has come.
Still, I’ve always been drawn to Sony. I like the way Sony cameras render color, and many photographers I respect shoot with them. That’s why my next step will likely be an Alpha 7. Not because it’s perfect, but because I want to explore it and see how it fits my workflow.
Losing access to professional gear felt uncomfortable at first, but it also gave me clarity. Gear can be taken away. Skill, experience, and curiosity cannot. This moment doesn’t feel like a setback. It feels like a transition.
Maybe this is the exact push I needed, a reset before what’s next begins.