Photography is a sickness. If it is not a sickness then it reveals one.
It does not matter how many camera bodies and lenses and flashes I have, I want more. Just last week I got an amazing new lens, now I want another. (Ignore Ken Rockwell, he's a useless twat that has never taken a single photograph that I have ever wanted to look at.)
I told myself that I didn't want any zoom lenses any more, just primes. But, I must have lied.
Now, I have almost all of the primes I could ever want (24mm f2.8 D, 50mm f1.4 D (2), 85mm f1.8 D, 85mm f1.4 D, 135mm f2.0 D FC...and a few more that aren't even worth mentioning...)
I feel as if I'm still missing a good 35mm prime, but that's just silly. Why? I have a 1.5 crop-frame camera so the 24mm becomes close enough, though only in focal length...
But still... I want, and want, and want.
I look at photography sites as if they are porn, then fantasize that having something new will make me happy. And it does, which only fuels the recurring desire, the fever to possess.
Satiating the impulse makes me more desirous, like kissing.
I pull the covers over my computer or phone and look at photo sites without immediate fear of being caught, wishing that maybe someone would catch me. But who?
I would quickly close the tab and pretend I was reading the news, the tell-tale drop of sweat at my forehead, the shortness of breath, the vague sense of shame, not being able to meet the eyes.
Who can possibly catch me? Abusing my finances in the dark, being the perfect consumer: an obsessive and willing one.
I should stop all of this, really.
Because it's not a new lens that I need, but only a new body, and a handful of bold and willing models who are not too shy to be captured this way:
It does not matter how many camera bodies and lenses and flashes I have, I want more. Just last week I got an amazing new lens, now I want another. (Ignore Ken Rockwell, he's a useless twat that has never taken a single photograph that I have ever wanted to look at.)
I told myself that I didn't want any zoom lenses any more, just primes. But, I must have lied.
Now, I have almost all of the primes I could ever want (24mm f2.8 D, 50mm f1.4 D (2), 85mm f1.8 D, 85mm f1.4 D, 135mm f2.0 D FC...and a few more that aren't even worth mentioning...)
I feel as if I'm still missing a good 35mm prime, but that's just silly. Why? I have a 1.5 crop-frame camera so the 24mm becomes close enough, though only in focal length...
But still... I want, and want, and want.
I look at photography sites as if they are porn, then fantasize that having something new will make me happy. And it does, which only fuels the recurring desire, the fever to possess.
Satiating the impulse makes me more desirous, like kissing.
I pull the covers over my computer or phone and look at photo sites without immediate fear of being caught, wishing that maybe someone would catch me. But who?
I would quickly close the tab and pretend I was reading the news, the tell-tale drop of sweat at my forehead, the shortness of breath, the vague sense of shame, not being able to meet the eyes.
Who can possibly catch me? Abusing my finances in the dark, being the perfect consumer: an obsessive and willing one.
I should stop all of this, really.
Because it's not a new lens that I need, but only a new body, and a handful of bold and willing models who are not too shy to be captured this way:
.
