My camera just quit. I turned it on and it locked up.
I treat all my gear with kid gloves, believing if you take care of it, it’ll take care of you, but it didn’t do any good this time.
Its a DP1, its sensor and lens are of high quality but its construction is super cheap. As a result I got the image quality I paid for but only for 18 months.
It’s now at Cheng’s Cameras for repair and my stomach is in knots as I’m faced with finally taking myself seriously and investing in a Leica.
Walking around with a $10,000 camera demands investment beyond the purchase price. Not in terms of skill or insight, but in commitment to being a photographer.
Time to put away childish things?
Back in 1978, when I applied to the Banff Centre Winter Cycle for the third time, the response to my portfolio was “a lack of commitment to becoming a photographer”. I knew what they meant and although the criticism was ultimately subjective, I agreed: I didn’t want to become a photographer, I wanted to learn photography. There is a difference.
As an artist I wanted to keep at arm’s length the history-building of photography, the ossifying thread of consensual agreement among the pipe-sucking (in those days) geeks. I’ve been quite successful at it. So much so that I’m completely alienated from the mainstream.
So yes, carrying a Leica would be like selling out, crossing the line, stepping into the pot.
Afraid of commitment?
I’m afraid I can’t commit to being a photographer and remain an observer. I have to be on the outside. I’m committed to that.
Oh horse shit! What the hell does that have to do with a camera? besides $10,000 and a badge that says “unction spoken here” or “mug me”?
Maybe it is time to put away childish things. Time to get over my distaste for those tweed jacketed (with elbow patches), Van Dyked, pipe-sucking geeks at the photo club – mere wraiths of an incipient negative education – and step into the light!
But first I’ll wait for my call from Mr. Cheng.
Don't gimme' that look