The Latest May Not Be the Greatest (Value)

No doubt about it: there are some great deals for photographers this time of year.

Long before black Friday and cyber Monday, I typically made an equipment purchase in November or December. Prices came down as retailers try to thin out inventory anticipating new models on the horizon. I could take advantage of substantial savings and improve my toolset at the same time.

I still have this practice, but with a lot more fanfare. And quite honestly, a lot more help too. Online browsing is efficient, plus there are a plethora of blogs pointing out their favorite deals. And since I don't mind purchasing a model that will be discontinued, I can take full advantage of this consumer friendly time of year.

Which leads me to my real point. How new does your gear need to be? In other words, is state of the art always the best way to go?

In the early stages of the innovation, I would say yes. Take mirrorless cameras for example. When they first burst on to the scene, improvements came fast. We saw better low light performance, faster autofocusing, better resolution, and added features from one month to the next. Having the latest model was important.

Now that mirrorless cameras are settling in, their refinements are more subtle. The litmus test I currently use is: if it has built-in WiFi, it's probably new enough for me. The great deals on the first generation OM-D E-M10 are a perfect example of a high value device at a low price. The Panasonic GM5 is another.

In some ways, cameras are like new cars. You pay a premium for the latest model. But to be honest, the better value is often with a 2013 or 2014 version.

You've probably been waiting for me to bash the commercialism surrounding the Thanksgiving holidays. I'm not going to. My advice: Just don't get sucked in to the hype. The end of the year has always been a great time to invest in new gear...

Especially if it's last year's model.

-Derrick

Is it too small?

I'm not talking about skirts or meal portions here. I'm talking about cameras.

And when it comes to my everyday picture takers, I think pint sized is perfect. Case in point: the camera that's always in my backpack is the Olympus OM-D E-M10 Mark II. I love it. And not once have I said to myself, "Gosh, I wish this thing was heavier"

I then scored a half-off deal on a Panasonic GM5 with 12-32mm zoom lens. Smaller yet. I was infatuated from the moment we first met. But I wasn't financially ready to take the next step, since the introductory price was double what I just paid. Deep discounts can do wonders for a relationship.

Some photographers think that cameras like the OM-D and GM5 are too small. They must have big meats. I wear XL gloves, and I don't have a problem with them. Maybe they don't want to invest in a new scaled-down shoulder bag. Could it be that a bulky DSLR with a long zoom lens is a confidence builder?

Nah.

And then it dawned on me: nimble photographers don't need luxury liners when they sail into port. We might motor in on a dinghy, but we do so stylishly, and without concern about rocking the boat.

"My camera might be compact, but I take big pictures."

Size does matter. And small is beautiful.

-Derrick

Move Along

"Thank you for your quick replay."

I get that a lot. Business folks are often shocked when they receive a response the same day. I guess it doesn't happen that often.

(Although I know some of them are dismayed too, because they just got rid of whatever it was, and now it's back. Sorry about that.)

For me, it's another aspect of nimbleosity. An unread letter sitting on the counter adds weight to my day. It's unfinished business. And it gets heavier as time goes on.

Same goes for email. Unopened correspondence is a tax on productivity. My approach is to reply as fast as possible sharing as much information as I have. I used to think that I needed all of the answers first. I was wrong. Most people are fine with my top of mind.

I tackle the mail three times a day. The rest of the time I'm working. But it's often enough to keep the piles to a minimum.

There's more to being nimble than carrying a light shoulder bag. A clean office makes for a fertile mind. When I go to the mailbox, I read each piece of mail, then either discard it or assign an action (such as a bill to be paid at the end of the month). Then back to work I go.

My second goal is to tackle mid-level queries by the end of the week. I don't need to start my Monday behind a pile of unanswered emails and letters.

Just move along.

I want to pedal through life fast enough to feel the wind on my face. And at the end of the day, rest my stocking feet on the couch while spending time with the family, 

possibly discussing a few of the items that used to be on my desk.

-Derrick

Junk Box

There's a lot of Macgyvering that goes on at my studio. A large percentage of the clever solutions that I write about involve some type of recycled item.

This is a paradox of sorts because I hate clutter. I don't like things stacked up or piled in the corner. If any item is going to survive at my place, it needs to find its place where it can be retrieved when needed, but otherwise out of the way.

Often that location is the junk box. The joke is that the stuff inside isn't junk at all. They're useful items that are in-between jobs. (You can't protest too loudly about this or people will think you to be a packrat in denial.) I know that these odds and ends will have their moment when they are the perfect solution to a problem.

This reminds me of a favorite George Carlin quip: If you have a pile of odds and ends on a table, and they are all swept off except for one, what do you have left? An odd or an end?

Here's an example: for today's TDS article titled, LED Panels - Great, but Diffuse Them, I found the perfect square of diffusion material in a junk box. It was part of an old soft box setup that had an inner panel as well as one on the outside. I didn't need the inner panel back then, but I kept it. And now it's part of my LCD rig.

It's funny how often readers will ask me where I got a mentioned tripod head, clamp, grip, or other item that in reality came from the box. I feel kind of bad not being able to point them to an item in the B&H catalog. But the honest answer is, if I had to wait for a delivery every time I had a brainstorm, very few of my inventions would ever see the light of day. 

That's why the junk has to be somewhat organized. Not being able to find an item that you know you have is maddening.  It kills the moment, and all the Macgyverness fades away.

I know some people have junk drawers. But honestly, that's just not enough real estate. Because truth be told... I actually have more than one junk box.

But you already knew that.

-Derrick

The Weight of the World

There are so many things of which we have no control.

Decisions made in the workplace often feel capricious, especially when they directly affect our livelihood. The actions of family members, whom we're inextricably connected to, often fall outside of our influence. And don't even get me started on geopolitical events.

To combat this, I've learned the difference between control and action. And it's the latter of the two where our power lies. 

Here's a mundane example. I have no control over traffic. Where I live, it's somewhat predictable at best. And instead of stewing in my car over things that I cannot change, I do something. I get off the freeway and find a coffee shop where I can work and be productive. I take an alternate route that may be longer, but at least I'm moving. And because I travel light, I always have the tools I need to implement the change of course that's required.

I can't control the other cars, but I can certainly take charge of my sanity.

This is another facet of nimbleosity: the ability to pivot. It matters not that you knock me down if I know how to fall. I'm just going to get up and move again (and most likely in the opposite direction).

We should not carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. Choose a light messenger bag instead.

And let your burden be measured in ounces, not pounds.

-Derrick