Real Photographers Do What?

Of all the prescriptive nonsense I hear about making photographs, the idea that “real photographers shoot on manual” has to be the most tiresome. As if burdening photographers with an even greater sense of obligation to the shoulds and the should-nots has ever led to greater creative freedom, less rigidity in our work, and more powerful photographs.

I’ve heard similar assertions about shooting in RAW (you must). And not cropping or using burst mode (you must not). And not using Photoshop to ___________. You can fill in the blank yourself because here, the so-called purists give us so many options from which to choose, but no matter what you put there, someone is going to put you on their naughty list without ever pausing to ask why you’re doing it differently.

Let’s set aside the notion that there is such a thing as a “real” photographer; you are a photographer if you make photographs. Full stop.

You might be a new photographer or an experienced photographer. You might be a lousy photographer or an inspired photographer. There are probably a million ways to categorize us, but real? As opposed to what? Imaginary? Fake? Is there a point to this kind of thinking? I need a drink.

Well, there is a point, and it’s that some people can only feel as though they are special by putting others down. They can only feel “in” by forcing others out. After all, if we’re all special, then no one is special (also nonsense, but that’s not what this is about. Focus, David!).

I’m not interested in what kind of photographer you are, though I’m interested in you as a photographer. I hope you’re fulfilled and love what you do, and that your photographs are getting stronger and feel more and more like your own.

I’m not overly concerned with how you make your photographs, so long as you’re happy doing it and it’s truly working for you. I shoot in something like full-manual mode with Auto-ISO and a liberal use of EV compensation, so I’m not sure whether or not I’m a real photographer and allowed to weigh in on whether you are or not. But I do know how to use my camera and make it do what I ask. If “real” photographers do anything, it is that.

Here’s my advice: shoot on Manual all the time. Or shoot in Aperture priority sometimes and Shutter priority sometimes. Hell, be reckless and push the dial to P now and then! Do what works for you.

What matters is that you have control of the camera while also being sensitive to the moment and still having the mental bandwidth to think about composition and what the light is doing. Do that.

If you need the camera to do some of the thinking for you while you tend to the decisions that make for stronger compositions, that’s a good choice. One day, that creative thinking will come a little easier, and you might long for a little more control over the camera’s decisions. Or you’ll figure out how you like to use the tools of your craft in your own way.

I like things simple: manual mode with auto-ISO and EV compensation to dial things in more precisely. This works for me for what I do right now.

And so long as I’m confessing my way out of the real photographer’s club:

• I have no idea what my metering mode is and haven’t for over a decade—I just look at the histogram. I could look at my camera and find out, but that knowledge would enrich neither of us.
• I don’t know what my focus mode is. It’s continuous and uses tracking—that’s what I know. It’s what I like, and I never change it (though I know how to do so if I had to). It works for what I photograph and how I like to use a camera.
• I hate straps and have been told that not using one is reckless. A real photographer would at least use a wrist strap, right? I don’t like them, either. They slow me down. I’ll put one on if I have to—if I can find it.
• I’ve been told the same about my indifference to UV filters and lens caps (though you can pry lens hoods from my cold, dead hands).
• More often than not, when I bother to use one at all, my tripod is a little wonky.
• I clean the front of my lens with my shirt, when (and if) I clean it.
• Speaking of cleaning, my sensor often looks like someone spilled kitty litter into my camera while the lens was off, which is not the only reason I tend to shoot wide open, but it’s a reason. I get them cleaned once a year, and that’s enough for me.
• My camera bag can be a mess; the dividers are all over the place, and they change all the time, if I even bother using them. Half the time, I just use a Buff, lens cloth, toque, or a pair of gloves to keep bodies and lenses from banging into each other. If my gear gets banged up, it’s because I’m using it for the purpose for which it is made.

I’d hate to have a real photographer weigh in on any of this. But if you’re going to judge me at all (I’d really rather you didn’t; don’t you have photographs you could be making?), then judge me on my photographs.

None of the sins I’ve mentioned gets in the way of creating the photographs I want to make. But fussing would. So would an unexpected lens cap. Or succumbing to the pressure to practice my craft in a way that just isn’t me.

So much of the advice I see aimed at photographers could be gathered up and bound into one volume called Adventures in Missing the Point. There are no real photographers (to the exclusion of others) any more than there is a single right way to do things that qualifies you to be one.

What matters is that you learn to make the kind of photographs you want to make, and to do so with greater creative flow and control. It matters that you be open to new ideas and techniques, but as creative options, not as obligations.

I’m not saying throw your lens caps away or don’t learn to shoot on manual if you think it might give you more control. And, yes, cleaning your lens with your shirt is generally considered less than ideal practice (don’t look at me like that; you do it, too). But I am saying it probably won’t get in the way of you doing the work your soul loves (which I am very much tempted to add is probably the only thing real photographers are universally concerned with).

Think in terms of possibilities, not prescriptions. We’re all trying to create something different, and there can’t possibly be only one path to do so.

For the Love of the Photograph (and those who make them),
David