Do you want it ? or do you need it ?
A Facebook friend of mine wrote this morning that buying cameras is addictive, and I think he might be right, but it made me stop and question myself. Am I addicted to cameras? If I am, then I'm in good company. The latest camera releases from Sony, Nikon, and, of course, the new DJI Pocket 3 release have prompted good photographers and bloggers to rush to their camera suppliers with their credit cards, some out of sheer enthusiasm and others buying a ticket to the race to publish the first peer review of a new product.
I have joined them and bought a Leica Q3 Camera, armed with 60mp and 8k video potential, an ideal addition to our camera bag, especially for our use, which is tipped, although not exclusively, towards travel and street photography.
However, there was a moment when I felt a twinge of guilt. I was brought up not to worship possessions, and for a moment, I wondered if I had become addicted.
It wasn't long until an old familiar voice entered my head. "Do you want it? Or do you need it?" Interestingly, whenever this question comes into my head, it's usually in the voice of Mrs. Smurthwaite, my old English Teacher. We were convinced she was an alien; she certainly could see through the back of her head.
Slowly but surely, the voice of my defence counsel started to put together his case. We'll call him Rumpole, and there they were, what some people call the voices of light and dark, among other things, one on each shoulder, wrestling for control of my conscience. These are, make no mistake, the voices of my lesser angels, but I'm forced to listen.
"I don't think I am addicted," spoken like a true addict of course, "I still possess an iPhone 12 and have no plans to upgrade," Rumpole reminds me. And then there was my attachment to the old three-piece suite, which shows more than a nostalgic attachment to possession, rather than a change addiction.
Last week, this suite, including my sofa, was removed from under me, placed outside in the rain, and taken away by some guys from the Council Waste disposal. It had been with me for 25 years. It was expensive when we bought it, but at the time, we justified it by telling ourselves it would last 25 years, and we were right, although it has been a little like Trigger's broom. The upholsterer has, over the years, replaced every constituent part of it. I have watched three sporting generations in that chair, from Johnny Wilkinson kicking the last points in the Rugby World Cup for England to David Beckham being sent off for the National Football Team, not to mention all the GPs, Superbike Races, and Boat Races. I have cuddled children and grandchildren and played with the dogs on it, albeit without H's permission. It was a dark day when I watched the Council workers carry it away.
Cameras do bring me joy. I confess that looking into the camera is one of the few times I can truly calm my mind and use my imagination.
Being creative is a joy, and photography and writing for that matter are art forms. Travel is priceless, and pulling them together is a form of grace for which I'm grateful.
The new camera allows this journey to continue, so I'm sorry, Mrs. Smurthwaite, but Rumpole wins.
