If you're here, chances are you know about my involvement and love affair with Fuji cameras. What began as an experiment almost five years ago ended up changing pretty much every aspect of my work—in terms of gear but also in terms of philosophy and overall approach. I've since had the great honour to meet with some of the engineers involved in the creation of the X-series and provide input; I've given talks at Fuji events and held workshops with these cameras at center stage. It's a relationship that I value greatly and feel very fortunate to have.
But the act of creation isn't about brands. There's no magical camera or lens—however advanced—that will pull inspiration out of thin air, just like there's no "special" softbox that will give us the perfect portrait every time. All our tools can do is enable us and, if we're lucky, provoke us into shooting as often as possible, triggering the impulse to create. Fujis happen to do that for me and not a day goes by that I don't feel grateful to have found my... I don't know... Glass slipper so to speak. The one that fits you know? For you it might be Sony or Nikon or Leica. It's the work that matters in the end.
I did something really stupid last weekend, something I'd never ever done before: I forgot the batteries for my X-T1. I took them out, laid everything down on the table and then... Left the pouch right there. I had one in the camera still showing a full charge but... Yeah, we all know how that goes.—it's not like we use Fujis for their extra long battery life (!). So here I was, up in the country with my X-T1 and a single, dead battery. What's a photo addict to do? Enter the iPhone.
Now, as impressed as I am with it's abilities and what others manage to achieve with it (Apple's amazing billboard campaign is proof positive), I simply can't feel a connection to the iPhone 6 as a camera. The way I have to hold it, the screen that I—mostly—can't see without glasses (such a fun problem), the shutter... All of it leaves me dead cold, in spite of its powerful capabilities. I understand the revolution but, to go back to that previous analogy, it just ain't my glass slipper. Still, it's a camera. A creative tool. A devourer of souls like all that came before...
So here's a series of frames in another paintbrush and set of oils, the venerable Hipstamatic app in action; cruder and sloppier but offering yet another window into this reality I keep trying to pinpoint at all costs, racing against time. Because none of it will ever stop for anyone.
A reminder to always capture life, by all means possible.