When less is (maybe) more


I just received an email from the presenter of a photography workshop I will be taking in August. It includes useful info about the wheres and whens of the various sessions, what he expects to cover, and what we’ll be doing.

It also included a list of what I need to know about my camera before I start. Much of which assumes that my camera is much more sophisticated than it is –  and that I am much more tech savvy than I will ever be.

The truth of it is that I will be using the most simple point and click camera, which has worked for me for the past few years – traveling, taking family pics and in my early ventures into street photography. And that any ‘post-production/editing’ work I will be doing will be with only the very simple tools supplied by iPhoto on my iPad and laptop.

I long ago gave up trying to understand f-stops, exposure, shutter speeds or any other camera-speak. Or trying to find my way around Photoshop. And assumed I would never need to.

Just as when I took up sketching and decided that I wanted to travel with only one sketch pad, two pencils, one sharpener and one eraser – I also eschew the paraphernalia of photography for reasons of economics, storage space in my small apartment, time to grapple with the learning curve of new tools and techniques, and ability to haul the stuff from one place to another on my arthritic back.

(In fact, when I go shopping for pants, I always take my camera to ensure they have a pocket that it will fit into. (MEC’s Sandbagger pants are perfect, with a thigh-height pocket with a zipper).

I am looking forward to the weekend of taking photos and learning from a pro. And I know there will be moments when I will suffer pangs of camera-envy along with a degree of tech-talk overload. But it’s the outcome that matters to me. That I have a good time taking pictures over the weekend, and bring home new insights, a few new skills in composition and technique, and a handful of photos that are about just a little more than they are about – a quality I look for in my writing, sketching and photography.



This is a fossil grinder in Morocco. He has been working at this trade for 35 years. 35 years of inhaling stone dust, with only a cloth covering to protect his face. ‘But at least he has a job,’ as one fellow traveler said. I did not buy any fossils…
Photo: L Peterson

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