Does size really matter?

I’m generally the kind of girl who would say no, it’s not about the size of the tool, but with what skill you put the tool to use.

I’m talking cameras, here. Get your mind out of the gutter.

I signed up a few weeks ago to be a “spare” photographer for evening and weekend assignments with the Emporia Gazette. This past weekend, I shot my first two jobs. It was fun. The first assignment I sort of stumbled through the process. Introducing myself. Collecting names and bites of information for captioning. Making sure I spelled everything correctly. Jotting enough notes about the people I was taking pictures of so that I could easily identify them later.

The last time I took photos “journalistically” was my freshman year of college. I was on the staff of the Pittsburg State Collegio. It was ages ago, and I didn’t last but one semester because that’s the year my mom got sick… again… and I ended up getting a real job at a nursing home to make my dorm rent.

The perks of the Collegio job were that they supplied the film and I had access to a well-stocked dark room. It really got your adrenalin going… taking photo after photo and then heading to the developer, hoping and praying that your film would reveal something stunning. Oddly enough, I earned a reputation for taking good football pictures. I knew very little about the game, but I enjoyed the privilege of standing on the sidelines snapping away like I was somebody important.

I’d gotten interested in photography in high school. My dad bought me a nice camera for my 16th birthday. By college, I’d amassed a nice collection of lenses. I had the snazzy grey camera pack with red pinstripes. I was packing a pretty good sized piece of equipment, and I’m pretty sure it attributed to my confidence.

I put all that equipment away in the late 90s, however, and switched to a small digital camera that I could hold in one hand and snap wildly while holding a baby, chasing a toddler, or shooting the hundreds of shots it sometimes takes to get just the perfect expression on one of my kid’s faces. I was a bit reluctant, at first, about giving up the “art” in my photography, but I quickly recognized the benefits.

In the eight years I’ve owned it, I’ve put that little digital camera to good use. In fact, my review of that camera was one of the first things I published that I made money on ($55!). I’ve taken a few photos that have sold with articles I’ve written over the years. And on occasion, I’ve taken casual portraits for people.

But back to the whole size thing…

I’ve taken enough photographs with my little digital camera that I’m familiar with its limitations and I know pretty well how to get around them. Quite honestly, I’ve been longing for something a little larger for quite some time now, but I’m practicing fiscal responsibility and making myself wait. In fact, when I had the opportunity to take this job, I thought maybe I could start a special account with all my picture money and eventually buy that new camera I’ve been salivating over without breaking the family bank.

It seemed like a good idea anyway… until I arrived at the location of my first assignment and a young woman pulled out a camera longer and wider than mine. I must admit, it was an immediate case of camera-envy. Whereas I was able to hold mine in one hand, she had to adopt the more classic two-handed grip. Her lens whirred and sounded more picture-takingly… while mine just sat silent within its cabinet, the lens not even sizable enough to stand significantly out from the body.

I don’t want to say that I was ashamed, but my camera suddenly felt so very, very small.

Things got worse at the second assignment location. I had recovered a bit of my dignity and was getting into the groove of all the talking and introducing and taking notes again. I was feeling better about the quality of material I thought I was capturing, in general, and pushing the diminutive size of my camera to the recesses of my mind. Suddenly, I turned and found myself face to face with a man who shouldered a stereotypically large camera bag. I ducked my head, unable to make eye contact. Sure enough, when I managed to look again, I saw that his camera lens was long, attractive and pleasing to the eye. He held it with confidence. He wasn’t actually taking pictures, but I could tell by his posture that he would be able to move into action easily and that his camera, all eight inches of it, would outperform mine by enough that the need for two hands to hold the thing in position would be worth it.

There’s a bit of money in my camera fund now. I’m giving myself daily pep talks to stay the course, remain strong, and avoid pulling out the credit card to gratify my desires for something bigger. Little isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Eight years of photos on my little digital, in fact, is proof that a little can go a long way. A few more years of gigs like this and maybe I’ll buy myself a camera I’ll have to swagger to carry.

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You can view some of my photos from the weekend online. The photos look better online, but they are really more exciting to look at in the paper (at least for me!). The entire back page of section one is mine! Tracy Million Simmons, special to the Gazette!

Madison Days - photo1 photo2 photo3 photo 4

Cottonwood Falls Folk Life Festival - Photo1 Photo2 Photo3 Photo4 Photo5