I still shoot with a Canon 5D Mark II. I love it. That is not the interesting part of the story.
The interesting part is when it stopped being fun.
Tokyo, 2007
Olympus SP550UZ ƒ/5.6 1/60 s 4.68 mm ISO 50
In 2007 I was in Tokyo for the first time. There were no iPhones yet. Everyone around me used flip phones. I had a Qtek 8310, a Windows phone. Photography was something I liked looking at, not something I did.
I was part of an online forum. Greg, another enthusiast, was flying in from Australia and suggested we meet. I had just finished military service and had time, so I said yes.
At the hostel I watched Greg and his friend work their DSLRs. They were always fiddling with them, catching every moment with a care I did not yet have a name for. The next day I went to Akihabara, looked at what I could afford, and bought an Olympus SP-550 UZ: 7.1 megapixels, a 12x optical zoom, and a 28 mm wide end that felt like it could swallow a street.
That is how photography started for me. I photographed everything. I still remember the shutter going hard every day of that trip. Greg had been to Japan before, so he and his buddy became my guides. We walked Kyoto’s temples, Hiroshima’s memorials, and caught a glimpse of Mount Fuji.
More control, more weight
After a year of pushing the Olympus, I wanted more control. In 2008 I bought a Canon 450D, known as the Rebel XSi in some regions, with the EF-S 18-55mm IS kit lens. I added a Sigma 70-300mm f/4-5.6 Macro for insects, flowers, and anything farther away. Manual shutter, aperture, and ISO finally made sense in my hands.
By 2009 the 450D felt small. I moved to a Canon 50D, a magnesium-alloy body that felt serious, with a Tamron AF SP 17-50mm f/2.8 and later a Canon EF 70-200mm L f/2.8 IS USM. Fast glass, quiet autofocus, and the first lenses I treated as tools rather than accessories.
In 2011 I bought a Canon 5D Mark II and a Canon 24-105mm L f/4 IS. Full frame changed how portraits fell away from the subject and how landscapes held depth. Even at f/4 the look felt richer than what the APS-C bodies had given me. One of the first DSLRs with useful Full HD video, strong high-ISO performance, and a 21.1 megapixel sensor that still holds up.
That camera stayed.
When the camera became a job
Everywhere I went, the 5D Mark II came with me. Family events. Friends’ weddings. Personal projects. Over time the expectations grew. I became the go-to photographer for every occasion, which, while flattering, began to feel like a burden.
Carrying a hefty DSLR and a bag of lenses stopped feeling like freedom. The joy of photography was overshadowed by the responsibility others placed on me to capture every moment. I started leaving the camera at home more often. I missed chances to shoot for myself.
That is when the camera stopped being fun.
A pocket that brought it back
In 2024 I still cherished the 5D Mark II, but it was not a daily camera. I wanted something compact enough to carry without deciding to. I bought a Sony ZV-1 second-hand: a 20.1 megapixel 1-inch sensor, a Zeiss 24-70mm f/1.8-2.8, real-time eye autofocus, and 4K video in a body that fits a pocket.
The first files were too contrasty, and the colour science was not Canon’s. After dialling the picture profiles down, especially through PP10, the images started to match what I wanted. I have written up those settings separately in my ZV-1 daily driver note.
With the ZV-1 always at hand I started catching candid moments again: street scenes, spontaneous portraits, the small details that disappear when you only shoot on assignment. Surprising myself, that pocket camera also rekindled the desire to take the 5D Mark II out, this time for me. The pressure was off. The fun was back.
I have also been returning to macro work with focus bracketing. Stock firmware on the 5D Mark II does not offer it, but Magic Lantern does. Three bracketed frames are enough to feel the difference.
First test of focus bracketing using 3 photos
What stayed
From the Olympus in Akihabara to the 5D Mark II that never quite left, and the ZV-1 that made both usable again, the gear was never the real plot. The plot was whether the camera was still mine.
When the camera stopped being fun, leaving it at home felt like the only honest answer. When a smaller one came along, the answer changed. I could carry something light every day, and I could pick up the old full-frame body without anyone else’s expectations attached to it.
That is the journey I care about. Not the list of bodies. The moment the shutter became mine again.
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