We Use the Same Camera for Work and Fun
Most jobs have a clear line between work tools and personal life.
Photography doesn’t.
- If you’re a lawyer, you don’t spend your Sunday afternoon drafting pretend contracts for enjoyment.
- If you’re an accountant, you don’t knock up a spreadsheet on holiday “just to keep sharp”.
- And if you’re a software engineer, you absolutely don’t get home from work and think, Great, time to do some more coding.
I didn’t. Not once.
Photography works differently.
There isn’t a “work camera” and a “fun camera”
The camera I bring to a paid job is the same one I take out when I’m wandering around Leeds with no plan. Same body. Same lenses. Same settings muscle memory.
That matters more than people realise.
When something happens quickly on a shoot — a moment, a look, a bit of light — there’s no thinking time. You don’t want to be hunting through menus or second-guessing yourself. You want instinct.
That instinct only comes from repetition. And repetition doesn’t just happen on paid jobs.
Familiarity beats specs every time
Cameras are complicated now. They’re basically small computers with lenses attached.
You can read the manual. You can watch YouTube videos. But none of that replaces actually using the thing until it feels boringly familiar.
When I’m out shooting for myself, I’m subconsciously learning:
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how the autofocus behaves in rubbish light
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how far I can push the ISO before it falls apart
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how the metering reacts in high contrast scenes
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how quickly I can change settings without looking
All of that carries straight into client work.
I’m not “trying out” your shoot on new kit. I already know exactly how it behaves because I’ve used it when nothing was at stake.
Lenses get learnt, not just owned
Same applies to lenses.
When I buy a new lens, it doesn’t go straight into a job bag. It gets taken out and abused first. I work out where it shines, where it struggles, and what it’s actually good for.
Some lenses are technically perfect but dull. Some are full of character but need handling carefully. You only learn that by using them when there’s no pressure.
By the time a lens makes it onto a paid shoot, it’s already proven itself.
Why this matters to you
On a client shoot, you don’t want experimentation. You want confidence.
You want someone who knows their kit so well that they can focus on people, composition, timing, and problem-solving — not on which button does what.
That confidence doesn’t come from doing the job once a week. It comes from doing the thing constantly, because you enjoy it.
That’s why photographers are odd.
The line between work and play is blurred. And in this case, that’s a good thing.
