Image Quality Versus Experience Quality

One of my favorite photographs of my children.  Capturing their spirit and expressions was what
was important to me, not the camera or lens I was using.  In this photo my son was about six
and my daughter, three.  Today, they are 43 and 40, respectively.  The memory and emotion remain,
the gear long gone and unimportant.  So what is more important to you?  Image quality or experience
quality? (click to enlarge)

As 2025 is soon to end, I thought I would close out the year with a more thoughtful post.  As each new year approaches, I tend to find myself lost in thought, thinking about the past 12 months, remembering that which was important and, finally, wondering what the next 12 months will bring.

Here is something I want you to think about.  The next time you find yourself lusting over that newest, best, greatest camera or that super fast, super sharp lens, I want you to take a minute and think about why you got into photography and what it is about photography that is really important to you.  I've done this myself.

Many of us photographers spend a ridiculous amount of time convincing ourselves that the next camera, the next lens, the next firmware update will finally deliver a panacea of creative brilliance, raise our images to new levels of excellence and maybe even lose those excess pounds we carry around with us.  Some even contemplate changing entire photographic systems to finally find that pinnacle of excellence in image quality.  Too many of us, including me in the past. I was guilty of this.

We talk about “image quality” as if it’s some long sought after treasure waiting to be unlocked by a lab-tested lens and a sensor that can see in the dark.  We pretend that the tiniest differences in sharpness and noise levels actually matter to anyone other than maybe five other people on the planet… all of whom seem to live on photography forums.

But there’s another kind of quality we rarely talk about, and it’s the one that actually makes photography worth doing in the first place: the quality of our photographic experiences. It’s the reason we got into photography in the first place.  The joy, the play, the discovery, the pleasure of creation.  It’s the camera you pick up because it feels just right in your hand and 'just works' for you, not because it won an award for having the cleanest ISO 12,800 of all time or has autofocus so fast that it beats lightning to the ground.

Somewhere along the way, many of us fall into a trap. It starts small.  You upgrade your camera “just this once” for better dynamic range. Then you buy a sharper lens because one of your photographer friends or YouTube presenters said the corners on your old one are “a little soft.”  Before long, you’re frantically searching the internet for more information, refreshing rumor sites like a stock trader watching the markets.  Then you’re testing lenses at 200% magnification, muttering things like “micro-contrast” and “coma performance” like you’ve just joined some sort of obscure photographic cult.

And here’s the cruel outcome — all that obsessing rarely makes your photos better.  What it does do is rob you of the joy that got you into photography in the first place. You spend more time thinking about gear than actually using it.  You spend money that could’ve gone toward a weekend trip, a photo book, buying a print or literally anything else that might feed your creativity.  You lose hours to YouTube reviews and end up more confused, not less.  Eventually you realize that you’re carrying around gear so expensive and “capable” that you’re scared to use it let alone take it out in the rain…which sort of defeats the whole purpose. (I've heard many Leica owners say exactly this!)

Here’s another truth that stings a little — nobody can tell the difference.  Not your friends, not your family, not 99.9% of other photographers and certainly not the random stranger on Instagram who’s scrolling past your images at the speed of light.  The “better” camera you just spent $4,000 US on might give you a tiny improvement in shadow detail, sure.  But your viewers are looking at your composition, the light, the mood, the gesture and looking at the story you want to tell.  They want to feel the emotion you felt when you saw the composition and decided to make the exposure.  Those things come from your heart, not your credit card.

Meanwhile, there’s this other kind of photographer, usually a happier one, who walks out the door with a camera he or she genuinely enjoys using.  It might not be the newest or fastest.  It might not have the sharpest lens.  Maybe it’s even a little beat up from all the adventures it’s been on.  But this photographer takes more pictures, has more fun and ends up with work that feels alive.  Why?  Because he or she is relaxed.  They’re not worried about corner sharpness.  They’re chasing moments instead of technical perfection.  They’re shooting from the heart, not from the spec sheet.

And the final twist?  That kind of photography — the joyful, curious, imperfect kind — often looks better.  When you’re happy, you see differently.  You move differently.  You take risks, you experiment, you respond to the world instead of analyzing it to death.  Even your “mistakes” look interesting, because they come from energy and emotion rather than stress and technical prowess.

I’m not saying image quality doesn’t matter at all.  It does, up to a point.  But there’s a steep drop-off where the returns get microscopic and the stress skyrockets.  Meanwhile, experience quality just keeps giving.  The more you enjoy the act of photographing, the better your photographs tend to be because they were made with intention, with curiosity, and with genuine engagement.

The reason I write this is that I’ve “been there and done that” many, many times over my past 54 years in photography.  More times than I care to remember.  Still, that chase for the best creeps in and shows its ugly head now and then.  I like my camera gear — a lot.  I admit that.  My problem was that I used to be pretty much of a perfectionist in everything I did (thankfully, I’ve pretty much given that up).  Mix in some tendencies toward OCD and I found myself always stressing out and obsessing over having only the best gear which would allow me to create at my peak abilities.  I wanted to create excellent images every time I went out.  The result was I spent countless thousands of dollars chasing perfection and putting a lot of stress on myself which reduced my satisfaction.  The irony, I found out decades later, is that having only the best gear made little difference.  But you couldn’t tell me that back then.  Don't get me wrong, gear matters and I like having good gear.  I really enjoy using my gear.  But chasing "what's next" is pointless to me now.

Over the years I’ve spent hours and hours researching the best and most sophisticated cameras, the sharpest lenses then bought and used only the top of the line professional do-it-all gear.  Yes, I made good photos.  But I’ve now realized that when I want to go out and photograph, I take the camera that I love to hold in my hands.   The camera that feels and works the best for me.  The camera that makes my creativity come alive.  The camera that allows me to feel joy while photographing.  The camera that I think is just fun to use.  That camera is not a top-of-the-line camera but a middle-of-the-pack camera.   But, to me, it provides the best experience quality rather than image quality and that is what has become important to me.  I still think of all the time I wasted and all the money I spent searching for the best.   I would have been much better off using that time and money to live experiences and travel.

Don’t mistake this for me saying having gear isn’t in and of itself satisfying.  To me it is.  I love my gear.   I love to try new gear and write about it.   More often than not, the new gear provides very short term pleasure.   I guess for me it is more about curiosity than joy.   Photography is one of those activities that satisfy both my left brain and right brain needs.   I love the technology as much as I love the process and the creativity.  Gear satisfies some of my needs but it is the gear I enjoying holding and using that really does it for me.  That gear doesn’t have to be the best or cutting edge, it just has to remove any friction when using it.

So next time you feel that familiar itch to upgrade — that whisper that says “your photos will be better if only you had this lens” — take a breath.  Ask yourself if your last camera really held you back, or if maybe, just maybe, it was your mindset.  Ask whether your favorite photo from the last year owes anything to corner sharpness or if it came from a moment that moved you.

Then consider picking up the camera that makes you smile.  The one you trust.  The one you want to carry.  Chances are, it’ll remind you why you started in the first place — and your photos will thank you for it.

One last thing.  Think about this.  I’ll bet most all of your best and favorite photographs were made with one of your older cameras.  Many with cameras that had marginal autofocus or no autofocus at all, a dearth of pixels, old sensors, older lenses or maybe even film.  A camera you wouldn’t even consider buying today.  They weren't made with your current, best camera.  But, in spite of that, you still consider them some of your best.  That should speak to you loudly.

Enjoy the experience.  Feel the emotion.  Don't worry about the next, best thing.

Join me over at my website, https://www.dennismook.com.  

Thanks for looking. Enjoy!  

Dennis A. Mook  

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