Just some of the many cameras, lenses, and accessories that have accumulated in my apartment over the past fifteen years. First off, I must say that I am not a fan of the term ‘G.A.S.’ You’ve probably come across it in comments and forums – it stands for ‘Gear Acquisition Syndrome,’ and it’s often used in a cringey, half-mocking manner by people who still find flatulence amusing. ‘Sounds like a bad case of G.A.S.,’ ‘I admit, I suffer from chronic G.A.S.;’ etc. Yeah, yeah, we get it. Farts. Hilarious. Whatever you want to call it, the syndrome is real. And while it’s not exclusive to photography, our hobby is a breeding ground for the collective delusion that more gear – and better gear – will result in better photographs.
Back when I used to work at a camera retail store, I would frequently be asked, mainly by older men, ‘What camera/lens do I need to take better pictures of X?’ Sometimes, ‘X’ was a subject where gear did make a difference, like professional motorsports, but most of the time, it wasn’t. As an idealistic salesperson, I initially tried to dissuade customers from buying ridiculously expensive gear that I didn’t think they needed (I wasn’t working on commission), but after a while, I gave up. If purchasing a £3,000 lens made someone happy, who was I to interfere? Needless to say, I sold plenty of Canon L-series lenses that probably only saw occasional use at a school sports day. At the time, I would roll my eyes, but twenty years later, with closets and Pelican cases full of gear, I understand. As long as you’re not spending money you don’t have (more on that later), I believe that Gear Acquisition Syndrome should be celebrated as an integral part of the photography experience.
Reflecting on my history of buying and using camera equipment, some of my most enjoyable projects and adventures have come about because I was eager to use a newly-purchased camera or lens. I’m not ashamed to admit that my cameras and lenses are like toys to me. Yes, they have a purpose, but the joy I derive from planning activities around them, handling them, and interacting with them isn’t too different from the delight I experienced as a child building and playing with LEGO bricks or designing and flying wooden model gliders. Even when I return from a photo excursion with only a few or no decent photographs to show for it (which happens to the best of us), I still had a great time trying. Likewise, when I look back at my history of buying and using camera equipment, many of my most enjoyable projects and expeditions happened because I was excited to use a newly-acquired camera or lens. I’ve written before about one of my pandemic photography projects based on a vintage Nikon 1000mm F11 mirror lens, and my recent experiments in infrared imaging were the subjects of another recent article, but those are just a couple of examples. Recently, I traded in a couple of lenses I wasn’t using much and purchased a Nikon Z 400mm F4.5. I had never owned a telephoto prime lens before, but I had so much fun shooting with it for a gallery on DPReview that I decided to add it to my collection. And let me tell you, I have absolutely no regrets about that decision.
The Nikon Z 400mm F4.5 is small and lightweight enough to fit into my backpack, and it has been my constant companion for the past few months. I love having a reason to take it out wherever I go. Since purchasing it earlier this year, I’ve photographed birds, boats, landscapes, and plenty of airplanes. A few weekends ago, with no plans on my calendar, I set up a chair at the Paine Field viewing area north of Seattle and captured pictures of planes landing and taking off. Only one of those resulting photos will be seen by anyone other than me (it was added to my recent update to the Z 400mm F4.5 gallery on DPReview), but I had an amazing day, chatting with other airplane enthusiasts, and – yes – playing. If it weren’t for this lens, I wouldn’t have been there. I’m looking forward to attending a couple of airshows this summer, and I already know that having a reason to shoot with my Z9 and long lenses will greatly add to the enjoyment.
Many photographers have experienced the vicious cycle of gear acquisition at some point. I went through something similar after buying an 85mm F2.8 tilt/shift macro lens. It was a ‘too good to pass up’ bargain, and unexpectedly, it has become my go-to lens for product photography whenever I sell equipment or need to illustrate an article. In a rare twist, this toy has actually paid for itself. Of course, I can’t discuss money without addressing the dark side of G.A.S. Many photographers have fallen into the trap of compulsively buying gear they don’t need and can’t afford. If you find yourself caught in this cycle, exhibiting addict behavior, it’s important to seek help. If you haven’t experienced it, consider yourself fortunate, but chances are you know someone who has.
In my experience, one of the most dangerous types of equipment in this regard (aside from Leica’s, which is a whole other topic that could fill psychological case studies) is camera supports: tripods, brackets, ball heads, and everything else. It’s a slippery slope. Most photographers start with a cheap tripod, if they have one at all, and many never upgrade. After all, most photography doesn’t require a tripod, and tripods are generally considered boring – the last thing most photographers want to spend money on. However, for many of us, depending on our photography style, there comes a realization that supporting thousands of dollars’ worth of camera equipment on a wobbly support that cost fifty dollars on Amazon may not be the wisest choice. Really Right Stuff (RRS) tripods and supports are top-quality, and once you’ve upgraded to them, going back becomes difficult (and spending even more money becomes easy). My gateway drug was a used Really Right Stuff BH-55 ball head. If you’re familiar with RRS, you know that their manufacturing quality is among the best. As soon as I paired the BH-55 with my budget tripod, it was painfully obvious that the legs were on borrowed time. Honestly, I felt embarrassed for them. Before I knew it, I had a set of RRS heads, legs, plates, clamps, a leveling base – even a gimbal. Most of these items were purchased second-hand, but still, what started as another ‘too good to pass up’ deal resulted in over $2,000 of additional spending spread over about a year.
I’m an amateur photographer, and these days, the money I spend on photography is an investment in my mental well-being rather than my career. If professional photographers approached gear acquisition the same way I do, they probably wouldn’t make any money. Most of the professionals I know go to great lengths to avoid replacing or adding to their gear, making the most out of every dollar spent. If I were…