Jim O’Connell Photographs, The Blog.

On a private forum today, user Ispistole posted the following under the title “Chickensoup for the Self-Doubting Photographer: The DP Review Streetphotography Thread”:

I have a love/hate affair with DP Review. Tech-heads obsessing over the minutiae of cameras that, often, don’t even exist (Canon G10). Or, if they do - say, the Sigma DP1, they’re already demanding the next model and what they want to see on it.

And then there’s the flaming and brand-dissing. Take the new Panasonic Lumix LX3, an interesting camera in itself. I’ve been following the hysteria over on the Panasonic thread at DP Review, as they pull the specs apart, decrying the sensor, the zoom, the noise reduction, even before the cameras been officially released.

But what amuses me most of all, is when these gear-heads post their pics. I mean, I know we all doubt ourselves and our abilities at times, but when I see this I sure feel a lot happier with my own stuff.

Perhaps they should spend more time learning how to use their cameras, and less time discussing the perfect camera. Just a thought.

*edit* Worryingly, on several it looks like they’re stalking human game rather than taking candid shots.

Sometimes, when I’m replying to these, I get caught up in the subject. Here’s what I just wrote in reply:

The reasons for forums like that run older and deeper than you might imagine. It’s a question of impotence.

(Uh-oh, I feel a rant coming on…)

Most men buy cameras because their wives won’t let them have guns. (Though single men often own both.)

They buy them, not to actually *use* them, but to have them “just in case.” Just as buying a gun won’t make you a marksman, buying a camera won’t make you a photographer. That takes practice and skill.

Too often, men buy them for that moment of empowerment that comes when you stand at the counter, fondling it before finally telling the clerk “I’ll take it” with a knowing nod and the clerk’s acknowledgment of “Excellent choice, sir. I can either box it all up, or load it for you if you prefer to try it out on the street today…” with a sly wink.

That feeling of power quickly dissipates for most when they see how bad they are at doing anything significant with their purchase and they slip into an impotent cycle of both defending their choice to their male friends by reciting specifications and talking about others who did significant things with the same gear while guiltily perusing magazines and catalogs, planning their next upgrade.

Of course, they may carry either in the glove compartment of their car and take it out for some fun shooting on weekends, but in both cases, rarely does the outing result in a good trophy.

It’s that cycle of frustration that causes both guns and cameras to be pulled out and finally used most often at holidays and family gatherings.

The gear is similar, as well. They tend to be well-made, precision instruments, machined to close tolerances. They are often the nicest object a man will own.

Compare, for instance, a Leica and a Walther PPK. Both are finely machined things made in Germany. They’re a pleasure to hold, load and fire. Small and discreet, they are a textural delight of satin chrome and knurled grips. (I happen to own both. They’re really quite similar.)

Others prefer the biggest, loudest thing they can afford, with a huge barrel or lens. It’s for walking into a situation and letting everybody know who’s boss. Still, you’re just as unlikely to bag a good trophy, which you’ll probably blame that on some failure of your gear, not the fact that you don’t know how to operate it with any skill.

Women, of course, also own and use both cameras and guns, but they’re far more likely to carry something sensible that they can slip easily into their purse. Smith and Wesson market a line of handguns under the LadySmith brand. A small, but powerful 357 magnum, it even holds one fewer rounds than those marketed to men. Small, unassuming cameras are too numerous to mention, but if you visit your local shop, they’ll probably have more than a couple in pink anodized aluminum.
Consider that, for most of the last century, the camera most popular with women had only the tiniest of lenses and was referred to as a “Box Camera.” Diane Arbus’ camera was a mysterious thing called a twin lens reflex, a very feminine apparatus, the features and functions of which are a mystery to those who haven’t undertaken a clinical study of its morphology, or ar least taken the time to examine one up-close.

Still, on occasion, you’ll see a woman with either a “Man’s Camera” or a “Man’s Gun.” These women hold a certain dangerous fascination for men, they’re beautiful, they’re powerful and they’re dangerous. If Lara Croft or Emma Peel carried cameras, it’d be either a gunmetal Leica strapped to her hip, or an SLR with a huge telephoto, slung over their shoulder like Bonnie Parker’s Tommy Gun.

Catherine Leroy and Patty Hearst
Seeing a female photographer with a couple of battered rangefinders gives me the same thrill I got as a young boy when images of a teenaged Patty Hearst flashed across the television with her long hair, cocked beret and sub-machine gun, standing in front of the flag of the Symbionese Liberation Army, making my G.I. Joe toy seem like the impotent little doll he was.

Girls like that put men in their place—not only do we imagine them getting their trophies, they can drink us under the table and pee standing up. They don’t get weak-kneed and dewy when things get heated, they get girl boners.

So it’s best to avoid tech sites like DP Review and better to spend that time carefully honing your craft and practicing a cool, James Bond/James Nachtwey-like nonchalance. You don’t, after all, see those guys stroking off to equipment catalogs…