You’re Using the Wrong Lens
When you start researching anything photography gear-related on the internet, you inevitably run into opinions plagued by bias or riddled with emotion. Preference in camera gear is often deeply personal, but people tend to attach emotion to their choices in brand or specific lenses. This creates a narrow way of thinking about what’s “best” instead of asking what’s best for a particular use case or a person’s specific needs. And it shows up in all those forum or social media arguments we’ve all seen
Zoom out to real life, meatspace, if you will. When you bump into photographers day-to-day, they’re usually pretty chill. Gear arguments aren’t really a thing. There’s more curiosity, appreciation, and shared experience than hot takes.
I wanted to use a recent encounter I had in Japan to highlight how your needs are more important than anything else when choosing one piece of gear over another.
I was a few days into my trip, mostly just embracing whatever landed in front of me rather than chasing specific shots. It was cold and raining, but I was in a new place, so off I went.
I was in Ginza, a district in Tokyo, wandering in search of a beanie because I was freezing. I had my Fuji X-T5 and my lightweight prime, the 23mm f/2. Somehow, I ended up in the seafood market without planning for it. It was the perfect place to grab a snack and see what shots I could get. Umbrellas were flying, rain was hammering windows and stalls, and the crowd was thick. Pure chaos.
And I leaned into it.
Not long after, I bumped into a few other photographers. There’s usually a nod or a smile, we all know why we’re there. I had posted up in a corner, sheltered from the rain, warming my hands with a couple of pork buns. The foot traffic was constant. It was the perfect spot to capture some candid moments.
One photographer in particular was also working the area. We struck up a conversation and gear talk is an easy icebreaker among photographers.
Turns out this spot is a pretty popular photography location. Personally, I don’t research the “best” places to shoot. I just use popular tourist spots as rough points of interest and see what unfolds.
But this guy quickly got vocal about my choice of camera and lens. Apparently, this was a wide-angle spot, and he showed me examples from other photographers who had shot there before. I was using a 35mm full-frame equivalent, which—according to him—was the wrong lens for this spot. I explained that I wasn’t here to recreate a particular shot. I was just capturing things I found interesting.
It was like I was speaking a alien language. He pivoted to criticising my APS-C setup, saying it was bad for low light in conditions like this. I gave him the classic head tilt—like when a dog hears a strange sound.
I glanced at his setup: a full-frame Sony body with a 16-35mm G Master lens. A big Peak Design backpack, probably filled with glass and tripod on the side. Textbook gear head. And look, I’m not bashing anyone who travels with lots of gear. If that’s your thing, go for it. Bring what works for you.
But the energy I got? It felt like he was trying to justify his gear choices by talking down mine. Like shooting me down would somehow validate his setup.
I smiled, finished my pork buns, and said, “Well, I’m off to find some fresh sushi. You have an awesome day, mate.” Then I disappeared into the sea of umbrellas.
Around the corner, one hand on my umbrella and the other on my camera, I got this shot. I wanted to capture the chaos of that space and to me, I did. I love this image because it reminds me exactly how I felt in that moment. It tells a story. I never look at it and think, “Damn, I wish I had a different lens.”
That’s the thing about photography, we can get so lost in specs, sensor sizes, and what’s “ideal” that we forget why we picked up a camera in the first place. Not to tick off a list of perfect conditions or locations, but to tell stories. To feel something.
The right lens is the one that helps you see.
I wasn’t there to win Instagram or recreate someone else’s shot, I was there to experience Japan, chase warmth through pork buns, and soak in moments that felt like mine. And that one frame I took? It’s one of my favourites. Not because it’s technically perfect, but because it’s mine. Taken with the “wrong” lens.
So if you’re stressing about what lens to bring or whether your setup is “good enough,” maybe shift the question a bit. Ask yourself: What do I want to see? Then go out and make that happen, with whatever gear you’ve got in your hands.
Because the only “wrong” lens or camera… is the one that stops you from shooting.