Life Goes On - Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

I let out a heavy sigh, muted but still slightly audible. Thankfully, nobody was around to hear it. I stared at my computer screen like it had somehow personally wronged me and muttered a few choice words under my breath. I kept telling myself this was going to be okay. Maybe that was the truth. Maybe that was complete and utter bullshit. Either way, it was what I needed to hear in that moment.

I had spent the last eight months going back and forth with myself before finally hitting a breaking point. My stomach was in knots. I felt like I might actually puke. I knew it was going to be expensive, there was always the chance I’d regret it, and yet I still knew I needed to follow through. So naturally, I listened to my gut, even though part of my gut also seemed pretty interested in throwing up everything I had ever put in my body up to that point.

I took a breath, paused for a second, and made a decision that still affects my everyday life. On the evening of September 6, 2022, I ordered my Leica Q2 Reporter and officially ended my relationship with Nikon.

The Leica unboxing process is truly a one-of-a-kind experience.

I may or may not have made it to this part of the unboxing, and then stopped.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally opened everything up.

Probably not where you thought this entry was going, but that is kind of the point.

Selling off all of my Nikon gear after all those years together, well over two decades, and committing to one fixed-lens camera was a rather big deal. At the time I pulled the trigger, I had already written about wanting to simplify things, pare down my gear, and shoot in a way that felt more intentional and less like a giant pain in the ass.

So, with almost four years of using the Q2 under my belt, a follow-up to those earlier entries feels long overdue.

Anyway, let’s get to it.

The biggest question, at least for me, is whether the Q2 actually fixed what had been pushing me away from photography in the first place. The creative burnout. The avoidance. The unwanted attention. All the other crap I’ve complained about across various posts over the years.

Well… honestly, yes. It did. And it did so far better than I expected.

The Q2 fits into my life almost perfectly, which has been great for me and also a relief for my wallet, because buying the wrong camera after eight months of overthinking would have been a pretty brutal and costly mistake. I’m also positive my wife would have rung my neck like Homer does Bart if the camera had not worked out and I had to make another, albeit virtual, trip to B&H Photo.

I’ve always leaned toward a more photojournalistic way of shooting. It just makes sense to me, and I have always felt more at home with a camera when working that way. That was especially true when I was covering sports or working in public affairs.

The goal with that kind of work is pretty simple: tell the story, flaws and all, and carry on. Don’t overthink it. Definitely don’t exaggerate it. Just take the photo to the best of your ability and, if needed, write a quick blurb that covers the basics.

Shooting Cablestock at Texas Ski Ranch in New Braunfels, Texas with one of the biggest combinations that I had. (iPhone)

This is certainly not an image that I would be able to capture now with the Q2 for a multitude of reasons. (Nikon)

The biggest and most noticeable difference, though, has been at home. When I was shooting almost exclusively with my D500, even with the smallest prime lens I owned, it could still feel a little intimidating to people. The Leica, thankfully, doesn’t. Especially around family. That was one of the biggest reasons I wanted to move away from a giant DSLR in the first place, and it has absolutely paid off.

My kids are more comfortable when I have the Q2 out. They’re more natural and far less weirded out by the whole process. They’re still weird, just a little less guarded. And yes, they’ve grown up since I switched cameras, but even now, anytime I borrow a DSLR, the difference is blatantly obvious. It changes the mood. There is more hesitation and less willingness to just be themselves. Because of what the Leica has enabled, I’ve captured family photos and moments that I genuinely do not think would have happened nearly as easily, or maybe at all, with any other setup.

Playing in the Gulf. (Leica)

Beach doodle. (Leica)

Taking pictures while taking a picture. (Leica)

The Q2 got me back to what I wanted photography to be in the first place: documenting life, not turning it into some bloated production with too much gear and too much mental overhead. I used to be great at doing exactly that, sadly.

A lot of that, obviously, comes down to the size of the camera, at least as best as I can tell. Because it’s compact, it feels a whole lot less intimidating. Because of that same small footprint, I take the thing damn near everywhere. It lives in my backpack. It rides in the center console of my truck when I’m on a road trip. It’s easy to carry, which means it’s easy to use, which means I actually use it. Wild concept, I know.

Hanging out in Shiner, Texas, at the K. Spoetzl Brewery. (iPhone)

Charging up the battery for the Q2 in my truck while heading out for a work trip. (iPhone)

Now, to be clear, despite the camera going with me most of the time, there was still a stretch where I got in my own way and barely shot. (See Burnout & Bullshit.) But even then, the camera never felt like the problem. If anything, it was one of the only things that felt right. It removed a lot of the friction that had built up between me and photography, and once that friction was gone, the creativity came back.

Not overnight. Not in some dramatic montage where I suddenly become a tortured artistic genius because I now own a Leica. But it came back. And at this point, what started as a creative spark has turned into a full-blown inferno. Great for me. Less great for my digital storage situation. But with a 47 MP setup, that is pretty much a given.

The funny part, at least to me, is that the move was never really about image quality or chasing megapixels, even though that’s what a lot of people assume when I give them the brief rundown of my switch. I had zero complaints about what the D500, or any of my Nikon bodies, produced. They all did exactly what they were supposed to do, and did it exceptionally well. The issue was that my life had changed, and my gear hadn’t changed with it.

By the time I bought the Q2, I was no longer actively shooting sports. I was no longer living in the same version of photography that had once justified owning various Nikon bodies and a stack of lenses. Those setups made sense for the work I used to do. They just stopped making sense for the life I was actually living.

Josh Demuth going through the whoop section during qualifying at the San Antonio Arenacross race. Circa 2010 (Nikon)

Heath Voss after taking victory in the 250 class. Circa 2010 (Nikon)

That is not me taking a cheap shot at Nikon, because that is not my intent. I’d happily still shoot with their cameras if given the opportunity. It just means I was holding onto a version of photography that truly no longer fit. I wasn’t really leaving Nikon, as I played it up in my intro, so much as I was leaving behind a version of myself that had run its course.

Another question I get asked is whether the Q2 changed the way I shoot or just revealed the way I always wanted to shoot. I think the answer is both. The fixed 28mm lens absolutely changed things. There is no zoom. Gone is my ability to stand still and twist a lens until the composition stops sucking and matches what I had in mind. My feet are the zoom now, which means I have to be more deliberate. More aware. More methodical. And certainly a whole hell of a lot more patient.

And yes, there are shots I cannot get anymore, or at least not in a way that meets my standard. Anything sports-related, sans portraits, is an obvious one. I can still get photos of my kids doing their thing, but let’s not pretend the Q2 is some secret sports weapon. It isn’t. Same goes for wildlife, or beach moments where some cool bird is hanging out a mile away and I’m standing there with all of 28mm and a lot of wishful thinking.

I’ll get lucky and sometimes a bird will be interested in me, and not fly off. (Leica)

This little one followed us along the beach for a long time. (Leica)

Do I miss the reach sometimes? Absolutely. Do I care enough to regret the switch? Nope. I knew exactly what I was signing up for. I knew there would be tradeoffs. I just also knew, or at least hoped, that what I’d gain mattered more. And it did.

Honestly, that has probably been the biggest surprise. Owning one camera has been way easier than I thought it would be. I figured I’d miss the Nikon setup more than I do and revert back at some point. Instead, it has mostly felt freeing.

No more deciding what body to bring. No lens choices. No extra weight. No swapping glass while life is happening in front of me. No carrying around more crap just because I might need it. The Q2 killed all of that. I know exactly what it can do. I know exactly what it can’t. Because of that, I spend way less time thinking about gear and way more time actually taking pictures and enjoying my time out in the world.

Setting off on a trip to Idaho. (Leica)

Taking in the details of the vegetation in Idaho. (Leica)

Soaking up the world around me. (Leica)

That has been the gift. It made photography fun again. Not fake internet fun. Not “let me watch nine YouTube videos and convince myself I need something else” fun. I mean actual fun. The kind that makes you want to pick the camera up instead of feeling bad for not doing it, which was definitely the case toward the tail end of my relationship with my Nikon setup.

The Q2 certainly did not solve every problem in my life. No camera is capable of that. But it did solve the gear-related problems that were getting in the way of the kind of photography I actually wanted to make. And maybe more importantly, it helped me stop clinging to a version of photography that no longer fit who I was, what I cared about, or how I wanted to live.

So yeah, breaking up with Nikon was dramatic, I guess. A little ridiculous? Probably. Expensive? Very much so. But worth it? Hell yes, and without question. I’d make the same decision over and over again. The Q2 is here to stay.

-Tyler