Skills, Not Budgets, Define Photography
Every time I pick up my camera bag, I’m reminded that photography has never been more democratic. Today’s cameras—even the so-called “budget” ones—offer an image quality that would have been unimaginable in the film era. My Canon R100 is a perfect example. On paper, it’s Canon’s entry-level mirrorless, a camera that enthusiasts might brush aside in favor of something more “serious.” But in practice, this little body has captured street portraits, food spreads, and travel scenes that hold their own against images made with far more expensive rigs. Its sensor pulls in enough detail and dynamic range that, once I bring the RAW files into Lightroom, I can shape the light and mood to match exactly what I felt in the moment.
Glass choice plays into the same lesson. The Canon EF 75-300mm, adapted onto the R100 with a simple EF-to-R adapter, is about as far as you can get from Canon’s luxury “L” series. It’s soft at the long end, it doesn’t boast image stabilization, and its focus motor whines like an old sewing machine. But when I use it for street compression—capturing the layers of a busy square or isolating a face through a crowd—the images sing. I’ve shot vendors in souks, buskers on cobblestones, even the way sunlight cuts diagonally across tiled roofs in Lisbon, and the lens delivered every time. The point is: if you understand the quirks of your gear, you can make them work for you.
The same goes for fast primes like the Canon EF 100mm f/2. On the R100, it transforms into a brilliant portrait and street tool. It’s not a lens Canon markets with much fanfare, but it has a way of turning ordinary moments into something cinematic. A man leaning on his bicycle at dusk, a child chasing pigeons in the square, a steaming bowl of soup caught in the beam of a streetlight—all of these become timeless when framed with that glass. Wide open at f/2, it smooths out backgrounds, isolates the subject, and lets the emotion stand on its own.
And then there’s the Meike speed booster, which often gets misunderstood. People think of it as a magic bullet, but its real value is in restoring wide-angle lenses to their intended field of view on crop bodies like the R100. A 24mm EF lens suddenly feels like a 24mm again, and you even gain a stop of light. That matters when you’re shooting cramped interiors or trying to capture the energy of a street at night. On telephoto glass, though, the benefit is minimal and sometimes counterproductive—you’re better off leaving the booster in the bag. Knowing when to use it, and when not to, is part of the skill set that saves you from chasing empty promises of “better” gear.
Street photography, more than anything else, has drilled this lesson into me. I’ve walked entire cities with nothing more than the R100 and a kit zoom. Those lenses are often dismissed as forgettable, but in good light they’re sharp enough, versatile enough, and most importantly—always there when the moment arrives. That’s the thing: the moment. A woman pausing mid-step under an umbrella, a bus door swinging open to reveal a burst of neon light, the playful chaos of a food market—those scenes don’t wait. If you hesitate, if you’re fiddling with gear or second-guessing your kit, the moment is gone forever. No thousand-dollar lens will bring it back.
Post-processing has become the equalizer that cements this truth. Even the RAW files from the R100 can be massaged into something extraordinary. Highlights can be recovered, colors tuned, shadows teased out to reveal what the eye remembered but the camera couldn’t capture in a split second. It’s not about rescuing mistakes, but about bridging the gap between the camera’s limitations and the photographer’s vision.
I’ve never once looked at a photograph I truly loved and thought, “If only I had shot that with a more expensive lens.” What I do think is: “If only I had paid closer attention. If only I had trusted my instinct.” That’s the real craft of photography—seeing, reacting, shaping—not collecting ever more elaborate gear.
So I come back to this simple truth: skills, not budgets, define photography. The Canon R100 proves it every time I take it out, the EF lenses remind me of it with their quirks, and the files on my laptop reinforce it as I shape them into memories. The gear is already good enough. The question is whether I am.