There's a version of me that used to pack carefully. Deliberately. I'd lay things out the night before: the right lens for the light, a spare battery, and a cleaning cloth I'd probably never use. Packing felt like preparation. Like I was taking the whole thing seriously.
That guy doesn't exist anymore.
Not because I stopped caring about photography, or about what I carry. But because somewhere between the first sleepless week and the hundredth school run, I realized that the way I used to pack was actually a luxury. It assumed I had time. It assumed two free hands. It assumed the moment would wait for me to find the right thing in the right pocket.
The Ricoh Problem (That Isn't Actually a Problem)
When I first picked up the Ricoh GRiii, I almost talked myself out of it. No zoom. Fixed 28mm. No viewfinder. On paper, it reads like a camera that's missing things.
What I didn't understand then is that everything that's "missing" is exactly what makes it work for my life now.
It fits in the front pocket of whatever I'm wearing. Not a jacket pocket, just a regular one. Jeans, joggers, whatever. It's there before I've even thought about it. And when something happens, when my kid does that thing with her face, when the light goes strange, when a moment appears out of nowhere the way moments do, I don't have to unzip anything, dig through anything, or choose a lens. I just shoot.
The image quality isn't a compromise either. That's the thing people miss when they look at the specs. The GR punches in a way that has nothing to do with its size. But honestly, even if it didn't, the tradeoff would still be worth it. A sharp photo I missed because I left the camera at home beats nothing.
This is a camera built for real life. Which is probably why photographers who used to carry a lot end up with one.
The DJI Action 6 and the End of Precious
Vlogging changed for me when I became a dad. It used to be something I could set up, find the angle, check the frame, and take a second pass if the clip wasn't right. There was space to be deliberate about it.
That space is gone now. And honestly, good riddance.
The DJI Action 6 fits the version of vlogging I actually do these days—quick clips. Real moments. The kind of stuff that happens fast and doesn't repeat. You pull it out, you get the shot, you move on. No setup, no second take, no standing around while life waits for you to find your light.
It's not precious. That's the whole point. I'm not treating every clip like a production, I'm just documenting what's in front of me. The stabilization does the heavy lifting, so the footage doesn't look like it was shot by someone who had somewhere else to be. And the form factor means it disappears into whatever we're doing. It's not a camera day. It's just a day, and the camera happened to be there.
That shift, from vlogger with a setup to dad with a small camera, changed what my content actually looks like. Less produced. More true. I'll take that trade every time.
The EDC Edit
The camera philosophy bled into everything else I carry. Same logic, applied consistently.
I used to have a bag that had layers. Things inside things. A "just in case" section that was basically a museum of optimistic intentions. A portable charger I never needed, cables for devices I didn't have with me, and a notebook I was always about to start using.
Now it's phone, keys, wallet, AirPods, and the GR camera if I'm going anywhere worth shooting. That's most days if it's a longer day out, maybe a small pouch with a spare battery and a charging cable.
Every item in my kit now has to earn its spot. Not theoretically, actually. Meaning I've reached for it when I needed it. Meaning it's proven itself in real conditions, not hypothetical ones.
The things that didn't make the cut weren't bad. They just weren't necessary. And unnecessary weight, whether it's in a bag or in a camera system, costs you something. It costs you speed. It costs you willingness. Eventually, it costs you the shot or the moment because you decided not to bring it all.
Less stuff means you actually bring the stuff.
Constraint as a Creative Filter
Here's what nobody tells you about simplifying your kit: it doesn't limit your creativity. It focuses on it.
When you have fewer choices to make, you make better ones faster. One camera means you learn that camera, its quirks, its limits, the way it renders light in certain conditions. You stop second-guessing your gear and start trusting it. And trust is a faster path to good work than options are.
Same with the EDC. When you're not managing what you're carrying, you're just living. You're in the moment instead of the inventory.
I didn't choose compact cameras to be minimalist for their own sake. I chose them because they fit my life as it actually is, not as I wish it were, or as it used to be. A life with a kid in it. A life where time is genuinely scarce, and presence actually costs something.
The gear adapted. The photos got better. And I don't miss the bag.
