Change touches every part of life. It shows up day by day, month by month, year by year. Most people resist it in one way or another, especially when the change feels inconvenient. Photography is no different. When you’re comfortable with a camera system that once worked beautifully, the thought of learning a new one doesn’t exactly bring joy.
But resisting change has a cost. If photographers before us had refused to change, we’d still be carrying those enormous box cameras from the 1800s. We’d still be making soft, monotone images on metal plates. And color photography might never have happened.
That’s why embracing change matters. Even when it feels a little intimidating, it usually moves us forward. In photography, change brings innovation. It brings learning. It brings new ways to work and new ways to see. When I think about how far we’ve come since the very first photograph, it’s almost unbelievable. And it makes me wonder what photographers a hundred years from now will think of our DSLRs, our lenses, our editing tools. To them, all of this might seem ancient.
But instead of looking that far ahead, let’s look at how change works within the art right now.
Cameras always change. Most photographers get attached to their gear. You find a camera that feels right in your hands, lenses you trust, a system you know without thinking. But eventually something breaks or becomes outdated, and you have to buy something new. Learning that new camera or lens can be frustrating at first, but almost every time, the new gear is better. Higher resolution, cleaner images at high ISO, more features, better flashes, sharper lenses. You may miss the old familiar feel, but the change usually ends up being an upgrade.
Techniques change, too. Every trend introduces something new. Early flashes produced whatever color light they produced, and photographers simply accepted it. Later, manufacturers refined their flashes to make the color more consistent. Then photographers started modifying their flashes with colored gels they had lying around. That experiment turned into a trend, and today those same gels are standard tools. When you look closely, you’ll see this pattern everywhere. Someone tries something new, it catches on, and eventually it becomes a normal part of the craft.
Even the meaning of photographs changes. In the 1800s and early 1900s, post-mortem photography was common among families who could afford it. Loved ones were dressed and posed after death, and those images were treasured keepsakes. Today we look at those photographs very differently. They feel unsettling and eerie because we no longer have the emotional connection people once had to them. And this isn’t limited to old photos. The meaning of anyphotograph can shift depending on who views it and when they see it. That’s part of what keeps the art alive. It continues to provoke new thoughts long after the shutter clicks.
And that’s why I’m grateful photography isn’t static. Every new step forward gives us better tools, more knowledge, and improved methods. Change keeps viewers engaged and keeps us growing. It gives the art new energy each time something shifts.
So the next time a new piece of gear frustrates you, or a new technique feels unfamiliar, remember that change is what brought photography to where it is today. And it’s what will carry it into the future.
