A while back I bought a new camera specifically to work on a new project posted here on the website. It was expensive (since I’m an engineer, everything seems to be) and unnecessary. Photography has been a practice of mine for years, so I already have all the tools. Yet, I convinced myself that a more modern camera would be helpful given the scale of prints I wanted to install.

Not that I needed to justify anything, but there were other reasons to explore new options. Trying to untether my life from a phone was a big one; honestly, boredom was another.

Before purchasing the new Hasselblad, I did the research that maybe most people would do who are in the market and never used one. Unbeknownst to me, they are made in Sweden, which meant I could saturate my brain with the words of others experienced with the camera before it arrived. Let’s just say most reviews are not good and I was concerned.

When we moved to Alaska, we made the same mistake by expecting others to provide insight on a decision already made. That reading and research was a waste of time, too. Turns out I love the new camera and, not only was it the perfect tool for the project that drove its purchase, it is a joy to use. There has never been a moment that I would prefer another camera in its place.

But, this conversation is less about imaging tools than conviction and trust. There is no logic in owning a Hasselblad (or nearly anything); justifying that decision was unnecessary. Why did someone else’s experience influence my thinking and why did I ever reconsider my decisions?

These are the reasons I realize self-correction will be a life-long, dynamic process. We aren’t robots. I should probably altogether stop treating myself like one.