The Long Way Around to Simple

I was late to realize how often the camera I needed was already in my pocket.

People often ask me about equipment—favorite lenses, accessories, camera bodies—but I’ve never been the photographer who obsesses over gear. I’m more concerned with the picture. My answer usually disappoints: my favorite camera is the one that’s closest to me.

Other people will have their own preferences. These just happen to be the cameras that taught me something.

For a long time, phone cameras were not of interest to me. While most people were using smartphones I was still brandishing an old Motorola flip phone.

I had my Nikon bodies, my lenses, my habits developed over decades. Photography, in my mind, still involved intention, preparation, and carrying something heavy. A phone didn’t quite fit that definition.

But eventually, almost reluctantly, I started using an iPhone 5.

At first, it felt like a convenience more than anything else. Something to make a quick note of a scene, maybe a reference image I’d come back to later with “real gear.” But over time, something shifted. The files held up. The exposure was more reliable than I expected. And more importantly, it was always there.

I started noticing how often I would have otherwise missed a photograph entirely.

Walks in the Delta, unplanned stops, light breaking through in the middle of an ordinary afternoon—the iPhone 5 became a reliable companion. No fuss, no setup. Just a camera in my pocket, barely noticeable.

One of those moments, photo below, ended up in my traveling exhibit, Delta Grandeur, printed at 16×20.

I went out to the Cosumnes River Preserve with Joanna. She was painting a landscape with oils and canvas, and I decided to take a walk. I left my “real” camera in the car and walked about a quarter mile into the marsh with just the phone in my pocket.

The scene opened up in front of me, soft afternoon light under puffy cumulus clouds reflecting flawlessly in the smooth water. I considered hustling back for the “real” gear until I realized the clouds were moving so quickly that the scene would not be the same upon my return. So I shot a few photographs with the phone without thinking too much about it.

Later, when I enlarged the image, I noticed something I hadn’t seen at the time: a small group of ducks lifting off near the horizon, center near the right side. Tiny, but there. The phone had seen them even when I hadn’t.

That image also made it onto the wall of a favorite collector.

Experiences like that slowly changed my thinking. Not overnight, and not completely, but enough. The iPhone 5 earned its place—not as a replacement for my other cameras, but as something legitimate in its own right. It proved, over and over, that being present mattered more than being prepared.

That doesn’t mean smartphones are everything in photography. When I’m on assignment, the professional gear still matters—lenses, larger sensors, all the finer control that dedicated cameras offer. But phones have become part of that workflow too: smaller, quicker, less intrusive, and often the handiest camera in the moment.

And then I held onto it longer than most people probably would have.

Years went by. Software advanced. And I kept using the same phone. Not out of nostalgia, but because it continued to do what I needed it to do. I wasn’t chasing features. I wasn’t looking for reasons to upgrade.

Eventually, though, the decision was made for me.

The iPhone 5 simply couldn’t keep up anymore. Not with the software, not with the tools that had become part of a modern workflow. It wasn’t a matter of image quality or even preference—it was obsolescence. Practical and unavoidable.

So I moved on. Not eagerly, just realistically.

The iPhone 12 Pro Max was the next step—and for me, it came down to one thing as much as anything else: the ability to shoot RAW files in addition to JPEG. That felt like a bridge between worlds. It meant I could carry a camera in my pocket and still have the kind of file I was used to working with—something I could shape, push, and refine without it falling apart. For the way I work, that wasn’t just a feature. It was the reason to make the leap.

And I’ll admit, it changed things again. Not in a dramatic, gear-driven way, but in a steady, noticeable one. The files have more depth. The dynamic range is broader. It handles difficult light with a kind of confidence the older phone never quite had. It feels less like a compromise and more like a complete tool.

Still, the biggest shift wasn’t technical.

It was realizing that my hesitation all those years ago wasn’t really about the phone—it was about letting go of an idea of what photography was supposed to look like.

The iPhone 5 taught me that I didn’t need to wait until I had the “right” camera. The iPhone 12 Pro Max simply continues that lesson, with fewer limitations.

And now, even this one is starting to feel a step or two behind.

The newer models—up through the iPhone 17—are tempting, no question. The camera improvements alone are enough to get your attention. But I find myself in a familiar place again, weighing need against want. The 12 Pro Max still does what I ask of it. It still fits the way I work.

And besides, we’re only about six months away from whatever comes next.

I can wait.

So when people ask me now what camera I recommend, I still give them the same answer.

The best camera is the one you have with you.

It just took me a while to believe it.

Story and photographs ©Rich Turner