Zen and why cameras are making a comeback

For a while there, it seemed like dedicated cameras might either go fully extinct or become such a niche product that you would hardly find anyone using them. Film photography especially was everything but fully dead. For the most part, this whole dynamics were happening due to just one thing — the development of smartphones.

And yet nowadays, despite the fact that smartphones have become insanely good at photography, the whole market seems to have started to turn around - compact cameras are back, digicams are back, and even film photography is so back that Kodak can not keep up with the demand.

I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit recently and have some thoughts on why this is happenings, what it has to do with a 50-year old book, and why I would always prefer using a dedicated camera over a smartphone camera for photography.

Quality (with a capital Q)

I’ve been reading this book lately - Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. In this book, the author challenges the idea that technology is inherently at odds with nature or human fulfillment. In other words, there is nothing unnatural or bad about tech. Cameras in particular are just pieces of metal and glass that enable you to take pictures. Smartphones, by themselves, are just pieces of material that together enable even more functions many of which are arguably great.

The author argues that the problem isn’t the technology itself but rather the intentions and attitudes behind its creation and use. He says, when something is made without care — when it is mass-produced without thought or passion — the result is an object that lacks “Quality” in the philosophical sense he describes. And an important note here is that mass-production itself is not bad as well, it’s just the intentions of those who set it up.

“Neither is ugliness inherent in the materials of modern technology … Mass produced plastics and synthetics aren’t in themselves bad. They’ve just acquired bad associations.

A person who’s lived inside stone walls of a prison most of his life is likely to see stone as an inherently ugly material, even though it’s also the prime material of sculpture, and a person who’s lived in a prison of ugly plastic technology that started with his childhood toys and continues through a lifetime of junky consumer products is likely to see this material as inherently ugly … It’s our habit of assigning Quality to subjects and objects that gives this impression.”

So Quality, according to Pirsig, isn’t just an inherent property of an object but something that emerges in the interaction between the creator of the object, the object itself, and the user, and in the way the object is used and experienced.

Camera vs. Smartphone

Now let’s apply this view on both cameras and smartphones.

A camera is designed with the sole purpose of capturing images, and because of that, it embodies a kind of purity of intention. And you can often feel that the people who create these cameras—engineers who are passionate about optics, sensors, and craftsmanship—do so not only as a means to maximize profit and *engagement* but out of a more deep appreciation for the art and science of photography. In many cases, companies that make cameras, like Fujifilm, Zeiss, or Leica, have other bigger or more profitable divisions, like Fujifilm actually earns only 16% of its revenue from consumer cameras (2024 data) and Zeiss about 15% of revenue from consumer markets (2024 data), but they continue to produce cameras and camera gear even when doing so sometimes goes against pure economic incentives in theory.

And of course it’s not like these companies necessarily LOSE money on cameras or lenses (they usually don’t) and of course they are still corporations so economic incentives are always there, but we could still argue that there are opportunities to either invest time and money in more profitable projects or cut costs so much that we would end up with just one camera and one lens, but somehow we don’t.

Because of this, when you use a dedicated camera, you usually engage with something that was built with a creative spirit nad was intended to be used in a creative way in the first place, and that in turn enhances your own creative process. Some people say that the camera is just a tool, which I don’t agree with, but when you use a camera, it certainly becomes more than just a tool — it becomes part of this creative experience and going back to the book this interplay between you and the object and makes you focus on photography itself. Even if you photograph the most mundane things, it does not really matter, the process remains.

In contrast, using a smartphone for photography is a completely different experience. While modern smartphones are technically advanced and you can technically take amazing pictures with them, they are designed with very different intentions in the first place. Unlike a dedicated camera, which encourages mindful creation and experimentation, a smartphone is engineered to be a general-purpose device. And what’s worse I think, it is meticulously optimized to capture attention and keep users engaged no matter what — and more often than not in ways that are more about mindless consumption that squizes out energy from you than creation.

“Quality, or its absence, doesnt reside in either the subject or the object. The real ugliness lies in the relationship between the people who produce the technology and the things they produce, which results in a similar relationship between the people who use the technology and the things they use.”

When you take a photo with your phone, it is difficult to separate the act of photography from the distractions that the device is designed to facilitate: social media, news, notifications, and endless digital noise. And over time, you build associations with the device that have little to do with creativity and more to do with distraction, anxiety, and addictive engagement. Photography, instead of being a deliberate and enjoyable act, can quickly become just another fleeting and mindless moment in a stream of consumption.

Pirsig’s idea of Quality, with the capital Q, is deeply relevant here. A camera, designed with purpose and used with intention, allows you to experience photography as a high-quality activity — something that fosters creativity, focus, and joy. A smartphone, on the other hand, diminishes that Quality by turning photography into just another function among many, stripping it of depth and meaning. Not always and not for everyone, but still more often than not. So in the end, the difference between using a camera and using a smartphone isn’t really about image quality or technical specifications — it’s about the mindset, and the long-term relationship you build with the act of photography itself.

So in general, when tools are made without real passion or understanding of their purpose, they lose their sense of Quality. I believe smartphone camera, no matter how advanced, will never fully replace the experience of a dedicated camera.

Epilogue

This idea doesn’t just apply to cameras — it extends to many single-purpose devices. In an age where smartphones and tablets are designed to do everything, there’s a growing tendency to view dedicated tools as unnecessary, even obsolete. But single-purpose devices often carry a level of craftsmanship, intention, and Quality that multi-purpose gadgets simply don’t. A dedicated music player, for example, is designed purely for the best possible listening experience, just as a mechanical keyboard is built for the joy of typing, or a many cameras for the tactile, deliberate process of photography. These objects encourage a deeper connection between the user and the activity itself.

Yet, tech companies today — especially those in the smartphone industry — seem intent on eliminating these kinds of objects. They push an all-in-one philosophy, where everything is collapsed into a single device, removing the need (or even the possibility) for deeper engagement with a specific tool. A perfect example of this mindset was Apple’s controversial iPad ad, where a hydraulic press crushes musical instruments, paint, a camera, books, and even a record player — reducing all of these creative tools into a single flat, digital screen. I think tthe message was clear there: why have all these things when you can have just one? But in doing so, they also strip away the physicality, the craftsmanship, and the personal connection that comes from using a well-made, single-purpose object.

So in the end, all of this is exactly why I think photography in general and digicams and film photography in particular are making a comeback. The same reason vinyl records, typewriters, and other analog tools are resurging. In a world where Quality is being stripped away from literally everything in favor of optimization and addiction, many people instinctively start to push back by reconnecting with things that feel, even if a little bit, more real, immersive, and intentional — like photography.