The first camera I ever owned was an Olympus digital. Maybe five megapixels. The shutter eventually gave out, but I still regret not keeping it, broken as it was.

Photography kept finding me. During my design degree, I discovered the darkroom: technique, chemistry, enlargers, and the kind of image theory that makes you look at pictures differently forever. Then came the lomography phase, which I'll admit was my designer brain's way of making excuses. Why learn the language when you can just blame the light leaks?

My girlfriend, now my wife, ran a photography blog for years. So there was always something new nearby: a fresh roll of film, a camera to borrow, a photographer to fall down a rabbit hole over. I was enchanted, but I kept my distance.

What I could never deny was this: cameras and lenses are the most ingenious, beautiful things we've ever made. Not cars, not planes. Cameras. Which probably explains why the collection keeps growing, year after year.

But collection vinyls dont't make you a musician. And letting the blur be the point was my way of avoiding the real work, of not giving photography the attention it deserves.