How Switching from Canon to Fujifilm Helped Me Fall Back in Love with Photography

For a long time, photography was something I did because people asked. Not because I was excited to pick up a camera or because I wanted to create something meaningful. It slowly shifted into work. Good work, sure, but still work. Eventually I realized I wasn’t shooting for myself anymore, and somewhere along the way, the joy faded.

What I didn’t expect was that changing camera systems would be the thing that brought me back. Moving from Canon to Fujifilm did more than update my gear. It revived my creativity, changed the way I shoot, and reminded me why I loved this craft in the first place.

The Canon Years and a Style Built in Lightroom

I started on the Canon T3i and worked my way up through the 60D and the 5D Mark III. Those cameras were solid. Reliable. Familiar. There was nothing wrong with them at all. But the way I learned to use them shaped how I thought about photography.

Back then, most of my style was created in Lightroom. This was the VSCO era before the app existed. VSCO was a pack of presets you bought and loaded into Lightroom, and I was all in on them. Heavy film looks. Deep blue shadows. Crushed blacks. Muted tones. I pushed my images hard in post because that was how I figured out what I liked.

My process became a cycle. Shoot as many photos as possible so I didn't miss anything. Hope I captured something interesting. Get into Lightroom and do most of the creative work there. My framing was fine, and I had an eye for composition, but the real look did not happen until long after the moment had passed.

Over time, that approach started to chip away at my enjoyment. Photography began to feel like a job that lived inside a computer screen. It lost the tactile, creative spark that made me fall in love with it in the first place.

The Slow Drift Into Burnout

There was a stretch of time where I barely picked up my camera unless someone asked. Looking back, I can see how far I had drifted from the passion that originally got me into all of this. Photography became something people expected from me because I had the gear, not because I was inspired.

That feeling got even stronger when I went to work for a car dealership in Louisville, Kentucky. I was shooting for a Chevy, Volkswagen, and Subaru dealership, and part of my job was to drive each car into a photo bay and capture the same twenty five photos of the same twenty five angles. Every single day. Hood shot. Side profile. Interior wide. Steering wheel. Wheel close-up. Repeat. Occasionally I would film a walk-around or a quick how-to video, but even those were more about utility than creativity.

It was commercial photography in the most literal sense. Functional. Necessary. But there was no soul in it. No style. No room for interpretation. It was about presenting a car as clearly as possible, not making art. After months of repeating the same motions, photography felt like a chore instead of a craft. That season drained me more than I realized at the time, and it pushed me further away from the joy I used to feel behind the camera.

The Conversation That Changed Everything

Right around the time I was feeling all of this, I talked with one of my best friends Luke.

Luke and I had fallen in love with photography around the same time in high school, and we would often go to Downtown Louisville and take photos of architecture or each other in very bizarre poses on brick walls thinking that we were artistic geniuses. Sometimes we would go to Luke's all-brick loft in Butchertown and take moody software-founder-style headshots on his leather couch with just one or two lamps to light the room. We thought it was basically our own personal studio.

By this time, he had moved out to the Pacific Northwest, shooting for brands like Filson and living in that world of rugged outdoor photography and creating work that felt alive. I asked him what camera system I should move to, figuring he would have a good read on where things were headed.

He told me I should either go Sony or Fuji. Then he paused for a second and asked me a question I was not expecting. He said, Are you going to be doing more commercial work, or more artistic work and home videos and pictures for yourself?

I told him the truth. I wanted something for myself again. Something artistic. Something fun. As soon as I said that, he told me to go with Fuji.

I have not regretted it for a single moment.

Then I Picked Up a Fujifilm

Switching to Fuji was not a dramatic, emotional decision. Honestly, I just wanted to try something new, and Luke’s advice pushed me in the right direction. Fuji cameras looked different, and they reminded me of the film cameras I admired when I was younger. I hoped that maybe a different kind of tool could shake something loose.

I had no idea how right I was.

The joy of physical controls

Fujifilm cameras brought me back to the basics in the best way possible. ISO, shutter speed, exposure compensation, aperture, all right there on physical dials. I was no longer digging through menus. I was adjusting exposure with my hands instead of a tiny wheel buried inside a digital interface.

Having physical controls made me think again. Each shot became intentional. I had to make choices before clicking the shutter instead of fixing everything later. Slowing down brought back a sense of creativity I had not felt in years.

Film simulations and the moment everything clicked

The other revelation was Fuji’s film simulations. For years I tried to recreate film through VSCO presets and heavy edits, but it always felt like I was fabricating a look after the fact. With Fuji, the look happened in the moment. Classic Chrome, Nostalgic Negative, Eterna, all of these simulations carried the exact feeling I had been trying to build in post for so long.

Suddenly, the aesthetic I imagined was showing up on the back of my camera. Editing became more about refining than reinventing. The image felt alive before it even touched Lightroom.

Fuji helped me get intentional again

Using Fuji helped me move away from the spray and pray mentality. Instead of firing endlessly and hoping a good shot was buried somewhere in the batch, I was composing with purpose. Watching the light. Trusting my instincts. I was creating photos, not collecting them.

Photography became an experience again, not a checklist.

How This Changed the Way I Shoot Weddings

This shift overflowed into the way I approach weddings. Before, weddings felt like a marathon where I had to capture everything and rely on editing later to create the style I wanted. Because my look lived in Lightroom, I cared less about what the image looked like straight out of camera.

Now, the look starts before the shutter clicks. Fujifilm helps me create most of my style in camera, and that gives me space to be present with couples. I’m not trying to fix moments later. I’m trying to honor them as they happen.

Editing is faster, cleaner, and more consistent. Weddings are still run and gun at times, but now they feel intentional. Thoughtful. Confident.

I trust my camera. I trust my eye again. And the whole process feels like art.

Rediscovering the Love of the Craft

Switching systems did something I never expected. It helped me rediscover the heart behind why I shoot. Fujifilm brought back the tactile joy, the intentionality, and the film-inspired aesthetic I had been chasing years ago through presets.

It reminded me that photography is not just about the final image. It is about how the process makes you feel. How a camera invites you to work. How the right tool can give you permission to create again.

Photography became fun again. And for me, that changed everything.