Are Monochrome Cameras Necessary?
Shibuya Station, Tokyo, Japan.
Are Monochrome Cameras Essential?
In photography, monochrome cameras stand out for their unique ability to capture images in shades of black and white, delivering striking contrast and depth. While many photographers opt for traditional colour cameras, the benefits of monochrome cameras cannot be overlooked. They enhance detail and textures, allowing for a more immersive viewing experience. Furthermore, monochrome imagery often conveys emotion and storytelling in a way that colour sometimes cannot. Investing in a monochrome camera can elevate your photography and enhance your creative expression, making it an essential tool for serious photographers.
While some of that may be true, my perspective, old school as it may be, is the right tool for the job. I shot a lot of black-and-white and previsualized in black-and-white, so it makes so much sense to shoot that way.
For many years, I used a custom black-and-white colour profile for the Nikon cameras I shot with. This allowed me to see what I envisioned on the LCD. It worked well in the field; however, it didn't hold up in Adobe Lightroom. I could apply a black-and-white preset to the images during the upload stage, but they never looked quite right. I had tight control over colour management and a rather expensive, regularly calibrated monitor.
I had to start the creative process from scratch. I have several images, and I know some of them would work well in black and white. Each editing session involved a lot of trial and error. I even used Nikon’s proprietary software to help me achieve the vision I originally had in mind. While I found ways to make it work, it was cumbersome. This became a creative roadblock, as the volume of work I produced far exceeded the time I had available to create it.
The Answer: Shoot in Colour.
Creatively, this option was a revelation, opening my heart to new avenues of photographic possibilities and one I would not trade for anything. However, this did not allow me to follow my heart. I trusted the process before me and continued to shoot colour, learning a great deal, but something was always missing. It was black, white and infinite shades of gray between the two.
The Answer: Shoot Black and White. Struggle.
Honestly, this worked well for many years. It was imperfect, but it worked. I learned that no amount of hardware or software will consistently create better black-and-white images than capturing them with a monochrome source. This statement is bold, and there is room for argument. I understand; as stated above, I spent some time working through all those options in some situations, they are found to be lacking.
I understand the challenges of achieving the perfect image, especially when converting colour to black and white. I've experienced the satisfaction of creating stunning images and prints with a colour sensor that some people (myself included) might not even recognize as different from a black-and-white sensor. It's fascinating to think that in a double-blind test, most individuals might be unable to distinguish between the two.
My journey has involved numerous attempts at this process, starting with Adobe Photoshop, where I relied on simple methods like grayscale and desaturation. Back then, we had no Lightroom or advanced plugins—just a single slider and a contrast curve to work with. Camera RAW wasn’t even on the radar.
I've navigated through many iterations, invested in various plugins, and watched an endless array of tutorials in search of the ideal outcome. While each step has brought me closer, I can empathize with the feeling that none of them quite reached the level I envisioned. It can be a frustrating journey, but every effort brings valuable lessons along the way.
What are Those Lessons?
There is quite a list; however, many depend on gear, skill level and vision. First, and most important, is previsualization as a street photographer. The second is shooting at a higher ISO with consistent results.
For me, previsualization is about what you see or feel in a moment. I must maintain that same feeling during the editing process. The image becomes lost data when the shooting and editing experiences don't align. This happened too often when working with colour sensors. I found that the sensation of rescuing an image, rather than creating one, was overly prevalent, and that’s something I can't accept.
Creating art constitutes 95% of my experience while sharing it constitutes just the remaining 5%. That sharing experience is meant for the viewer, not for myself.
One of the main reasons for the rescued image syndrome is the poor performance of colour sensors at high ISOs. I am fortunate to have shot with many brands' premier camera bodies, often of which the main selling point was high ISO performance. The problem was and is still the same: Lifting shadows at high ISO is a noisy, grainy, and messy proposition. Grain is fine; noise is not. There are many plugins for noise reduction and black-and-white conversion, and masking is made easy now. They all have their place but are not in my everyday workflow.
What is The Answer?
Most people's current cameras work just fine for making black-and-white images. However, for those who primarily see in black-and-white, a camera with a monochrome sensor is the answer. I see, feel, or have some kind of artist’s intuition that my camera can also see. This consistency provides a path for me to create with the least resistance, which, in turn, leads to my best work. More importantly, it is the best experience for creating. I make art for me because it is all I know how to do; I can only hope someone may enjoy it.
What is The Right Tool?
The right tool helps you fulfill your vision. For me, it is Leica Q2 Monochrom. It gets as close to my vision as I have experienced. When I am on the streets of Tokyo, it captures what I am feeling. At home, the editing experience puts me right back into the moment. The sense of freedom is hard to explain—all feeling.
For me, a necessity.
Lecia Q2 Mononchrom. Reflection of Shibuya crossing on a phone booth.
