Single-function devices

I carry my camera, an Olympus OM-D Mark IV, to take pictures. The gadget, a single-function device, doesn't do anything else. It doesn't allow me to share photos directly to Instagram. To transfer the images from the camera to my computer, I need a physical cord. If I read the manual closely, I can activate wireless transfers, but where's the thrill, the ritual, in that? There are better cameras, for sure, such as the Leica Q: superior image quality preferred by photographs like Craig Mod, but it comes in a heftier price. Or the Canon DSLRs: excellent aperture speeds, high quality photographs, but they're bulky. And why don't I just use my iPhone? I do. But photography isn't as enjoyable. I suppose the best camera is the one that I actually use and enjoy.

I like Christopher Butler's essay, Single-function devices in the world of the everything machine, where he writes, "Limitation heightens creation."

Limitations expand our experience by engaging our imagination. Unlimited options arrest our imagination by capturing us in the experience of choice. One, I firmly believe, is necessary for creativity, while the other is its opiate. Generally speaking, we don’t need more features. We need more focus. Anyone working in interaction and product design can learn from rediscovering how older devices engaged the mind and body to create an experience far more expansive than their function.

The holidays are over. Photographs, like journal entries, remind me of the rest I relished these past days.