It shouldn’t matter which camera you use, but the truth is the make and maker make us swoon. For years my self was satisfied to possess a Hasselblad — a contrivance so reputable I could never afford the lenses, so revered that, at least until the collapse of the analog market, I could trade it for a used car. Mercifully my ’blad no longer lords its value over me. I needn’t care for what it wants.

My suggestion for any new camera you might acquire — whether factory fresh or just fresh to you — is to forget about it. Shirk it off to a shelf to gather dust, or if it’ll fit toss it in a jumble drawer, if not then gambol it to the garage. Doesn’t matter really, box it up and bury it in the ground if that’s what’ll get it out of sight. If you can’t keep it out of mind then best lend it indefinitely to an untrusted friend.

Should your photographic needs be more immediate then drop it, more then once, hard, to the ground. Bang it against a door jam, leave it out in the rain, drown it in the lake. Resist the feel of the sleek lines in your hand, the possibilities of its capabilities, the rigor mortis of its engineering. What you wanna do is make it known who’s in charge.

Some day I hope to own an Ebony view camera. Likely never make a picture with it.