It’s been six weeks since I kicked off this photography journey with my iPhone 13, and blimey, has the landscape shifted! Back then, I was wrestling with mobile limitations and chasing creative sparks. Now, I’m standing at the edge of something bigger, clutching a shiny new (I say new, it’s second hand new) Nikon D5300 DSLR, complete with a 18-55mm VR lens, a 55-200mm, a spare battery, charger, memory card, and a bag to lug it all around. With just 3,572 shots on the clock, this camera’s barely broken in, and I’ll admit, I haven’t fully unleashed it yet. But holding it, feeling the weight, hearing that satisfying shutter click? It’s a thrill that’s got me buzzing, even if I’m still figuring out where to point the bloody thing.

The jump from iPhone to DSLR is a game-changer. My phone taught me to be scrappy and quick, snapping life as it zipped by. The Nikon, though? It’s a different beast, promising control and depth I’ve only dreamt of. Those lenses alone, 18-55mm for wide shots, 55-200mm for zooming in will open up a playground of possibilities. But it’s not all smooth sailing. Manual settings are a maze I’m still navigating, and every twist of a dial feels like a test. I’m itching to master them, to bend light and focus to my will, but right now, it’s a dance of trial and error. The excitement’s tempered by the realisation that this is just the start and I’ve got a steep hill to climb before I’m wielding this kit like a pro.

One thing’s clear already: this gear’s shaking up how I see the world. With my iPhone, I’d dart about, capturing whatever caught my eye. The DSLR demands more, more thought, more intention.

That said, I’ve hit a snag I didn’t expect in repetition. Walking the dog or revisiting familiar haunts, I keep catching myself framing the same old shots, same angles, same scenes. It’s like I’m stuck in a loop, and it’s driving me up the wall. So, I’m fighting back, forcing myself to look harder. A different shadow, a fresh perspective on a tired corner, it’s slow going, but it’s teaching me something vital: creativity’s not just about what’s out there; it’s about how you see it. Every day, I’m finding new slivers of inspiration in the mundane, reminding me why I fell for photography in the first place.

Beyond the gear, I’ve been diving headfirst into the history of this art form in photobooks, articles, the lot. Flipping through classics and reading about pioneering snappers has lit a fire under me. The evolution of documentary styles, the grit of early techniques, it’s all sinking in, giving my own fumbling efforts some context. These legends didn’t just snap pictures; they told stories with light and shadow, and that’s what I’m chasing now. It’s humbling, knowing I’m part of this massive, messy legacy, and it’s pushing me to refine my style with quieter edits, less flash, more soul. I want my images to whisper, not shout, letting the scene’s heart shine through.

The Nikon’s arrival has me dreaming big. I’m desperate to kick off my first proper project, something with focus, not just random photo grabs. After gorging on photobooks and scribbling ideas, I’m teetering on the edge of picking one. Maybe a series on Aberdeen’s daily rhythms, a stab at portraiture, or even something nature-driven that could grow into a photobook of my own. The thought of it as a tangible, cohesive chunk of work sets my pulse racing. It’s not just about snapping pretty pictures; it’s about distilling my world into a story that’s mine. Long-term, I can see myself building a body of work that stands up, something that might one day sit on a shelf next to the books I’ve been poring over.

Of course, this transition’s got its hurdles. Lightroom’s calling my name louder than ever, I’m itching to dive deeper, to tweak and twist every shot into something personal. The iPhone let me dabble, but the DSLR’s bigger raw files are a canvas begging for more. I’m also eyeing a 35mm film camera, there’s a ZORKI 4K rangefinder gathering dust on my shelf, taunting me with its analogue mysteries. I’ve no clue how to work it yet, but the lure of film’s slow, tactile magic is growing. It’s a nod to photography’s roots, a chance to step back and savour the process, and I’m dead keen to give it a whirl once I’ve got the Nikon under my belt.

What’s hitting me hardest this month is the tug-of-war between tech and vision. My iPhone was all spontaneity, point, shoot, tweak, done. Now, with manual controls in play, I’m learning to balance the nuts and bolts with the feelings I want to capture. Every fumble with settings is a step toward that sweet spot where the image matches the mood in my head. I’ve noticed my edits leaning softer, more introspective, maybe it’s the history seeping in, or maybe it’s just me settling into my own skin as a photographer. Either way, it feels right.

Looking ahead, I’m set on turning this gear and mindset into something concrete. No more aimless snaps, I want a theme, a target, a narrative I can chase until it’s sharp and whole. Blending the DSLR’s precision with my iPhone-honed instincts, I’m after projects that pack a punch, technically and emotionally. A small series to start, for practice and learning so that maybe, building up to that photobook dream one day. It’s tantalisingly close, yet miles away, and that tension’s what’s keeping me going. Every tweak in Lightroom, every shaky street shot, it’s all stacking up toward a voice I can call my own.

This journey’s starting to feel like more than a hobby, it’s a path, winding and unpredictable. The DSLR’s a milestone, sure, but it’s the lessons that stick: the way repetition forces fresh eyes, the way history fuels ambition, the way each mistake builds grit. I’m still attached to my iPhone’s scrappy charm, and that ZORKI’s analogue allure is tugging at me, but the Nikon’s where the action is right now. It’s a tool, not the answer, creativity’s still about that curious, open heart I’m trying to keep alive.

These six weeks have been a whirlwind of growth and stumbles. The path’s messy, half the time I’m not sure what I’m aiming for, but every shot adds a brushstroke to this evolving canvas. I’m thrilled by the Nikon’s potential, even if I’m still wrestling with its quirks. I’m fired up for a project that’ll tie this all together, and I’m endlessly inspired by photography’s past and present. For anyone tagging along on Viewfinder Chronicles, I hope this rings true: art’s not a straight line. It’s a tangle of moments, some sharp, some blurry, and I’m chuffed to be in the thick of it. Where’s it leading? Maybe a photobook, projects, maybe just a better me behind the lens. Either way, I’m all in.

Regards

Alex