Creative: How I Got Here (Nikon)

Daniel Milnor

April 2

I graduated high school in 1987. My friend David convinced me to sign up for a four month merchant marine "experiment." (I have some great stories about Dave and this little "experiment" for a later date.) While onboard, I witnessed the official merchant marine photographer. He was a much higher rank, which meant he would never give me the time of day, but what he did give me was a chance to observe. This was the first photographer with intention I had ever seen. And I could not figure out what he was doing. He kept moving in odd ways at odd times, and wherever we were, he tended to be in the opposite direction.

Hammering pure gold at White Sands, winter/spring 2024. The images I made on this won't be shared until the book is complete which will mostly likely be several years from now.

I did what all eighteen year olds do. I cursed him. "That guy is a FREAK man," I said. "Just look at him." (I'm imagining I said this but can't prove it.) But slowly over the months at sea, I began to play closer attention to his man. Nikon FA in his hands, one lens only. And then I figured out what was going on. He was moving with the light.

"That's it," I thought. This crazy bugger is moving based on how the light is hitting his subject matter. I dug my point-and-shoot camera out of my locker and gave it a go, attempting to mimic the behavior. One of my roommates shaved his head. Another introduced me to The Cult, which I will forever be thankful for. And yes, there were an astounding number of drunken escapades while on liberty. Turn a shipload of eighteen years olds loose on an unsuspecting city like Rio and good things are bound to happen. (I have stories I can't tell here, that is for sure.) Oh, and one of my other roommates disappeared never to be seen again.

This trip is what planted the practical photography seed.

The Larry Burrows essay "Yankee Papa 13," had planted the IDEA of photography years before, but this was the first time I had camera in hand and film to burn. After returning home, I dug an old Ricoh camera out of my parent's closet. It had one of those trippy, 1970s, super wide straps that had two film canisters attached to it. Like Dennis Hopper in Apocalypse Now only without the cool. I was feeling it.

And then, somehow, I ended up with a Nikon N2020. The only bummer, I didn't have an autofocus lens. Or if I did, I never figured out how it worked. I walked our suburbia neighborhood looking for images, all shot from the street. I climbed to the roof of our house and shot a sunset, an image I thought was potentially the greatest image ever made. With transparency no less. I bragged, explained my mastery of photography to anyone who would listen, and began hunting for a photo vest to complete the facade.

Around this same time, my complete academic failure of a father decided it was his life's mission to determine the fate of his youngest son. "You need to tell me what you are doing to do for the rest of your life, and I need to know right now or there is gonna be trouble," he said. "But dad, Miami Vice is on," I replied while preparing to parry his hook kick. Frustrated, he took me to a career guidance counselor who gave me a three hour test that was guaranteed to determine what I was destined to become. Three hours later, this same man returned. He was ranting, talking to himself and waving his arms as is to signal our little experiment was over. "I've never seen anything like this," he sobbed. "Never, not in all my years."

He turned the results around and nearly every category of every job known to the history of our species was piled up at the bottom of the page in a muddled heap. The rest of the page was entirely blank except for the top two lines. The first read, "photojournalist," and the second, "private investigator." For a brief moment I saw myself in South Florida with a Smith .45, pastel suit and black Daytona, but realized that job was taken. So my mind slowly shifted over the "photojournalist." Hmm, maybe, just maybe.

And then a long list of odd things happened. I will spare you. Just know I ended up at San Antonio College where I met someone named Jerry Townsend. Jerry was a journalist. Jerry knew photography. Jerry treated me like a staff photographer from day one, even when I admitted I didn't know how to control exposure. Jerry gave me a scholarship. Jerry put me on assignment on the first day. And Jerry said "Go buy a Nikon FM2, NOW!" This, my friends, is how this Nikon chapter began. (I shot a year of assignments with the FM2.)

At this time, everyone I knew shot Nikon. Canon's autofocus was fast approaching, and their 2.8 zooms, but at this moment in photo history, it was King Nikon. I would eventually go on to work with the Nikon F3, F4, and even the F6.(Between the newspaper and freelance, I probably shot five hundred different assignments.) And then I found Leica where I spent the bulk of the next twenty five years. (And Hasselblad film, Canon digital.) But I kept my F3HP and FM2T. Tucked away in my photo go-bag, just in case a Central American struggle came to be. (The 1980s, Central America did a complete number on me. See Salvador and Under Fire.) And yes, by this time I had a photo vest, and full disclosure, I did put red tape on one camera and even around the lens hood. I had convinced myself this was critical for making rapid fire decisions under intense pressure even though I was mostly photographing pet of the week and city council meetings.

By 1997 or 1998, I was living in Los Angeles working for Kodak Professional. We had this beautiful art deco apartment with birthday cake plaster and purple and black tile. I was smoking the occasional cigarette, wearing a scarf at all times, and my entire miserable life was about photography. And we did a lot of entertaining. One night a friend came over. He was a Nikon rep on a first date. We ate dinner, talked, no big deal.

Fast forward to 2023. That first date stuck, and that same guy, according to my sources, is now married to that same person, and is still with Nikon, much to my pleasant surprise. Because I had found the Nikon Zf. As many of you know, I don't do much gear talk because I'm more interested in the end result, but because my gear talk makes certain fragile people lose their mind, I figured I would explain how my Nikon situation came to be. (Up until a month ago, I had seven camera systems.) I've always been agnostic about gear. Use what you want, just make sure you ACTUALLY USE IT.

Within a day or two, I knew the Nikon Zf was a solid fit for my needs, but my original reason for purchase was nostalgia.

That's it. I started my real work with an FM2 and this ZF camera reminded me of that. A pleasant memory. The more I used the Zf the more I realized it was an extremely fun, capable camera. Yes, yes, I still have my Fuji system, and I still use my Fuji system but I have to create a wide range of material for a wide range of client, so I'm often using multiple system at the same time, at least when I'm working from a vehicle.

Once I determined I wanted the ZF to be the camera I carried on a daily basis, I found myself semi-stuck because of my birding interest. To do my "normal" stuff, and do my work stuff, I was faced with needing to carry two different systems at all times. This is a real issue, especially when I'm traveling. I realized if I wanted to venture out with just the Nikon I needed a second body and second lens. Enter the Z8 and 180-600mm. Now I can venture out with Nikon or Fuji and not have to worry to about mixing up batteries or other components.

I'm about to leave for a van-based project and I will have both full systems with me because I need one for stills and the other for motion, and a second person will be assisting with the filming. One of my biggest challenges is making enough content to fill the asks I'm getting from the mothership. I'm on the hook to make an eight-film series. That is a huge amount of content, and nearly impossible for me to create alone. My wife often works with me as well and she loves the Fuji system, and she is familiar with it.

As for menus and lens elements and all the specs. I really don't care. The Nikons just work, and they allow me to make my pictures without thinking too much about the camera itself. The tech side doesn't interest me all that much, and you certainly don't want me doing some sort of technical review. I venture out with visuals goals and do what I can to realize those goals. Most of the time, I fail. That's the truth. Occasionally, I get lucky. The misses hurt but drive me to return to the field to try again. My style of photography is one frame, high risk, low success, mostly luck based work that is tied to time and access. I don't shoot a lot of static objects.

The limitations of the Nikon system are based entirely around my limitations.

The same could be said for my laptop, my iPad, my Salsa Fargo Ti and my beloved Royal Enfield. "User error." I've not yet met the photographer who can outperform the Nikon Zf or Nikon Z8. They don't exist. It is easy to complain these days. "I can't believe this Z8 doesn't have a radar detector built in because I'm in a hurry people," but just think about how far we have come. These cameras are beyond our wildest expectations. Bird detect autofocus? Are you kidding me?

Now you need a little tough love. Go. Just go. Now. Go out and use your camera. Whatever camera that is, use it. If you have yet to decide on a camera, then by all means have a look at what Nikon has on tap. If you want budget, simple, cool, a bit retro, try the Zf. If you are future proofing your career, then aim at the Z8. But whatever decision you make, you must use the machine itself. Every chance you get. Photography isn't about the Zf or the Z8, ultimately. Photography is about light, timing, and composition, and the best camera is the one you never have to think about.

DISCLAIMER: I am about to give my first ever talk for Nikon and Creative Photo Academy at Paul's Photo.(Met Mark Comon in 1997 when I worked for Kodak in LA. Another backstory.) As many of you know, I'm not one to cater to the gear review crowd. I have always been more interested in the end result of a camera than the camera itself. When I mentioned giving a talk for Nikon, and that there was a backstory, which you have read above, some people wet themselves in a rage of "Oh, you are just like the gear review people you hate." Another reason why YouTube is in my rearview mirror. To those people, go away. You will be much happier somewhere else. Don't need ya. The Nikon kit works for me, but what works for me may or may not work for you. Could be cost, size, etc. I am in no danger of becoming a Nikon spokesperson. My talk is about how we can use the principles of the Enlightenment to talk about why I chose to add these cameras to my mix. Does this sound like a normal gear review talk? Didn't think so.