Reading that previous sentence usually has me thinking it’s going to be a rant about which format is preferred over the other. (I’m a horizontal video person myself, but that’s mainly because that’s what I watch.) This video doesn’t do that. Instead, it addresses concerns that I, as someone who doesn’t freelance, usually never has to consider.
As is my trend, I won’t be summarizing the video here. It’s worth watching, even if the best possible solution (paying for two photographers so you get both shots) is sadly impractical.
Or is it?
I teach students to make video. For the past two years, we’ve partnered with an organization outside the school to do client work for them. If I have more than one student collecting b-roll and a-roll, it’s trivial to have one record horizontally while the other records vertically.
This could lead to some interesting discussions about what to do with the shots, who the target audiences are, and how the aspect ratio affects the compositions.
And also there’s going to be that student that takes the vertical video and edits it so it’s in a horizontal aspect ratio but not cropped, so there’s large black boxes on either side. That’s a whole other discussion.
(This is my twenty-seventh post in a series of entries I’m using to participate in Blaugust for 2026.)
As I type this, I’m watching a well-made documentary about the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster. It’s not on Netflix, Hulu, or even YouTube. Well, maybe it is, but that’s not where I’m watching it.
It also has an option to go to the PBS site for my local station. When I first visited, it defaulted to WETA PBS, which is based out of Virginia. The first choice screen gave me WETA, Maryland Public Television, and Howard University Television (which is based out of D.C.).
Wanting to see what else was there I picked the “More Stations” button, and was prompted to enter a state or zip code. On a whim, I thought I’d check the PBS station I remember watching when I was younger.
Making the selection still gives you access to tons of shows, including documentaries and dramas, but also lets you select from their local shows (Scholastic Scrimmage, local interests, and more).
There’s more than one spot where I’m prompted to donate or sign in to watch additional content, and considering their current changes in funding I don’t fault PBS for this, but the thing is I didn’t know any of this was here.
I mean, I knew PBS was online, but I thought they mostly put selected shows on YouTube or the various paid streaming services.
I’m glad this is here. I need to come back to it more often.
Said nicely, consumers are preferring things made by humans. A bit more rudely, no one wants to pay for AI slop.
This is a lesson I intend to keep in mind as I talk to my students about the tools they can use. They might think AI is great for cutting corners and getting more done, but the end result tends to be media that is less desired than anything else they could have done.
Where I encounter the most AI use is in research and script writing. Students hate those portions the most (at least in my class), so they try to pawn that off on a machine. The results get troublesome when they get dinged for not including sources (or including ones that don’t cover the content researched). I might not be the best at recognizing AI writing, but I can follow a source link just fine.
I’m looking forward to the bubble burst, when anyone wanting to use AI is more likely going to have to pay for the slop they’re getting. According to current data, they won’t be paying for it.
I’m old enough to recall a time when TVs were 4:3 and movies made for big screens were cropped down to that aspect ratio to get them to “fit.”
This was done in two ways: If the person doing the conversion was overworked or lazy, they set a camera up to film the movie and let it run centered for the duration. Any action on the edges was lost, but oh, well.
If the person doing the conversion had the energy and time to do better they would pan their camera to follow the action as it went closer to the left or right of the composition. This required some editorial and aesthetic decisions on their part that might not made with consultation with the original makers of the film.
Later on we got “Letter-boxed” versions that were seen as better because nothing was cropped out, but in the days before HD video being a universal thing this still meant a lot of detail just wasn’t there any more.
I remember cassette tapes, which often had the same album art as records but cropped to be rectangles. Then CDs became more popular and we went back to squares for everything. We still have that legacy, it’s why album art for music today is always a square, even if it’s (almost) all downloads or streaming.
I remember programmers working hard to get their creations to be less than 1.44 MB (technically a little less than that) because if you went over and needed two floppy disks you doubled your distribution costs. The innovations they made because they had to were amazing.
This isn’t a “good old days” or “things are so much better” blog post, but it’s interesting to see how creativity flows to fill the shape of different containers. Sometimes it’s begrudgingly (cassette tapes), other times, like in the article linked above, it’s transformative.
My classroom is a container, regardless of if I want it to be or not. Try as I might, I still have students submit videos where the actual text on the title card is “Project 2” instead of “The Great Escape,” “Bob Finds A Thing,” or anything else that makes it be less “I did this for a grade” and more “I have created documentation of my own creativity.”
In the other extreme, sometimes I have to talk with a student about what “G Rated” means, and why we need to make videos conform to that for the district Film Festival.
(It’s not just because of the student code of conduct, it’s also because elementary students participate so they WILL see the videos. Blood and death are neat and cool to a 13 year old, but perhaps not a good idea to show a 6 year old.)
What I write here is shaped by the container I’m in as a teacher. The content I cover, the words I use, are all done with the understanding that a student, parent, or administrator who knows me will find this website.
It’s happened. Multiple times, in fact. I don’t tell anyone at school where this is and my name’s common enough that Googling me will find other, more famous people first (adding qualifying terms leads to sites maintained by my employer more than anything else) so it would be easy to slide into a false sense of security through obscurity, but then I remember I’ve been found before.
(You’ll notice I never use profanity. I’ll even warn the reader if a link goes someplace that does. This is why.)
Sometimes, when the container/media changes, the art changes with it.
I’ve only a few years remaining before I’m ready for retirement. I’ve thought a little about what that will look like, but I can’t predict how.
I’ll flow into that new container when I get to it, I guess.
The article mentions other options that could have been explored, primarily hiring a local graphic designer and/or photographer. (Do you know you have local graphic designers and photographers? They’re everywhere!)
The response I get when I say something similar is that artists are too expensive, and my knee-jerk reaction is they’d rather lose a lot of customers than pay an artist what they’re worth. It’s an odd business choice, but it’s your business.
But this isn’t helpful. People who don’t have the money don’t have the money, and some small businesses are struggling a lot, especially right now.
Instead, I suggest people who can’t afford artists should do the unthinkable thing that’s older than AI (No, not art theft. The other unthinkable thing older than AI.):
They could just make it themselves.
Cameras are ubiquitous, they likely already have one on their phone and another built into their computer. You take a photo of your business, slap some text over it with a free, web-based editor, and call it a day.
Heck, you could manage this in a copy of MS Paint that was made before Copilot got integrated into it.
“But it won’t look nice,” they say. More frequently, I’m told “Oh, I’m no good at art.”
I have a 4 year art degree and close to 30 years experience teaching it. I say this so that you understand my next statement has some weight and authority behind it: Art that shows effort and interest was applied will always be better than “art” made by writing a prompt. Your “bad” art isn’t actually bad, and the AI “art” isn’t actually art.
(This knowledge is why I can honestly praise a 5 year old for their scribble drawing. At their skill level it’s an amazing accomplishment if their “circle” only has 7 corners. Heck, freehand circles are challenging for adults!)
Sure, the text might not be aligned professionally, and maybe your thumb is visible on the edge of the photo, and it looks like your favorite fonts are Comic Sans and Papyrus, but you know what? That work is yours, and those are mistakes that will be less common the next time you try.
AI art for a business says that not only will you not pay an artist, you don’t want artists to be your customers. Unskilled art says you’re still learning. Not everyone is kind to beginners, true, but they’re wrong for being unkind.
I’m not saying you have to abandon one job to pick up Graphic Design in order to avoid AI use. I’m saying the democratization of digital art creation happened decades ago, and you don’t need a slop factory to make something that’s good enough, so long as you’re willing to try.
Now I do feel somewhat vindicated by seeing Gordon Pritchard, the subject of the article, lists the Nikon P950 (a Coolpix camera) as one of his personal favorites.
(The P950 is a newer model than what I tend to get so you’re looking at a cost, even used, that’s more than a lot of DSLRs and mirrorless cameras, but if you’ve no intention of swapping out lenses this is a good model.)
However the bag he uses … it’s a choice.
Does it work for him? Sure, and that’s what matters. I do not recommend that others do the same.
Ignoring the low durability and environmental impact, plastic bags have a tendency to generate electrical charges. I hesitate to put any electronics in a plastic bag, traditional or the kind you find in the produce section (the kind shown in a photo in the article).
This doesn’t mean I’m saying to spend money on a new, fancy camera bag, though. If you already have ANY kind of fabric bag, I’d go with that first. The best camera bag, just like the best camera, is the one you have on you.
If you’re lucky, you bought a used camera that came with a bag. I’ve had that happen a few times, but as much as I love ShopGoodwill.com I wouldn’t send you there to get a bag. Whatever you end up paying for one as the winning bid, you’ll likely pay more for shipping. I don’t consider that worth it.
My local Goodwills will usually have a shelf, stack, or in one specific location, pile of backpacks that are amazingly inexpensive.
Will these be ideally constructed to protect camera gear? No, but the ones that aren’t 100% plastic will be less prone to static buildup, easily carry a camera and related equipment, be more durable, and as they’re usually opaque, keep others from noticing it’s a camera you’re lugging around in there.
Perhaps you’ll get lucky and find a fancier bag built for camera use, but don’t sweat it if you don’t.
Just … maybe don’t use a grocery bag to carry a camera around.
(This is my nineteenth post in a series of entries I’m using to participate in Blaugust for 2026.)
It has been said that every hobby is a bottomless pit that one tries to fill with money, and there’s some truth to that. Even one of my favorite hobbies, Tabletop Role-playing Games, can be done with virtually no overhead using free rules and a dice rolling app on your phone, but don’t ask how much I spent on TTRPGs last year.
(Spoiler: Part of the problem is AI. Shocker, I know.)
I’m going to skip all of the reasons (Leonard Skapp does a thorough job, there), but suffice to say I’ve had a need for getting inexpensive cameras more often than most people.
As a digital media teacher I have the additional problem of not needing merely one camera, but enough so that students don’t need to share too much.
And then of course there’s students who want to take photos at home, because they actively enjoy the subject. They aren’t all independently wealthy, so how are they going to manage that?
Thrifting can be another bottomless pit hobby, and I’ve lost a few Saturday mornings learning this. It isn’t something I recommend (at least the way most people do it) because you’re going to use a lot of time and gas going from store to store for not a lot of reward. In this economy, you’ll burn all of your savings away on fuel costs.
As the gentleman behind the Farming While Beige YouTube Channel has pointed out on occasion, people who are strapped for cash are going to be working instead of using up their time trying to find the best deals.
The Simplest Solution
So here’s the baseline: If you have a phone with a camera, you don’t have to spend a dime. You can start taking photos now.
That’s it. There’s no price point that’s a minimum entry fee to become a photographer. If you take photos, you are one, and gatekeepers don’t get a say unless they’re drawing the line at AI use.
… Hm. You’re still here.
You probably want something more involved than a phone, then.
Bridging The Gap (Do you see what I did, there?)
OK, next step up from a phone is going to be a bridge camera. These are seen as the “in-between” models that bridge the gap (hence the name) between the more simplistic compact cameras and the more advanced DSLRs and mirrorless models.
If it looks like the lens isn’t detachable but the form factor won’t fit in your pocket, it’s a bridge camera.
They’re supposed to be priced between them, also, but with the high demand for “vintage” compacts and DSLRs being DSLRs, the prices for used bridge cameras are remarkably affordable.
Quick And Cheap: KEH
The first place I’d suggest trying is KEH.com. It’s not where I go, but I’m comfortable absorbing a little risk so that’ll be the next option further down.
ShopGoodwill.com is nice because it’s like Ebay, but all of the sellers are Goodwill stores based around the US. I’ve been burned exactly once by a fraudulent listing on Ebay, that’s never happened with Goodwill.
The featured image above is a recent Goodwill find, in fact. It has a 16 megapixel sensor, 30x optical zoom, and while the microphones aren’t the best it’ll record the lower end of HD video. I paid $35, including shipping costs.
At this point when I’m looking for bridge cameras I specifically search for the Coolpix line. They have a good form factor, appear to be workhorses, and many of the older models can run off of 4 AA batteries. (I buy rechargeable Lithium batteries to keep the long-term costs down.)
I’ve still wasted money, there, but that can be avoided with a few ground rules.
The Rules of Acquisition Shopping Goodwill Online
Use the filters. At the time I’m writing this, the filters are over on the left hand side. Even if you only use them to limit your category and set a maximum price you’re willing to pay, this will save you a LOT of time and aggravation.
Sometimes I’ll limit my search by adding Coolpix as a search term. There’s lots of good brands and models out there but I’ve had good luck with those and it limits my time spent browsing through entries.
Always check the shipping estimate. This isn’t Amazon Prime. I’ve found shipping for cameras tends to be around $15, so when you’re budgeting, assume you’re going to be paying your maximum bid PLUS another $15 on top of that. Even knowing this I’ve still occasionally gotten a bit of sticker shock at checkout.
(Still worlds cheaper than buying new, though.)
Occasionally you’ll find an item that’s local pickup only. It’ll be made clear that’s the case when you look at the shipping info, but in my haste I haven’t always done this. If you’re the winning bid and they’re not shipping it, your options are limited for how to resolve things.
Don’t overbid. As a personal rule I won’t bid more than $25 on a bridge camera or $50 on a DSLR or computer. You’d think this would keep things affordable, and there’s the problem.
At those caps, I’m going to not win most auctions. This is fine, a lost auction costs me nothing and I can always bid again.
But bidding doesn’t cost me anything, either, and it’s easy to bid on too many things with the hope that I’ll win one of them. That’s what happens if I’m lucky, but I could also end up having to pay for 20 more cameras at $25 each plus $15 for shipping. On a teacher’s salary, that hurts.
Look at the pictures, read the description. This sounds like it should be obvious, but there’s a non-zero chance that great deal you think you’re getting is for a non-working camera because you missed the “for parts” or “functionality not tested” text.
When I’m buying bridge cameras for my classroom I specifically want the ones that run off AA batteries because of all the rechargeables I have in my lab. This usually isn’t mentioned in the description, but the photos might show the housing for that as well as if it looks like an alkaline battery ever leaked in there.
Step Away There can be an addictive nature to auctions, with bidding wars and such. When I’m in the market for something, I’ll check once every day or two, around the same time of day, and then close the darned tab. If I have enough active bids to feel uncomfortable I don’t look for more things. This might sound like common sense advice but sometimes one still needs a reminder.
I’ll spend more time looking at the “Open Auctions” section, but that’s where things show up after I have the winning bid.
So there you go, all of my secrets for how I manage to supply my classroom for photography products on the cheap, without spending too much time doing it.
My knee-jerk reaction was of course “Thanks, I hate it” because I don’t like the idea of tying my identity to a brand or product, but the article wasn’t about selling ad space to companies so much as it was promoting self-branding, and now there’s a company that prints custom images on lens caps.
I think this is neat, but not because I intend to use this service. (I’m on a teacher budget, after all, and I’m buying enough things for my classroom.)
Branding is, unfortunately, everywhere. Our lens caps already have manufacturer logos on them, as do the cameras, monitors, computers, keyboards, mice, and I’m going to stop the list here. This was particularly “fun” when our rules for our district level Film Festival forbade any trademarked logos from being shown on-camera.
(Things are a bit more relaxed, now, but a lot of the tech from back then still has tape over the marketing, because it was more efficient to use a bit of tape once than to apply a blur effect to each shot.)
Here’s the thing: Our classes can have their own branding. Most schools have mascots and logos already. My department has a district-wide logo used on all of our press releases and event signage. On the school level, I design a new variation each year and we silkscreen t-shirts for the students.
(I also cut a lot of vinyl stickers with my Cricut, though I won’t recommend that brand due to my experiences.)
Having branding for your classroom can help to promote a group identity, and while practice makes the act of logo creation easier, one doesn’t need a lot of skill to get started.
“But Aaron,” you say, “I’m no good at art, how could I manage to do this?”
I have students making logos as young as 3rd Grade with a simple web-based vector editor. They take an image and add some words to it. Done.
“But Aaron, it’s not going to POP without a cool graphic, and I’ve no skill with making those!”
(H&R Block couldn’t manage it either, you’ll be fine.)
This one’s trickier. You could go my route and use a vinyl cutter, though your image will have to be monocolor a free of floating objects. (Floating objects are parts of the design that are not physically attached to the rest of it, so they require additional effort to place correctly after you peel off the backing.)
Me, I like that challenge, but not everyone does.
If you have access to a printer, printer-friendly sticker paper has been around for decades. In a pinch you can use address labels. Being pre-cut is a bonus, though you’re stuck with those dimensions. Visit your office supply store of choice and look for “sticker paper.” You’ll find options.
Now if you don’t mind, I have some stickers to cut out.
(This is my thirteenth post in a series of entries I’m using to participate in Blaugust for 2026.)
Ewen Bell is an Australian professional photographer who appeared on my radar last year when I started spending more time on PeerTube, though he has a podcast and a YouTube presence as well.
Given the same responsibility I wouldn’t stress all the things he does in the same amount, but if photography’s a hobby you’re thinking of diving into, there’s far worse places to start.
Mr. Bell spends a significant amount of time talking about types of gear you can use, and makes a point of bringing up phone cameras.
After all, most of us have them, they’re decent enough these days, and they fit in our pockets! Why not use them for the hobby?
There’s a saying among a lot of photographers: The best camera is the one you have on you. If what you have is a phone, that works. You can lament not having the $30k DSLR with a lens that needs its own insurance policy, or you can take a photo.
My students don’t have phones. Last year we started a school-wide phone ban, and suddenly they had to rely on lab equipment.
We’ve a mix of cameras, with low end but modern DSLRs, ancient but serviceable DSLRs, a handful of compact cameras, and a growing collection of bridge cameras. Because my classroom projects involve a lot of student choice, I have to ask students what they’re working on when they want to borrow a camera.
Someone trying to take photos of silhouettes is more likely to need a DSLR than someone trying to demonstrate an understanding of the Rule of Thirds, for example.
For myself, I’ve barely touched my DSLR since Summer Break started. I love it, and enjoy when there’s a good reason to use it, but it has a lot of settings to manage.
Don’t get me wrong, that’s why I bought it. I WANT it to have those settings. The downside is that when I’m using it, I’m in the mindset that has me thinking about those settings, trying to get the best photo possible.
That’s great for the results, but lousy for being THERE. I’m doing a job with the camera, not soaking in the moment.
This summer, I’ve had a few opportunities to go places and see things. Most of these involved family who live across a state border. I didn’t bring my DSLR, I brought my Camp Snap Pro.
(This isn’t an ad for Camp Snap. There’s other cameras that can fit the niche of being a compact camera built to take photos but not distract you while you use it to take photos. Some of them do a better job, some are worse. It just so happens that Camp Snap is the one I’ve been using.)
My phone will take a better photo. It has a bigger sensor (not by much), better lenses, and a not insignificant amount of software that tries to clean things up before I even see what I took, but I don’t trust it. The more my phone does to make my pictures pretty, the less the photo can be called my own.
The draw for using my phone is convenience – it’s the best camera if I have no other camera at hand.
The draw for the Camp Snap and others like it is it’s simple enough to be cheap and not a distraction from the life experiences you’re documenting.
The draw for a DSLR (or mirrorless) camera is the significant control you get over everything.
Mr. Bell spends most of his time talking about DSLR/mirrorless gear, because that’s seen as the end goal. If you’re a professional or serious hobbyist, that’s where you’re going to go, and for the most part he’s not wrong.
There’s something to be said for other paths, though. I don’t wave a finger at someone using a phone to take a photo.
I might make a face at someone using a DSLR on the Auto setting, but that’s just force of habit.
Now Oz Alon is a CEO if a business management platform so I’m looking at this article as more of an ad than a photo news story, but the idea that it’s hard to make ends meet by just doing wedding photography is not too much of a stretch for me.
I’ve been teaching at a K-8 arts academy for almost 20 years, now. When I started, I just taught elective classes. There was barely any photography, no videography to speak of (On 32 bit computers? Surely, you jest!), and the initial job description that I was told to go beyond only mentioned Microsoft Office products as my content area.
There were students making videos, but that was the purview of the TV Production teacher.
Move forward a couple years and budget cuts hit hard. I remember furloughs. It wasn’t a good time. In the shake-up, the TV Production department (our art department with the lowest enrollment) was cut and I inherited those students.
I started out trying to copy what they’d been doing. I had some experience with video at that point (I’d been posting videos here for a few years by then) and I’d been teaching storyboards for years in my previous visual art classes.
All videos, all the time. If it wasn’t a video, it was a plan for a video or critiques of student videos.
It was extremely limiting, but it’s what I thought was expected.
Here’s the thing, though: My class was never called “TV Production.” That program was gone. Mine was brand new. I could have done whatever I wanted, provided I found state or national standards that backed me up.
Eventually I branched out in bits and pieces. Students dipped their toes in music production using GarageBand, since we had a MacBook cart we could use.
We started taking more photos.
We made animations.
We made podcasts.
Minecraft came along and I started letting students create “adventure maps” so long as they scripted the challenges and recorded themselves completing them. I had them doing game design and it was wonderful.
Eventually the remaining TV Production departments in my district were rolled into a new department, Digital Media Arts, with its own state standards and everything. You know what? Those standards matched what I was doing with my more diverse lessons.
You know what most teachers did?
Video production, and nothing else.
You know why? You may want to make sure you’re sitting for this one:
“We’ve always done it this way.”
Inertia’s a heck of a thing.
There’s efforts to change this. On the district level my department still has its annual film festival, but now we also have a festival for podcasting and photography. We’re encouraged to branch out to those areas as well, and given sample lessons to help us step out of our comfort zones.
(Most of the high school photos come from the vis art students, though, because photography “has always been” visual arts and, again, inertia.)
But as slow as they may seem, changes are happening. Tomorrow, before I give my own song and dance to new teachers about things they can do, another awesome colleague will be talking to them about photography.
We’re not just TV Production any more. Haven’t been, for as long as my students have been breathing.
