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This is My Camera. There are Many Like It, but This One is Mine... And I Hate It. by Michael Jin

Life can be seen as a series of forks in the road, every moment represents some sort of decision to be made. Some are small with little real consequence while others have more significant stakes. For a photographer, one of the biggest decisions to be made is one’s choice of camera. Let me qualify this by pointing out that just about every single modern camera from any major manufacturer is capable of producing outstanding images. I am not going to nitpick about resolution, dynamic range, or many of the other things that people regularly bitch about simply because outside of a few edge cases, they tend to be of little consequence. In my mind, the significance of the choice of camera is two-fold.

First is that since the major manufacturers these days use proprietary mounts (exceptions to the rule being the Micro-4/3 Mount and the newly minted “L-Mount Alliance” of Leica, Panasonic, and Sigma), buying a camera is generally the first step into a much deeper investment into a SYSTEM. This system consists of camera bodies, accompanying native lenses developed for the proprietary mount of those bodies, various accessories often designed for the proprietary connections or software and generally some investment into a consistent workflow in the form of similar menu structures or button placement across various bodies. Yes, adapters exist, but outside of native adapters provided by the manufacturer such as Sony’s A-Mount adapter, Canon’s EF-Mount adapter, or Nikon’s FTZ adapter, you are probably going to take some sort of performance hit if you are adapting lenses onto camera bodies that they are not designed for. So your choice of camera will largely dictate where several hundred or several thousand more dollars will be spent and any switch in systems will likely be accompanied by a significant loss in the form of selling off your system lenses and accessories at a lower price than you likely purchased them for.

The second significant aspect of your camera choice is how it affects your shooting. This might sound really stupid at first, but just about every aspect of a camera body will have some sort of effect on the way you will use in the real world and this will, in turn, affect what you choose to photograph, when you choose to photograph, and how you choose to photograph. For a pretty jarring example, take the difference between a standard SLR camera, a rangefinder, and a TLR camera. The way each of these body types are designed lend themselves to certain types of shooting. You might find yourself gravitating toward candid photography with a rangefinder while avoiding fashion photography. You might find that an SLR draws you more toward portraiture or landscapes and less toward street photography. You might find yourself being drawn to street portraiture with a TLR around your neck while avoiding macro photography. Everyone has their particular inclinations and the nature of the camera body in their hand will naturally skew your shooting away from the weaknesses of that body and toward its strengths. Human beings, being the lazy creatures we are, tend to just go with this flow rather than stubbornly fight it.

Aside from obvious technological differences, however, there are many more subtle considerations that will undoubtedly affect how you use your camera. A smaller camera will be more easily used in discreet situations than a larger one. A camera with comfortable ergonomics will probably be used for longer duration than an uncomfortable one. A lighter camera is probably more likely to be carried around than a heavier one. A camera that is weathersealed is more likely to be taken out on a rainy day than one that isn’t, even if you have a separate weathersealing cover. If a camera has a complicated menu system, you’re probably less likely to change your menu settings as often as on a camera with an intuitive menu system. All of these little technical details and obstacles shape your interaction with this thing that is supposed to be the bridge between your vision and the photograph that you capture. In an ideal world, there would be no such barrier or obstacle, but in light of the fact that there are, it is often easier to adjust ourselves to our tools than it is to adjust the tools to us—particularly if you consider the cost involved in swapping out those tools as mentioned earlier. So the camera, though it is a tool, becomes a critical element in shaping your photography and, over time with much repetition, shaping how you see the world.

You can probably see, then, why choosing the wrong camera body can result in all sorts of headache, frustration, and unhappiness. If you are expecting this post to devolve into some sort of rant about my choice of camera equipment at this point, you earn a gold star for your prescience.

A while back, I was faced with a choice. I had purchased the Nikon D850 (trading in my Nikon D810). I had numerous lenses and accessories in the Nikon DSLR system, including the relatively new NIKKOR 105mm f/1.4E, which was an amazing lens. Paired with the D850 which was an amazing camera, I really didn’t feel like I lacked anything except perhaps a few more esoteric lenses to potentially plug up some holes (eg. a macro lens). Looking around me, however, I could clearly see that a major shift in the market was likely going to come—the mass exodus to MILC cameras.

Up until that point, Sony had been the only real player in the full frame MILC market with Canon and Nikon effectively ignoring it until they no longer couldn’t. Rumors swirled around and eventually both companies confirmed that their serious foray into the full frame MILC market was imminent. At this point, the D850 that I had purchased months earlier was still somehow out of stock in the USA and I realized that if it came down to trading in or selling my gear, it was not likely to have more value than at that point due to the continued demand. I decided that the best financial move would be to cease any further investment into DSLR technology (cameras, lenses, accessories) and move my investment into an MILC since I figured that Canon and Nikon themselves would likely ramp down and cease their DSLR development pretty quickly to catch up to Sony. So the choice was made: I would wait to see what Nikon announced first and see whether I would pre-order the Z 7 or purchase a Sony A7RIII. Canon was never a realistic choice for me simply having been with Nikon so long. I could see a jump to Sony, but not Canon and besides, at that point, Sony had the most mature full-frame MILC system in the market.

To get right to the point, the Z 7 announcement (and the Z 6 announcement) was rather underwhelming to me as was the announced lens road map. While it had some good points in ergonomics and weathersealing, the lack of dual slots, reportedly poor AF, and the decision to launch with zero premium lenses quickly made me realize that the body would require at least one iteration and the lens road map would have to progress at LEAST two years before there was a solid system with native lenses there for me. So I made the jump to Sony, which was made easier by a trade-in rebate that they were offering at the time if you traded in a camera from another manufacturer. Adorama gave me a pretty good quote for all of my gear and I was leaving with my new A7RIII and a handful of lenses to get me started in the Sony eco-system.

Truth be told, I had never intended for my stay in the Sony eco-system to be permanent. I figured that since they had the most fully fleshed out MILC system, I would benefit from that while waiting for Nikon to catch up and then re-evaluating in a few years. I knew going into the purchase that there were several issues with Sony cameras in general that would likely irk me. For one, Nikon weathersealing had always been rock solid and I am the type that prefers to walk around with my camera in the rain without an umbrella. Pretty much every test for Sony cameras in that regard has been dismal. Sony cameras are also much more compact than a camera like the D850. This is a feature that some people really enjoy, but I tend to prefer a bigger grip on my cameras even at the cost of extra size and weight. Also, while Sony’s eco-system is the most fully fleshed out, it is currently a bit of a mess due to some early decision that were made to license the Zeiss name for some of their lenses—a practice they have stopped and have pretty much replaced with the G-Master designation. Regardless, this created some odd results such as the “budget” 35mm option inexplicably being an $800 35mm f/2.8 lens and a little bit of initial confusion on my part regarding whether those lenses were being produced by Sony or Zeiss (I have since learned that they are manufactured by Sony) and whether, if they are manufactured by Sony, they are actually Zeiss designs. I will not say that I was unaware of any of this going into my purchase. What I was completely unaware of was simply how much of an impact all of these seemingly small things would have on my photography and how miserable I would end up becoming due to all of it.

On paper, the Sony A7RIII is really not that different from the D850 that I traded in. The 55mm f/1.8 was close enough in focal length and aperture to the 58mm f/1.4G that I traded in. On paper and in theory, there might have been a small adjustment period, but the images that I produce ought to have largely been close to the same, but nothing could be further from the truth. This is the point where Sony apologists will flame me, hurl insults, and tell me all of the simple solutions that I could employ to overcome any of the issues that I have experienced and none of it would be technically wrong. Every single issue could be compensated for. I could purchase a grip so that my pinkie stops hanging off the bottom of my camera. I could buy a rain cover so that my camera would be weatherproof. I could just get used to using the EVF or turning the Live Effect OFF to mimic an OVF. I could do all manner of things and all manner of solutions have run through my mind in the ensuing months. Remember what I said about human laziness and how cameras will, though their own strengths and weaknesses, start to affect your photographic vision over time? At the end of all of the pontificating, the only question I’m left with is, “Yes, I can do all of these things, but why should I?”

Simply put, why should I live in constant frustration with all of these little annoyances? Why should I have to deal with a viewfinder that changes brightness depending on where I’m pointing it even when the Live Effect is OFF? Why should I have to worry about getting my camera wet? Why should I be OK with a control scheme that makes it ridiculously easy to change a setting by spinning a stupid wheel? Why should my hands always feel slightly cramped while holding my camera? Why should I feel like my camera is a delicate novelty rather than a workhorse that I can bludgeon someone with? All of these stupid little preferences and annoyances that are simply my own, but why should I change nearly every habit I had in regard to the interactions between me and my camera? Is this just growing pains? Is there some meaningful benefit to all of this in the end? What am I enduring this joyless, soulless feeling every time I pick up this camera for—a camera that doesn’t allow me to even think straight or clearly when I’m holding it because SOMETHING about it is constantly bothering me? Why did using my camera and taking a photograph suddenly become a stressful experience that I had to think through rather than the natural act that it used to be? Does it get better? Do I care enough to wait for it to get better?

This is not an indictment on Sony’s cameras. I don’t believe them to be inferior to anything on the market today. From a purely technological standpoint, I don’t think that there’s a camera on the market today that will surpass a comparable Sony. Perhaps that day will come, but it’s simply not today and judging from a demo I’ve seen recently of some upcoming firmware that will make their Eye-AF absolutely ridiculous, I would say it might not even be tomorrow. Sony makes amazing cameras, but the more I use mine, the more I am coming to the realization that it’s simply not the right camera for me. Until I made this decision to switch I had not realized how much of my photographic vision and habits were tied to my Nikon cameras—their ergonomics, lenses, weathersealing, weight, menu design, etc. I don’t think I’ve ever been as unproductive in my photography as I have with my Sony. It seems as if everything just feels wrong and I simply can’t get into the zone that I’m usually able to get into and it doesn’t seem to be the fault of any particular Sony feature, but simply the camera system in aggregate. Whereas before I was more than happy to lug around my heavy D850 with grip and cadre of lenses everywhere I went, I find myself leaving my Sony A7RIII at home unless I know for a fact that I have a job to shoot. When your $3000+ camera doesn’t fill your heart with some degree of joy in using it, it really becomes time for a re-evaluation of things.

I am not entirely sure where I go from here as I still don’t believe investing into a DSLR at this point to be a wise use of my money, but one thing is for sure. This has been an extremely expensive and emotionally frustrating lesson to me that while photography is ultimately not about the tools, the tools that you use can have a great deal of influence on the joy of the process—and, in turn, the comfort with which you can exercise your creativity and vision. It has also been an important reminder that the value of a camera lies way beyond a sheet that lists technical specifications or features. Like I said, just about every camera can produce the images you need. That doesn’t, however, mean that every camera is good for everyone.

On Experimentation and Consistency by Michael Jin

Ilford FP4+, and Ilford HP5+

Kodak HC-110, Adox Rodinal

Photographer’s Formulary TF-5 Fixer

HEICO Permawash

Kodak Photoflo

These are the film stocks that you will constantly see in my refrigerator and the chemicals that sit on my shelf. The reason? They provide affordable, consistent, readily available, and provide excellent results.

This doesn’t mean that I do not enjoy other emulsions or chemicals as I am constantly experimenting with new emulsions, chemistry, and techniques. I do, however, base all of my analog photography work off this foundation and I think that this is important. With analog photography, it’s so easy to get mired in the numerous possibilities. Despite the very much exaggerated “death of film”, there are dozens of options and hundreds of combinations available to you in regard to commercially available film emulsions and chemistry. Start going down the rabbit hole of reading opinions on the internet and you’ll quickly find yourself extremely confused. This confusion is only exacerbated these days with the inevitable hype that surrounds newer film releases such as JCH Streetpan, Street Candy, Ferrania P30, etc. many of which could be considered in the “boutique” category in terms of their availability. The same applies to chemistry with the recent release of Cinestill’s monobath. When these things get released, everyone wants to hop on the hype train and try them and frankly, I think you should. Don’t get too carried away, though.

If all you’re doing is experimenting with this and that, it not only becomes more difficult to focus on your actual photography since you’re spending so much time researching the newest thing that you want to try out, but it’s highly likely that the quality of your work is likely to suffer as well. Aside from the issue of your photographic vision, analog photography is a tactile art that involves the manipulation of physical materials. That manipulation requires an understanding of those materials. Refined control over those materials means a refined understanding of them as well. Understanding here is the result of practice and experience. It’s one thing to read on the internet that a certain film is “high contrast”. It’s another thing entirely to shoot ten rolls of it and reflect on how the settings you used in particular lighting situations translated to that particular emulsion. It’s one thing to read a general line about how agitation schemes will affect the development process, but it’s another to experiment over and over again with the same chemical and film emulsion using different agitation schemes to see the impact. This may sound incredibly obvious, but many people underestimate how important this intimate understanding actually is when it comes to developing consistent results across a body of work.

This is not to say that certain film emulsions naturally lend themselves better to certain purposes or that certain developers are not better or worse for particular results such as softer grain or higher contrast. Every single variable that you have (film emulsion, chemicals, techniques) are tools. Much like tools, however, a tool that you use extremely well that might only be 70% good for a particular purpose will probably get you better results than a tool that you’ve never used before that’s theoretically 99% good for that purpose. I can’t tell you how many times people have asked me “What is the best film for ___________?”. My follow-up question is almost always, “What are your go-to films at each speed?” because when you don’t have a specific stock in mind, those films are what you should be turning to.

While I certainly keep the Ilford duo in my fridge at all times, I have other films there, too. These are films that I bring out for particular purposes when I know that I’m going to do something specific. If I need to push a film to 3200, I prefer Tri-X over HP5+. If I want moody street shooting at 400, I think that JCH Streetpan is an awesome film. If I’m taking a portrait in good lighting, I find Fomapan 100 to be a magnificent emulsion. If I want to throw something in my Holga for added “retro” style, then Retropan 320 Soft gives some really nifty extra-lo-fi results. If I really want tons of tonality on a bright day with some classic-looking grain, then Adox CHS II 100 would be my go-to (unfortunately, it’s been sold out for a while now). For a real cinematic look it’s Eastman XX all the way.

It’s actually quite rare at this point that I think that FP4+ or HP5+ are the IDEAL film for any particular task. If you dig through every possible combination of film and chemistry, there’s probably something that will work a bit better for the desired result. They are, however, some of the most versatile emulsions at their particular speeds, producing great results no matter what I’m looking for at that speed. They are emulsions that I know will not let me down and if I have only these two film stocks in my bag, I feel confident to take on just about anything.

When you start out, you will inevitably experiment and I think that the first thing you should try to find is your personal “go-to” film stocks at different speeds. What are the standards around which you want to build your body of work? As you experiment, you will begin to notice certain trends in your preferences. For instance, I realized early on that I simply was not partial to T-grained films. They have excellent tonality, amazing sharpness, and ridiculously fine grain, but to me they just felt too sterile and I felt that if I wanted that type of look, I could just shoot with my digital camera and convert it to black and white. So I moved toward more traditional cubic grain stocks and my desire for a great tones to serve as a versatile base led me to Ilford FP4+ and Ilford HP5+. Tri-X was a bit too high contrast for me at box speed (although it produces some great results), Acros 100 was a dubious proposition given Fuji’s status as a film manufacturer as of late, and companies like Adox and Rollei were not only nearly double the price here in the USA, but they were often out of stock for months at a time and I definitely wanted my “go-to” films to be something readily available that was probably not going to go away anytime soon. You might feel differently about any number of these things and arrive at a different conclusion in regard to your standard film stocks, which match your own personal style and ethos.

On the chemistry end, after having used Ilfosol-3, XTOL, D76, and other developers that either required mixing or fell to oxidation, I just wanted a highly concentrated developer that didn’t oxidize quickly and could be mixes on demand straight out of a bottle. Rodinal and HC-110 were natural choices for me and they behave differently enough at a range of dilutions that they give me a number of options with just two bottles rather than having a bunch of different developers slowly oxidizing. Again, availability, affordability, and reliability. I personally think that commercial chemistry is a bit easier than film stocks if only because there are less of them out there and quite often, there are only a handful that will be readily available in any area. Sure, the internet changes things a bit, but there’s nothing quite like being able to make an emergency run to your local camera shop to pick up chemistry in a pinch. For many, D76 or ID-11 is their standard developer with something like Rodinal or HC-110 taking a more specialized role. It’s all about personal preference.

Once you’ve settled on your standards, these will become the barometer by which you measure everything else. When you experiment to discover new tools, change only one element at a time. If you’re usually developing in Rodinal with Tri-X, use Rodinal with JCH Streetpan or D76 with Tri-X. Jumping from Rodinal+Tri-X to D76+JCH Streetpan won’t really tell you much about Streetpan or D76 individually, even if someone on a forum might have posted a nice image using that combination. Experiment in a deliberate and systematic manner and you will greatly increase your understanding of new tools that you can add to your creative arsenal. I think an important point to add about experimentation is to take your time getting to know the new thing you’re using. Shooting Retropan 80S today and then moving onto trying out Ferrania P30 tomorrow gives you little time or sample size to develop an understanding of the behavior of Retropan 80S in a variety of lighting conditions. So when you decide to pull it out later down the road, you might encounter unexpected results because you’re assuming that it’ll behave a certain way despite the shooting environment being different. Remember that being an analog medium, film stocks are subject to all sorts of different variables from lighting conditions to the ambient temperature. Take your time with each new thing and develop a good feel for it before moving on. When I try a new stock, I will usually buy 10 rolls at a time because it’ll generally take me that long to form a decent opinion about it.

I’d like to encourage everyone getting started in analog photography to find their fundamental tools first and foremost and then begin to explore the wonderful universe of possibilities from that anchor point. If you’ve found your own standard tools, feel free to let me know. I’d love to hear them.

Why I Traded In My Zeiss Milvus 50mm f/1.4 by Michael Jin

© 2017 Michael Jin. All Rights Reserved.

The Zeiss Milvus 50mm f/1.4 is an absolutely superb lens. For those of you who follow this stuff, it was one of the two lenses that received a new optical design when Zeiss migrated from their now CLASSIC series to their current MILVUS series. For many, it is a lens that they aspire to one day own due to its solid build, sleek design, razor sharp rendition even wide open, and bokeh that completely obliterated backgrounds. I will grant that I've yet to experience any of Zeiss's OTUS series lenses, but the Milvus 50mm f/1.4 was flat out THE BEST NORMAL FOCAL LENGTH LENS THAT I HAVE EVER USED. With very little distortion and vignetting, its rendition of scenes was absolutely clinical in every way imaginable.

I remember the day I ordered the lens. I can't say that I was the proud first owner of it, but whoever owned it and sold it to KEH took good care of it and it looked absolutely mint the day it arrived. I remember attaching it to my D810 and having my jaw drop at the files it produced. Sure, manually focusing with a DSLR was a complete bitch, but when I was able to slow things down, it made for some fantastic imagery. I even attached it my Nikon FM2n and gleefully pushed frame after frame of film using a lens that was sharper than anything available back in the days when 35mm film was commonplace.

© 2018 Michael Jin. All Rights Reserved.

But alas, as time went by and the novelty wore off, I found myself leaving the lens at home more often than not. First of all, it was pretty heavy and added a bunch of weight to my bag. Secondly, while the size of it felt right on my D810 and my later D850, it felt awkward on my FM2n. This might have been mitigated somewhat if I purchased an F2AS or F3HP, which are larger bodies, but the FM2n is what I had and it just felt strange attaching this lens to this camera. I suppose the biggest reason I stopped taking it out, however, is that the lens was just "too perfect" in a way.

This might sound incredibly stupid, but bear with me. Sharp, accurate, and clinical are certainly very good qualities for any lens and the Milvus 50mm f/1.4 checks all the boxes. The problem for me is that it's pretty rare that I'm looking for really clinical rendering out of a 50mm lens. Certainly for my wider lenses that I might use real estate, I want as sharp, accurate, and clinical as possible, but for standard focal lengths and telephoto lenses, I've come to focus more on interesting (maybe "painterly) aesthetics. In this regard, the Milvus 50mm f/1.4 becomes a pretty boring lens to use. Don't get me wrong, I'm not obsessed with swirly bokeh, soap bubble bokeh, or similar gimmicks (I have already gone through that phase and have since traded in my Helios 44M and Helios 40-2). Honestly, I'm not sure how to describe what it is that I'm looking for in a lens, but I definitely know it when I see it and the Milvus 50mm f/1.4 simply wasn't cutting it for me, which discouraged me from carrying it around even more than the weight of the lens. In a sick twist, I ended up actually purchasing a NIKKOR 50mm f/1.4 AIS which I started using far more than the modern Zeiss lens.

I'll never say that the old NIKKOR lens is better than the Zeiss—at least not in any quantifiable aspect. The decision to finally part with the Zeiss lens was a difficult one for me because it defied all logic that I should let go of one of the finest lenses that I've ever had the pleasure of using, much less owning. In the end, however, I decided that a lens sitting in my cabinet would be better served going to someone that is actually going to use it and the money I get for it better served by purchasing something that I will be more encouraged to carry around at this stage in my photographic development.

After some long nights of reflection, I finally made the trip to Adorama today, traded in the Zeiss Milvus 50mm f/1.4 and picked up a Voigtlander 58mm f/1.4 Nokton SL II S. It's a lens that I've been looking at for a while now and I've seen many photos taken with it. While it may not be as technically competent as the Milvus, it is smaller, lighter, and most importantly, I find the way that it renders scenes to be more to my personal aesthetic tastes. Coming back home and attaching the lens to my D850, I can say that I'm definitely pleased with how things have turned out and I'm looking forward to using this lens for a long time.

If there's a take-away that I've learned from all of this, it is that expensive gear is not always the best nor is it necessarily going to provide the qualities that you're looking for. I dreamed about owning Zeiss lenses for so long and even now, I still have several Zeiss lenses on my Amazon Wishlist, but more important that the cost of a lens, its stature, or ratings, is whether you are personally happy with it. 

Impostor Syndrome by Michael Jin

© 2018 Michael Jin

It's a pretty common occurrence for me. I'll come back from shooting, load my photos into Lightroom, look through them, and then a wave of depression will wash over me. As I scroll through photo after photo, I am faced with the realization that I'm just not very good at this. There are so many talented photographers out there and my work pales in comparison, so why am I bothering with any of this? Maybe I should just sell of my equipment and take up a different hobby. After all, I could probably shoot for a lifetime and I will still never approach the level of the greats. It all seems like an exercise in futility.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? Maybe some of you can relate to this constant feeling of inadequacy. I imagine that most have probably felt it at some point or another—at least once you get beyond the initial stage where you think that you're the greatest photographer since Ansel Adams and suddenly you're faced with all of the legitimate talent that's actually out there. I've heard it called many things, but the term that I think is the most descriptive is "Impostor Syndrome". It is this visceral feeling that you're just posing as a photographer, but you know that you don't have the skills and the sinking feeling that comes from knowing that at some point or another, someone is going to call you out on it and the charade will be up.

For some people, it provides the drive to improve. For others such as myself, it can be quite devastating to deal with. I imagine that it's just another extension of the self-esteem issues that I am constantly at war with and my tendency to fall into depression really doesn't help. Beyond drinking some magic potion that turns you into a savant photographer, how do you deal with this feeling?

For one, I try to remind myself that photography is a very subjective thing and there is no universal rule for what constitutes "good" or "bad" photography. Also, my photography is a reflection of myself and my own vision so it makes little sense to compare it to someone like Ansel Adams who lived a different life, had a different system of values, and noticed different things. While there is always a desire to emulate the masters (because they're the masters), it's important to be mindful that our most meaningful work is going to be borne from our own experiences. Another positive to take away is the fact that the ability to sit back, evaluate your photos, and see your weaknesses is, in itself, a skill and strength. It's only the ignorant that believe that their work cannot be improved upon simply because they don't know better. When you notice your weaknesses, it is the first step toward strengthening those aspects of your craft.

Listen, it's not easy. There's a very fine line between being properly critical of your own work and needless self flagellation. Finding that balance where you can identify which criticisms are reasonable and which aren't is perhaps the most difficult part of dealing with Impostor Syndrome. It's also important to keep in mind that as photographer and artists, we have a tendency to be our own worst critics. Because we're so close to our work, we will often notice minute details that even many educated viewers will overlook. While it's always noble to strive for better, don't let it hinder your ability to produce the work that you want, whether it's in the form of discouragement or becoming so obsessed with processing that the work is never "ready" to show others.

There's a saying that "Perfection is the enemy of the good.". Your photography does no good staying on your hard drive or in a negative sleeve with nobody seeing it. The most perfect photograph that reaches nobody might as well not exist while a flawed photograph that reaches an audience is bound to have at least some influence in the world. Don't be afraid to put your work out there because there is likely someone out there that needed to see it. So long as that work is an honest reflection of yourself and your vision, you will never be an "impostor". You will always be an authentic you... and that's all anyone can reasonably ask for.

The masters have come, gone, and left wonderful work for us to enjoy. We don't need people to ape them. We need new voices and new perspectives. Let others be others and you concentrate on being yourself. Don't waste your life away trying to be someone that you're not.