SLet's be honest - you can be a great photographer with crappy gear, and you can be a crappy photographer with great gear. I prefer to be a good photographer with good gear. But what does that mean?
My current tool of choice is the Fujifilm X-T4. I still have my X-T2 as well. I love the X-series cameras, mostly because of the manual controls (more on that later). I have also owned a Fujifilm X-T2, X-E2s, X-E3, and X70, all of which were sold. I used to grab one of those when heading out and I needed something smaller. These days I use my mobile phone for that purpose. How I arrived at the Fujifilm family is a long story.
As Basic as it Gets
My first camera was a Kodak folding camera - yes that really dates me. (To be fair, when I got that camera from my father it was already an antique.) It took 620 size roll film, kind of medium format. You may pity me because this camera lacked any kind of automation or features, but actually it was the best education a photographer could get. Here's why:
No rangefinder - I had to learn how to estimate distances. Without any focusing aid, I also had no choice but to learn all about depth of field and how distance and aperture affected focus.
No meter - I had to estimate all exposures, including long nighttime shots, based on ISO (called ASA in those days). I had no choice but to learn the exposure triangle and make use of it on every shot.
No zoom - this camera had a fixed lens, so any zooming had to be done with the feet. It teaches you the basics of composition.
No flash - I don't think the camera had a flash port, but even if it did I did not have a flash so everything was natural light. Particularly tough when your widest aperture is f/6.3, as I recall.
Eight shots per roll - When a roll of film maxes out at 8 images, and you are 10 years old on a budget, you must make every picture count. Forget about bracketing.
Enter 35mm
I yearned for a camera that could take 35mm film, because - wow - imagine having 36 exposures on a single roll! There were no YouTubers around in the 1960s advising against moving from medium to a smaller film format. I also really needed something with a meter and a rangefinder, and a camera with a faster fixed lens. Possibly with a built-in flash or a hot shoe at least. And most of all, something cheap enough that would convince my Dad to buy it for me.
A local camera store had just the thing. In the window was a used Minolta Hi-Matic 7s. This camera met all my criteria - and was on sale for about $50. My dad said if I saved 1/2 that amount he would pay the rest. It took several agonizing weeks but I finally got that camera.
Having a rangefinder, a meter, a fast lens and a flash really made a huge difference, and so did the ability to bracket exposure for difficult subjects.
It wasn't long, though, that I realized I was missing something: telephoto reach. The fixed lens of the Minolta made it the perfect travel and street camera, and even ok for portraits - but I liked the idea of "zooming in" on far-away subjects. It's funny because I still do - even today I do quite a bit of bird photography and rely on my Fujinon 100-400mm with 1.4X teleconverter.
So I started to think about the exotic world of the "SLR" - a camera that could not only accommodate multiple lenses, but could also allow for closeups (with extension tubes). At the time, a neighbour of ours was doing some photography as a business (taking portraits at public events and printing them onto buttons). He had a Pentax Spotmatic, which was a really beautiful and sleek piece of machinery. Unaffordable of course. He himself lusted for the more expensive Nikon gear, but that was so far beyond the budget of a 12 or 13 year old that it was even silly to dream about it. Nikon, like Canon at that time, was the gear of choice for National Geographic photographers. A different world.
But I decided that I had to a have a telephoto, so I researched and found out that the cheapest SLR for sale at the time was a Praktica. This was an East German brand shall we say not exactly known for its quality. I'm afraid I can't remember what model I had, but I was a teenager at the time. I could tell it was poorly built, especially since I could compare it to the Japanese competition (my neighbour's Spotmatic). But I least I had a chance to invest in some screw-mount lenses that would be compatible with Pentax in the event that I was able to upgrade.
These were exciting times, as I experimented with very cheap telephoto lenses as well as extension tubes, polarizing filters, and any other kind of gadget that could be used with an SLR. Eventually I did buy a Pentax Spotmatic, and because I had accumulated so many lenses, I invested in a second body - a black Pentax body, which was really the most gorgeous SLR ever built!
Nikon - Living the Dream
I think I should have stuck with Pentax, mostly because (a) the quality was amazing, (b) I owned two bodies and several lenses, and (c) those Spotmatic cameras were quite compact and very ergonomic. I didn't need Nikon. But nobody needs any particular camera - it's a matter of lust, not need. I had lusted after Nikon gear ever since I was a lad, and now that I was in University, making some money with part-time jobs (and scholarships) I could "afford" Nikon. Looking back today, I wonder how I justified that to myself, because now as then Nikon gear was not cheap. And I bought the top of the line:
Body 1: Nikon FTN (Photomic) with two extra prisms/finders - waist-level and regular
Body 2: Nikon F (black, of course)
Lens 1: Nikkor 50mm f/1.2
Lens 2: Nikkor 24mm f/2.4
Lens 3: Nikkor 105mm f/2.5
Lens 4: Nikkor 300mm f/2.8 (you know I needed that reach)
Even now I can still feel the Nikon quality in my hands. The focus rings, the exposure dial, everything about these cameras and lenses was engineering perfection. But apart from the fortune invested, and the status of having my National Geographic gear, this stuff was HEAVY. Make no mistake - you cannot carry all that gear for very long, at least not unless some magazine is paying you a lot of money and you can afford an assistant. Solid metal, enough glass for a lighthouse; this Nikon gear was amazing but I simply did not go out shooting as often as I did with my Kodak, my Minolta, or even my Pentax. Sad.
Enter Canon, Mamiya, Rolleiflex, and Speed Graphic 4"x5"
When I was in my 20s, for professionals and serious amateurs it was pretty much a toss-up between Canon and Nikon. Canon seemed to advertise more in National Geographic - the ad I recall most is the one where all there lenses were laid out. I am not sure why my longstanding lust was for Nikon. Perhaps I was simply infected with the same lust my neighbour had experienced. But for whatever irrational reason, I did believe that Nikon was somehow superior to Canon, and so like many fanboys of the current era, I looked down on the competition.
Perhaps this would be a good time to mention the German manufacturers - where did they stand? Well unlike their East German friends at Praktica, the west Germans were of course the masters of photographic machinery in the guise of Rollei and Leica. And perhaps the master of them all was Hasselblad, which I thought was German but was actually Swedish.
The way I looked at this scenario is the way I look at cars. People who lust after a Corvette don't even bother lusting after a Lamborghini - the first is achievable, the second is not. I lusted after Nikon, because I assumed that Leica and Hasselblad and Rolleiflex were completely out of the running. Nikon and Canon were for professionals and serious amateurs; Leica and Hasselblad were for rich people.
At the age of 20, with my camera bag full of Nikon gear, I joined the Photography Department at Dalhousie University and found a well-stocked space that included several Canon F-1s, many Canon lenses, a Speed Graphic 4x5, a Rolleiflex twin-lens reflex, Metz flashes, tripods, studio lighting, and a fully equipped darkroom. This was an amazing place to learn photography, and there were some pretty accomplished people in that group over the years. I spent far too much time in the studio, in the darkroom, and playing with all the equipment. In fact I failed Biology in first year because of the Photography Department, and that's probably why I ended up as a lawyer rather than a doctor. Oh well.
I was of course disappointed at first that the Department was a Canon shop. For a Nikon fanboy, how declassé could you get? It was pure prejudice, although I did note that some of the Canon bodies broke down under heavy use. (Of course I couldn't exactly say that my Nikons were getting heavy use.)
For three years I learned the ins and out of all these camera, and I came to appreciate the amazing resolution of a 4x5 negative (processed and enlarged myself in the darkroom). I also rolled my own film from bulk loaders - what a change from the days of 8 shots on a roll of 620 film. Everything was still pretty much black and white in those days - we were taking pictures for the school newspaper and yearbook.
The author in 1974, Photography Department Dalhousie University
Polaroid Interlude
I can't remember what year it was - probably the summer of 1975 - when I applied for summer job at Polaroid. I had been looking for a typical kind of job for a graduate student, i.e. menial and low paying, when I noticed the ad. What an amazing opportunity for a photography nut! Polaroid introduced a revolutionary new camera in 1972 - the SX-70. Shades of my first Kodak - it was a folding camera too. Slim, but not pocketable, it produced colour prints on the spot. It was easy to load with a cartridge, much easier than the previous generation polaroids, which required you to strip away a covering layer at exactly the right time.
I was asked to come to the Polaroid office with my portfolio. I didn't really have a portfolio as such. But I read articles about portfolios in magazines like Modern Photography, Popular Photography and Peterson's Photographic (I think they are all defunct now?). They all had the same advice: be ruthless! Keep your portfolio small, limited to your best shots. It's difficult advice to follow when you are so proud of your handiwork. But I did: I mounted about a dozen 5x7 and 8x10 prints and put them in a small green vinyl bag.
When I arrived for the interview I became rather intimidated. In the waiting area was a young man, perhaps my age or a little younger. He carried one of those huge black artists's portfolios, big enough for blueprints. As we talked, I found out that he was a graduate of the Ryerson photography program, if I recall correctly, a two or three year full-time fine arts program. My heart sank - how could I compete? I was a pure amateur. Never took a photography course in my life. Completely self taught by reading manuals, books and magazines (no YouTube at the time, more' the pity). And here I was pitted against a highly trained, polished graduate.
When I went into my interview, the first thing I noticed was a big machine that looked like a blueprint copier (my father had been in the construction business so I knew what those looked like). When I asked the Polaroid man what it was, he said it was a colour fax machine. He could exchange images in colour with other Polaroid offices around the world. I was amazed!
Then I took out my images. I felt like there was no way my small collection (with small size prints) could compete. But he looked at each one carefully. I got the job on the spot. (So did the other guy. Apparently they were hiring a whole bunch of photographers.)
The job was the first of many dream jobs for me. I was given a brand new SX-70 camera and a case of film. Yes a case. This film, since it included prints, was not cheap. But I toted home a big box of film. My job for the summer was simply taking colourful pictures to show off the saturation and clarity of the new SX-70 film. Original prints would then be distributed to camera stores, so sales people could show prospective customers the kind of quality that they could expect from the camera and film.
I spent my summer like a tourist - going around to all the colourful places in Toronto with my friends and happily snapping Polaroids. It was my first taste of what it would it would be like to take pictures without any cost associated with each click. I went back to Polaroid a few times to deliver my prints and pick up more film. And of course, the all-important paycheck. I still have the SX-70 camera. It's really a feat of engineering. One of the great innovations with that camera was that the battery power for each shot came from the film cartridge. the camera itself required no batteries.
Minox 35
In the late 70s or early 80s, still burdened with the heavy Nikon gear, I experimented with smaller pocketable cameras in an effort to reinvigorate my hobby. The Minox 35 first came out in 1974 - I forget which version I bought. It was very tiny, and the lens folded out (like the Kodak and Polaroid). It was supposed to be good quality, but I have to say that it's the only camera of mine that actually broke. The parts were very small, and mechanically I don't think the hinges on the folding part were strong enough. A very cute camera but it didn't last long and I don't think I salvaged many photos from those days.
Goodbye Nikon, Hello Point & Shoot
I held on to my beloved Nikon gear for a very long time. But as my children were growing up (we're now in the late 80s and early 90s) keeping it was pointless. One of the reasons I fell out of love with the Nikon was, aside from its weight, was the fact that Nikon had started to build newer models that didn't seem to me to be as good as the FTN. Several models kept coming out, and there was no longer any cachet to owning an FTN, which had been top of the line. It's a little like buying a $125,000 Mercedes "S" class and then finding that they are selling "A" and "B" class cars to compete with Honda. It cheapens the brand.
So I sold my Nikon gear and like many new parents bought a series of point and shoot cameras from Sony, Nikon, Canon and Panasonic - first film, then in the mid-90s, digital. With each successive purchase I strove to get more megapixels. In those days it was all about megapixels. Even though these cameras were obviously a big come-down from Nikon FTN, it was like buying an automatic Toyota Tercel instead of a Formula 1 car. I didn't need a pit crew to carry it around, could easily find parking spots, never got a speeding ticket, and I didn't need to fiddle with settings to take good pictures. (Sorry for mixing the metaphors.) And besides, with digital you can see the results right away and "film" is free.
I was ok with cheap digital point and shoot cameras for a while, until in 2000 I had an opportunity to spend six weeks in South Africa. I knew what I needed, true to form: reach.
Into Africa with a Canon 300mm and ... Film
You cannot go to Africa without a telephoto lens. So my point and shoot cameras were useless. I no longer had my Nikon gear (which was ok because it would have been maybe 30 years old by that time). I should have gone digital, but in 1999/2000 digital SLRs were rare and very expensive. And I needed normal and telephoto lenses. So I stuck with film and was looking for a used camera. Coincidentally a colleague lawyer in my firm was selling his Canon EOS Rebel X (film) entry-level camera, cheap. Since I was by that time an old hand with Canon, my old prejudices about Nikon/Canon were gone and I was quite open to a Canon. I bought a zoom lens for the camera that extended to 300mm. Bring on a budget I put up with the fact that it was a very slow lens (can't recall what lens it was - maybe a 70-300mm, but the cheapest one you could get.
This combination did what it needed to do; I got some really good close-ups of big game, from rhinos and giraffes to a lion and warthogs, buffalo, impala and others, including a goliath heron. Film cameras need film, and not much else. The EOS was light (lots of plastic) and the lens was quite small when retracted, making it easy to carry around in a small bag. But when i got home and ended up with hundreds of 4x6 prints, I started to realize that at some point I was going to have to bite the bullet and go DSLR.
DSLR at last - but a rip-off?
It must have been around 2010 when I finally sprang for my first DSLR, a Canon 7D; they didn't come out until 2009. I decided on Canon for only one reason: I already had zoom lens and a normal lens, so why buy a different system? I was pleased to learn that the 7D was compatible with the film-based lenses I was using on the EOS Rebel film body.
I didn't shop for other brands, and in retrospect that was fine because Canon really provided a great range of lenses and some excellent cameras, including the 7D which was marketed as "semi-professional" or serious amateur. I couldn't afford (and frankly didn't need anything more expensive, and I didn't want an entry level camera either. But here's the interesting thing. In 2010 I was under the impression that the main difference between digital cameras was the number of megapixels. I thought that was pretty well common knowledge - the more megapixels the better, and the more expensive. So the 7D's 18 megapixels was amazing, or so I thought, because my old point and shoot cameras were like 2, 4 or 8 megapixels. I really had no idea about sensor size or anything else to do with digital cameras. I paid almost $2,000 for the 7D, which is a lot of money. But I kept reassuring myself that it was worth it - to get 18 megapixels!. Until one day a friend came over to show us his new point and shoot. It was a tiny pocketable thing (Sony? Not sure what make). he was a little embarrassed because my 7D looked so big and professional in comparison. And I was feeling so superior until I saw that his $200 camera also had 18 megapixels. I couldn't believe it! I was sure my 7D was a huge ripoff!
My suspicions were confirmed when I retrieved my first set of images from the Canon. I must have used the free Canon software that came with the camera. I was using RAW because that's what everybody said was much better than JPG. I had no idea what they were talking about.
Well the first set of images from my $2,000 camera were grey and washed out. No contrast, no saturation. My Polaroids from 1975 were much nicer, and pretty much any pictures from any point-and-shoot were far more vivid, sharp and clear. My photos were muddy and dull, lifeless. I was so disappointed and confused. What a waste of money!
It was very out of character for me to not do my research and figure out what was happening. I think I was just impatient with the whole digital hype. So instead of delving into the world of sensor size, pixel pitch, and RAW processors, I blamed the lens. Time to upgrade.
It must have been around 2010 when I finally sprang for my first DSLR, a Canon 7D; they didn't come out until 2009. I decided on Canon for only one reason: I already had zoom lens and a normal lens, so why buy a different system? I was pleased to learn that the 7D was compatible with the film-based lenses I was using on the EOS Rebel film body.
I didn't shop for other brands, and in retrospect that was fine because Canon really provided a great range of lenses and some excellent cameras, including the 7D which was marketed as "semi-professional" or serious amateur. I couldn't afford (and frankly didn't need anything more expensive, and I didn't want an entry level camera either. But here's the interesting thing. In 2010 I was under the impression that the main difference between digital cameras was the number of megapixels. I thought that was pretty well common knowledge - the more megapixels the better, and the more expensive. So the 7D's 18 megapixels was amazing, or so I thought, because my old point and shoot cameras were like 2, 4 or 8 megapixels. I really had no idea about sensor size or anything else to do with digital cameras. I paid almost $2,000 for the 7D, which is a lot of money. But I kept reassuring myself that it was worth it - to get 18 megapixels!. Until one day a friend came over to show us his new point and shoot. It was a tiny pocketable thing (Sony? Not sure what make). he was a little embarrassed because my 7D looked so big and professional in comparison. And I was feeling so superior until I saw that his $200 camera also had 18 megapixels. I couldn't believe it! I was sure my 7D was a huge ripoff!
My suspicions were confirmed when I retrieved my first set of images from the Canon. I must have used the free Canon software that came with the camera. I was using RAW because that's what everybody said was much better than JPG. I had no idea what they were talking about.
Well the first set of images from my $2,000 camera were grey and washed out. No contrast, no saturation. My Polaroids from 1975 were much nicer, and pretty much any pictures from any point-and-shoot were far more vivid, sharp and clear. My photos were muddy and dull, lifeless. I was so disappointed and confused. What a waste of money!
It was very out of character for me to not do my research and figure out what was happening. I think I was just impatient with the whole digital hype. So instead of delving into the world of sensor size, pixel pitch, and RAW processors, I blamed the lens. Time to upgrade.
By Lucasbosch - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=53002670
Lens Disaster
Certain that my problems with the 7D were lens-related, I started to research Canon lenses for an upgrade adventure. Now we are in the age of YouTube and there's plenty of information available. Interestingly, most of it is related to lenses. The "must have" Canon lenses are the 24-70mm and the 70-200mm. The latter comes in a number of versions, f/2.8, f/4.0, with and without stabilization, Mark I and Mark II blah blah blah. Of course for my bird photography I needed more reach (again), so I looked at the 300mm with a 2X extender. Very exciting!
So I bought the 300mm, extender and the top-of-the-line 70-200mm. At last, I thought, my photos will be amazing because I've got the absolute best lenses in the industry on my "semi-professional body. Ready to go, I took a whole bunch of wildlife shots, and was mightily disappointed. Devastated actually. Why was I blocking out anything to do with RAW conversion? I can't say.
But the poor quality of the end results was only the beginning of my concerns about my several thousand dollars worth of glass. First of all, the 70-200mm f/2.8 is a massive, heavy lens. Perhaps I am not as fit as Tony Northrup, Jason Lanier, Jared Polin and all the others - but that's a damn heavy lens to use for portraits and "walkaround" shooting. There's nothing subtle about it - the beige casing sticks out like a sore thumb and seems to be to be a great target for thieves.
But the real problem with the 70-200mm was my own stupidity! The 7D is a crop sensor camera. The 70-200mm is the perfect focal length for a full-frame camera. Even though the lens fits on a 7D, it doesn't do the job that it's supposed to do, because it's not really acting as a 70-200mm; it's a 105-300mm lens, not suitable for portraits and walking around.
On the other hand, the 300mm with extender was great for wildlife, because on a crop sensor I was getting extra reach. But I didn't enjoy the quality that I paid for because I was still working entirely without post-processing.
I sold the 70-200mm very quickly. I continued using the 300mm for a while, but one day I compared a couple of photos of a heron I had taken with my cheap 70-300mm zoom. I was expecting my new lens to blow the old cheapo away. But in fact the older photo was sharper, more colourful and had better contrast (it was a JPG straight out of the camera). I felt like I had just wasted a ton of money on all these lenses when the old 300mm would have been just fine. I struggled a little longer and then sold the 300 and extenders as well.
Let's compound the mistakes? Pulling back from the brink.
I still didn't get the fact that you have to process RAW files. Why was I so stubborn about it? Not to blame the "I shoot RAW" crowd, but their message is loud and clear: RAW is better than JPG. And I could see clear evidence that it wasn't. Maybe I just didn't want to face the fact that there was a lot of work ahead of me after every shoot!
I could no longer blame the lenses, having dished out thousands on the Canon top of the line. So that left one thing: the camera. Perhaps, I thought, perhaps the 7D just isn't cutting it because it's a crop sensor. Perhaps what I really need is a full frame. There are so many videos out there comparing full frame with crop sensor cameras, and the crop sensor always seems to come up short. Maybe I needed a 5D Mark III. Maybe that was the answer? And hey, if I bought a full frame, then I might even buy another 70-200mm because it would be the right lens for the right camera. This was my really dumb thought process, and I came close to wasting another few thousand dollars.
I don't remember what triggered it - maybe it was stumbling across Anthony Morganti. But whatever it was, the light finally went on - I needed to process my RAW images. What a concept! I bought Lightroom and imported everything. It was shocking to see how my crappy washed out grey images came to life with a few adjustments. I also realized the simple fact: if you don't want to spend time processing your images, then shoot JPG! But I had been brainwashed and was operating on remote control.
I learned Lightroom bit by bit and like most novices, oversaturated everything. But I was drunk with colour and contrast after years of washed out, flat photographs.
Liberated from the unwarranted concerns about lenses, sensors and megapixels, I found a new enthusiasm for photography. Things were starting to look good, and it was fun to do essentially darkroom work without the chemicals. But I still had the full-frame bug, this time not for quality reasons but for focal length reasons. Alas, Canon does not make a 70-200mm equivalent for its crop sensor line. And I wanted that focal length.
The Photographer's Civil War: Going Mirrorless
It was during this "Lightroom" awakening and expensive lens fiasco that the notorious YouTube battles began in what became the mirrorless civil war. I followed it with interest, even avidly. Some longtime Canon and Nikon shooters were posting videos about why they were switching to mirrorless (usually size and weight). Some of them were almost apologetic. Canon and Nikon loyalists, on the other hand posted response videos ridiculing the mirrorless phenomenon. These small cameras are toys, not designed or meant for professionals or serious amateurs (not rugged enough, poor lens choice, and in some cases not professional looking enough).
I was intrigued by the whole thing and somewhat torn. I demanded high resolution shooting, and as a wildlife photographer I do need weatherproofing and long lenses. I was considering the 5D Mark III so that I could enjoy the 70-200mm focal length. But every time I thought about it, having owned that lens for a short time, I realized that the size and weight of the whole kit did matter to me. I remembered my very expensive Nikon gear sitting around the house.
I watched every video on both sides of the war. Lots of pros and cons. But there was one video that convinced me to go mirrorless. It tipped the balance. I am sorry that I don't remember whose video it was - I will try to find it and link it here. A male photographer with an eastern European accent as I recall. His argument was that mirrorless cameras - even though they may not be as robust or fully featured as the traditional DSLRs - are the way of the future. The mechanical mirror and shutter mechanism in Canon and Nikon (crop sensor or full frame makes no difference) is actually pretty old technology and obsolescent. According to Wikipedia the SLR was invented in 1861.
I'm a future-oriented guy. As a lawyer I see ahead and try to use technology effectively and get other lawyers to adopt new technology. I realized that this YouTuber was right. Mirrorless, for all its limitations, was indeed the way of the future. Together with compact size and lower price points, I decided to give up my quest for megapixels and big sensors and dive into mirrorless.
There were two other influential videos for me. One was this one by Zack Arias. It's about sensor size, because until the Sony A7 came out, I think all mirrorless cameras had fairly small sensors.
The second one is from Trey Ratcliff:
Another influencer for me was Will Crockett. I don't think he gets enough credit for his excellent series of videos about what he calls "hybrid photography." His view is that mirrorless cameras are much better business tools than traditional DSLRs because they can handle video, and the difference in sensor size is not noticeable to customers. he also talks a lot about volume workflow, which most YouTubers do not:
So I made the move to mirrorless. I kept my 7D and a Tamron 15-600 for birding, and bought lock stock and barrel into the Sony A6000 system.
Sony A6000 but not a Fanboy
At first I was very thrilled with the Sony A6000. It's tiny and light. I bought the kit that included the body, the "normal" mid-zoom lens and the 55-210mm. The latter was quite slow at the long end of the range, but it is a very light lens, very easy to travel with. The mid-range zoom kit lens gets bad reviews so I upgraded quickly to the Zeiss version for better quality and a bigger aperture. The camera itself is a marvel of miniaturization and comes packed with so many features that it took months to figure out how to use it, I'm not exaggerating. It's quite amazing what they packed in. But soon I encountered five issues that eventually turned me off the A6000 experience.
Issue One: My bad. No 70-200mm equivalent. I outdid myself by buying the Sony, which is of course a crop sensor camera. Like Canon, Sony does not make a 70-200mm equivalent. It's true that the 55-210mm is even better in terms of the high end of the range, but for portraits with bokeh, f/4.5-f/6.3 takes me back to my folding Kodak in terms of lens speed. Way too slow. So here I go again, without learning any lessons of the past: I buy the Sony 70-200mm f/4. Shades of Canon - it's a big, heavy lens - especially on the tiny Sony - and the focal length is not what anyone needs on a crop sensor. It's meant for full frame. I bought it while on automatic pilot.
I would have kept it a little longer except for issue #2 - a serious issue. I noticed that when this heavy lens was on the A6000, it jiggled a little - it was loose. Even my cheap Praktica never had that problem. My entry-level Canon never had that problem, and certainly not my 7D. So what was it? On close inspection, I saw that the lens mount on the camera was made of plastic and that the plastic tabs into which the lens locked, were worn down. So the fit from lens to mount was loose and the lens moved around. I was shocked actually. A quick search of YouTube confirmed my concerns and I decided I would sell the camera and the lenses as soon as possible.
The third issue I had with Sony was the rapid succession in which they kept coming up with new versions of the A6000. You want 4K? Upgrade. Newer models are more expensive, adding one or two features at a time. That's a mug's game and I refuse to play.
The last issue I had with Sony was a lot more philosophical, in a way. It's the same issue many people had with BMW when they came out with their first generation iDrive in 2001. From Wikipedia here: "iDrive caused significant controversy among users, the automotive media, and critics when it was first introduced. Many reviewers of BMW vehicles in automobile magazines disapproved of the system." Many controls were centralized into the system which was controlled by a knob. Press, turn, press to engage, change and disengage entertainment, climate and other features. It sounds good on paper - and for a future-oriented person it sounds like exactly the way to go. But it went too far and ignored ergonomics and common sense.
And that in a very large nutshell is how I ended up with Fujifilm. Started with the X-E2s, then the X70, X-E3, X-T2, X-T3 and now X-T4.