Switching to Medium Format: A Story of Creative Alignment
- Joshua "Gensetsu" Smith, PhD
- 1 hour ago
- 8 min read
Why I moved from Sony to Fujifilm GFX—and what it taught me about tools, vision, and the art of slowing down.
The Chemical Smell
I learned photography in a darkroom at the Buffalo Academy for Visual and Performing Arts.
The chemical smell. The red light. The waiting.
There was something profound about watching an image emerge from nothing—but also something that kept me at arm's length from my own seeing. The gap between capturing and knowing felt too wide.
Digital photography collapsed that distance. It let me learn to see faster, compose more intentionally, iterate in real time.
But over the past two decades, as my relationship with photography has deepened, I've started to realize something:
Speed isn't always wisdom.
And sometimes, the tool that helps you move fast eventually becomes the thing that keeps you from going deep.
This is the story of why I recently switched from Sony to the Fujifilm GFX 100S II—not because medium format is "better," but because it aligned with where I am now as a photographer.
And if you're at a similar crossroads, this might help you think about your own creative path.
The Journey: From PowerShot to Medium Format
My first serious camera was a Canon PowerShot. I was living in Japan, documenting gardens, trying to capture something I couldn't quite name yet.
From there, I moved through the Sony lineup—A6000, A7R II, eventually the A7R IV.
I've always believed you should buy the best camera you can afford at your particular season in life. Everyone's priorities differ. Disposable income differs. There's no moral hierarchy in gear.
Sony served me well. The A7R IV is an exceptional camera—sharp, reliable, technically excellent.
But as I dove deeper into fine art photography, as I studied the work of photographers like Michael Kenna, Anthony Lamb, Andy Mumford, and Samuel Elkins—especially those working in medium and large format—I started to notice something.
The images that stopped me weren't just technically perfect.
They had presence.
A kind of dimensional quality, a sense that the photograph contained not just information, but space. Breath. Silence.
And I realized: I wanted that in my own work.
You can see some of my recent medium format work at gen-setsu.com, where I showcase prints and gallery pieces that embody this shift in vision.
The Decision: Stepping Out of Comfort
For a while, I resisted.
Medium format felt like stepping into a world I wasn't sure I belonged in. And honestly, I didn't want to join what sometimes feels like the "Fuji cult"—people who justify their choice by tearing down everything else.
It's never been about the brand for me.
But as I was researching an upgrade—looking at the Sony A7R V and their newer bodies—I kept coming back to the same realization:
Sony felt like a technical tool. And I'm not a technical person.
Feel matters to me. Emotion matters. The experience of using the camera matters.
I talked with my wife, Satomi, about making the leap. About how this wasn't just an upgrade—it was the next stage. How living in Sapporo, with Fuji's gallery and support right here, made sense practically. How the used market for GFX bodies was finally becoming accessible.
And how, honestly, I was ready to be challenged again.
The A7R IV was comfortable. I knew every menu, every button. But comfort can become creative stagnation.
Want to deepen your contemplative photography practice? My course, Master the Quiet Lens, teaches you how to move beyond technical proficiency and into creative presence—regardless of what camera you use.
Shadow as Substance: A Japanese Aesthetic Framework
There's a book by Jun'ichirō Tanizaki called In Praise of Shadows.
In it, he writes about how Japanese aesthetics don't treat shadow as something to eliminate—as darkness, as absence—but as something with weight, texture, and meaning.
He says:
"We find beauty not in the thing itself but in the patterns of shadows, the light and the darkness, that one thing against another creates."
Medium format sensors excel at something most people don't talk about:
Long tonal transitions
Micro-contrast in mid-shadows
Separation within near-blacks
What this means philosophically is important:
Shadow stops being "lost information" and becomes material.
You're not recovering detail. You're seeing it.
Ma (間): The Space Between Things
There's another Japanese concept that medium format embodies: ma—間—the space between things.
Look at this image from a winter morning along Lake Erie:
Show Image
The branches aren't just framing the scene. They're creating a spatial relationship with the distance. They're establishing intervals.
The breathing room around the subject. The pause between foreground and background.
This is ma—the meaningful gap.
Thirty-five millimeter often pushes you toward subject emphasis. Medium format invites relational seeing.
You stop asking, "What is the subject?"
And start asking, "How do these elements coexist?"
This shift in perspective—from isolation to relationship—is at the heart of the contemplative approach I teach. If you want to explore how Japanese concepts like ma, wabi-sabi, and shizen can transform your photography, check out The Quiet Lens, my book on contemplative photography and seeing with intention.
The Experience: What It's Actually Like Shooting the GFX 100S II
So what's it actually like shooting with the Fujifilm GFX 100S II?
Image Quality
The image quality is stunning. The dynamic range, the 16-bit color depth, the sheer amount of detail—it's everything I hoped for. When I print large-scale work for clients or gallery exhibitions, the files hold up beautifully, with none of the brittleness I sometimes encountered pushing Sony files.
Autofocus Performance
Coming from Sony, I was worried about autofocus. But the eye-detection works beautifully, even for the lifestyle and portrait work I do. It's not as aggressive as Sony's tracking for fast-moving wildlife, but for deliberate, composed work, it's more than sufficient.
Ergonomics
The grip, the feel—it's substantial without being cumbersome. I can shoot handheld comfortably, even with the larger native lenses.
Color Science
And the color science… it's just different. Fuji has an identity. Where Sony felt like a computer company making cameras, Fuji feels like a camera company that understands why people photograph.
The colors out of camera feel more... true. Not in a technical "accurate" sense necessarily, but in an emotional sense. They match how I remember scenes, not just how they measured.
Editing Workflow
I've also started printing larger for clients. The megapixel count matters there—not for pixel-peeping, but for being able to deliver gallery-quality prints with confidence.
And because the files are so malleable in post—because there's so much information in the shadows and highlights—editing feels less like recovery and more like refinement.
I did have to upgrade my computer for this workflow. Larger screen, more processing power to handle both the still files and my video editing. That's part of the real cost that doesn't show up in the camera body price tag.
What I'm Keeping: A Mixed System
I haven't abandoned Sony entirely.
My daughter, Miana, is inheriting my A7R IV. She's sixteen, taking photography seriously—she's already had gallery exhibitions and wants photography to be part of her career path. For her, right now, that Sony is exactly the tool she needs.
And I'm keeping my Sony A7S III for video work. When we need speed—wildlife, distant subjects, fast action—the Sony still has a role.
The Honest Truth: What's Not Perfect
Is everything perfect? No.
The menu system is simpler than Sony's labyrinthine structure, but I'm still digging around sometimes, hunting for settings. There's a learning curve.
The buffer fills faster than I expected when shooting continuously (not that I do that often anymore).
And yes, the total investment—body, lenses, computer upgrade, memory cards that can handle the file sizes—is significant.
But these aren't dealbreakers. They're trade-offs I'm willing to make for the creative alignment I've gained.
Creative Alignment: How Medium Format Changed My Pacing
Here's what medium format has done for me that I didn't fully anticipate:
It's changed my pacing.
With the A7R IV, I could shoot fast. Rapid bursts. Hundreds of frames. I'd sort through them later.
With the GFX, I slow down.
Not because the camera is slow—it's not—but because the system invites a different relationship.
Each frame feels more considered. More intentional.
And strangely, this aligns with shizen—自然—the idea of natural spontaneity.
It seems counterintuitive. How can slowing down make you more spontaneous?
But shizen isn't about speed. It's about alignment. When your actions flow naturally from who you are, without forcing, without pretense—that's shizen.
Medium format fits the way I see now. It matches my creative rhythm. And because of that, I'm more present, more responsive, more myself when I shoot.
The camera didn't make me a better photographer.
But it stopped being in the way.
Ready to discover your natural creative rhythm? Master the Quiet Lens is a comprehensive course that helps you move beyond gear obsession and into deep, intentional seeing. Learn to work with your creative nature, not against it.
The Question You Should Ask Before Any Gear Change
If you're considering a gear change—medium format or otherwise—ask yourself this:
Is this about specs, or is this about creative alignment?
Will this tool support how you already see, or are you hoping it will teach you how to see?
Tools matter. They extend our vision, enable our craft.
But they don't define who we are as photographers.
We do that through how we choose to look at the world.
My Current Setup
For those curious about specifics:
Medium Format:
Still Using:
Sony A7S III (video)
Sony A7R IV (now with Miana for stills)
I've stayed with native Fuji glass so far, and I'm loving the rendering and color consistency. I'll dive deeper into specific lens choices in future content.
Explore the Work
If you'd like to see what this shift has enabled creatively, visit my gallery at gen-setsu.com, where I showcase fine art prints shot primarily on the GFX system.
The name gen-setsu (幻雪) means "phantom snow" or "illusion of snow"—a reference to the ephemeral beauty I try to capture in my landscape and nature work.
Go Deeper: Learn Contemplative Photography
This gear transition is just one part of a larger creative evolution—one that's been shaped by years of studying Japanese aesthetics, practicing mindfulness, and learning to see photographically rather than just technically.
If this resonates with you, I invite you to explore:
My book on contemplative photography, exploring how to see with intention, work with impermanence, and cultivate presence behind the camera.
A comprehensive online course teaching the philosophy and practice of contemplative photography. Learn to move beyond the "spray and pray" approach and into creative flow—no matter what camera you use.
Inside the course, you'll discover:
How to apply ma, wabi-sabi, and shizen to your photography
Techniques for slowing down and seeing more deeply
Workflows that support creative alignment over technical perfection
How to develop your unique photographic voice
Final Thoughts
The switch to medium format wasn't about megapixels or dynamic range charts.
It was about finding a tool that matched my creative intention.
One that invited me to slow down, to see relationally, to treat shadow as substance rather than absence.
One that felt like an extension of my vision rather than a computer I was operating.
Your path might be different. You might find that alignment with a smartphone, a rangefinder, or yes, even a Sony.
The camera doesn't matter.
What matters is whether it helps you see the way you need to see.
What's your relationship with your camera? Does it challenge you, or does it just… work? I'd love to hear your story in the comments below.
For more contemplative photography, Japanese aesthetics, and mindful creativity, subscribe to my newsletter Shizen Style Weekly and follow along at www.shizenstyle.com.