Before the angry emails arrive, let’s get one thing straight. Burst mode is brilliant.
If you’re photographing a peregrine falcon diving towards its prey at 200mph; a Premier League striker meeting a last-minute corner; or your toddler who’s somehow mastered sprinting before pronouncing the letter “R”; by all means, hold down that shutter button like your life depends on it. Maybe you can check out our technique’s section.
This isn’t about those moments.
This is about the photographer who somehow returns from a Sunday stroll with 74 frames of the same pigeon.
Modern cameras are extraordinary. They’ll shoot 30 frames per second without blackout. Their autofocus can recognise eyes, faces, birds, trains, aircrafts and, at the current rate of progress, will probably identify existential dread by 2027.
But somewhere between faster processors and bigger memory cards, we’ve quietly mistaken more photographs for better photography.
If only somebody had come up with a catchy little phrase about timing.
Instead of the decisive moment, we’ve embraced the decisive 6.3 seconds.
We’ve all done it. You spot something vaguely interesting, your finger mashes the shutter, your camera erupts into the sound of an agitated colony of mechanical crickets, and before you’ve had time to think, you’ve lovingly captured 197 near-identical RAW files.
Congratulations.
You’ve created the most tedious game of spot the difference to ever exist.
The irony is that professionals who depend on burst mode rarely use it as a crutch. A sports photographer reads the game. A wildlife photographer reads behaviour. A documentary photographer reads people.
Burst mode doesn’t create great timing.
It amplifies it.
Of course, there are moments when firing off 30 frames per second is exactly the right decision. F1 Motorsports. Breaking news. Anywhere milliseconds genuinely separate success from disappointment.
Missing the only orca you’ve seen all week because you were trying to make a philosophical point about patience would be… unfortunate.
But Susan throwing up a peace sign outside a hipster café? I’m prepared to gamble she’ll still be there half a second later.
Alas, the problem isn’t burst mode. It’s what it quietly persuades us to outsource.
Observation.
Instead of making decisions, we accumulate possibilities. Somewhere between frame 46 and frame 47 we’ve convinced ourselves that greatness will appear – that the difference between an average photograph and Steve McCurry’s Afghan Girl is the precise angle of somebody’s finger.
Occasionally, that’s true. Usually, it’s 47 versions of the same photograph, each making a marginally different case for being deleted.
Burst mode is one of the greatest technological advances in modern photography. Used well, it captures moments no human reflexes could reliably anticipate. Used carelessly, it’s little more than indecision with a very fast memory card and the ability to hold the shutter down without developing repetitive strain injury. Maybe it’s time to get back to shooting manual…
So, by all means, switch your camera to high-speed continuous shooting.
Use every tool modern cameras have to offer.
Because cameras have become remarkably good at recording moments.
You still have to recognise the great ones.
The views expressed in this column are not necessarily those of Amateur Photographer magazine or Kelsey Media Limited. If you have an opinion you’d like to share on this topic, or any other photography related subject, email: [email protected]
Related reading:
- Mirrorless Milestones – 18 years of the cameras that killed the DSLR
- 66 megapixels is madness, how does this make sense any more?
- 120fps? No thanks, I’ll stick to 5fps
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