Those who own single lens reflex cameras suffer from a singular disease: Lens Lust. I didn’t make that term up. You’ll find references to Lens Lust all over the Internet, in user groups, and any gathering that includes two or more photographers. Lens Lust isn’t limited to digital SLRs;it infects anyone who owns a camera with removable lenses, including those of the film SLR and rangefinder persuasions.
I’ve fallen victim to it myself. I worked for two years as the manager of a camera store, and a hefty chunk of what I earned was diverted to my favorite vendor’s dealer personal purchase program, as well as to acquiring good used equipment brought to me for trade-in. I ended up with 16 different lenses for my 35mm SLR, including optics like 7.5mm and 16mm fish-eye lenses, a 35mm perspective-control lens, and other specialized lenses. Additional lens collections for my 120/220 SLR camera and Leica rangefinder followed.
These lenses served me well for a number of years and, in fact, should have been sufficient when I went all-digital because they could be used with my new dSLR, too. But then Lens Lust struck again. I wanted, needed newer lenses optimized for digital photography. My initial 27mm–105mm zoom (35mm equivalent), furnished with the camera, was soon supplemented by a 42mm–300mm (equivalent) zoom and an 18mm–36mm (equivalent) wide-angle zoom.
If enough of you buy this book, a better macro lens, another image-stabilized lens, and a 1.4X teleconverter will follow. Lens Lust is incurable.
Lens elements aren’t necessarily glass, in any case. Some very good lens elements can be made of plastic, and research into ceramic lens elements continues. If I happen to mention “glass” in this book, I’ll be referring to amorphous silica, not a lens. If I need a synonym to keep from using the word lens three times in one sentence, I’ll substitute optics, instead.
