In Daido Moriyama’s Near Equal, photography is stripped back to instinct.

There’s something slightly uncomfortable about watching him work. Not because it’s chaotic – but because it ignores almost everything you’re told photography should be.

Images are blurred.
Contrast is pushed hard.
Frames feel loose, sometimes even accidental.

And yet it holds together.

Moriyama isn’t trying to make perfect photographs. He’s reacting to the world as it moves – quickly, instinctively, without hesitation. What you get is something raw, but honest. Not polished, not refined, but real.

Letting Go of Control

Most photographers tighten up when they pick up a camera.

Moriyama does the opposite.

He walks, observes, shoots, and keeps moving. There’s no overthinking, no waiting around for something to line up neatly. The moment appears, and it’s taken – however it comes.

Grain becomes part of the image.
Blur becomes movement.
Harsh contrast gives everything weight.

It would be easy to call it careless, but it isn’t. There’s intention in the way he works – it just isn’t forced. It’s built on experience, repetition, and a willingness to accept whatever the frame gives back.

More Than the Camera

Moriyama isn’t an Olympus OM shooter.

He’s most closely associated with compact cameras like the Ricoh GR – small, fast, and built for reacting rather than composing. That choice tells you everything about how he sees photography.

But it’s worth remembering – the Ricoh GR didn’t arrive until the mid-90s. Moriyama was already producing work long before that. Cameras like the Olympus Pen W and other compact rangefinders played a role in that earlier period.

And that’s where it becomes relevant here.

Because something like the Olympus XA sits right in that same space. Small, unobtrusive, always ready. A camera you carry without thinking – which is exactly the point.

It’s not about the system.
It’s not about the lens.
It’s about being there, ready, and open to the moment.

Whether it’s a Ricoh, a Pen, or an XA loaded with Tri-X – the philosophy doesn’t change.

Why This Matters

Moriyama is one of my favourite photographers for a reason.

Not because the images are technically perfect – far from it. But because they feel alive. There’s energy in them. A sense that they were taken in the moment, not constructed afterwards.

He gives you permission to:

• stop chasing perfection
• embrace grain instead of correcting it
• accept blur instead of fighting it
• take the shot and move on

There’s a freedom in that approach that’s easy to lose, especially when you start overthinking your work.

Take It With You

There’s a tendency, especially with film, to slow everything down and treat each frame like it needs to be right.

Moriyama cuts straight through that.

Go out. Walk. Shoot. Miss a few.
Let the frame fall apart a little.

Some of the most interesting images come when you stop trying to make something “good” and simply respond to what’s in front of you.

Watch Near Equal, then go out and shoot without overthinking it.

That’s where things start to become yours.

Want to learn more about Daido Moriyama and see more of his great photos then visit his official website.

The post Daido Moriyama: Near Equal – Embracing Imperfection in Street Photography appeared first on Zuikography.

Yes, £18. Pulled from a forgotten shelf in Barnstaple like a relic with potential. It looked more like an old Dictaphone than a camera, but there was something about it – that chunky sliding cover, that square flash port, the word Zuiko peeking out on the lens. Pair it with a roll of Kodak Tri-X 400, and you’ve got a time machine for capturing the unscripted, the overlooked, and the unapologetically real.

The Art of Disappearing

What struck me most about the XA3 is how easily it vanishes – not physically, thankfully, but socially. It slips into a pocket and into the moment. No one notices you raising it to your eye. You’re not a photographer anymore – you’re just someone passing through.

That’s crucial when you’re shooting in a city like London. People clock you in a second if you’re holding a chunky SLR or waving a Leica about like a status symbol. The XA3? It just hums along in your hand, letting you get close without becoming part of the scene. It’s discreet, it’s quiet, and it never once made me feel like I was “doing photography.” I was just there – walking, sweating, watching.

On a day when the tarmac was melting and tempers weren’t far behind, the XA3’s zone focus system was a blessing. No second-guessing. No fiddling. I left it in the middle range and trusted it to get on with the job. The auto-exposure took care of the light. I took care of the wandering.

And what light it was – the kind of harsh, angular summer sun that makes Tri-X sing. Shadows like ink spills. Pavement texture that bites. Skies blown out just enough to feel cinematic. The grain? Present and proud – not soft, not clinical, just that timeless TX400 grit that makes a street photo feel alive.

People, Patterns, and Poetry

The XA3 isn’t the original XA. It lacks the rangefinder, yes – but in return, you get speed, simplicity, and less to obsess over. You’re not measuring, you’re reacting. And London gave me plenty to react to.

At Ted’s Veg, arms flew in and out of frame in a kind of capitalist ballet – produce being picked, prices being barked, a tourist photographing a tomato. Around Tower Bridge, a dozen hands lifted phones at once to capture the same moment from the same angle, each person convinced they’d caught something unique. One frame shows a man asleep on the pavement while life rushes past him – suits stepping around, eyes locked forward, not a second glance given. And in that split second, I felt lucky to be holding a camera that didn’t hesitate.

These weren’t planned shots. They weren’t technically perfect. But they were real. That’s what I want more of now – images that feel like moments, not achievements.

No Pressure, No Pretense

When I developed the roll at home, I wasn’t expecting much. I hadn’t shot the XA3 before. But out of 36 frames, seven stood out – images that made me pause. They had weight, a rhythm, a bit of grime and soul in the grain. Not perfect. But honest.

That’s what this camera gives you: honesty over precision, truth over polish. And I’ll take that trade any day.

It reminded me why I love film – the delay, the doubt, the process. You can’t fix your way to better photos. You either caught it or you didn’t. And if you didn’t? You move on. No buffer previews, no second takes. Just the strange joy of trusting your gut and seeing what comes back.

Olympus XA 3 Final Thoughts

If you’re doing a 365 project, or just trying to shake the rust off after months of digital paralysis, the Olympus XA3 might be the quiet little kick you need. It’s not fancy. It’s not cool. But it gets out of the way and lets you see.

It’s simple. It’s clever. It forgives your mistakes but never hides them.

It won’t flatter your ego, but it will tell the truth. And in a city like London, that’s more than enough.

So here’s to small cameras, sharp film and the beauty of showing up with nothing to prove.

The post Olympus XA3 Street Photography – A Day in London with Tri-X 400 appeared first on Zuikography.