New lens. New focal length. New menu setting. New autofocus mode. A new bag to carry it all. And somehow—quietly—you spend more time deciding than seeing.

That’s where the One Lens For All philosophy comes in. Not as dogma, not as a minimalist badge of honor, but as a practical training exercise: simplify the process so your attention returns to the photograph.

Photo by Ferenc-Laterveer on the Paris workshop, where I used the Leica M9, and Summilux 50mm f1.4 ASPH

This approach is about taking control back—especially from the two things that most often steal it:

1. Constant gear decisions (which lens, which focal length, which “look”)
2. Letting the camera decide the creative priorities (especially focus and exposure choices that shape the image)

It’s not a rejection of technology. It’s a way to stop technology from becoming the main character.

The Hidden Cost of “Options”

Every extra option has a price—usually paid in momentum.

When you carry multiple lenses, you also carry multiple questions:

• “Is this wide enough?”
• “Should I compress the scene?”
• “What if I need more reach?”
• “Maybe this would look better at 35mm… or 85mm…”

A moment captured on a train station Charlottenburg, Berlin. Leica M9, Summilux 50mm f1.4 ASPH

Those questions don’t just slow you down. They also split your attention at the exact moment you need it most: when something is happening in front of you.

Changing lenses isn’t only a physical interruption—it’s a mental one. It shifts you from observing to optimizing, from intuition to technical negotiation.

A single-lens period removes that negotiation. You stop asking “Which tool?” and start asking “What’s the picture?”

Manual Settings as a Creative Declaration

The second half of this philosophy is equally important: manual control—especially when it comes to focus and exposure decisions.

This isn’t about being “pure” or “old school.” It’s about intent.

Two different pictures from Charlottenburg, Berlin. Both captured with Leica M9, Summilux 50mm f1.4 ASPH

Because whether you notice it or not, the camera constantly tries to interpret the scene for you:

• It decides what matters most in the frame (autofocus priorities).
• It decides what the “correct” brightness should be (metering priorities).
• It tries to normalize contrast and tone (depending on settings and profiles).

“Correct” is often the enemy of “expressive.”

When you use manual settings (or at least manual intent), you’re saying:

• “I decide what should be sharp.”
• “I decide what mood this exposure should carry.”
• “I decide whether the shadows stay heavy or open up.”

That decision-making is a muscle. The more you hand it over, the less it develops. The more you practice it, the more automatic—and freeing—it becomes.

Manual control isn’t about complexity. It’s about removing the camera’s debate from the moment.
Once it’s habitual, it becomes simpler than automation—because it’s consistent and predictable.

Scene from April workshop in Paris. Photo: Russell Latshaw.

One Lens Isn’t “Forever”—It’s Training

A common misunderstanding is that One Lens For All is a permanent lifestyle choice: one focal length, one identity, one way of shooting.

It doesn’t have to be. In fact, it works best when you treat it as a seasonal practice.

The point isn’t to exclude other lenses. The point is to earn them.

If you can’t predict what 50mm will do in a situation, switching to 35mm won’t fix that. It will just add a new layer of uncertainty. But once you know a focal length in your bones—its field of view, its distances, its way of rendering space—then changing lenses becomes a creative choice, not a rescue attempt.

So think of it like this:

• One lens for a period
• One set of manual habits
• One consistent workflow
• Then expand, deliberately, with purpose

That’s not limitation. That’s building a foundation.

Two scenes done with the 50mm lens. Left is from Berlin, and right is from Paris.

Learning a Focal Length “In Your Body”

When you commit to one lens—say a 50mm—you start learning things that no spec sheet can teach you:

1) You learn distance like a reflex

You begin to feel where you need to stand without raising the camera. You learn how close is too close, how far is too far, and what “right distance” looks like for your style.

2) You pre-visualize before lifting the camera

Instead of framing through trial-and-error, you start seeing in that focal length. The frame appears in your mind before the camera is even up.

3) You become composition-first

You stop relying on zoom to solve composition problems. You solve them with:

• moving your feet
• adjusting your angle
• choosing what to include and exclude
• timing

4) You learn the lens’s personality

Every lens has a way of drawing:

• how it handles contrast
• how it renders the out-of-focus areas
• what it does to faces at certain distances
• how it behaves wide open vs stopped down

That knowledge becomes instinct. And instinct becomes speed. And speed becomes freedom.

Having a break on the Paris workshop. Photo: Ferenc Laterveer

The Real Goal: A Workflow That Doesn’t Interrupt Seeing

The best creative workflow is the one that disappears.

When your gear choices stop interrupting you, photography becomes more like:

• walking
• noticing
• reacting
• refining

…and less like:

• configuring
• selecting
• comparing
• second-guessing

With one lens and manual intent, your process becomes repeatable. You don’t have to “re-learn” every time you head out. That repeatability is what allows style to emerge—because the variables stop moving.

And that’s the deeper benefit: consistency creates clarity.

Coffee at the Einstein Coffee shop in Berlin. When i lifted the camera, I knew up front how the framing would be, because I know my lens so well.

Why 50mm Works So Well (And Why It’s Not About the Number)

I mostly use a 50mm for everything I do, and that’s a perfect example of how this philosophy works.

A 50mm (on full frame) is often called “normal,” but the real reason it’s powerful is simpler:

• It doesn’t exaggerate space like a wide lens.
• It doesn’t compress space like a tele lens.
• It forces you into intentional distance.

It’s close enough to feel human, and strict enough to demand decisions.

The philosophy isn’t “50mm is best.”
The philosophy is: choose one focal length and make it your native language.

Once you do that, any lens can become expressive—because you’re no longer dependent on it. You’re fluent.

Berlin. leica M9, Summilux 50mm f1.4 ASPH. Scenery captured in late afternoon light at a train station.

A Simple Training Exercise (That Actually Works)

If you want this to be more than a nice idea, make it concrete.

The One-Lens, Manual-Intent Challenge (14–30 days)

Rules:

• One lens only (prime ideally, but not required)
• Manual exposure or semi-manual with strict intent (e.g., manual + auto ISO, or aperture priority + locked exposure compensation)
• Decide focus deliberately (single point focus, back button, or manual focus—anything that makes you decide)

Two images from Berlin. Leica M9, Summilux 50mm f1.4 ASPH

Daily practice prompts:

1. One frame where the background matters as much as the subject
2. One frame where you embrace shadows instead of “fixing” them
3. One frame where you move closer than feels comfortable
4. One frame where you step back and simplify
5. One frame where timing matters more than composition

Weekly review (10 minutes):

• What distances do I default to?
• What do I avoid?
• What situations do I nail with this lens?
• Where do I struggle—and why?

That review is where learning becomes permanent.

Morten explaining on the Paris workshop in April. Photo: FerencLaterveer.

How This Translates Into My Workshops (And Why I’ve Added a 3-Day Option)

This One Lens philosophy is also at the core of how I teach.

A lot of people come to workshops thinking they need more techniques. Most don’t. What they really need is a way to remove friction so they can work faster, clearer, and with more intention.

That’s why I often build workshop exercises around:

• one focal length (so you stop negotiating with your gear)
• deliberate focus choices (so you decide what the image is about)
• repeatable exposure habits (so the camera stops “correcting” your mood)
• editing and refining plus constructive critique

In short: we train until the process becomes simple enough to disappear.

Scenes from Berlin. Leica M9, Summilux 50mm f1.4 ASPH

How This Translates Into My Workshops (And Why I’ve Added a 3-Day Option)