I didn’t know I’d miss the optical viewfinder until I lost it. When I moved from DSLR to mirrorless a few years ago, I thought the transition would be seamless. Similar lenses, better tech, smaller body. But losing that simple glass window into the world changed how I saw through the camera. The EVF never gave me the same connection. It felt clever, sure, but also strangely confining.
Now, I barely touch it. I compose almost everything on the rear screen. Not because the EVF isn’t good, modern ones are bright, sharp, and responsive, but because I see the frame better when my eye isn't pressed against a tiny rectangle. With the screen, I see the whole photograph at once, almost like looking at a print. I can stand back slightly, see edges, and balance the composition without darting my eye around the frame.
The EVF feels too big in relation to my eye's window of view and how we naturally scan an image. I feel I don't take in the entire composition at once, but rather look top to bottom, side to side, and by the time you’ve taken it all in, the moment has shifted. The screen, for me, is faster because it’s complete. It’s one glance, one image, one decision.
There’s also something freeing about shooting at arm’s length. It gives me a sense of space between me and the camera, between the subject and the final image. I’m also a big fan of waist-level shooting with the screen flipped up. It slows me down in the best way, like a nod to those classic twin-lens reflex cameras. Looking down at the screen feels less like peering through a tunnel and more like working with a composition laid flat in front of me.
I can already hear the objections, many of which I have heard firsthand when admitting this approach to shooting. "Screens are for amateurs." "No serious photographer shoots like that." But that’s nonsense. Photography isn’t about following a checklist of what pros supposedly do; it’s about finding the tools and habits that work for you and the way you see. For me, that means stepping back and treating the camera less like a mask I hide behind and more like a frame I work within.
To be clear, I get why some genres rely on the EVF. If I shot sports or wildlife, I’d probably glue my eye to it. Those split-second moments need total focus and immersion. But I shoot slower-paced work such as landscapes, portraits, and documentary, where I can more often take my time. The screen suits that rhythm.
It’s not just me. Smartphones have shifted how an entire generation thinks about composition. Millions of people have never looked through a traditional viewfinder, and to them, the screen is photography. I’m not saying that’s better or worse, but it’s worth acknowledging. Perhaps that's why I enjoy shooting on a phone more than many of my peers, take this recent trip to Sweden as an example.
There are still moments when I reach for the EVF. Harsh sunlight. Critical manual focusing. Times when I need to lock into the scene and block out distractions. But those moments are rare now. More often than not, I’m happiest with the screen.
From personal experience, the shift from optical to electronic viewfinders has changed how I work. I didn’t adapt to the EVF; I adapted around it. Maybe that will sound wrong to some people, but if my images are stronger because I’ve found a way that works for me, I’ll take it!
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