There is something quietly radical about choosing a telephoto lens for autumn foliage, and Jeremy's confession resonates with us precisely because it goes against the grain of what we are told to expect. Wide-angle vistas dominate the conversation around fall color, the sweeping panoramas, the epic landscapes, the sense of scale that tries to capture everything at once. But Jeremy has spent this season with his wide-angle packed away, opting instead for a lens that compresses distance and isolates detail. We think he is onto something essential: the most intimate view of autumn is not the one that tries to hold the whole forest, but the one that lets a single branch tell the story.
For anyone who has ever felt overwhelmed by the pressure to capture the "big picture," this approach is a quiet liberation. Jeremy's work reminds us that seeing well is not the same as seeing broadly. A telephoto lens forces a different kind of attention, it asks you to find the composition within the chaos, to notice the way light falls on a single red leaf against a blurred backdrop of gold. It is a practice of editing the world before you press the shutter. This connects directly to the lessons in Twenty autumns of finding color, composition, and a richer creative rhythm, where two decades of photographing fall color have taught the value of planning and patience over impulse. Jeremy's telephoto addiction is not a gear preference; it is a philosophy of restraint.
Of course, this is not to dismiss wide-angle work entirely. The NiSi's new ultra-wide lens expands the GFX system's creative edge is a reminder that innovation in optics continues to reward those who want to capture the full frame. But Jeremy's choice underscores a deeper truth: the best tool is the one that aligns with how you want to see. A telephoto lens lets you step back, physically and mentally, and engage with autumn as a series of curated moments rather than a single overwhelming spectacle. It is an invitation to slow down, to look closer, and to trust that beauty exists in the details we often rush past.
The practical takeaway here is simple and specific: the next time you head out to photograph the season, leave the wide-angle in the bag for one outing. Challenge yourself to find the frame within the frame. Watch how a compressed perspective turns a chaotic hillside into a study of color and texture. Jeremy's addiction is one we can all afford to catch, and if we are honest, it might be the thing that finally teaches us how to truly see autumn, not just scan it.