I almost never write about it here - but I love taking pictures. I started about a decade ago when I found an abandoned Polaroid right before I left for a long road trip and instantly fell in love. Over the years I’ve amassed a small collection of cameras, from turn of the century relics, to Soviet era medium format SLR’s to early Japanese rangefinders. Each of them is unique and wonderful in it’s own way, but I find I shoot almost entirely with just two: My (relatively) expensive Nikon DSLR, and my (relatively) cheap iPhone 4. In terms of photo quality, these represent, the highest end camera I own and the lowest. Between the two of them, the iPhone is by far the one I use the most. The main reason is simple: it’s the one I have with me most often. But there are a pile of other reasons too, not the least of which is that the Nikon is big and loud and makes people nervous when I point it at them.
More than that though - there is a work flow issue.
When I shoot on my Nikon my photos are, relative to my meager ability, far, far better than what I could ever get out of my iPhone. But in order to get those photos out into the world I have to import the RAW files into Aperture, make any corrections I need to, export each one as a JPEG and then upload it to Flickr. From there, if I want to geocode it I need to do that by hand trying to match up my recollection of where I took the photo to a satellite photo on a Google map. It’s not that it’s not worth it - when I go somewhere, or have something I really want to photograph, it’s a small price to pay - but it’s not what I’d call “effortless”.
On the other hand, when I’m walking around town, or when an unexpected moment arises, or when I want to take pictures of my friends or family without them making their “I’m having my picture taken” face, my iPhone is the superior camera. The baseline quality is more than good enough, and once the picture is taken, I have the ability to do pretty much whatever I want with it right there. I can edit it using any one of the many apps I have installed, it’s always geocoded, and I can immediately upload it to Flickr, or send it out on Twitter. Sure, there are times when I miss having the quality and delicate control my Nikon affords, but those moments are so rare that I nearly never carry my camera with me if I’m not on a trip.
Given all that, I wasn’t at all surprised by this article in the Times or this one on TechCrunch, both about the ascension of cell phone cameras as the new “point-and-shoot” camera. Moreover, I suspect anyone who has used a point-and-shoot in the last 3 years isn’t surprised either. Compared to the clunky, confusing, and antiquated interfaces of a contemporary point-and-shoot, a camera phone is an elegantly simple way to take pictures. In fact, the only people who seem surprised by this trend are the people making the point-and-shoot cameras. I say this only because they continue, year after year, to blindly push out these cameras even as the picture taking public so actively turns away from them.
The gap between these two realities - the reality of the people taking pictures and the reality of people making cameras - I suspect lays in the core cultural motivations of camera companies: companies like Nikon and Canon are at the very forefront of camera making, but they’re lagging way behind in the area of picture taking. As these two articles point out - for most people, the difference between those two concepts is huge.
But the rise of the cell phone camera is far from an anomaly. In fact, it’s actually a textbook example of what Clayton Christensen first coined “disruptive innovation”. The term “disruptive innovation” is a favorite among people in pretty much any industry who want to view themselves as cutting edge. “Be the disruption”, “harness the disruption”, “embrace disruption” all fit pretty neatly into Power Point slides, but in reality disruptive innovation is usually completely misunderstood and often pretty terrible for established organizations.
When most people think about the concept of innovation they generally think of it as something that moves in a continuous path forward, each innovation building off of and enhancing the previous, making things better, stronger, faster, and cheaper. These are what Christensen calls “sustaining innovations” and we see them all the time. They’re the faster processors. The bigger engines. The digital camera with 16 megapixels instead of 12. They’re what you already own - but better.
But there is a second type of innovation: the disruptive kind and it doesn’t work at all like the sustaining variety.
First, disruptive innovations don’t happen in a linear path, instead they might best thought of as a series of S-curves, one stacked on top of another. The gap between these two curves is the disruption. It’s the new technology, or the new way of thinking, or the new philosophy that separates the new paradigm from the old and it’s the gap you need jump to continue to move forward. But before you can jump it - you need to see it, and often that’s the hardest part.

Each curve starts with the earliest forms of the disruption. This is the time period when the disruption, and the people working within it, are at their most active but least organized. Think of the earliest days of mechanized flight or personal computers - lots people working in lots of different directions but with little institutional backing. It’s at this stage that there is the most to be gained by people involved in the innovation, but it’s also the stage that is the least attractive to established organizations. In his book, The Innovators Dilemma, Christensen points out that, among other things, it’s at this early stage that the new markets a disruption addresses are usually too small to be financially interesting to established organizations, and the cultural changes required to enter those markets are too great given its lack of a certain future. Further, because the disruption is so new, there is no demand for it from the customers of the established organization. All of these factors combine to make the disruption look less like an opportunity and more like a distraction.
In terms of camera phones, the beginning of this curve was about 10 years ago when manufacturers first started putting cheap, poor quality cameras into their phones. At the time, even the most low end point-and-shoot was miles ahead of any cell phone camera and, as a consumer, if you wanted something remotely useable the point-and-shoot is what you bought. This is what Christensen is talking about when he writes that the markets of the disruptive technology are too small to be interesting to the established organizations. If you’re Nikon, and your brand is about high-quality photography, it’s pretty difficult to justify diverting resources towards developing low quality camera systems for cell phones. Especially while point-and-shoots are selling well.
There is another phenomenon at work here too: because technological innovation can so throughly outstrip people’s ability to use it, mature industries often end up trying to differentiate themselves by producing increasingly feature rich versions of existing products instead of either reducing and refining what they have, or moving into the disruption. This is how we end up with VHS/DVD/MP3/CD players in an era of downloadable media. It’s also how we end up with point-and-shoot cameras that shoot in 3D, or have built in projectors. In this way, organizations not only miss the disruption, they miss the curve altogether, believing they’re still on the vertical portion of the innovation curve, the sustaining innovation portion, when in fact they’re at the top, in a mature market.

So where does this leave a company like Nikon? Well - they could do what they’re doing right now: ignore the trend and just keep pushing updated versions of point-and-shoot cameras. Or they could see that they’re at the top of a curve, reduce their product offering and just focus on the very top-end photographers for whom their product is still critical. Or they could embrace the mobile market, the disruption, by creating a camera app of their own, treating it as a real product, and trying to figure out what “Nikon” means in this space.
Of the three, the third option presents their best chance for keeping their brand relevant to average photographers. It would give them access to an entire group of people who would otherwise have no direct experience with their brand. Right now people who take pictures casually - which is to say most people - are working with a whole new group of companies that just a couple years ago didn’t exist. Applications like Hipstamatic and Instagram are defining this photography space and in doing so, also defining much of the future of snap shot photography. If Nikon wants to remain relevant to these people, they’ll need to go to where the people are, not try to bring the people to where Nikon is. Many of these people may never buy a dedicated camera, but many of them will - and when they do, they’ll be more like to pick a Nikon if they’ve already had hand-on experience with its products - even if those products are digital.
But the third option I think has another advantage: it actually could help make even their high-end cameras better.
While most camera companies build their reputations on optics, digital has ushered in an era where the software that controls the camera is, for many people, just as important than the lens it’s shooting through. Nowhere is this more apparent than on the iPhone, where software means any one can easily transform the basic camera into any number of classic or toy cameras, or add more advanced features like special light metering just by downloading a new application.
Compare that to cameras of any type right now, from high-end DSLRs to entry level point-and-shoots and you’ll find a bizarre amalgamation of film camera metaphors and early 1990’s era software that in the best of cases is cumbersome and in the worst is unusable. Systems of cryptic buttons and hierarchical menus lead to settings most people have no idea what to do with. Things like exposure control, aperture settings, ISO selection are in a “worst of all worlds” position: too inaccessible for people who might use them - and too conceptually abstract to be of use to average people. While manufacturers have tried to alleviate this by adding preset configurations for things like low-light shooting, the results often trade bad photos for boring ones with flat lighting and oddly saturated colors. So people are left with two choices: use the factory settings, or dive into the menu systems at your own risk knowing you might never be able to undo the setting you’re about to change.
An application like Hipstamatic on the other hand actively encourages experimentation. Wrapping settings in easy to grasp concepts like virtual lens and film changes they provide people an inviting and fun way to try different settings without worrying their going to break their camera. Rather than focus on getting the photos “right” apps like Hipstamatic or Instagram know people would rather have their photos be “interesting”. Under- and over-exposures are added to pictures at random, color shifts run wild and blotches abound. All anathema to the “good” photography of a typical point-and-shoot. Of course, it’s not all picture snapping bliss with these apps, and this is where I think a company like Nikon could really shine. As interesting as the photos produced by apps like Hipstamatic are, they also suffer from certain “sameness” after a while. When everyone’s photos are blurry and underexposed and blue-cast, they can lose the very thing the photographer was going for: uniqueness. The space here is vast, and it’s a place Nikon has decades of experience in. By dumping the conventions of typical camera interfaces, Hipstamatic, Instagram and their ilk have made experimenting with cameras fun again. If Nikon could take that emphasis on fun and simplicity while bringing in a focus less on affectation and more on customization, I think they could capture a huge group of people looking to take more control over their photography without adding a bunch of complexity.
While an iPhone application could provide a great way to engage with people who don’t own cameras - the resulting software, its interfaces, and even the concept of software driven photography itself shouldn’t have to stop at the iPhone. I don’t know a single photographer, at any level, who wouldn’t like a better interface for their camera, the ability to experiment with customization more, or simply the ability to easily add and update software. Diving headfirst into the cell phone disruption wouldn’t just help Nikon on the low end, it could provide a low stakes springboard for a completely new approach to how they think about all their products.
It might be that the era of the point-and-shoot as we know it is fully over. I for one wont miss them. But that doesn’t mean the roll of camera companies in the casual photographer space is through. Every day I see people wanting more out of their photos, and the knowledge and history contained within these companies could be invaluable in helping people do just that. First though, they’ll need to embrace the idea that they’re in the business of making pictures, not cameras.