For as long as I’ve been serious about photography, I’ve had a very specific itch I couldn’t quite scratch: I wanted a real monochrome sensor camera. Not “set it to black and white.” Not “convert it later.” I mean a camera that only sees in luminance—light, shadow, tone, texture—without colour data whispering in the background.
That dream has always lived in the “someday” category, mostly because the usual doors into monochrome-only cameras have been priced like luxury cars. And then Ricoh did something that feels like it was made for the way I already shoot: a GR IV Monochrome—a compact, monochrome-sensor camera built around the same field of view that has basically become my creative fingerprint.
Spring 2026 is when I plan to make it real.
The 28mm thread that runs through everything I do
If you’ve been following my work, you already know this: I keep coming back to one field of view because it keeps teaching me. That idea has shown up everywhere on my site—from Finding Style in the Street – the 28mm Field of View and the Discipline of Presence to my deep appreciation for what 28mm does in the hands of someone like Winogrand (Garry Winogrand and his 28mm lens).
It’s also the foundation of projects like Faces of Toronto and the simple practice of getting out the door and letting the city shape the work (Why walking the city is essential).
So when a monochrome-sensor camera shows up with a 28mm equivalent lens, it doesn’t feel like a new direction.
It feels like the next sentence in the same paragraph.
Why a monochrome sensor is different (and why I care)
A monochrome sensor doesn’t waste pixels on colour filters. Every pixel is working the same job: record brightness. The promise isn’t some magical “better camera” fantasy—it’s something much more practical and, for me, much more meaningful:
- sharper tonal separation
- cleaner detail (especially in texture-heavy scenes)
- a more natural relationship to grain and high ISO
- a camera that reinforces what I’m already trying to do: see the light first
This lines up perfectly with the mindset I’ve been building through my Adams re-reads—especially the idea that the photograph is made long before it’s processed (Visualization is the real camera) and the ongoing shift from “taking” to “making” (Making, not taking).
A monochrome sensor is not a shortcut. It’s a constraint.
And constraints are where my best work seems to show up.
The second dream inside the dream: infrared black and white
Here’s the part that makes me grin: I don’t just want monochrome. I want monochrome IR—that strange, uncanny tonal world where spring foliage can glow, skies can deepen, and familiar streets can look like they slipped into a parallel version of Toronto.
And the practical part is almost comically clean:
- I already own a Hoya 720nm IR filter with a 49mm filter thread, originally purchased last summer for use with my GFX100RF.
- the GR IV system can take 49mm filters with the GA-3 lens adapter
- so this becomes a small, focused kit—not a gear spiral
That matters to me. Because I’m not chasing novelty. I’m chasing a specific look that I’ve wanted for years, and I want to build it the same way I build everything else: repeatable sessions, tight constraints, consistent field of view, and a clear intention.
That approach is basically the backbone of my whole long game (Three sessions a week for 105 weeks).
March / April: the timeline that makes sense for this
Ricoh may ship these earlier, but for me the real start is March and April—because IR is a spring language.
That’s when Toronto shifts. Light changes. Sidewalks dry out. Trees go from sticks to buds to that first soft green that feels like relief.
So the plan is simple:
March is acquisition month. I’ll get the GR IV Monochrome in hand, put it through its paces, and learn every quirk—metering behavior, highlight roll-off, ISO tolerance, how it focuses with the 720nm filter on, and what it feels like in fast, real walking situations. The goal isn’t to “try it.” The goal is to make it second nature, then fold it into my standard walking kit like it’s always belonged there.
From day one, I’m going out with two cameras on every session:
- GR IV Monochrome kit: camera + GA-3 lens adapter + 49mm Hoya 720nm IR filter
- GFX100RF: my known quantity and my anchor
That’s the experiment: two perspectives, one walk. Same streets, same light, same instincts—two different interpretations.
And that’s how I’ll figure out the real question that matters to me: not which camera is “better,” but which camera best matches the photograph I’m already seeing in my head. Over a few weeks, the decision I’m after becomes automatic. I want to reach the moment, feel the frame forming, and know—without thinking—whether this is a GR IV IR moment, or a GFX100RF moment.
By April, I’m not testing anymore. I’m working. The kit choice becomes intuitive, and the project starts to produce consistent, repeatable images instead of interesting trials.
What I want to photograph first
I’m not overcomplicating the subject list. I’m keeping it honest and local—because that’s where the work actually grows:
- High Park and the edges of spring foliage
- hard architectural lines against big skies
- sidewalks after rain, when the city turns reflective
- quiet portraits and street moments where tone is the story
- places I’ve photographed a hundred times—so the difference is how I’m seeing, not where I’m standing
This also fits naturally alongside my existing black-and-white direction—especially the way I’ve been leaning into contrast and shape (Using on-camera flash to deepen contrast in black-and-white street photography).
IR isn’t replacing that.
It’s extending it.
The real reason this feels like a dream coming true
The older I get, the more I realize the best dreams aren’t the ones that explode your life.
They’re the ones that click into place.
A monochrome-sensor 28mm camera isn’t a detour for me. It’s the same discipline, in a different form—smaller, faster, more dedicated. And IR is the added layer I’ve always wanted: not just black and white, but black and white with a different kind of light.
So yeah—this spring, I’m going to walk out into Toronto with a camera that matches one of the ways my mind already edits the world.
Monochrome first.
Everything else second.