There was a time when I felt almost married to the Canon EF ecosystem. My Canon 6D Mark II and 760D setup with a lineup of EF lenses felt like a complete working toolkit: dependable, familiar, and built around that reassuring mechanical certainty a DSLR body gives. For years, it worked—travel, portraits, random creative experiments, the occasional commission—everything flowed smoothly. Yet the quiet shift began the moment I realized mirrorless wasn’t just a newer format—it was a better one.
The first thing that hit me when switching to the Canon R100 and R8 combo was how the sensor performance reshaped what’s possible. High ISO on the R system feels effortless. Where ISO 6400 once felt like a guilty emergency setting, now it’s just part of normal shooting. The grain is tighter, highlight roll-off is smoother, and dynamic range gives breathing space in shadows without turning them into mush. The EVF showing exposure in real time eliminated that old ritual of test shots and adjustments. Funny thing is, I didn’t even realize how much time that stole until I stopped doing it.
Then came autofocus—specifically eye tracking. With DSLRs, you always lived with the reality that certain lenses needed micro-adjustment. Every fast prime had this little personality flaw: back focus, front focus, something subtle but noticeable enough to make you doubt the result until zooming in during playback. With mirrorless, that anxiety evaporates. No fine-tuning. No AFMA charts. No compromises. Focus happens on the sensor plane itself, and that alone makes the whole system feel smarter, cleaner, more precise.
Another unexpected benefit: silent shooting with the electronic shutter. There’s something satisfying—almost mischievous—about capturing a moment without a sound. And because the electronic shutter doesn’t physically wear anything down, shutter count becomes almost irrelevant. One could argue the R8 is the closest thing to a “camera with eternal life” outside of mechanical rangefinders.
Of course, some of my EF primes stayed. They didn’t deserve exile—they deserved reinvention. Stick them on an RF body and suddenly they become tools for new creative approaches rather than relics. With the adapter ecosystem, it becomes a playground: drop-in filters for ND or CPL without threading front elements, or even a speedbooster setup like Meike’s that turns APS-C bodies into near-full-frame performers while gaining extra stop of light. It feels like giving old glass a new brain.
Meanwhile, Canon’s growing RF lineup—especially the budget lenses—is shockingly good. Lightweight, sharp enough for professional use, and in many cases stabilized. I don’t even feel IBIS is necessary in my setup; the RF lenses with IS cover most situations while keeping the bodies compact and reasonably priced. Everything feels lighter and more intentional—no more hauling bricks just to justify optical superiority.
Looking back, I don’t feel sentimental about leaving DSLRs behind. Yes, they were great. Yes, they still produce beautiful images. But the switch wasn’t painful, wasn’t insanely expensive, and didn’t require relearning photographic thinking. It was more like shedding an unnecessary layer. Now the camera bag is lighter, the system is simpler, and the technology quietly amplifies creativity instead of getting in the way.
If anything, the only real surprise is how little I miss the old setup. The mirror, the AF tuning, the bulk—those belonged to a different time. Mirrorless made photography smoother, more fluid, and honestly more fun. And once everything finally clicked, the transition didn’t just feel justified—it felt inevitable.
