Every year, I rent a considerable amount of photography gear. This often includes lighting setups or backup equipment required for specific shoots. Occasionally, I rent lenses that I don’t see myself using frequently enough to justify a purchase. However, most of the time, I rent equipment to evaluate it before making a buying decision.
There are lenses and cameras I grow fond of, even if they aren’t technically the best. One example is the 40mm pancake lens. It’s affordable, compact, and not the sharpest tool in the shed—but I love it because it’s so lightweight and easy to carry around. The practical ease of a lens often isn’t something you can judge until you’ve held it in your hands and used it in real scenarios. That’s why, for gear priced over $1,000, I prefer to rent first. Recently, I had been considering the Canon 16-35mm and the Canon TS-E 24mm lenses, so I rented both.
At the end of 2018, I was commissioned to photograph the Peninsula Hotel in Chicago. The brief was flexible, primarily asking me to capture the hotel’s holiday decorations. The rest of the creative direction was up to me, which is always a refreshing way to work. Since I would be shooting primarily indoors, I saw this as an ideal opportunity to test both lenses in an environment where I typically rely on my Canon 24-70mm.
Re-evaluating the Canon 16-35mm f2.8L II
Back in 2017, I had rented both the Canon 16-35mm and the Canon 24-70mm. At the time, I was close to buying the 16-35mm without testing it first. But over time, I’ve learned to take things slowly. Reselling equipment can be frustrating, so I’ve developed a more cautious approach to gear purchases. In hindsight, it was a wise decision because I ultimately went with the 24-70mm and have never looked back. It's become a staple in my kit.
Today, I own a Zeiss 15mm, which I turn to when I need a dramatically wide shot. With that and my 24-70mm, the 16-35mm doesn’t quite fill a necessary gap in my lineup. While it’s a solid lens, the range just doesn’t bring enough to the table for me to consider a permanent spot for it in my gear bag.
Recently, wide-angle shots have gained popularity, especially among photographers active on social media. But trends don’t always dictate what’s best for a project. It was enjoyable to use the 16-35mm for a weekend, but it didn’t win me over enough to make a purchase.
Observations on Using Wide-Angle Lenses
Photographing the Peninsula Hotel allowed me to reflect on how I use wide-angle lenses. My attitude toward them is similar to how I think about composite images. When used thoughtfully, they can be stunning. They produce an image that feels unnatural—one that even the untrained eye can recognize as altered. The world doesn’t look that way naturally, and that’s okay. Wide-angle photography is a creative interpretation, but one that demands careful attention to composition.
While wide-angle images have their place, I prefer to use them sparingly rather than relying on them heavily. When used intentionally, they can add drama or expansiveness. But leaning on them all the time can lead to images that feel more gimmicky than purposeful. The Peninsula Hotel provided the perfect environment to explore that balance and confirm my preference for restraint when it comes to wide lenses.
Exploring the Canon TS-E 24mm
Over the past couple of years, I’ve slowly been exploring interior and architectural photography. It started as a side component of restaurant and travel shoots. But recently, I’ve begun getting hired for shoots that focus solely on interior spaces. Early on in my career, I gained a solid foundation in food photography by assisting experienced photographers. That wasn’t the case with interiors. It’s been mostly trial and error, mixed with personal experimentation.
Many interior photographers I admire swear by tilt-shift lenses. While their preferences didn’t automatically convince me, I started to wonder if a tilt-shift lens might be useful in food photography as well. I don’t know anyone using one in that context, and that piqued my interest. Sometimes, when shooting tabletop scenes at an angle, I notice too much bokeh at the bottom of the frame. A tilt-shift lens seemed like it could help fix that.
During the shoot at the Peninsula, I tested this theory. The image created with the Canon TS-E 24mm was noticeably sharper than one taken with the Canon 24-70mm, especially in the text of a holiday message. But achieving that sharpness came at a cost—it took me far longer to set up the shot.
I used the tilt-shift lens for about three days. Even though I understood its mechanics in theory, getting the shot to look exactly how I envisioned was not easy. I imagine it would take me about a month of regular use to feel comfortable enough to use it during a high-pressure shoot. It’s a piece of gear I’d like to own one day, but it’s not a priority right now. I’ll likely revisit it when time and budget both allow for a new learning curve.
Experience with the Canon 24-70mm Lens at the Peninsula Hotel
When working in a space like the Peninsula Hotel in Chicago, versatility becomes incredibly important. The Canon 24-70mm f2.8L II lens offered me that versatility. It provided a focal length range wide enough to capture large rooms and interiors while still allowing me to zoom in for tighter, more detailed shots. Since I had already used this lens extensively before the Peninsula shoot, I knew how to work with it, how it responded in low light, and how its sharpness held up across different focal lengths. That familiarity allowed me to move quickly and with confidence throughout the hotel’s ornate halls and decorated spaces.
The lighting inside the Peninsula Hotel during the holiday season was beautiful but challenging. There were bright, twinkling lights strung everywhere, massive chandeliers reflecting off polished floors, and moody corners where the light barely reached. In all of these lighting conditions, the Canon 24-70mm handled incredibly well. Its constant f/2.8 aperture lets me work with available light more often than not, and the lens produces sharp, clean images across the board. It allowed me to adjust my shooting quickly without having to change lenses, which is especially helpful when trying to maintain momentum in a shoot where timing is critical.
What I loved most about the 24-70mm on this project was its reliability. Every photo felt clean and professional, and when I needed to shoot wide for a room shot or close for a table centerpiece or detail on a garland, the lens delivered. Because I could remain in one spot and simply zoom, it helped minimize disruption in high-traffic areas like the lobby or restaurants. I didn’t need to constantly step backward to fit something in the frame or change lenses when a tighter composition was needed.
Even though I had rented other lenses for this particular project, I often found myself returning to the 24-70mm. It is my comfort lens, not because it is the most exciting or niche option, but because it gets the job done in nearly every setting. When deadlines are involved and expectations are high, there is a sense of calm that comes from using gear you trust. And on this shoot, trust in my gear was essential. There was no room for errors or surprises.
The photos I captured with the 24-70mm were crisp, warm, and detailed. It rendered the festive environment beautifully and translated the mood of the space without needing to overcompensate in post-production. The subtle contrast, the slight vignette at the edges, and the even sharpness made the images feel polished straight out of the camera. I remember looking at the first few test shots and realizing I wouldn’t need to do much editing at all. That’s the mark of great glass.
Understanding Tilt-Shift Through Real Use
Tilt-shift lenses can seem intimidating, especially if your background is in more fast-paced or dynamic forms of photography like food, travel, or lifestyle. My first few encounters with the Canon TS-E 24mm were cautious. The controls were precise but finicky. It took real patience to compose images exactly the way I envisioned them. Every tilt or shift adjustment required thought and readjustment. But in those moments when everything aligned, the results were stunning.
Tilt-shift lenses are most often used by architectural photographers who need to eliminate distortion when capturing tall buildings or interiors. Instead of pointing the camera up or down, the lens itself shifts to accommodate perspective correction. This ensures that vertical lines stay vertical and scenes maintain a more natural proportion. That ability alone can elevate a standard photo into something that looks professional and considered.
During the shoot at the Peninsula, I used the tilt-shift primarily for interior shots. I wanted to test how it might compare to the 24-70mm, especially in tight spaces where distortion could be distracting. The results were mixed. On one hand, the images had an almost magical sharpness and clarity. On the other hand, it took me significantly longer to capture them. Every movement required focus, every angle had to be reconsidered, and it became clear that this lens was not ideal for fast-moving environments.
Despite the slow pace, I found myself drawn to the creative possibilities of the tilt-shift. Being able to manipulate focus planes meant I could shape the story of a photo in a completely new way. I experimented with food shots and was surprised to find that the tilt function helped me balance depth in interesting ways. A flat lay with multiple dishes no longer needed to be constrained by the shallow depth of field. I could tilt the lens and get sharpness across the scene without having to stop down to f/11 or f/16.
Of course, there were limitations. The lack of autofocus and the delicate setup made it difficult to use quickly or reactively. It’s not a lens I’d bring to a chaotic restaurant shoot or an event with moving subjects. It’s for deliberate, planned images where control is everything. Still, there was something satisfying about taking the time to compose each shot perfectly. It slowed me down and made me think more critically about each element in the frame.
One of the most exciting discoveries was that the TS-E 24mm lens made small spaces look grand. In the hotel rooms or smaller dining areas, I was able to capture entire walls or long tables without introducing the curvature or warping that a standard wide-angle lens might. That natural, clean look felt closer to how the human eye perceives space and made the final photos feel more immersive. It felt less like a trick and more like an honest portrayal of a room.
Comparing Image Results Between Lenses
Looking at the final images from the shoot, the differences between the three lenses became even clearer. The Canon 24-70mm delivered consistency. It captured every space faithfully with rich color, minimal distortion, and high versatility. The Canon 16-35mm gave the rooms an exaggerated sense of space, which could be fun but often felt a bit too dramatic for the atmosphere I was trying to create. The TS-E 24mm produced the cleanest lines and the sharpest edges, but at the cost of time and flexibility.
In one of the ballroom shots, for example, the 24-70mm rendered the chandeliers beautifully, and I could zoom in slightly to crop out some background distractions. The 16-35mm let me fit the entire ceiling and foreground into a single frame, but the lines at the edge of the image curved slightly, giving the photo a surreal, almost fish-eye look. When I revisited the same scene with the tilt-shift, the lines were perfect, and the symmetry was pristine. But it took four times as long to capture that single image, and I had to shoot tethered to my laptop to make sure everything was aligned.
I found that each lens had its place. The 24-70mm remained my default. The 16-35mm was best used sparingly, for a handful of wide, dramatic shots. And the tilt-shift was something I’d reach for when time allowed and precision was critical. If I ever got asked to do a hotel campaign where each image would be printed large or used in high-end brochures, I’d likely use the tilt-shift lens for most of the interiors. But if speed and flexibility were more important, I’d stick to the 24-70mm every time.
What I appreciated most during this project was the ability to test all three lenses under real conditions. No YouTube review or blog post could have told me how they would feel in my hands, how they would impact my process, or how their subtle quirks would play out in a busy hotel shoot. It reinforced something I’ve come to believe strongly: your gear needs to match your workflow. Specs are interesting, but they don’t show you the full picture.
Learning and Evolving Through Lens Testing
Every time I rent new equipment, I learn something. Sometimes the lesson is as simple as realizing a lens is heavier than expected or that it doesn't focus as close as I thought. Other times, the lesson is deeper, about how a piece of gear fits into my vision as a photographer or how it challenges my habits and routines. This project at the Peninsula Hotel taught me a bit of both.
Testing these lenses under pressure gave me a clearer understanding of my priorities. I realized that while I value image quality, I place a higher premium on ease of use and responsiveness. I don’t want to wrestle with my gear. I want it to work with me, to make the act of creating smoother and more intuitive. That realization pushed me to reconsider how I evaluate new purchases. It’s not just about image sharpness or low-light performance. It’s about how a lens makes me feel when I use it.
The tilt-shift lens sparked ideas for future projects. I started thinking about how I could use it in still life setups or to control focus in creative food compositions. I even began sketching out a series of concept shots that would only be possible with that kind of lens. That kind of excitement is rare, and it made me realize that there’s value in exploring tools that might not have an immediate return on investment. Sometimes the act of experimenting is reason enough.
With the Canon 16-35mm, I walked away with less enthusiasm. It was fun, but I couldn’t imagine it becoming a core part of my kit. It reminded me that not every lens is for every photographer. What works for someone shooting cityscapes or content for social media might not align with how I approach storytelling through images. And that’s okay. Photography is personal. It’s built on preference and instinct as much as it is on technique and tools.
As for the 24-70mm, it cemented its place as the anchor in my gear bag. The project reinforced how much I rely on it and how it meets nearly all my needs without fuss. Knowing that I have that reliability frees me up to take creative risks elsewhere. I don’t need to reinvent the wheel with every lens. Sometimes, having a strong foundation is enough.
Challenges of Shooting in a High-End Hotel Environment
Photographing inside a luxury hotel like the Peninsula is not the same as shooting in a private studio or a friend’s kitchen. There are expectations, both in how you behave and in the results you deliver. The staff is courteous but busy. Guests are everywhere. Every corner is decorated, cleaned, and curated to perfection, and your job as a photographer is to make it look even better, without getting in anyone’s way. That alone can be stressful.
One of the biggest challenges I faced during the shoot was time. Hotels like the Peninsula operate around the clock. Rooms get booked, tables fill up, and lobby decorations change from morning to night. This meant I had to work around real people, real schedules, and a constantly shifting environment. At times, I would wait twenty or thirty minutes just to get a clean shot without a crowd. Other times, I had a small window before a meeting or event began in the space I needed to photograph.
The lighting also proved difficult. In many areas, natural light was limited, and ambient light came from chandeliers, table lamps, or holiday lights. These gave the rooms warmth and character but made exposure tricky. Some corners were bathed in golden light, while others sat in deep shadows. I had to constantly adjust my settings and white balance, often bracketing shots to make sure I had enough dynamic range to work with later.
Because of these conditions, I avoided using flash. I didn’t want to disturb guests or draw attention to myself. Instead, I relied on fast lenses, a steady hand, and sometimes a tripod. But even using a tripod was challenging. Setting one up
Understanding the Personal Feel of Equipment
After years of trial, error, and renting different gear, I’ve realized something that doesn’t always come through in typical reviews or technical comparisons. The best lens isn’t always the one with the sharpest glass or the highest performance stats. It’s the one that feels right in your hand. The one that makes you want to go out and take photos. It’s easy to get caught up in technical specs, but when you’re on location, under time pressure, or simply chasing the right light, none of that matters as much as how a lens feels to use.
The Canon 16-35mm, for instance, is a powerful tool. It allows you to shoot in tight indoor spaces and capture vast, sweeping views. But for me, something about that range never quite clicked. The distortion at the edges, especially when I was photographing interiors with vertical lines like doorways and windows, required more correction than I wanted to deal with regularly. That isn’t to say it’s not a great lens. It is. Just not for me. I think there’s also something psychological that happens when you shoot too wide. It can feel impressive, but over time, I found that it pulled me away from focusing on details, which is where my style naturally leans.
On the other hand, the Canon 24mm tilt-shift lens brought something completely different to the table. It slowed me down. It forced me to be thoughtful. Every adjustment took time. It was almost like going back to shooting film, where you have to compose before you click. I like that. It makes you consider every element in the frame and how the lens interacts with space. It’s not practical for every shoot, but it pushed my thinking. Even though I didn’t feel confident using it on a fast-paced client job, I knew it had potential for more artistic, detail-oriented work. That, to me, is exciting.
Developing Confidence in Your Gear Decisions
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned over the years is to trust my instincts with gear. Early on, I would read everything I could find. Blog posts. Reviews. Forums. It felt like there was always some piece of equipment that would make me better. But over time, I realized those reviews weren’t always written by people doing the same kind of work I was. They didn’t have the same priorities or shooting style. I stopped looking at specs and started looking at photos. What was it about certain images that spoke to me? What did the light look like? The colors? The framing? That’s what mattered.
Renting gear was key in helping me build this confidence. Rather than reading endless reviews, I gave myself permission to try things and make my judgments. The Canon 24-70mm turned out to be my workhorse lens. It’s not flashy, but it’s versatile and reliable. I know how to use it in every kind of situation. It gets out of the way and lets me focus on the image. And when I need something different—like the Zeiss 15mm for wide scenes or the 40mm pancake for travel—I can grab it and know exactly what I’ll get. That only comes with experience.
I think the real confidence came when I stopped chasing what other photographers were doing. Trends change, and what works for one person may not work for another. My goal became to understand my process deeply enough to know what tools support it. If a lens or camera doesn’t help me tell the story I want to tell, then it’s not right for me, no matter how great it is on paper.
Evolving as a Photographer Through Gear Experiments
Every time I rent a new lens or try a different camera body, I learn something about how I see the world. I notice the kind of compositions I lean toward. I notice how my movement changes depending on the focal length. When I first picked up a tilt-shift, I had no idea what I was doing. But I loved the discipline it required. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t easy. But it made me think. It made me see differently. That kind of learning is valuable, even if the equipment doesn’t become part of your permanent kit.
It’s easy to think that once you find the right camera body and a few good lenses, you’re done. But photography evolves. Your style evolves. The kind of work you do may change. I started with food and lifestyle photography, then added interiors, and now I’m exploring more architectural work. That means my needs change, too. What worked two years ago might not be ideal today. The only way to keep growing is to keep experimenting.
Some people feel pressure to upgrade every time a new version comes out. But I’ve found that being intentional with what you add to your gear bag is more important than staying on the cutting edge. It’s okay to use older gear if it still fits your needs. And it’s okay to try something new, even if you’re not sure you’ll buy it. Renting gives you space to test without committing, and I think that freedom is essential to developing your voice as a photographer.
Conclusion
At the end of the day, gear is a tool. It supports your vision, but it doesn’t create it. That comes from your eye, your patience, your perspective. Testing the Canon 16-35mm and the Canon 24mm tilt-shift at the Peninsula Hotel was not just about evaluating lenses. It was about learning how I like to work. What frustrates me. What inspires me?. What slows me down in a good way? I walked away from that shoot not just with a set of images, but with more clarity about how I want to shoot moving forward.
Every photographer has a different journey, and there’s no one-size-fits-all answer when it comes to gear. What matters most is paying attention to what works for you. Try things. Make mistakes. Be open to surprises. That’s how you find the right tools—and more importantly, your unique style.