Turning My Sony A5000 Into a Wireless Remote Camera

One thing I like about photography is discovering new uses for equipment I already own. My latest experiment is using a Godox X1R-S wireless receiver with my Sony A5000 so I can fire the camera remotely with a Godox transmitter.

The neat part is that the receiver doesn't have to sit on the A5000's hot shoe to do this. Instead, the X1R-S connects to the camera with a remote-release cable. The Sony A5000 supports a wired remote through its Multi Terminal, so the important thing is having the correct cable to go from the Godox receiver's shutter-release connection to the Sony Multi Terminal. Sony lists the ILCE-5000 as compatible with remote operation through that Multi Terminal. 

My setup

I put the A5000 where I want it—perhaps on my tripod or my little Platypod—and connect the X1R-S to the camera with the proper Sony-compatible shutter cable. Then I turn on the camera and receiver.

Next, I set the Godox transmitter and X1R-S to the same wireless channel. Godox's instructions specifically describe the X1R-S being used this way as a wireless shutter-release receiver. 

Now the transmitter becomes my remote control. Depending on which Godox transmitter I'm using, pressing its focus/test controls can focus the camera and then fire the shutter. Godox's X2T-S instructions, for example, say a half press initiates focus and a full press of the TEST button releases the shutter.

And—CLICK!

My Sony A5000 takes the photograph while I'm standing somewhere else.

That opens up some interesting possibilities for me. I can put the A5000 very low to the ground, place it somewhere awkward where I don't want to touch it, use it for group photographs, or set up a shot and wait for somebody to walk into exactly the right spot.

It could also be handy inside buildings. I could put the A5000 on my Platypod, flip up that wonderful A5000 screen to compose the photograph, step away and take the picture without touching the camera. That means no movement from pressing the shutter button—particularly useful for slower shutter speeds.

One important lesson from experimenting with Godox equipment: the cable matters. The X1R-S itself doesn't magically communicate with the A5000's shutter electronically through the hot shoe. It needs that physical shutter-release connection between receiver and camera. Godox's documentation explicitly calls for a camera remote cable between the camera's shutter connection and the X1R-S. 

So an old Sony A5000, a Godox receiver, a transmitter and one little cable suddenly give me something completely different:

A remotely positioned camera that I can fire from across the room.

That's another reason I keep my older camera equipment. Sometimes buying a new gadget isn't about replacing the old camera.

It's about finding another way to use it.

 

I took my fisheye lens into Roy Thomson Hall

Sometimes the best way to photograph a familiar Toronto building is to make it look completely different.

I took my fisheye lens into Roy Thomson Hall, and it turned out to be the perfect place to have some fun with an ultra-wide view. This isn't a lens I use because I want everything to look perfectly straight. I use it because I want to exaggerate the space and show people something they might not normally notice.

Roy Thomson Hall is full of curves, concrete, glass, stairways, railings and interesting angles. With a normal lens, I might photograph one part of the building. With the fisheye, suddenly I'm getting the musicians, the audience, the stage, the windows and the architecture all together in one photograph.

The distortion is part of the fun. The curved balconies become even more dramatic. The stairways seem to sweep through the picture. The huge glass walls wrap around the scene. Even an ordinary railing can become a strong leading line that pulls your eye right into the photograph.

One of my favourite things was simply pointing the camera straight up. That's when the fisheye really showed what it could do. The glass ceiling, steel framework, lights and surrounding buildings all came together into an almost abstract photograph. I've walked through buildings like this many times, but I don't normally stop and look directly above me.

I also photographed the musicians performing inside the hall. Instead of trying to get close and photograph only the performers, I backed up and let the fisheye tell the bigger story. Now the photograph isn't only about the musicians. It's about the musicians performing inside Roy Thomson Hall. The building becomes part of the story.

That's something I've learned after years of walking around Toronto with a camera: sometimes you don't need a newer camera or a more expensive lens. You just need to change the way you look at something.

A fisheye lens certainly isn't for every photograph. But when you're inside a building with architecture like Roy Thomson Hall, it's a great excuse to forget about keeping everything straight and just have some fun.

Bob's photography rule for the day:

If everybody else is pointing their camera straight ahead, sometimes the best photograph is waiting straight above you.

And with a fisheye lens, you can almost get the whole building into the picture!

 

My Old Fisheye Lens Still Has a Lot of Life Left

One of the things I have always liked about photography is that you don’t necessarily need the newest camera or the newest lens to make an interesting photograph.

Years ago, I bought my Sony NEX-3 and paired it with the little Sony 16mm lens. I also bought the fisheye converter that attaches to the front of the 16mm lens. That combination opened up a completely different way of looking at Toronto.

The fisheye became a fun lens for my photo walks. Instead of standing back and taking a normal photograph, I could get right down close to something and exaggerate the shapes, curves and perspective. Ordinary objects suddenly became much more interesting.

Later, I bought my Sony a5000. The great thing was that I didn't have to throw my old equipment into a drawer and forget about it. I could still use that 16mm lens and my fisheye converter on the a5000.

The photo here is a good example of why I still enjoy using it.

I got the camera down low and photographed through these big circular metal rings. With the fisheye, the circles seem to keep getting smaller and smaller until they disappear down the street. The buildings bend around the edges, and the whole photograph pulls your eye toward the centre.

It almost looks like I discovered a tunnel through downtown Toronto.

That is what I like about the fisheye. It isn't about making everything look normal. It is about taking something you might walk past every day and finding a completely different way of seeing it.

My Sony NEX-3 is old. My Sony a5000 isn't exactly the newest camera on the block either. The 16mm lens and fisheye converter have been around for years.

But they can still take a good photograph.

Photography doesn't always improve because you bought a newer camera. Sometimes it improves because you learn how to get more out of the equipment you already own.

And as long as that old fisheye keeps showing me Toronto in a different way, it still has a place in my camera bag.

 

Sometimes photography gives you a little surprise.

I checked my Flickr stats today and saw 1,767 views on my photos. I had to look at the number twice. Yep—1,767 views!

What makes me smile is that I had more views than any camera club I belong to.

Camera clubs are great places to learn about photography, talk about equipment, enter competitions and see what other photographers are doing. But Flickr reminds me that photography also has another side: getting your photographs out there where people can actually see them.

I’ve never worried too much about having the newest camera or the most expensive lens. Give me one of my old Sony cameras, a photo walk around Toronto and something interesting happening on the street, and I’m happy.

The graph tells an interesting story too. Some days I might get a few hundred views, and then suddenly there is a spike—1,000, 1,500 or even close to 2,000 views. You never really know which photograph is going to catch somebody’s attention.

For me, that is more exciting than worrying about whether a photograph gets a ribbon.

1,767 views means 1,767 opportunities for somebody to stop for a moment and look at my photography.

After all these years of walking around Toronto with a camera, that is still what photography is about for me: take pictures, tell stories, share them—and hope somebody looks.

And today, apparently, quite a few people did!

Improve Your Photography by Practising Localism

One of the best things I have learned from years of photography is that you don't have to travel halfway around the world to find something worth photographing. Sometimes the best photography is right outside your front door.

I call it photographic localism: spending time photographing your own neighbourhood, parks, ravines, streets and the people who live and work there.

On this walk, I found construction workers working on a house, a narrow trail disappearing through the trees, a bee buried in a bright yellow flower, a creek running through the ravine, an artist painting beside the water and a group of ducks enjoying the creek.

None of these subjects required a plane ticket or even a long drive. They were simply things happening locally that day.

Your neighbourhood becomes your classroom

When you photograph locally, you can return to the same places again and again. That's important because photography isn't just about finding spectacular subjects. It's about learning how to see ordinary things differently.

A creek might look completely different after a heavy rain. A neighbourhood changes as houses are renovated and businesses come and go. Flowers appear and disappear with the seasons. The light on a familiar street can make a photograph at 8:00 in the morning that wasn't there at noon.

Even the people change. One day there might be nobody beside the creek. Another day you discover an artist with an easel painting the same landscape you're photographing.

That is when local photography becomes more than taking pictures. You begin documenting the place where you live.

Localism makes you a better photographer

Photographing close to home also gives you permission to experiment. There isn't the pressure of thinking, "I'm only here once, so I'd better get the shot."

You can try a different lens. Get closer. Get lower. Photograph the same subject from another angle. Try macro photography with a bee on a flower. Work on landscapes beside the creek. Practise street photography when you encounter people working in the neighbourhood.

And when something doesn't work, you can come back tomorrow.

That's a tremendous advantage.

After enough walks, you also start noticing things that other people walk past. You learn where the trails go, where the wildlife gathers, where interesting people work and where the light is best at different times of day.

Local knowledge becomes a photographic skill.

I've spent years discovering Toronto this way. The more I walk with a camera, the more I realize that I'll probably never finish photographing it.

So if you're wondering how to improve your photography, here's my suggestion:

Put a camera around your neck, walk out your front door and photograph what is local.

Don't worry about finding an amazing photograph.

Learn to recognize the amazing photographs that were already there.

 

I Built a Tripod for My Cell Phone

Anyone who knows me knows that I am always looking for another way to hold a camera. I have tripods, my Platypod Ultra, and all kinds of little pieces of camera gear. Now I have come up with something new — I made a little tripod system for my cell phone.

The idea started with two simple pieces of equipment: a metal cell-phone holder and a SmallRig clamp with a small ball head. Put them together and suddenly I have a very small, very portable camera support.

The phone holder gives me a good solid grip on my cell phone, while the SmallRig clamp lets me attach the whole setup to things around me. Instead of carrying a regular three-legged tripod, I can clamp my phone onto a railing, table, post, fence or another solid object and position the phone with the ball head.

For me, this is really another version of my Platypod philosophy: why carry a big tripod when something tiny can do the job?

It should be especially useful when I am walking around Toronto. If I want a steady photo, a group shot, a long exposure or even some video, I can pull this little setup out of my camera bag and have my phone mounted in a minute.

And then there are the places with the Tripod Police.

We have all been there. You walk into a building with a regular tripod and suddenly somebody is telling you, “No tripods allowed.” Well, my new cell-phone tripod doesn't have three legs. In fact, it doesn't have any legs!

I can just smile and say, “Tripod? What tripod?”

After all these years of photography, I am still finding new ways of doing things. Sometimes the most useful piece of camera equipment isn't the biggest or most expensive. Sometimes it's just two little pieces of metal screwed together in the right way.

Another homemade addition to Bob's camera bag — and another weapon in the never-ending battle with the Tripod Police! 

Beating the Tripod Police with My Platypod Ultra

Anyone who likes taking photographs inside museums, historic buildings, train stations, churches, or other public buildings has probably encountered them — the Tripod Police.

You walk through the door carrying a regular tripod and suddenly somebody is telling you, “Sorry, no tripods allowed.”

I understand why. A full-size tripod takes up space, creates a tripping hazard, and can get in everybody’s way. But sometimes I want a steady camera for a photograph inside a dark building without pushing the ISO through the roof.

So I’m going to start carrying my Platypod Ultra again.

The Platypod is basically a tripod without the legs. It is a small, flat metal plate that fits easily into my camera bag. I can attach a small ball head, mount one of my Sony cameras on it, and put it on the floor, a bench, a table, a railing, or another safe flat surface.

That opens up some interesting possibilities for my photography.

Instead of standing at normal eye level, I can put the Platypod right down on the floor and get those really low-angle photographs that I enjoy making. Inside a big building, that low viewpoint can make columns, staircases, ceilings and people walking through the scene look completely different.

And because the camera is supported, I can experiment with slower shutter speeds. People walking through the building can become slightly blurred while the architecture stays sharp. That can turn an ordinary interior photograph into something that shows movement and life.

Best of all, the whole setup is small enough that I'm not walking around with three tripod legs spread across the floor.

Of course, if a building's rules prohibit all camera supports, the Platypod stays in the bag. But when the rule is about full-sized tripods blocking walkways, this little piece of equipment can be a very useful alternative.

Sometimes you don't need a newer camera or another expensive lens to change your photography.

Sometimes you just need to put the camera six inches off the floor and see the building from a completely different point of view.

And if the Tripod Police come looking for three legs?

Good luck. Mine doesn't have any. 

 

From Lake Huron to Lake Erie — A Camera, a Campsite and a Lot of Ontario

Over the years, I have stayed in provincial parks all across Ontario. I have camped along the shores of Lake Huron, travelled down to the shores of Lake Erie, stayed in parks along the Ottawa River, and headed north as far as Chapleau.

Wherever I went, my camera went with me.

I photographed old log buildings tucked into the forest, quiet wetlands under heavy skies, lakes stretching toward the horizon, sunlight breaking through the trees, people paddling across calm water, rocky shorelines and storms rolling in. Sometimes I photographed in colour, and sometimes I switched to black and white because it seemed to tell the story better.

The provincial parks gave me something different from my Toronto street photography. In Toronto I am usually watching people, buildings, laneways and everything happening around me. Camping forced me to slow down. A lake isn't going anywhere. A tree isn't going to complain because I took too long setting up the shot. And if the light isn't right, there is always tomorrow morning.

Looking back at these photographs, I realized something else.

I have travelled across a pretty big piece of Ontario with my cameras, yet I was never invited to a camera club to show my provincial park photographs.

That's kind of funny when you think about it.

Camera clubs spend a lot of time talking about landscape photography—composition, light, reflections, clouds, leading lines, black and white, wide-angle views and getting out to interesting locations. Meanwhile, I have been doing exactly that while sleeping in a tent or trailer and cooking dinner at a campsite.

Maybe my photographs aren't the traditional "perfect landscape" photographs. That's okay with me.

I wasn't travelling around Ontario just to collect award-winning photographs. I was photographing where I had been. The pictures became a visual diary of my camping trips and of Ontario itself.

From the Great Lakes to the Ottawa River and north toward Chapleau, every park looked a little different. Put all those photographs together and they tell a much bigger story than any single picture can.

And maybe that's the presentation I'd give if a camera club ever did invite me.

I'd call it:

“Ontario Through Bob’s Camera — From the Shores of Lake Erie to Lake Huron, the Ottawa River and North to Chapleau.”

I already have the photographs.

I'm just waiting for the invitation.

 

Getting Down Low in Toronto

One thing I have learned after years of photo walking around Toronto is that sometimes the best way to find a new photograph is to change my point of view. This time, I’m going right down to ground level.

My setup is my Sony a5000 with the little Sony 16mm f/2.8 pancake lens. What makes this setup especially fun is that I have two different converters that fit onto the 16mm lens — my Sony fisheye converter and my Sony wide-angle converter.

Depending on what I find on the streets of Toronto, I can switch between them and get two completely different looks.

The other important part of my experiment is my Platypod Ultra. Instead of carrying a regular tripod, I can mount my Sony a5000 on the Platypod and put the camera just a few inches off the sidewalk.

Suddenly Toronto looks completely different.

Two Converters, Two Ways of Seeing Toronto

The wide-angle converter is going to be great when I want a really wide view of the street while keeping things looking fairly natural. I can photograph buildings, laneways, streetcar tracks and sidewalks from an angle we normally don't see.

Then I can put on the fisheye converter when I want to have some fun.

The fisheye exaggerates everything. Put something close to the camera and it can become huge while the rest of Toronto seems to wrap around it.

A fire hydrant could look enormous. Streetcar tracks could curve through the picture. A bicycle wheel could tower over the camera. Even a simple manhole cover could become the main subject of the photograph.

Instead of trying to eliminate the fisheye distortion, I'm going to use it as part of the photograph.

The a5000 Has the Perfect Screen for This

One of the reasons my Sony a5000 is perfect for this project is its tilting LCD screen.

When the camera is sitting almost flat on the sidewalk on my Platypod, I don't have to lie down on the ground to see what I'm photographing. I can tilt the screen up, look down and compose my shot.

I can even set up the photograph and wait for somebody to walk into the right place.

It becomes a little photographic trap.

Photographing the Toronto We Walk Over

I'm going to start looking for the things we normally walk right past: streetcar rails, manhole covers, puddles, painted road markings, curbs, construction equipment, bicycles, old lane ways, interesting shadows and anything else that might look completely different from ground level.

After years of photographing Toronto, this gives me another way of exploring the same city.

That's also why I still enjoy using cameras like my Sony a5000. I don't always need a new camera to come up with a new photography project.

Sometimes I just need my Sony a5000, 16mm f/2.8 lens, fisheye converter, wide-angle converter and Platypod Ultra.

Put the camera on the ground, flip up the screen and see what Toronto looks like from down there.

Same Toronto. Same Bob. Two converters. A completely different point of view.

And there's still one very important rule:

Before I walk away, make sure my Sony a5000 isn't still sitting in the middle of the sidewalk! 

 

Bob's 1860's Fan Expo

On Saturday, Bob headed down to Fan Expo in Toronto with his camera, expecting to photograph superheroes, wizards, video-game characters, and some of the most creative costumes you can find anywhere in the city.

But this year Bob decided to try something different.

Instead of making his Fan Expo photos look bright, colourful, and modern, Bob decided to send everyone back about 150 years.

Fan Expo Meets the Tintype

Bob has always liked experimenting with photography, and after looking at his pictures from Saturday, he wondered what these modern-day cos players would look like if they had walked into a photographer's studio in the 1800's.

So Bob started turning his Fan Expo portraits into tintype-style photographs.

The colour disappeared. The backgrounds were simplified and blended away. In their place came sepia and dark metallic tones, scratches, faded edges, uneven textures and those wonderful imperfections that make an old photograph look as though it has survived for generations.

Suddenly, Fan Expo looked very different.

A colourful fantasy character looked like someone photographed in 1870. A wizard carrying a staff looked completely at home in an antique photograph. Elaborate costumes started looking like clothing from some strange alternative Victorian world.

Even the fellow wearing the eBay wizard hat looked like he might have been selling things online during the American Civil War — although Bob is fairly certain the Wi-Fi wasn't very good in 1865.

The Costumes Were Perfect for It

What surprised Bob was just how well cosplay works with the tintype look.

Fan Expo costumes are filled with interesting fabrics, hats, armour, masks, capes, hairstyles and props. When you remove the colour, you begin noticing all those details differently.

Instead of the colour grabbing your attention, you notice the person's expression. You notice the texture of the clothing. You notice the shape of a helmet, the folds in a cape or the details in a handmade costume.

Some of Bob's photographs almost stopped looking like Fan Expo photographs altogether.

They began looking like portraits discovered in an old box in somebody's attic.

Of course, finding a 150-year-old photograph of a fantasy warrior, an anime character or a mysterious masked creature would probably raise a few historical questions.

Old Photography Meets New Photography

There is something funny about using today's technology to imitate one of photography's oldest processes.

Real tintype photography required a metal plate, chemicals, careful preparation and a photographer who really knew what they were doing. Bob just needed his digital camera, his photographs and modern editing tools.

But the idea behind both is still very similar.

You find an interesting person, you put a camera in front of them, and you try to make a portrait that people will want to look at.

That's what Bob enjoys most about photographing events like Fan Expo.

The costumes are great, but it is still the people inside the costumes who make the photographs.

Bob's 1860s Fan Expo

By the time Bob finished working on the pictures, Saturday's trip to Fan Expo had become something completely different.

It wasn't quite Toronto in 2026 anymore.

It was more like Fan Expo Toronto — 1866 Edition.

Looking through the finished photographs, Bob could imagine an old photographer standing behind a giant wooden camera saying:

"Please remain perfectly still, Mr. Wizard. This exposure may take several minutes."

For Bob, that's part of the fun of photography. You can photograph something one way and then discover an entirely different story hiding inside the same picture.

Saturday Bob went to Fan Expo with a digital camera.

He came home with photographs that looked like they had been sitting in a Toronto family album for more than a century.

Not bad for a Saturday photo walk — and Bob didn't even have to carry around a box of glass plates and dangerous chemicals.