WORDS & PHOTO BY CHRIS TIESSEN
In my line of work – as writer, photographer, editor, regional explorer – EDC isn’t a trend. It’s infrastructure. Most days I’m in motion: tracing backroads toward a brewhouse, mapping my way to an artist’s studio, or sliding into the corner of a coffee shop where I turn field notes into final copy and RAW files into photographs that will pop on paper. My office is wherever I set my bag down. My tools make it possible.
What I carry is less affectation than readiness. Cameras, notebook, pens, questions. The assignment shifts; the principle doesn’t. Be prepared. Get it all down. Don’t leave anything behind. (RIP to the lenses I’ve loved and lost – I won’t forget you.)
You can read a life by the contents of a well-loved Filson bag. Mine begins – and ends – with cameras. I won’t leave home without at least one, usually two. While my primary kit rotates between full-frame Nikon and Canon bodies (depending on the job), my constant companion is the Ricoh GR III – compact, sharp, and built around a large sensor that punches above its weight. I carry two: the 28mm GR III and the 40mm GR IIIx. Wide to set the scene; tighter to find the detail. Small cameras. Serious files.
My writing tools matter to me almost as much as my cameras. A laptop, inevitably – absent from the facing photograph because there’s nothing romantic about a screen. Good pens and pencils (brass, by Kaweco, for patina and heft). A leather-bound notebook – thick with names, fragments, overheard lines, coordinates. (I still sketch every issue’s architecture by hand, drawing and redrawing page grids until the pacing feels conclusive). And a dedicated eraser. Always.
There’s usually a multi-tool (or three) in my kit. These devices earn their keep – opening boxes of magazines on delivery runs, tweaking bindings on a ski day, nudging a rear derailleur back into line, slicing summer sausage from a market stall.
Beyond function, a few pieces come along for the ride simply because they anchor me: a mechanical watch – like some beating heart on my wrist; my engagement ring, custom-engraved to mirror the tattoos on my hands; good glasses (by Blake Kuwahara, or Kirk & Kirk, or Mykita); a Hot Wheels or two – Real Riders only; and a pair of vintage Dunhill Rollagas lighters – an unnecessary luxury.
My EDC, at its best, is function first – tools that have earned their place – with just enough style to make the weight feel personal. Utility, with a point of view.
