Brad Watanabe

A little over a year ago, I found a mysterious post on Facebook Marketplace for a “Vintage Camera”. The primary image was just of a bunch of old camera accessories, but as I dug into the post a little further, I saw that someone was selling a Leica M3. A camera that I was just starting to learn about.

I reached out the seller and found that the camera was originally asking over $3k for the kit. I asked a few questions and put the idea aside for a bit because I wasn’t ready to spend that kind of money on a film camera I knew nothing about… a day later she responded saying that someone offered her $1800 for the kit and if I was willing to pay that “because I reached out first” I could take it for that price. She sent me some images of the M3 and 50 Summilux Rigid and it was so clean and well kept that I dropped everything I was doing at the studio, raced to the bank and off to Wahiawa.

It’s been a point of pride to own that camera and lens kit for the last year and a half, but I sometimes wonder if the romanticism of owning a camera with that legacy is even more compelling than using it regularly.

I do really love shooting with it. I do love the way it slows me down to make sure exposure is correct, choose the focus of the story within the frame lines, hear the mechanical sound of the shutter actuating, but I rarely touch it.

It could be the rising cost of film. It could be the lack of immediacy. It could be because I have another digital Leica M camera that replicates some of the slowness without the finality or uncertainty of film… I’m not sure what it is, but I am certainly conflicted about wanting to shoot with it more, but not committing to capturing life on film.

This is a video I made when I first picked it up full of giddy and optimism.

I’ve always kinda sucked at school. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. I rarely missed a period let alone a whole school day… from Kindergarten to graduate studies. Academic learning was something I’ve never mastered.

As our boys grow, my empathy for how they learn is also growing. When Eli struggles to comprehend, my hope is to surround him with pragmatic touch points in hopes that it’ll spark new reasons and methods to learn.

I’m hoping that new experiences via travel will the unlock for Eli that it is becoming for me.

Big decisions always scare me. Whether it’s a critical camera purchase or deciding to take a family trip, I always pause.

But sometimes, I’ll race into a $10,000 project without thinking about the ramifications of time, creative investment or how it’ll affect family life. It’s something I aim to improve on this year and hoping choosing family always wins.

Shots of Eli taking a photo of me, taking a photo of him on our first, family mission trip to Tokyo.

When I started Berad Studio back in 2011, I had no idea what I was doing and really didn’t think it would amount to much. I just hoped to continue doing creative work after moving home to Hawai‘i and exiting “the production industry” when I left LA.

Let’s rewind a bit… After graduating from Loyola Marymount University in 2001, I worked for a company called Motion Theory. I started as an intern my senior year in college, landed a role as a part time production assistant post-graduation, stepped into Post Production support and eventually became their Post Production lead (without the official title). It was as much a time of building for the two founders Javier and Matt as it was for me. I really didn’t know what I was doing back then, but I knew I loved every minute of my time there.

Fast forward to today… January 2026 and I’ve been operating Berad Studio for almost 15 years. The industry has changed in almost every way possible and I often feel like I’m starting all over even though I’m 25 years into my creative career.

So what am I building? I honestly still couldn’t tell you, but in some ways, that’s the most fun part. Everyday is different. Every project feels unique (even if we’ve ‘done it before’) and my personal ambitions continue to evolve as I do.

I’m not sure where I go from here… More of the same? Something completely new? Whatever and wherever it is, I’m sure it’ll involve camera(s), family, friends and faith that I’ll be exactly where I need to be, doing what I love.

• January
• On Starting Without a Plan

I’ve started and stopped more personal projects than I can count.

Not because I lacked interest — but because I kept trying to make them useful before they were honest.

This is an attempt to do the opposite.

No strategy.
No cadence.
No promise of outcomes.

Just a place to return to and leave notes along the way.

If nothing else, this is for me — so I can remember what this season felt like while I was inside it.