For me, the cellphone camera experience came in two parts: the first, when I was using an old little Samsung, and later on when I splashed out for an iPad 13 Mini.
Part 1 ended in spiritual tears when the friendly skipper of a locally-based yacht, familiar with my website, asked me to make a large print of some distressed paintwork I shot on a laid-up yacht. Sadly, it had been fathered by the little Samsung, and there was no way I was going to waste mutual time attempting to con the skipper into buying something from such an original. As a retired pro, turning away a few pennies is always painful; those “if only” self-administered kicks are the worst.
Part 2 has been a much happier experience, which really began a few years ago when eye problems prevented me from being able to focus my dslr. That, and finding myself ever more sucked into the Daido Moriyama ethos, led to a revelation: when snaps are free (once you own the expensive little cellphone!), it becomes okay to forget the “value for money” perception of photographic worth, and realise that it is perfectly legitimate to discard long-established preconceptions and photograph anything at all.
This, which is what I truly believe Moriyama has been doing, taught me that something subliminal has been opened up when first feeling that sense of image, where I no longer need to find some specific and often illusive subject before I shoot, but that I need to trust a less visually educated part of my psyche and just make the shot, because when I do that, I realise that the real point of it only comes out when I remove the colours and go with the weight of the parts. The trick is developing the sense of how something is going to look when taken into a different visual dimension. The first step is to remove the skin of colour, and reveal the real flesh and bone beneath.
I guess there’s really a Part 3 to this: I no longer print anything and have no desire so to do.
So yeah, traditional cameras are, for me, redundant. I don’t have a market for their products.