Introduction
The tent poles snapped with a sound like dry spaghetti breaking. 2 AM. Rain hammering the campsite at Cypress Provincial Park. My neighbor’s brand-new six-person shelter folded in on itself while he was still inside it. I could hear him yelling from three sites over—sharp, panicked yelling that wakes up half a campground.
He’d bought the tent because it had 4.5 stars on Amazon and looked professional in the listing photos. The problem? He never staked it properly. Never tested the rainfly tensioners. Never checked if the poles were actually fiberglass or just painted aluminum that would snap under the first real wind load.
I learned this lesson the hard way as an associate producer on Camping Discovery in remote British Columbia. My $30 camp stove died on night two—fuel line cracked clean through, no replacement parts within 80 miles. I ate cold beans straight from the can and filmed interviews while trying not to shiver on camera. That’s when I figured out: camping gear isn’t about what looks good in product shots. It’s about what keeps working when the nearest outdoor store is three hours and a mountain pass away.
Affiliate Disclosure: This article contains affiliate links to Amazon, REI, and other retailers. When you buy through these links, PeekAtThis earns a small commission at no extra cost to you. I only recommend gear I’ve actually used or would buy myself. If a product has deal-breaker flaws, I’ll tell you who should NOT buy it.
Direct Answer: What Camping Gear Do You Actually Need?
Start with shelter (tent sized one tier up from your head count), a sleep system rated 10-15°F below expected lows, a fast-boil stove like the Jetboil MiniMo for quick meals, waterproof storage bins for organization, and reliable lighting. Skip specialized gadgets until you know your camping style. Most beginners overbuy complexity and underbuy the basics that prevent miserable nights.
The Problem: Why Most Camping Gear Lists Fail You
Most camping gear articles are written by people who camp once a year for a sponsored post, or they’re affiliate link farms pushing whatever pays the highest commission this quarter. I know because I’ve been pitched to write those exact articles—$500 to recommend products I’ve never touched, photographed with someone else’s hands.
Here’s what they don’t tell you: The gear that sells best (portable espresso makers shaped like lanterns, inflatable hot tubs, solar-powered phone chargers disguised as rocks) is rarely the gear that actually matters when you’re setting up camp in the dark or dealing with weather that wasn’t in the forecast.
I’ve spent over 50 nights camping in the past three years—sometimes for film location scouts, sometimes to test gear for this site, sometimes just to escape the noise of the city and my hotel doorman shift. My wife and I have tested dozens of setups, broken plenty of equipment, and figured out what’s actually essential versus what’s just marketing psychology dressed up as innovation.
This isn’t another generic checklist with 47 items you’ll never use. This is what actually sits in my truck when I head into the woods.
The Missing Insight: Complexity Sells, Simplicity Works
The camping industry has a business model problem: They make more money when you’re confused. Seventeen specialized tools sell better than three good ones that do multiple jobs. A “complete camp kitchen system” sounds more valuable than a spatula and a cutting board, even though you’ll use the latter on every trip and the former never.
Here’s the unpopular truth I learned running small film crews: More gear creates more problems. On Beta Tested, we had a producer who insisted on bringing backup gear for everything—backup lights, backup cameras, backup tripods, backup backup batteries. We spent 40% of our setup time just managing equipment we never used. The shoots that ran smoothest? The ones where we stripped down to essentials and actually knew where everything was.
Camping should simplify your life, not complicate it. The best trips I’ve had used maybe 60% of the gear I brought. The worst ones happened when I forgot something basic (a can opener, dry socks, lighter) while being weighed down with unnecessary extras I thought I “might need.”
Most people also make the mistake of buying everything at once before their first trip. Then they’re stuck with gear that doesn’t fit their camping style—too heavy, too complicated, wrong season rating—budget blown, storage shed full of stuff they resent looking at.
The Solution: Build Your Kit Like a Film Crew
On professional sets, you don’t show up with every piece of gear the rental house owns. You bring what handles 80% of likely scenarios, then add specialized equipment only when you know exactly why you need it. Same principle applies to camping.
I organize my gear into three tiers:
Tier 1: Non-Negotiables (Shelter, sleep system, cooking basics, lighting)
If you’re new to camping, nail this tier first. Everything else is optional until you understand how you actually camp.
Tier 2: Major Comfort Upgrades (Quality chairs, better cooking setups, organization systems)
This is the difference between roughing it and actually enjoying yourself. Add these once you’ve done 3-4 trips and know what you’re missing.
Tier 3: Nice-to-Haves (Entertainment, extra lighting, glamping touches)
Luxury items. Only buy these if you camp regularly and have disposable budget left over.
Let’s break down what actually belongs in each tier, based on failures I’ve watched happen and mistakes I’ve made personally.
Tier 1: Shelter & Sleep (Where Cheap Gear Hurts Most)
The Tent Situation: Size Up or Suffer
I run a 6-person tent for two people. Before you call me wasteful, here’s why:
During Going Home, a surprise cold front rolled in during our exterior night shoot. We had to pull a RED Komodo, two Aputure 300Ds, and a DIT station inside the producer’s tent to keep condensation off the electronics. Four of us crammed into a 4-person tent, camera gear stacked on sleeping bags, trying not to knock over a $40,000 camera package every time someone rolled over.
The shoot survived. The crew’s backs didn’t. Two people slept in their cars. I woke up with a light stand digging into my shoulder blade.
Extra tent space isn’t a luxury—it’s a buffer against the chaos that always happens outdoors. You need room to change clothes without doing yoga poses against wet nylon. Room to wait out a two-hour rainstorm without your partner’s elbow in your ribs. Room to stage wet gear so it’s not sitting directly on your sleeping bag, slowly soaking through.
Real Recommendations:
Coleman Sundome Tent (4-6 person) – $89-$159
Affordable, actually waterproof, sets up in under 10 minutes. The poles are fiberglass and will bend if you’re camping in sustained 30+ mph winds, but for summer camping and protected sites, it works. I’ve used one for three seasons without failure.
Who should NOT buy this: If you camp in exposed areas, high winds, or need four-season capability, skip this. It’s a three-season tent. Also skip if you’re over 6’2″—the peak height is 6 feet and you’ll hate standing inside it.
REI Co-op Half Dome SL 4 – $449
Better ventilation, tougher ripstop fabric, lighter aluminum poles that won’t snap under load. Worth the upgrade if you camp more than 5-6 times a year or if weather unpredictability is part of your camping reality.
Who should NOT buy this: If you’re doing 1-2 casual trips per summer to established campgrounds with your kids, the Coleman will serve you fine. Don’t spend $450 on a tent you’ll use twice.
Sleep System: The Difference Between Functional and Miserable
That Manitoba location scout I mentioned? October. Temperature dropped to 28°F overnight. I didn’t know because I’d bought a $15 sleeping bag rated to “30 degrees” without understanding that meant 30°F survival rating, not comfort rating.
I woke up at 4 AM shivering, teeth chattering, unable to fall back asleep. Spent the next day doing camera coverage while functionally useless. When you’re cold all night, your brain doesn’t work right the next day. Simple as that.
What You Actually Need:
Sleeping bag rated 10-15°F below the coldest temperature you expect. Don’t just trust the big number on the stuff sack. Look for the ISO/EN rating label usually printed near the zipper. It provides two critical numbers:
Comfort Rating: The temperature at which a “cold sleeper” (typically women) can sleep comfortably in a relaxed position.
Lower Limit Rating: The temperature at which a “warm sleeper” (typically men) can sleep for eight hours without waking up.
Pro Tip: Always buy for the Comfort Rating. It’s much easier to unzip a bag if you’re too warm than it is to conjure heat when you’re freezing.
Self-inflating camping pad, minimum 2 inches thick. I use a 2.2-inch Therm-a-Rest. It’s the difference between waking up sore and waking up ready to shoot. The ground sucks heat out of your body faster than cold air does—you need insulation (R-value) underneath you, not just fluff on top. For 2026 spring/fall camping, aim for an R-value of 3.0 or higher.
Tier 1: Cooking (Where Gear Blogs Lose the Plot)
This is where camping gear lists go insane. They’ll recommend a $400 camp kitchen system with a three-burner stove, collapsible sink, and spice rack for someone going on their second camping trip ever.
Let me save you some money and cargo space.
For Quick Trips (1-2 Nights): Speed Wins
Jetboil MiniMo – $159.95
This is the one piece of “expensive” gear I tell everyone to buy first. Boils 500ml of water in 2 minutes 15 seconds, even in wind. Works at altitude. Packs smaller than a Nalgene bottle.
When you’re cold and hungry after setting up camp at 9 PM because the drive took longer than expected, fast hot food stops arguments. It stops people from giving up and going to bed angry and hungry.
I bring it on every film shoot where I’m running a small crew. First thing I do after we wrap: boil water, make instant coffee or ramen, get something warm in people before we break down the gear. It’s cheaper than catering and it works.
Use it for:
- Coffee (pair with a French press or pour-over cone)
- Ramen, soup, instant meals
- Boiling water for dehydrated camping food
- Emergency hot water for cleaning wounds or washing dishes
Who should NOT buy this: If you want to cook actual meals—eggs, burgers, stir-fry—the Jetboil won’t do it. It boils water. That’s the entire job description. Also skip this if you’re camping with more than 3 people regularly. You’ll spend all morning boiling water in batches.
For Longer Trips (3+ Nights): Actual Cooking Capability
Two-Burner Camping Stove (Coleman or Camp Chef) – $50-$120
Once you’re camping for more than two nights, eating only ramen and dehydrated meals gets old. A basic two-burner stove lets you cook real food: eggs for breakfast, burgers for dinner, vegetables that don’t come from a foil pouch.
I use a Coleman Triton on longer trips. Takes standard propane canisters (available at every gas station), each burner outputs 11,000 BTU, and it’s survived three years of abuse including being dropped off a tailgate.
Who should NOT buy this: If you’re backpacking or motorcycle camping, this is too heavy and bulky. Stick with the Jetboil. Also skip if you genuinely enjoy dehydrated meals and don’t care about cooking variety.
Alternative: Cobb Grill – $199
I bring this on 4+ night trips when I’m tired of propane flavor and want actual grilled food. Uses efficient coconut husk briquettes, cooks low and slow without flare-ups, doubles as a smoker if you’re patient.
Nothing fancy—just burgers, vegetables, breakfast scrambles that taste like you’re home instead of living out of a cooler.
The Coffee Reality
I’m not surviving outdoors without decent coffee. I’ve tested everything from cowboy coffee (grounds boiled directly in water) to portable espresso makers that require a engineering degree to operate.
Here’s what actually works:
- Stainless steel French press – $25-$40
Simple, makes great coffee, nearly impossible to break. Boil water in your Jetboil, pour into French press, wait four minutes, drink coffee that doesn’t taste like regret. - Steel pour-over cone – $15-$25
Lightest option. Just need paper filters (pack them flat). Slower than French press but makes cleaner coffee. - Portable espresso maker (Wacaco Nanopresso) – $79
Only if you’re serious about your coffee and willing to carry extra weight. I am. Most people aren’t.
What You Actually Need for Cooking (The Real List)
- Compact utensil kit: spatula, spoon, knife. Not 11 specialized tools. Three good ones.
- 2-3 durable plates and bowls (get the unbreakable polycarbonate kind, not the ones that crack when you look at them wrong)
- Cutting board (bamboo packs flat, doesn’t mold)
- Collapsible water container or 5-gallon jug
- Basic spice kit: salt, pepper, garlic powder, hot sauce in small containers
- Aluminum foil and gallon zip-lock bags
- Can opener (test it before you leave)
What you don’t need: Seventeen specialized cooking gadgets. A good knife and spatula handle 90% of camp cooking tasks.
Tier 2: Organization (The Unsexy Essential That Saves Every Trip)
I learned this lesson the hard way on Beta Tested. We were shooting a night exterior—tight 6-hour window before sunrise, small crew, no budget for mistakes.
I’d packed all the grip gear into one giant duffel: C-stands, sandbags, apple boxes, flags, tape, clamps, everything. When the DP asked for a 4×4 flag at 2 AM, I spent 15 minutes digging through that bag in the dark. Crew standing around. Talent getting cold. Director getting impatient. Clock ticking.
All because I didn’t want to “waste time” organizing gear into labeled bins before the shoot.
Rubbermaid ActionPacker Bins (35-gallon) – $40 each
Waterproof, stackable, survive being thrown around in a truck bed. I use three: one for cooking gear, one for shelter/sleep, one for miscellaneous (tools, first aid, lighting, entertainment).
Inside the cooking bin:
- Collapsible storage containers for dry goods (rice, pasta, oatmeal)
- Reusable storage bags for snacks
- Collapsible kitchen sink for washing dishes
- Biodegradable dish soap (Sierra Dawn Campsuds works for dishes, hands, body, and emergency laundry)
Keep frequently used items—utensils, coffee setup, paper towels, lighter—in an easy-access spot. Not buried under three layers of stuff you won’t touch until day four.
Who should NOT buy these: If you’re camping out of a sedan or small SUV, 35-gallon bins might not fit. Step down to 24-gallon or use soft duffel bags with internal organizers.
Food Storage: The Cooler vs. Fridge Decision
For short trips (1-3 nights), a quality insulated cooler with ice or freezer packs works fine. For longer trips or hot weather camping where ice melts in 36 hours, you need actual refrigeration.
Alpicool 12V Portable Fridge – $269-$399 (depending on size)
Here’s what the product listings don’t tell you: A 12V fridge pulling 45 watts will drain a standard car battery in 8-10 hours if the engine isn’t running. The math works fine if you’re driving daily and the alternator keeps the battery charged. It’s a disaster if you’re at a primitive campsite for three days with no hookups.
Don’t run a 12V fridge off your vehicle battery unless you want to learn how to jumpstart a truck in the middle of nowhere. Ask me how I know.
The fix: Either get a dual-battery system (expensive, requires professional installation), use campsite electrical hookups (limits where you can camp), or just stick with a quality cooler and ice for trips under 72 hours. I do the latter now unless I’m at a site with 30-amp service.
Who should NOT buy this: If you camp 1-2 weekends per year, a $300 fridge is overkill. A $60 cooler and $10 worth of ice per trip will serve you fine.
Tier 2: Camp Furniture (Comfort Matters More Than You Think)
Cheap camping chairs are a false economy. I’ve broken three. They leave you sore, they collapse at random, and after two days sitting in a $15 chair that cuts off circulation to your legs, you start dreading the act of sitting down.
King Kong Camp Chair – $79.95
Oversized, actually supportive, comes with a carry bag and cup holder that doesn’t dump your coffee when you shift weight. If you’re over 6 feet or just like space, this is worth every dollar.
I use mine as my “director’s chair” on set. It’s survived being sat in for 14-hour shoot days, packed and unpacked 30+ times, and left outside overnight in the rain twice (my fault, not the chair’s).
Zero Gravity Chair – $60-$120
Game-changer for afternoon naps or stargazing. I bring one on every trip longer than three days. Locks into multiple recline positions, supports your neck properly, folds flat for transport.
Warning: These are 12-15 pounds and don’t pack small. If you’re hiking to your campsite, leave this at home.
Folding Camp Table – $30-$70
Most campgrounds have picnic tables. But if you’re at a primitive site or just want a dedicated clean surface for food prep, bring a folding table. I use a stainless steel one for cooking prep and gear staging. Keeps stuff off the dirt, gives you a workspace, and doubles as a place to set up a camp stove at a comfortable working height.
Tier 1: Lighting (Beyond the Headlamp)
Everyone brings a headlamp. You should too—hands-free light is essential for setup, cooking, and midnight bathroom trips.
But lighting transforms your campsite from functional to comfortable. The difference between “we’re surviving outside” and “this is actually pleasant” is often just better light.
My Setup:
- 4 solar lanterns scattered around camp (dinner table, tent entrance, bathroom path, gear staging area)
- 2 strings of solar fairy lights for ambient lighting (yes, ambiance matters when you’re living outside for multiple days)
- Compact gas lantern for serious light when needed (cooking after dark, working on gear repairs, reading)
Pro tip from location scouting: Solar lights need 6-8 hours of direct sun during the day. If you’re camping in heavy tree cover or it’s overcast, they won’t charge properly. Bring battery-powered backups or a lantern that runs on propane.
LuminAID PackLite Max 2-in-1 – $34.95 each
Inflatable solar lantern that packs flat. 150 lumens on high, runs for 50 hours on low. Charges via USB if solar isn’t cutting it. I own four. They’ve never failed.
Who should NOT buy these: If you need serious task lighting for detailed work, these won’t cut it. They’re ambient light, not floodlights.
Tier 2: Hygiene (The Conversation Nobody Wants to Have)
Let’s be honest—part of camping’s appeal is not showering for a few days. But if you’re camping with other people or staying out for more than 72 hours, basic hygiene stops being optional and starts being a matter of social survival.
What Actually Works:
Biodegradable wet wipes – $8 per pack
Better than any portable camp shower I’ve tested. I use these on 90% of my trips. Face, neck, armpits, groin, feet—you’re functionally clean in three minutes without wasting water or setting up a complicated shower system.
Rainleaf Microfiber Towel – $9-$16
Dries in 2-3 hours, packs down to the size of a soda can. The cheap cotton towels stay damp for days and start smelling like mildew by day two.
Sierra Dawn Campsuds – $7 for 8oz
One bottle handles dishes, body washing, and emergency laundry. Biodegradable, works in cold water, doesn’t require a lot of scrubbing.
Real toilet paper
Don’t trust campground TP. It’s either gone by Friday afternoon or it’s the industrial sandpaper variety that causes more problems than it solves.
The shower situation: Most established campgrounds have shower buildings. They’re usually terrible—cold water, questionable cleanliness, coin-operated with no change machine in sight. But they work. For backcountry camping, wet wipes and a microfiber towel handle 90% of your needs. You’ll survive three days without a hot shower.
Tier 1: Safety & First Aid (The Stuff Nobody Talks About Until They Need It)
First Aid Kit: Not Negotiable
Buy a pre-made one or build your own, but have one. On Married & Isolated, our lead actor sliced his hand open on a C-stand wing nut during setup. We were 40 minutes from the nearest hospital. The shoot survived because we had a properly stocked first aid kit with bandages, antiseptic, and enough gauze to stop the bleeding until we could get him to urgent care.
Minimum contents:
- Bandages (various sizes, including large trauma pads)
- Antiseptic wipes and antibiotic ointment
- Pain relievers (ibuprofen and acetaminophen)
- Tweezers (for splinters and ticks)
- Blister treatment (moleskin or hydrocolloid bandages)
- Elastic bandage wrap for sprains
- Any personal medications you need (EpiPen, inhaler, daily prescriptions)
I keep mine in a waterproof stuff sack in the “miscellaneous” bin. Easy to find, stays dry, clearly labeled.
Fire Safety (Because Smokey the Bear Was Right)
- Keep a 5-gallon water container near your fire ring
- Know campground fire rules (many places have seasonal bans during dry periods)
- Never leave fires unattended—not even for “just a minute”
- Properly extinguish before bed: drown it, stir it, drown it again. Fire should be cold to the touch.
I’ve watched two separate groups on film location scouts leave smoldering fires to “die out on their own.” Both times we had to wake them up at 2 AM because embers were spreading. Don’t be those people.
Wildlife Precautions
- Store food in sealed containers (not just closed—actually latched)
- Use bear-proof containers or hang food if required by the area
- Keep cooking area at least 100 feet from sleeping area
- Learn proper food storage for your region (bears in BC, raccoons in Ontario, mice everywhere)
Reusable zip ties – $8 for 50-pack
I use these constantly—hanging solar lights, securing tarps, temporary repairs on broken gear, organizing cables. They’re reusable, adjustable, and take up zero space. Buy a pack, keep them in your miscellaneous bin.
Tier 2: Power Solutions (Staying Connected Selectively)
I’m conflicted about technology while camping. Part of me wants to disconnect completely, leave the phone in the truck, and ignore the outside world for 72 hours. The other part needs to charge camera batteries, keep my phone alive for emergencies, and occasionally check if a weather system is rolling in.
Jackery Explorer 240 (or similar solar generator) – $199-$299
Powers small devices, charges camera batteries, runs a laptop for a few hours, keeps your phone topped up for the whole trip. Pair it with a 100W solar panel and you have reliable power as long as you get 4-6 hours of sun per day.
I use this on film shoots when I need power away from electrical hookups. It’s also saved two separate camping trips when my phone was the only way to get updated weather warnings before a storm rolled in.
Who should NOT buy this: If you’re doing weekend trips to established campgrounds with electrical hookups, you don’t need this. Just bring a car charger. Also skip if your goal is true disconnection—buying a $300 power station “just for emergencies” is lying to yourself about actually unplugging.
Battery Bank (Anker 20,000mAh) – $50
Simpler option for weekend trips. Charge it at home, use it to top up phones and small devices. Won’t run a laptop or camera batteries, but it’ll keep two phones alive for 3-4 days of light use.
My rule: Keep devices on airplane mode except for weather checks and genuine emergencies. You didn’t drive three hours into the woods to scroll Instagram and check work email.
Tier 3: Entertainment (For When Nature Gets Boring)
People will tell you camping is all about disconnecting and appreciating nature. Those people haven’t been stuck in a tent for six hours during a thunderstorm with nothing to do but listen to rain hit nylon.
Bring:
- Portable Bluetooth speaker (waterproof, 10+ hour battery)
- Card games or compact board games (I bring Uno and a travel chess set)
- Books or e-reader (physical books if you want zero screen time)
- Notebook for journaling (I sketch shot lists and storyboards, but whatever works for you)
Leave at home:
- Expectations that you’ll be “productive” the whole time
- Rigid schedules (this is camping, not production)
- The need to document everything (put the phone down, just be there)
Some of my best camping memories are sitting in cheap camp chairs at dusk, doing absolutely nothing, just existing. But having a deck of cards for the rainy evening helps.
What I Don’t Bring Anymore (Learn From My Mistakes)
Cheap tarps – They rip immediately. Spend $30 on a decent one or skip it entirely.
Cotton clothing – Takes forever to dry, stays cold when wet. Wear synthetic or merino wool.
Too many “just in case” items – You probably won’t need the portable shower, the third backup tarp, the backup backup backup flashlight, or the emergency hand-crank radio you haven’t tested in two years.
Expensive gear I’m afraid to use – If you’re too worried about scratching it or getting it dirty, you won’t actually use it. Gear is meant to be used hard.
White gas stoves – More maintenance and failure points than they’re worth for casual camping. Stick with propane.
Inflatable mattresses for camping – They deflate overnight, they’re cold (no insulation underneath you), and they take up huge amounts of pack space. Get a real camping pad.
Building Your Kit: The Realistic Approach
First 3 Trips: Borrow or Rent
Don’t buy everything at once. Figure out your camping style first. Are you a “set up base camp and day hike” camper? A “cook gourmet meals over a fire” camper? A “show up, sleep, leave early” camper? You won’t know until you’ve done it a few times.
Borrow a tent from a friend. Rent sleeping bags from REI. Use what you have at home for cooking. Figure out what you actually use before spending money.
Budget Starter Kit ($300-$500)
- Basic 4-person tent (Coleman Sundome)
- Affordable sleeping bags rated for your season
- Foam sleeping pads (not as comfortable as self-inflating, but they work)
- Jetboil MiniMo or single-burner propane stove
- Essential cooking gear (spatula, pot, plates, utensils)
- Two decent camp chairs
- Headlamps and basic lighting
- Rubbermaid bin for organization
This gets you camping comfortably. Everything else is upgrades.
Intermediate Setup ($800-$1,200)
Upgrade your sleep system first—better tent, self-inflating pads, warmer sleeping bags. This has the biggest impact on trip quality.
Then upgrade cooking if you’re doing longer trips. Then add comfort items like better chairs, solar lighting, camp table.
Experienced Camper Setup ($1,500+)
At this point you know what you need. Invest in quality where it matters to you—whether that’s cooking equipment, comfort furniture, or specialized gear for your camping style.
I’m probably $2,000 deep into my current setup, accumulated over three years. But I camp 15-20 nights per year and I use everything I own. The math works.
The Camping Checklist Nobody Follows
(But Should)
One Week Before
Planning PhaseDay Before
Packing PhaseAt Campsite
Setup PhaseBefore Leaving
Cleanup PhaseThe Verdict
The best camping gear list is the one you’ll actually use.
Start simple. Test everything before you need it in the field. Upgrade what matters to you based on real trips, not marketing hype or gear reviews written by people who’ve never slept on the ground.
I’ve filmed in some beautiful remote locations—coastal BC, interior Manitoba, the Fraser Valley in winter. But honestly? Some of my favorite memories are from mediocre campgrounds with basic gear and good company.
The gear gets you there comfortably. It keeps you dry when it rains. It lets you sleep well enough to function the next day.
What you do once you arrive—that’s up to you.
Just don’t forget to test that tent before you leave.
Related Reading:
- Film Budgeting for Indies: Real Numbers from Micro-Budget Productions (Tier-based resource allocation applies to gear too)
- Smartphone Filmmaking: Guerrilla Production Guide (Power management and minimal gear strategies)
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About the Author:
Trent Peek is a filmmaker specializing in directing, producing, and acting. He works with high-end cinema cameras from RED and ARRI and also values the versatility of cameras like the Blackmagic Pocket Cinema.
His recent short film “Going Home” was selected for the 2024 Soho International Film Festival, highlighting his skill in crafting compelling narratives. Learn more about his work on [IMDB], [YouTube], [Vimeo], and [Stage 32].
In his downtime, he likes to travel (sometimes he even manages to pack the right shoes), curl up with a book (and usually fall asleep after two pages), and brainstorm film ideas (most of which will never see the light of day). It’s a good way to keep himself occupied, even if he’s a bit of a mess at it all.
P.S. It’s really weird to talk in the third person
Tune In: He recently appeared on the Pushin Podcast, sharing insights into the director’s role in independent productions.
For more behind-the-scenes content and project updates, visit his YouTube channel at https://www.youtube.com/@trentalor.
For business inquiries, please get in touch with him at trentalor@peekatthis.com. You can also find Trent on Instagram @trentalor and Facebook @peekatthis.
