Image quality purists will tell you otherwise, but this is why I use a UV filter on all of my lenses.

 Image quality purists will tell you otherwise, but this is why I use a UV filter on all of my lenses.

In the world of photography, where every frame is a negotiation between light and intention, opinions about gear can feel almost as polarized as the subjects we photograph. There are purists who swear by keeping every element of a lens pristine—unfiltered, unaltered, and unfettered by anything that might introduce even the faintest hint of compromise. 

Then there are practical pragmatists who treat equipment as tools, expendable if necessary, in service of capturing a moment with clarity and consistency. Between these two camps sits a habit I’ve cultivated and continue to defend with quiet confidence: using a UV filter on all of my lenses.

This is not about chasing novelty or following a trend. It’s about the daily realities of a photographer who moves from bright coastal mornings to dusty desert trails, from windy beaches to humid city streets, and who wants a predictable, repeatable starting point for every shoot. The UV filter, in my kit, acts as a small but reliable shield. 

It’s a tiny piece of glass that sits in front of the front element, and for many it’s easy to overlook its practical value while chasing theoretically perfect optics. Yet the more I shoot, the more I notice that the filter often serves as a first line of defense—an inexpensive, non-invasive hedge against a spectrum of conditions that can disrupt a session before it even begins.

Consider the most common scenarios in which a photographer’s day can derail: a sudden gust of wind laden with fine dust, a random rain shower that leaves droplets clinging to glass, or a stray fingerprint that mars a shot during hurried lens changes. 

It’s not that these moments can’t be recovered in post, or that they render a day ruined. It’s that they introduce friction—time spent cleaning, reshooting, waiting for equipment to recover. A UV filter doesn’t guarantee perfection, but it reduces the odds of a few easily avoidable compromises turning a good shoot into a great one that’s punctuated by interruptions.

I want to acknowledge the core concern raised by purists: the front element is the most direct receiver of light, and any additional glass in front of it has the potential to alter sharpness, contrast, or color rendition. 

In the era of high-resolution sensors and micro-lens optimization, even tiny deviations can be amplified. Some observers argue that modern lens coatings and the sophistication of sensor design have largely eliminated the need for external filters, rendering a UV filter an unnecessary compromise. It’s a fair point, grounded in years of advancement—yet it doesn’t account for the real-world variables that color every day of fieldwork.

When I reach for a UV filter, I’m not claiming to transcend optics or to replace meticulous handling of my gear. I’m choosing a reliable, low-cost safeguard that aligns with my shooting workflow. If I’m traveling light and chasing reflections on a glassy lake, the filter serves as a guardrail against accidental scratches when I switch lenses in a crowded location. 

If the forecast warns of abrasive sand in a coastal landscape, the front filter can be replaced quickly without stressing the delicate front element. If I’m shooting in a humid rainforest where droplets cling to every surface, the filter is another shield that minimizes the need to wipe and polish under less-than-ideal lighting.

One practical reality that often gets overlooked in theoretical debates is the inevitability of contact—dust on a front element is not just an aesthetic concern; it can be a barrier to composition at a critical moment. The UV filter makes a difference there because it is readily available to clean without requiring the lens to be disassembled or subjected to aggressive cleaning. 

This isn’t a call to neglect maintenance of the lens itself, but a reminder that a small, quickly replaceable component can save time and avoid risk in the field. The moment you realize you can wipe a filter clean in seconds and continue shooting, you see the appeal of a simple, sturdy solution to a problem that often takes longer to resolve.

I also want to address the interplay between UV and other filter types—neutral density, circular polarizers, graduated filters, and specialty options. There are moments when a polarizer is indispensable, a reduction of glare that reveals colors in a way no post-processing can replicate. 

In those cases, the polarizer is used in conjunction with the UV filter, and the question of optical compromise becomes more nuanced. The UV filter’s role then is not to replace high-quality filters but to complement them by protecting the more specialized glass beneath. It’s a layered approach to gear that recognizes the complexity of real-world shooting rather than an abstract ideal of absolute purity.

The conversation around image quality and gear is ultimately a conversation about priorities. For some, the priority is maximum theoretical sharpness, achieved by every possible means and kept under protective glass at all times. 

For others, the priority is practical reliability—the ability to deliver consistent results across a range of environments and conditions, even if that means accepting marginal, statistically insignificant trade-offs in image fidelity. My stance rests somewhere in the middle: I value the smallest possible overhead between intent and capture, and a UV filter is a practical intervention that often does more good than harm in the way I work.

Over time, this perspective has evolved from a knee-jerk reaction to a considered principle grounded in field experience. Early in my photography journey, I paid homage to the purity of pristine glass, and I chased the idea that any additional layer would degrade what I could coax from light. 

That belief served me well in controlled environments and studio settings, where conditions can be tightly managed and where the slightest aberration can be methodically studied. The moment I stepped into the field and faced unpredictable weather, crowds, sand, and humidity, the value proposition of a UV filter became tangible in daily practice. It’s one thing to debate theoretical optics in a quiet studio and another to have a tool that consistently reduces risk when you’re on a remote beach at sunrise or under stormy skies in the mountains.

As with many aspects of photography gear, the key is discernment. The UV filter is not a universal salve that makes every image better or that cures all lens-vs-light conundrums. It is a pragmatic accessory chosen for specific contexts, used with care, and selected with attention to the quality of the filter itself.

A cheap, poorly coated filter can do more harm than good, introducing flare, haze, or color shifts that undermine the very reasons we seek clearer glass in the first place. Therefore, the practice I advocate is not a blanket endorsement of every UV filter on the market but a thoughtful adoption of high-quality, properly matched filters that respect the optical design of modern lenses.

If you’re reading this and wondering whether you should adopt a similar habit, the question becomes less about whether UV filters are objectively necessary and more about how you shoot. Do you work in environments where the risk of front-element damage or contamination is non-negligible? Do you value speed and efficiency in your workflow. 

where a quick wipe of a filter might save you precious minutes? Do you frequently switch lenses in challenging conditions, where even a minor reduction in the risk of debris reaching the sensor is worthwhile? If your answers lean toward yes, then a UV filter on all lenses becomes a defensible, practical choice rather than a theoretical contrarian stance.

I’m not asking you to abandon your own principles, especially if your practice emphasizes the pursuit of absolute optical purity in your controlled scenes. Rather, I’m inviting a broader conversation about how we balance ideal concepts with real-world constraints. 

The UV filter is a modest unit of gear, yet it embodies a larger philosophy: that gear should serve your craft, not dictate it. It should remove friction, not introduce new worries. It should empower you to tell your stories with as little distraction as possible from the tools you rely on.

In the end, the decision to use a UV filter on all lenses is a personal one grounded in daily experiences. It reflects a photographer’s willingness to design a resilient workflow that honors both craft and circumstance. 

If the front element of a lens is the gateway through which light enters, then the UV filter is a small steward at that gateway—less glamorous, perhaps, than the lens barrel and the polished glass behind it, but quietly indispensable in the cadence of a day spent chasing light.