An artists journey

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  • Love the Unlovable

    Love the Unlovable

    Do you ever take any bad pictures? Of course. We all do. Some of us more than others. But instead of immediately deleting the bad ones, I suggest living with them a while. Love the unlovable ones. Study them. We can learn from them.

    What is “bad”?

    What constitutes a bad picture? That is subjective and/or technical.

    There are clearly, technically bad pictures. Badly out of focus. Poorly timed so that the subject has left the frame. Badly exposed. Handheld at too slow a shutter speed so it is unintentionally blurry (as opposed to intentionally blurry). Most of us would agree that these are bad and we probably immediately dismiss them as useless.

    Other than that, a bad picture is one not up to our expectations. This is subjective. A bad picture to a highly experienced photographer may seem excellent to a novice. If you judge it bad, it is bad.

    A related question for another time is, how do you know it is bad? Learning to critique your own work is challenging. If you can’t, how can you know what is good?

    But in most cases, bad is obvious to us and we can learn from bad pictures. Humans generally learn more from failure than success.

    Pseudo terra incognita©Ed Schlotzhauer

    It is your picture

    First, though, let’s acknowledge that this is your picture. You took it. Sure, there are exceptions. I have sometimes accidentally pressed the shutter while I was carrying my camera and gotten random sidewalks or blurred bushes. That is a clear, unintentional mistake. All the other bad pictures were deliberately taken photos.

    But in all cases, it is our picture. No one else is responsible for it. These bad pictures didn’t just happen for some reason we don’t understand. They did not magically appear on your memory card. We raised the camera and pressed the shutter.

    There’s a reason you took it

    We intentionally took these bad pictures I am talking about. And we did not intend them to be bad. Something happened between the intent and the execution to cause it to not work.

    You thought there was at least a reasonable chance that this would be a usable photo. The picture is probably not totally bad. Not meeting our expectations does not necessarily mean it was bad in all respects. There are many possible reasons it was a failure.

    I have talked about the chain of steps between our brain and a final print. Failures can happen anywhere along that path. Specifically, any of the technical decisions required in camera to capture the image could be faulty. It is easy for the exposure or the focus to be off, especially in the excitement of capturing a good scene.

    When you discover that the failure was a technical problem, that is easy. Figure out what you did wrong, so you won’t make the same mistake again. This is just improving your technical skills.

    Or maybe the failure was in your head. As you were visualizing the shot you want, maybe you weren’t clear in your own mind about the best framing and composition. Maybe it is inexperience. You look at the resulting shot and think “no, that’s just not quite right.” If you’re lucky, the scene is still there, and you can work it more. If not, you try to determine how you would approach the same thing next time.

    In all these cases, the bad picture provides an opportunity to learn how to do better next time. We will benefit from taking the time to learn what we can from the experience.

    Layers of grafitti©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Was it an experiment?

    Another big area of failure for me is experiments that did not work out. I experiment a lot. It comes from curiosity and an ongoing process of wondering “what if…” I often push the edge of my comfort zone.

    Maybe it is intentional camera movement (ICM) at different shutter speeds and with different types of movement, just to see the effect. Perhaps it is shooting a mountain stream at different shutter speeds to determine the amount of water blur I like best today. Maybe it is trying shots straight up or straight down, just to see what I can do.

    There is no end of these. I might use a slow shutter on a passing train to see what happens. Sometimes I will take shots of a sprinkler in a park, just to see what I can do with it. Bad weather is a great motivator for me to get out and try things. Travel is a great source. Can I get interesting pictures that are not the typical travel shots? If there is great light on something, I will shoot it. Just to see what I can get.

    The possibilities are endless. That is part of the fun and challenge. But when shooting experiments, I know that most of the shots will be failures. They may all be failures. I expect it and am more curious than upset to examine them.

    That time when you do get something good in an unusual situation is pure joy. It makes all the failures worthwhile.

    Reflections in the Rhine River©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Out of your control

    A lot of what we attempt to do relies on things out of our control. The light may change before we get the shot. The subject may move. Clouds come up and dampen that reflection you were trying to capture. Clouds go away and leave you with an uninteresting clear blue sky. It got windy, so everything is moving. You had a day set aside for photography, but it was a blizzard.

    Unless we are setting up a still-life scene or controlling a set, we are at the mercy of conditions and events. We must learn to roll with the conditions. When our planned shot goes away, find a better one. Use your artistic talent to make something great of what is there. That is being resilient.

    The bad shots may open our eyes to new learning. We may discover we really like B&W scenes with dramatic clouds. Or we enjoy intimate details of scenes rather than only grand landscapes. A new world may present itself in a decaying, rusty truck.

    Keep them permanently?

    There will always be discussion about keeping the mistakes or less good images. Some photographers say they keep everything except technically really bad pictures, e.g., out of focus.

    I will give my opinion, but you probably do not want to listen to me on this. Every photographer adopts a workflow that fits his style. Part of mine is that I shoot a lot, and I don’t hang on to pictures unless I can convince myself there is a reason to.

    I have given some insights on my process (slow edits, etc.). Part of it is a multi-step editing process to promote images. Good ones rise to the top with time. A side effect is that bad ones get dropped out and discarded. Eliminated. Deleted from my disk.

    If I shoot several frames of the same scene, I seldom feel compelled to keep more than the best and maybe 1 or 2 other promising views. The rest are gone.

    Since I usually shoot handheld, I often shoot 2 or 3 duplicates to ensure I can select the sharpest. After I select the keeper, the others are deleted.

    It’s brutal. Many people will disagree. That’s OK. It is my style and workflow. I have never found myself in the position of wishing I had one of those deleted frames instead of what I kept. But, when in doubt, keep them until you can figure out your feelings.

    Through a Screen©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Learn from mistakes

    But the point of the article is that our mistakes are a valuable learning for us. Sometimes, they can be as valuable as the keepers. We should examine them, determine why they were a mistake, use it to build our skill or our artistic vision. Every failure is an opportunity.

    Failure often means we stepped out of the safe rut we were in and tried new things. The failure rate is high when we are innovating. But so is our growth rate as artists.

    So be courageous. Choose to eagerly adapt to conditions, to try new things, to explore new ways of seeing, to look carefully at your bad pictures. Our bad pictures help us along the way. Learn to love the unlovable ones. Learn from them.

  • Does the Image Find You?

    Does the Image Find You?

    Does the Image Find You? It is often repeated. I don’t think I agree with this. Maybe it is just a matter of semantics.

    It finds you

    I have often heard it said that the image finds you more than you find it. I can’t find a print reference, but I know Kai Hornung said it in a very good recent Nook presentation on Inspiration.

    This sounds reasonable in a Zen sort of way. And sometimes I agree with it. I know it is sometimes frustrating to go out determined to “make an image.” They don’t seem to be there when that is our attitude. But then we give up and put our camera away and suddenly images seem to come out of hiding. They are everywhere. We frantically get our camera out again and snap away.

    Was this a case of the image finding us? Or was it us taking the mental barriers away and finally being able to see the images that were there?

    Freshly filled wine bottles©Ed Schlotzhauer

    It doesn’t care

    This leads to my quibble with the quote. The responsibility is with us, not the potential image.

    My cynical nature does not believe images come looking for us. I think they don’t care. They just are there. Images don’t look for us, they just go about their life on their own terms. They are doing their own thing with no particular interest in or need of us.

    Think of scene like a child playing out in the yard. They are in their own magic world. They may be acting out roles or playing an imaginary game or just moving and enjoying themselves. It could be them following their curiosity on a voyage of discovery.

    Beautiful, meaningful images are being generated constantly while they play. Not for us. Not because of us. But they are there for the taking if we let ourselves see them and react to them.

    In moments like that, the best we can do is be aware but be careful to not interfere. Don’t get in the way or interrupt the flow. It is not about us.

    Red barn, red truck©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Wisdom of Jay Maisel

    So, if images do not come looking for us, all the responsibility is on us to find them. We must stay receptive to what is happening around us.

    Jay Maisel is one of my favorite photographers to quote. He is a rich source of wisdom.

    Here are a few of his gems that I believe apply to this subject:

    It’s always around, you just don’t see it.

    It is important to realize that the pictures are everywhere, not just where you want or expect them to be.

    Don’t overthink things in front of you. If it moves you, shoot it. If it is fun, shoot it. If you’ve never seen it before, shoot it.

    If you’re out there shooting, things will happen for you. If you’re not out there, you’ll only hear about it.

    What you’re shooting at doesn’t matter. The real question is, does it give you joy?

    You can’t just turn on when something happens. You have to be turned on all the time. Then things happen.

    Had I not been told to look, I would have quit, ignorant of what was really there, because I had “made plans” and was wearing visual and emotional blinders that limited my perception and vision.

    Try to go out empty and let your images fill you up.

    Being receptive

    From these quotes and from my own experience and beliefs I think I can safely say good photography is not a passive experience. In most cases, we can’t just sit around and wait for images to come find us.

    Pictures are everywhere, but when we try to make them happen on our schedule and to our expectations, it often doesn’t work. What Jay called “visual and emotional blinders that limited my perception.”

    When we limit our perception, we are usually going to miss the exciting things that are happening instead. And as he says, the pictures are there, just probably not where and when we expect them. Sometimes you have to turn around. The interest may be happening somewhere else.

    One of Jay’s most famous themes is that we must “go out empty.” We must put our expectations aside and be open to see the images that are there, not trying to “make” them happen. And the images are going to happen where and when they happen. We must always be ready when we’re out shooting. After they happen is usually too late to react.

    Dancing in the Rust©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Whichever, take it

    So, whether you believe images come looking for us or you believe we must go looking for them, do it. Don’t let semantics get in the way.

    Not much advice is universal. I realize that commercial photographers always do planned and staged shots. That is not what I do so I don’t talk about it. I am just talking about what works for me.

    The rest of us who rely on everyday magic must be ready, mentally and with our equipment at hand. Be prepared to respond when we recognize that great image. Get out of your own way. See it – shoot it.

    Let your images fill you up. Collect them with gratitude.

  • Too Much Help

    Too Much Help

    Is it possible to have too much help in our photography? Are there long-term downsides to some of the technology we employ? What does it do to us as creatives?

    Photographic technology

    One of the characteristic things about photography is that it is closely tied to technology. Since the invention of photography, it has been technology based. The specialized emulsions and chemicals and techniques required training and a certain level of technical savvy.

    Today the technologies have changed drastically, but the tie between photography and technology has not changed. If anything, it is stronger than ever. Being a “serious” photographer just about requires a complex camera system, a capable computer system, and specialized training in the tools.

    The companies that make our technology try to ease some of the cognitive load by getting more helpful all the time. Usually, we welcome that. Who would not want our tasks to be easier? But we need to ask ourselves if there are hidden costs in taking the easy path.

    Leaning trees.©Ed Schlotzhuaer

    AI

    The antagonist I want to single out is what we generally call “AI”, or Artificial Intelligence. It is creeping into many aspects of our art with the promise of making our life easier or getting things done faster.

    I will be very open that I am against most uses of the things called AI, as embodied by large language models like ChatGPT. Not only in photography but most areas of life. I am not just a Luddite. I spent a long career in the tech industry, and I studied and practiced AI at some points of my career. So I have some familiarity with what it is and how it works, including a moderate knowledge of the technology within it and its limitations.

    Study of coding

    I am curious about lots of things. I enjoy looking at seemingly unrelated areas and trying to see parallels or applications.

    Many studies are starting to be done on the human impact of AI. One that intrigued me was a study of software developers in Italy and what happened when their access to AI was cut off.

    In 2023, the Italian Data Protection Authority suddenly banned ChatGPT based on privacy and security and non-compliance with European data protection laws. The effect on software developers was immediate and dramatic. Code check-in on GitHub – a proxy measure of output – dropped 50% in 2 days.

    But on further analysis, 2 very interesting things emerged: the output of inexperienced coders went up slightly while the output of experienced coders went way down, accounting for most of the drop in output.

    One of the suggested explanations is that novices were concentrating more on developing basic skills for themselves, therefore not relying on AI as much. Experienced developers, on the other hand, embraced AI to do a lot of the routine work. But the productivity booster had become a crutch. They lost a lot of the ability to do the work they used to do.

    Stark, bare aspen tree. Chaos of branches.©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Productivity tools

    I believe there are parallels for photography. At this point, I will ignore the novices just learning the craft, since I am not there and can’t think like them anymore. Let’s concentrate on experienced artists.

    Our tools constantly offer to take over more of the photographic process. Some of this is good, but not all of it all the time. I have bought into a lot of it. I don’t think my handheld light meter even works any more. And I have long forgotten how to use the manual calculators to determine exposure or desired depth of field. Now, my camera’s metering is so good that I usually trust it. And DOF, well, I can immediately see my image after shooting, so I can check it easily.

    I often use “AI” tools in limited ways. In Lightroom (Classic, the only “real” one ☺) I often use the Auto button to see it’s opinion of a good starting point. It does a pretty good job for the outdoor shots I usually take. I seldom leave its settings untouched, but it can be a time saver. Likewise, I use the manual Remove tool a lot for dust spots and distraction removal. I very occasionally use the generative remove, although it is about a 50/50 chance of it being better than doing it manually. Lightroom is getting much more capable of creating useful masks. I often use them as a starting point.

    Sunset sihlouette©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Creative rot

    But who says art should be effortless. Our tools want to take over increasing portions of our work, to “help” us and make it easy They offer to automatically remove dust spots, they provide great aid in removing distractions, they offer to distort our images to align verticals and horizontals, they offer to cull our photographs and assign keywords, etc. All these things can be helpful time savers, but at what cost?

    Like the experienced coders in the Italian study, at what point do we start losing the ability to do our own work?

    Editing, for example, is something I consider a necessary skill for photographers. I have noticed in my own work that I am now sometimes uneasy in manually removing complex distractions. My initial instinct is “that’s hard and will take a lot of time; maybe it would be better to just let the software do it”. That is a warning flag to me. I feel that I need to be skilled at doing this and confident that I can. If I cede these decisions to my tools, I believe I have abrogated part of my role as an artist. I am responsible for every pixel of my image. Software should not take over important creative decision making.

    Or take culling images as an example. I strongly believe culling is a critical part of the artistic process. Confronting our mistakes and selecting the best of a series is a necessary part of improving our work. I would rather not spend the time required to do it, but I feel I must. Without it, I am deluding myself about my actual work. I can’t afford to let the computer do it for me.

    There are too many examples to list. AI technology is trying to embed itself in most phases of our process.

    Dead tree in snow. Bent, broken, but still trying to stand.©Ed Schlotzhauer

    The other AI

    Let me pause for a moment and note that I am not discussing fully AI generated images. There are times and places to use them. They are not inherently bad. It is kind of like hiring an illustrator to create some graphics for a presentation or a graphic designer to make pictures for a marketing brochure. Those are business products, not art.

    I firmly believe that AI is incapable of coming up with creative new ideas or art. It cannot do more than it is trained on. Good art is a product of human creation. I admit that there is a lot of bad art that is no better than AI.

    Caution

    I am not going to abandon technology advances. Many of them make my life easier and more convenient. But I do intend to maintain a certain skepticism that will keep me from becoming dependent on convenience features.

    If the great automatic metering and auto focus in my camera went away, I still know how shoot fully manual. If most of the automatic aids in Lightroom and Photoshop disappeared, I still remember how to do things the hard way.

    I fear that younger photographers who have grown up with the tools do not have that fallback position. We could soon be in a position where photographers require AI tools to do their work, because they cannot do it themselves. If they have to rely on it to do their basic work, then why not allow it to do more and more. At some point, who (or what) is the artist?

    I do not believe my smarter tools have negatively effected my images or my creativity so far. I keep a watch for that.

    Or maybe I am wrong and completely out of touch. Maybe photographers are no longer required to be masters of our technology. It could be that the requirements for making an original and creative work are different from what I believe. In that case, I am just an old dinosaur holding on to a forgotten past. But I choose to believe my knowledge and experience is something AI cannot copy.

    Maybe this disquiet about too much help is one of the reasons there is a resurgence of interest in “old school” technology, like film and manual cameras. Many long for simpler days when we were more in control and closer to our end result. I am somewhere in the middle. I don’t want to give up most technology, but I refuse to be controlled by it.

  • Transmogrification

    Transmogrification

    Photography is a process of transmogrification – a transformation of one form to another. It’s a wonder an image ends up a recognizable representation of a scene. Some don’t.

    Transmogrification

    If “transmogrification” is unfamiliar to you, you are probably not a Calvin & Hobbs fan. I am a shameless fan. In my opinion, it was one of the most creative and humorous cartoon strips in history.

    Calvin (a little boy) and Hobbs (his imaginary friend who is a stuffed tiger) were always getting into typical little boy trouble. One of his “inventions” was a transmogrifier, a device (cardboard box) that could transform anyone into anything else.

    One of the reasons the comic is meaningful to me is that I had 2 active boys who always pushed the limits, and then some. Now, I have another newborn grandson, so I will be starting over in that world.

    I thought the author, Bill Watterson, invented the word, but it turns out to have been used as far back as 1671. It is a real word, not a made-up cartoon word.

    Not deep philosophy

    This discussion of the transformations that take place in making a photograph will be purely practical. I will not get into philosophical questions. We could do long analysis of indexicality or semiotics or formalism or the photo theories of John Szarkowski or any of dozens of other theories that attempt to explain why we see what we see.

    I don’t avoid this just because I am not capable of the deep thought. My nature is to be more of a pragmatist in my basic life philosophy. That’s why I went into Engineering rather than Science.

    A theory of why I made a particular image may be of a little bit interesting to me. It might help me to understand my process and vision. But I don’t think it benefits my viewers or really changes the final image.

    To someone viewing my image, it is what it is. It has to stand on its merits as they see them. I may have had deep theoretical intent behind what I did. but they don’t care. And despite any philosophical basis I may have used, if I don’t like the image either, it is useless. Don Giannatti recently said on Medium “A good photo is a good photo.” So true

    A series of transformations

    There are 3 main groups of transforms between a scene and a final print: in our head, in the camera, and in the computer. I include our head because it is probably the most important one. I will only describe a raw image processing path, since that is all I use. When I talk about a processing step, I mean a point where the result can be altered.

    Image processing transform in our head©Ed Schlotzhauer

    We see a scene and our brain goes through a lot of steps before we are even close to pressing the shutter release. We evaluate what we are seeing, determine what is significant, decide how we feel about it, what is our intent in taking this picture and if it is even worthwhile, and generally how we will compose and frame it.

    These steps may happen rapidly and instinctively, or they may be a slow deliberate process. That depends on the situation and our shooting style and our experience. But they probably happen.

    Camera transforms

    image transforms in the camera©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Assuming we decide to take the picture, now several processing steps take place within the camera. First, the light from the desired scene comes in through our lens. The lens determines the field of view, wide or narrow. It also “contributes” its own distortions – the MTF, barrel or pincushion distortion, chromatic aberration, vignetting, etc.

    After or within the lens is the aperture. This opens or closes to let in more or less light. As a side effect, the aperture size determines the depth of field – the amount of the image that is in sharp focus. Focus depth is one of the creative decisions unique to photography.

    Then the light is controlled by the shutter. The shutter opens for a precisely controlled amount of time when the photographer presses the shutter release. That opening time controls the amount of light that can pass through. The aperture and shutter work together to provide two of the key variables that determine exposure. The side effect is that shutter speed also determines the perceived motion blur of the scene. This is another creative decision.

    Next, the light hits the sensor where photons are converted to electrical signals. The total number of pixels is fixed here, as is much of the quality of the final image. The sensor also introduces some kinds of noise into our data.

    A deep, dark secret that many people do not internalize is that at the sensor, the information is “analog”. That is, it is varying levels of electrical signals. It goes through an Analog To Digital converter (ADC) to digitize it. Gain is also applied here as determined by the ISO setting. Higher ISO values apply more gain to boost the signal. There is a tradeoff the artist must make about the ISO setting, the amount of gain, since that determines a lot of the noise in our image data. Each pixel’s electrical value is digitized to create the matrix of digital values representing the image.

    Next the digital data flows through the digital signal processor (DSP) section. Each manufacturer applies its own proprietary “secret sauce” of processing to enhance the response of the sensor. This is why there is a Leica look and a Fuji look, etc. A jpg image is also processed from this to create a quick preview of the RAW data. The data is assembled into RAW data format for storage and then written to the memory card.

    The memory card receives the raw data that represents the image as processed by the camera.

    All these steps are just what is within the camera. I have not even mentioned our decisions of how to orient the camera or support it. Is it fixed or intentionally moving? Where is it positioned in relation to the scene? These decisions were probably made at the “head” stage.

    Computer transforms

    Image transforms in the computer©Ed Schlotzhauer

    We typically take that memory card and read its contents into our computer through a cataloging program such as Lightroom. Now the data is stored locally on our computer system for access.

    The type and amount of processing that can be done here is too vast to describe. We might use Lightroom or Photoshop or Topaz or any of several other software applications to operate on the pixels, bending and shaping and polishing them to our satisfaction. We may crop or delete large sections, combine images in various ways, change color drastically, even to black & white. There is little limit.

    Finally, to make a print, our print processing software uses profiles for the printer and paper we will be using to re-transform the image to a new color space. This is necessary to create a print that mostly matches what we see on our monitor. Raster Image Processing is used to do error diffusion and other complex calculations to create a new representation that creatively shapes the pixel values to patterns of microscopic ink dots that will produce the final image. The printer sprays the ink onto the paper substrate.

    We now have an image.

    Uniqueness of photography

    This series of transformations partially serves to define the basic difference between painting and photography. It should be clear that a photograph is a capture of all the light and forms that was seen by the lens. Everything gets recorded.

    The photographer has command of composition and viewpoint and lens selection and exposure to control what gets captured. But everything that was there is recorded. One of our jobs is to carefully select what to record, removing distractions.

    Distraction removal often continues to the post processing steps. And new elements may be added to the image. These happen long after the image is captured by the camera.

    A painter starts with a blank canvas and adds the elements he desires. Nothing can be there unless it was his intent to place it there. If he didn’t paint it in, it does not exist.

    Photography is a subtractive process while painting is an additive process.

    Over time we photographers learn how to control what ends up imaged on the sensor. We must be vigilant as we are looking through the viewfinder. Learning to actually see all the faults and distractions is a skill. Learning how to deal with them is part of our art, as is learning how to process the image to end up with the result we want.

    Looking through clock, Musee Orsay©Ed Schlotzhauer

    The chain

    As we can see, there is a complex chain of transforming steps that an image goes through between the “real” scene and the resulting depiction in a print. Most of these steps can seriously change the final result.

    I take 2 main points from this: all images are modified and as artists we exert the control over the intent of what we are creating.

    An image is not the object or scene. It is possibly a representation of the original. Or it can be completely different. I intentionally avoid any discussion of referent philosophy, other than to say a picture is not the original thing, it is an image that may or may not have something to say about the thing..

    How the image corresponds to the “real” scene is the artist’s choice in creating the image. As artists, we have an abundance of control points in the process. How we choose to use them is our decision. It is what we do as photographers. The result of all these transformation steps is an expression of our artistic vision.

    I called it transmogrification because the complexity of what is going on is almost science fiction or fantasy. But this is what we deal with every time we take a picture. As photographers, we must understand this chain. We do not have to understand all the technical details, but we must be able to use the steps available to us to create the image we want. As artists we must understand how to control all this technology to shape the final image to our vision.

    It’s a great thing, though. Taming all this technology and learning to use it well is part of the joy of being a photographer. It gives us tremendous creative freedom.

    Ultimately, though, our viewers do not care at all about our technology. They only look at the image and decide if it is worth looking at for more than an instant and if it has some relevance to them. Technology, like good magic, should be invisible.

  • Reaching

    Reaching

    I recently heard a phrase along the lines of keep your taste above your current skill level. This keeps you reaching. It resonates with me as good advice and a good model of our photographic growth.

    Skill

    At any point in time, we have achieved a certain skill level in our photography. We start out taking terrible to mediocre pictures. That is not a failing, it is the best we know how to do. It is never a failing to do the best work you can at the time. With time and training, we improve. Our images get better technically, and we learn to apply the “rules” of making pleasing pictures.

    But we feel something is missing. A fact of the artistic life is that we will always have dissatisfiers. Something is nagging us, pointing out that we haven’t arrived, yet. We can do better. We want to do a little more and better than what we have done so far.

    At this point in our journey, we realize that technical ability is not the main thing limiting us. Our images are OK technically, but they are still missing our expectations. If the unmet expectations are not based on the technical qualities of our images, then there must be another dimension to it.

    Lone Church©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Taste

    In the quote I used to start this, the author called that other dimension “taste.” This is a word that is not used as much as it used to be. Our current culture promotes an “anything goes” attitude. There are no real standards in fashion or furnishings or behavior. If I like to dress this way, generally you are not supposed to be critical.

    But we know that is not entirely true. We do have our own ideas and standards of what is good or acceptable. While we may not openly criticize other people, we still make our own judgments.

    An applicable definition of taste is “the ability to discern what is of good quality or of a high aesthetic standard.” Notions of culturally shared standards of taste may be breaking down, but in our own lives and our art, we form our own standards of quality and aesthetics. These drive our vision. They form a basis of what it means for us to call our work good.

    Our sense of aesthetics is something that is a mix of our natural inclination and what we learn over time. One of my sons is a t-shirt and shorts guy. He would go to almost any event in his normal preferred attire, regardless of expectations or how everyone else is dressed. That is just a weird bent he has. I don’t know where it came from.

    Our taste typically gets refined over time as we mature and expand our intellectual circle. We study the work of other artists we admire and pick up things we want to add to our vision. New ways to visualize or compose scenes or express ideas. We constantly shape our desired vision.

    Yellow gloves©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Vision

    I would like to generalize the idea of taste a little to include what we often call vision. Very simply, vision is the sum of all our experiences and beliefs and preferences and knowledge. As photographers, our vision is expressed in our images. If we go out shooting with our buddy, our photographic vision is what makes my images different from his, even though we were at the same place at the same time.

    Vision is something that changes and develops over time. We can refine our photographic vision (improve our taste) by studying the work of great visual artists. This can be by going to museums and galleries, buying art books, or looking at their work online. Maybe even take an art appreciation class. When we expose ourselves to other artist’s visions we can’t help but grow and expand our own viewpoint.

    And we can refine our taste introspectively by closely examining your work that you like best. Try to understand why you like those images and what they say about your vision. When you understand what you like, stop shooting images you know you will not like.

    But i do not want to leave this as a one-dimensional view. Cole Thompson describes vision as “the sum total of my life experiences that caused me to see the world in a unique way.” The sum total is more than just photography. The incredible Jay Maisel once said “if you want to make more interesting pictures, become a more interesting person.”

    There are many ways to become a more interesting person. This is part of what life is about. Read more interesting books, surround yourself with more interesting people, and have actual conversations with them. Study new subjects that your curiosity draws you to. Broaden your interests. Without breadth to support it, depth is uninteresting.

    Dead trees, Burn area©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Reaching

    The interesting concept to me is that our taste causes us to be reaching for more in our art. This is a good thing, and it is encouraging. Without something to challenge us, we stagnate.

    As we refine our taste, we get new insight on what we want to say and how we want our work to look. This makes us not quite satisfied where we currently are. We know we can get closer to our vision. That makes us put in the extra thought and effort to stretch toward this new understanding. We may not yet consciously understand what we are reaching for, but something is drawing us. We will know it when we see it.

    Bicycle Fence©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Growth

    Becoming a better photographer is a process of growth. We grow in our technical skills; we grow in our taste. Our expanded taste draws us to experiment, to work toward a vision hanging just out of reach. When we finally express that vision, that is satisfying, but we discover we have now refined our taste slightly and now want to push for something a little different, still just beyond our grasp.

    So, photography is a constant cycle of growth. We may love what we are producing right now, but something is nagging us to change it is some way, to do more, to expand on what we have done, to experiment. This is healthy growth.

    Is it frustrating for the prize to always be a little out of reach? Not really. It means we are growing and getting more capable all the time. Our taste expands with our ability, and it leads us to desire to do better. Along the way, we are much happier with the work we are producing.