Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Category: Artist

If You Were There
One “rule” I hear about expressiveness is “is this creative, or is it the same picture anyone would take if they were there?” I struggle with this. Should I care what picture you would take if you were there?
Obvious
I think I understand the intent of this phrase. Most pictures are fairly obvious. At least, to the photographer.
You come out at tunnel view in Yosemite, stop, and shoot the scene you see. You are doing the same thing and getting basically the same picture thousands of other people do every day.
Obvious and uncreative. Yes, that is judgmental, but it is very difficult to get creative with such an iconic scene.
As we grow in our artistic journey, we should try to avoid doing the simple and obvious thing. We should find something fresh and creative to add to the image. But at a famous icon location, good luck. It has been shot in every light and every weather.
You might catch an eagle flying by in the foreground carrying a large fish, just as a storm breaks allowing a majestic sunbeam to light up the scene. That would stand out. Some. But wouldn’t anyone else there shoot it, too?
I don’t see you
But here’s one of the things: I didn’t see you there when I was shooting most of the images I like best. Maybe you chose not to be out in the sub-zero cold, or not in a remote location where few people go. I didn’t see you embarrassing yourself too, shooting photos out the window of any of my recent flights. You weren’t around when I was in the junkyard looking for interesting rusty old trucks.
How broadly do I interpret the “if you were there” question? Do I question what a dozen other photographers would have done if they were magically transported to where I am now? I think that the fact that they are not here is significant.
Perhaps it means that what I choose to see and give significance is part of my unique style. What I am drawn to by my own particular mindfulness.
A fact is that there are seldom any other photographers around me when I am shooting. I guess few people care about the things that call to me.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
On a recent trip to France we did some short tour groups part of the time. Sure, I would look at what the guide is talking about, maybe even shoot a couple of pictures to remember it. But I found myself wandering off on side trips. The light is great over here. Look at the scene down this side street. That window is interesting. Look at this ancient stone work. Occasionally I would lose the group completely and have to go try to find them. Luckily for me my wife would sometimes come looking for me. I would hate to be a guide with me in the group.
My point is, no one else was tagging along on these side trips. It was just places and things I was being drawn to. No one else. If people had followed me, they likely would have shot some of the same things I did. But they didn’t seem to be called to do that.
I don’t know what you would do
Another, even bigger factor, is that I cannot predict what you would shoot, even if you were there. It has become obvious to me that I am drawn to some things most other people would ignore. And vise versa.
If you were flipping through my portfolios you would likely be thinking to yourself “that’s weird; I wonder why he shot that”. Even if I was shooting at a location you were familiar with, you probably would say “I didn’t see that, or if I did, it did not register with me as being a picture.”
The point being that a significant part of our personal style is our vision – what we are drawn to. What we are mindful of. Some things seem to jump out to me. Other things jump out to you.
This is one of the reasons I don’t trust the test of “if you were there, would you shoot the same picture?” We have different interests and values. If you were standing right beside me, you may well chose to not shoot at all. Rather, you would probably get engaged by something off to the side that I ignored.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Expressiveness
We are told that we have to add our own expression, our own point of view and feelings to distinguish our images. While I believe this, I also don’t believe it is something to worry too much about.
If we are an artist, we have a burning need to express our view. Just do it.
Fall in love with every frame. You are taking the picture because you love it, right? If that is genuine, it will come through. Never try to fake it. You should not have to.
If you are an artist, you make images that express your feelings and beliefs, or at least, what interests you in a scene. If you are a businessperson, you take pictures that you calculate will make the most money. Some of us are a mix of both. Only you can set your own goals.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Do my own thing
So I plan to bumble along on my own path, not worrying about what other photographers may or may not do. One reason is that there seldom are any around. Another is that I believe I have a different viewpoint and value set than them.
I’ll be the guy you see stopped along the road shooting a picture of who knows what. I’ll be the geek shooting out the window of the airplane, even at night. You may drive by and see me wandering around out in a snowstorm.
Anything that interests me is fair game. It is the dead of winter as I write this. Today I shot up through patterns of snow on a grid what was part of a sign above a sidewalk. I shot ice patterns forming along a river. Some majestic old Cottonwood trees silhouetted against storm clouds drew me in. I did not see a single other photographer. Not even someone using a cell phone camera.
If you were walking with me, would you have seen these things? Even if you did, would they interest you enough to shoot them? In the cold?
Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not going to bother worrying about what interests you. I have trouble keeping up with what interests me.
I hope you do, too.
February 19, 2025
It’s Just a Camera
That piece of technology we use to make images, it’s just a camera. Not magic or sentient or automatic. It still needs someone to take the picture.
Brushes
I really like my camera. It is a good tool to use to make images I like. When I’m in the field, my camera is the vehicle for my creative expression.
Have you ever had someone look at one of your pictures and say “Wow, you must have a great camera”? Or see you taking pictures and say “You must be a professional, since you have a big camera.” I have. Many times. Now, I basically just smile and go on.
But if you see a painting hanging in a gallery, who looks for the artist and tells them “Man, those must be some great brushes you have.” Or, seeing a nice wood carving, tell the sculptor “you must have some really sharp chisels”.
The public has a tendency to attribute a good photograph to the camera more than to the photographer. Being a piece of technology, somehow there is the implication that the camera somehow made the picture.
As artists, we should not encourage this attitude.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
A box
At it’s most basic, a camera is a box that keeps out light. The name comes from “camera obscura”, which was a dark space, often a room, with a small opening to let in light. This caused an inverted and reversed image to be projected on the back wall. It is believed this technique has been used since 500 BC.
The first “modern” cameras were wooden boxes that had a lens on one end and a holder for coated glass plates on the other. This is how many great historical photographs were exposed.
They have certainly become much more sophisticated now, with auto focus, camera shake compensation, exposure measurement, ability to automatically set exposure parameters, etc. Too much to list. The user manual for my Nikon Z7 II is 823 pages. Astounding, but it still doesn’t take the pictures. At it’s most basic, it is still a closed box to keep light off the sensor until time to record the image.
I appreciate many of the features in modern cameras. They make my art easier and extend the range I can operate in. It is great to have our little “dark spaces” getting smaller all the time. Even to becoming little flat things we can put in our pocket (phone).
I fear there will come a point where we will face some major decisions.
It’s still a tool
Right now our cameras and phones have amazing capabilities. Some of them are just basic technological advances. Some are deemed “AI”. Many of the best features are appearing first in our phones.
The ability to “sweep” our phone across a scene and have it automatically stitch together a panorama is very useful. Face detection is common now and can be useful for some types of work. An interesting feature I have seen is where, when taking a group shot, some cameras actually take many images and pick out and merge together the “best” look for everyone. At least, ones when they are smiling and their eyes are open.
Features like these make shooting pictures less technical and less stressful. Anyone can get “professional” level results. That is probably a good thing. It is an aid.©Ed Schlotzhauer
A coming “revolution”
There are still some of us who want to make the artistic decisions ourselves. Even if it is difficult and requires lots of training. Even if we make mistakes and bad choices. Those don’t matter. It is our art, our decisions, our responsibility. The technology is likely to get a lot more intrusive.
Probably right now most major camera manufacturers and all phone makers have teams of smart people trying to go all in with AI. People who actually believe in it and confidently think AI actually is or will become intelligent. Some who actually think AI can do art.
I can imagine one of the user stories they are working from: “(Camera speaking) Attach the 24-70 lens. It is best for this shot. Move me 34.7 inches left and lower me 9.3 inches. I detect a glare. Attach the lens hood. Place the subject at the Rule of Thirds point I am illuminating in the viewfinder. I will shoot it now and remove the non-subject person traversing the frame. I am also correcting the 3° tilt to the right and the overall color. Done. “
To me, this is a dystopian scene. I do not want to relinquish my artistic vision to anything, especially a machine. I am very willing to use smart tools to assist my work. In-camera features like eye identification and focus tracking can be very handy. On the computer, making it easier to make selections or to remove distractions is useful. But I do not plan to give control over to the camera to make it’s own decisions
Plasticity.
In The Interior Landscape, Guy Tal states
For any medium to be useful to an artist, it must allow a generous degree of plasticity. It must lend itself readily to subjective expression of concepts and feelings originating in the artist’s mind and not just those inherent in or commonly associated with the subject.
Mr. Tal was not referring to AI here, but I believe it applies. An AI controlled camera could probably expose images that would be regarded by most consumers as pleasing. The pictures would be a faithful and well exposed depiction of the subject. Most users would be happy. Unfortunately, the AI could not know the subjective expressions that are in my mind. It cannot know my vision and intent.
Again in The Interior Landscape, Guy Tal states
There are well-established compositional templates knows to impress viewers, requiring only mechanical skills but no expressive intent. Art raises the bar. Art requires from the artist a degree of emotional investment and an elevated subjective experience, as well as the skill to express visual concepts beyond “here’s something pretty,” “look where I’ve been,” or”see how lucky I was”.
I resonate with this concept of plasticity. It gives structure to my desire to create images that are not simply representations of what is there. I want to use the camera and other parts of the technology of photography simply as tools to help me capture what I visualize and feel.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Make art
You might get the impression that I am not a fan of AI. Well, I definitely am not a true believer. It could be a useful tool for some things. One of the big problems is that most people do not understand its limitations, so they believe it is something it is not.
By it’s nature, AI cannot be creative. It is a compendium of what it has been trained on. The output of AI is a statistical prediction of a response given an input. So, at best, it is an average of what it has been given. It cannot think or feel or have inspiration.
I am a human. I do think, get depressed, find inspiration, feel love, and see things in my own quirky way. If those are faults compared to AI, then I readily admit to being deeply flawed. But from those flaws, and all the other strange bits of my makeup, I can create art. Because my art comes from my unique human understanding and viewpoint.
I like my camera. It is a great tool. I have actually read most of the user manual in order to know what features it has and to pick which I choose to use. The reality is that I probably only use, I would guess, less than 20% of its capabilities. That’s OK. It’s a tool, not the center of my attention.
I know that designs have gotten so good that camera manufacturers are up against boundaries of physics. It is easier to add value through new “intelligent” tricks than to expand resolution or dynamic range or reduce noise. AI is a hype magnet and a path of least resistance. I get it.
Who/What is in charge?
But if the next camera I select is bloated with AI features and the price is double because of that, I will pass. I can even envision them wanting me to pay a monthly subscription to use the features in my new camera. If these things happen, my next camera is likely to be an older, used camera with less features but better raw performance and easier manual operation. Yeah, I’m an old curmudgeon. I get to be. I’m the artist in charge.
The camera does not make images. The artist does. It will continue that way for me as long as I have something to say about it. And I do. 🙂
So modern cameras are wonderful tools. I would love to have a new one. But are you an artist or just someone who takes pictures? If you are an artist, do not forget that the camera is basically just a dark box that holds the lens and sensor in the right positions. It is an instrument allowing us to create art. The artistic intelligence is in you. Do not surrender your artistic vision to a machine.
Photography is based on technology more than most other arts. That does not mean the technology makes the art.
“The equipment of Alfred Stieglitz or Edward Weston represents less in cost and variety than many an amateur ‘can barely get along with.’ Their magnificent photographs were made with intelligence and sympathy – not with merely the machines.”
Ansel Adams
February 12, 2025
Sometimes You Can’t Describe It
I find that my most interesting work is difficult or impossible to explain. I can’t describe what it means to me, much less what it should mean to you.
Concrete
It seems like people often want a concrete description or explanation of our work. Being generous, I would say they are really seeking to understand and want to know what the artist was thinking and feeling. Being less generous, I might say they are being lazy. It is easier to be told the “answer” than to try to work out an explanation for themselves.
It might be a gallery director needing an Artist Statement for the piece. Or it might be as simple as a friend asking “what is it?” Either one can occasionally put us in a difficult position.
I know the gallery director needs the statement so they can talk to customers about the piece. That is right and good. I guess it is better for me to give them something rather than have them hallucinate a story. Although I would love to hear their thoughts. Artist statements tend to be a load of bovine excrement.
Even more challenging is the simple “what is it?” question. Of course, I could tell them exactly what it actually is. But I often feel that this takes a lot away from the experience. The picture may be saying a lot more than what it is literally “of”.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
I don’t know
But behind all this is the problem that I don’t actually know what it is. I do not have words to represent concretely what I think the image is showing. And even if I had a good enough grasp of vocabulary, my thoughts are fuzzy and confused. It’s hard to describe something when you don’t understand what you think about it.
A lot of instructors tell us that every image should be pre-visualized. That is, that we know why we are taking it and we anticipate exactly how it will come out. And that works for me for a lot of images. I nearly always know (almost) exactly how an image will look on screen on my computer. Except for those happy surprises, but that is another topic.
But to me, strictly pre-planning and pre-visualizing everything takes some of the joy and creativity out of it. It becomes more documentation rather than art. I honestly do not know why I take some pictures.
Instinct
A lot of the shots I end up liking best are purely instinctive. In normal shooting, I have all kinds of subroutines running in my head, analyzing composition and framing and exposure and focus and lighting and all the other considerations in making a decent picture. But when I am shooting instinctively, they are mostly subconscious. I am not spending much conscious thought on design and technique in the moment. Things just seem to take on a life of their own.
Sometimes this can happen in a flow state, which is a joy. But not necessarily. Sometimes it is like there is a light flashing, signaling from my subconscious. Telling me “hey dummy, look! There is a great shot there!”
When I am smart enough to pay attention to that signal, I don’t spend much time on analysis. I don’t stop and describe what it is and what I am feeling. Maybe I should. But I feel like I should just be scrambling to take advantage of the gift I have been given.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Can’t hurt to try
Some great photographers do try to document their thoughts when they shoot. They tend to keep notes and even analyze their feelings and thoughts at the moment. A great example is Tony Hewitt, an amazing photographer in Australia. He not only writes down his thoughts, he sometimes even writes poems expressing what he felt while shooting!
I don’t write poems and I very seldom can force myself to take the time to analyze my feelings. I would like to. I always carry a notebook. Usually all I note is where I am, if I am in an unfamiliar location. Later, examining the images on my computer, I have to try to reconstruct my feelings.
So I encourage you to do what I say, not what I do. Try to record some of your thoughts in the field, while it is fresh. It might help to understand them better.
Get used to disappointment
When someone asks the dreaded “what does it mean” question, what do we do? Maybe we bluff and make up some nonsense about representing the existential struggle between good and evil. Maybe we be brutally literal and say it is a picture of a weathered car door. I just liked the shapes.
I would like to say, like Wesley said to Inigo in their sword fight (Princess Bride) “Get used to disappointment.” I don’t know what it means, so how can I try to tell you? Do the work yourself. Come up with your own story. It is just a valid as mine.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Language doesn’t work
Each type of art media has they own unique strengths and weaknesses. You can’t always represent equivalent ideas with sculpture and painting.
Words and images are 2 different art forms. They cannot always say the equivalent things. I believe an image can tap into feelings, yearnings, deep beliefs, dreams, and memories that cannot adequately be written down in words. These things exist as things that pass through our minds as thoughts and feelings without being expressed in words.
Perhaps I am not doing my work justice by not spending the effort to try to unpack the “meaning” of my images. That would take a lot of time, and i know from experience that when I return to the description some time in the future, I would say no, I see something else now.
Our feelings when looking at art are based on our experience, knowledge, emotional state and perhaps health at the moment. These are moving targets.
So I do not consider it a fault when I cannot describe exactly what an image means. I could only tell you what it means to me, today. You should have the privilege of deciding for yourself what it means to you. If anything. Maybe nothing.
it could be that an image “means” nothing. It only has the value or meaning we ascribe to it personally. Too deep for now. That is a discussion for another day.
Meanwhile, let yourself be led to make images that are meaningful and significant to you. Even if you can’t describe what it precisely is you can take joy in what you feel looking at it. Not all of the world can be expressed in words.
February 5, 2025
Do You Take Pictures?
Do you take pictures? Well, of course. We all do. I suggest if we are serious about making art that may not be the best attitude.
Take pictures
It is estimated that about 2 Trillion pictures are taken a year. That is several hundred pictures for every person on the planet. Probably 99.999% of those are shot on cell phones. Nothing wrong with that. Cell phones have gotten amazing. But realistically, most of the shots taken are selfies or predictable tourist pictures. Again, nothing wrong with that. If the picture makes them happy, it is good.
Everybody takes pictures. Do you know anyone who has never taken one? I don’t.
But I am writing to an audience who admires photographic images and probably aspires to make much better ones themselves. What makes a picture good?
There are obvious qualifiers like being sharp, well lit, subject easy to see, things like that. Those are things that, if you do not do them, it probably will make the picture bad (unless you did it deliberately). But, as you have figured out from experience, eliminating the problems does not mean your pictures become “good”.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Taken by pictures
The concept of being taken by pictures is one I picked up from John Barclay. It resonates with me, because I have seen it working in my art.
What I have seen in my photo shoots is that sometimes something special happens. We no longer are looking for pictures. We have found a subject or place that captivates us. It releases some kind of creative energy within up. We are not just trying to take a picture, we are trying to capture the magic we are feeling. We have to shoot this. There is no choice not to.
It may be very easy or it may be hard. That is, the scene may present itself to us complete. We have found a treasure. We just have to compose it, set the camera, and take the picture. It is already perfect. Don’t mess it up;
Sometimes it teases us. We know there is something great hiding there, just out of reach. Maybe we have to walk around to look for the right angle. Perhaps it is zooming in on the right piece. Or waiting for the right light, Maybe it is a matter of thinking about it to figure out what is calling to us. Whatever it is, we usually know it when we see it. The inner voice guiding us says “Yes!”. Then we know we have captured the essence we are searching for.
When this happens it is very rewarding. We know we have glimpsed something great and good and we feel like we have captured a view of it.
What is the difference?
The difference is taking a picture vs making art. Taking vs giving.
When you’re at the Eiffel Tower and you think “I like that and I should shoot it”, you probably know how to make a good record of it. You and 50,000 other people that day. When anyone sees it they say “yep, that’s the Eiffel Tower”. No passion. It is just a fact. You might even want to hang a print of it on your wall. But you could get the same thing from any print on demand web site.
But when we are taken by a scene, there is an intensity and passion invoked in us. It is a personal experience. With luck and skill on our part, some of the feeling might be shared by some of our viewers.
We did not take the picture to show it to you. We had to take it for us. It was something we were drawn to. It is like it was a gift given to us.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
If it does not captivate you
I use a recent trip to France as an example a lot lately. It is recent and fresh in my mind.
I was unashamedly a tourist. That means I shot a lot of pictures because I felt I needed to record where we were and what we were seeing. Just like everyone else with their smart phones. Even though I was using a nice mirrorless camera, they were still mostly tourist shots.
Some of these are nice. That is, they are sharp, well composed, and show what I want of the scene. I will keep too many of them, but just for my own private memories.
But a few were moments where something spoke to me and drew me into an image. These times were meaningful to me. As far as images go, these were the Wow moments of the trip for me. Whether anyone else ever sees them or appreciates them doesn’t matter. They are special to me. When I go back and look at them I remember the feelings of the moment.
It’s about emotion
A common theme that recurs is that it is about passion, emotion. Did I feel anything deep or special about this, or was it a record shot? Record shots are pretty and a few will go into a slide show or book of the trip.
The really meaningful images weren’t shot to a plan and were not shot primarily to record the event or place. They may be random occurrences. But these are special to me. Times when I was truly engaged and excited by what was there.
If I wasn’t excited about what I saw, why should you be?
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Don’t settle for just taking pictures
So take pictures. But don’t settle for just taking pictures. Let’s turn up our sensitivity to hear when something is calling to us. If we are not actively listening, we will probably miss it. We know something great is there. Now we have to find it. Work the scene. Peal away the clutter. Follow your instinct. Let yourself be taken by pictures. It is worth it.
When we get caught up in a situation like this, it doesn’t really matter if all we have if a cell phone. Use what you have. But follow you passion. Figure out what is really there and get the shot. Take the gift. Appreciate it.
January 15, 2025
Take a Cheap Trip
Most of us like to vacation. Travel is booming at levels not seen for years. Popular vacation spots are often overcrowded. And costs continue to increase. What if I suggested a way to take a cheap trip? One that may benefit your photography. And it’s not a timeshare sales pitch.
High costs
Travel inflation seems to be higher than other inflation in general. It restricts some of what we can do.
A trip overseas for a few weeks can be out of reach, both in money and the time required. It can suck up our entire savings for a year or more. Even taking a local road trip is getting to be a burden and out of reach for some of us.
But some of us rely on travel to refresh and relax us. What are we to do?
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Why do photographers travel?
Photographers seem to have a special fondness for travel. We expect the travel experience to renew us, shake out the cobwebs, invigorate our vision and interest. And we want to come back with exciting new images to show and talk about.
This has long been the case. From the beginning photographers tended to travel.
As soon as the technology allowed fairly portable equipment, it seems like photographers were traveling. Matthew Brady traveled and photographed extensively during the American Civil War. Other famous artists like William Henry Jackson and Ansel Adams shot exclusively outdoors. And I’m just highlighting American photographers.
These artists traveled to places most people couldn’t go in those times. They opened up our understanding of the world and what was going on. In this, they did a great service.
Our travel expectations are probably more modest. We will seldom go to uncharted lands no one has ever seen. But we go to places new to us. Or at least places outside of our normal routine. It is enlightening and changes our perspective and understanding. That is usually a good thing. And refreshing.
I think a yearning to travel is an inherent part of society these days. Especially for photographers.
Shake it up
But I promised you a cheap trip. Here goes: shake up something you usually do.
Yes, that’s it. That’s all.
We all fall into ruts. Shooting the same subjects in the same way with the same lens in the same lighting. It becomes a habit. A habit is where we avoid thought and go through life on automatic. Shake that up by changing something. Force yourself to confront a different situation where we have to think.
One simple thing is to pick one lens we seldom use and photograph exclusively with it for a while, say a month. Some of us are naturally wide angle shooters. Switch to a telephoto. Some of us see only telephoto shots. Switch and only carry a wide angle for a while. Or a macro lens and only shoot closeups. Or a fish eye, or a tilt/shift. If you are a landscape photographer, try street photography. If you do portraits, try night skies.
And yes, just carry that one lens. Not your whole kit. It will force you to play the game.
Maybe try putting aside your “serious” camera for awhile and only use your phone. Or shoot with the expectation that you will process everything to black & white. Maybe it could be as simple a thing as deciding everything you are doing now will be cropped square.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Just do something different
It really does not matter what you choose, as long as it is different enough from what you usually do. During this time you are not concentrating on adding to your portfolio. The goal is to break free from your normal habits and learn to see better. Think again.
How is this a cheap trip? Travel encourages us to see different. We are out of our comfort zone. We become more mindful. Basic assumptions have to be re-examined. Things look new and different so we pay more attention to them. Making a change in our routine triggers similar things.
One way to simulate that same effect as travel to force our self out of our normal rut. A cheap and easy way to do that is to force a change in how we see through our camera.
Sound too easy? Try it. You may be surprised.
Practice mindfulness exercises
Making a change like this is one example of a mindfulness exercise. I’m not talking about chanting and navel gazing. The purpose of mindfulness is to set aside our preconceived notions and expectations. Wall out the distractions that are enticing us to other things. Learn to be in the moment, and to look around and actually see what is there.
Some people can get there through meditation. Some others through travel or workshops. Maybe for you going to a museum and looking at the work of great masters does it. But regardless of the mechanism that works for you, mindfulness comes down to creating a still place for yourself. A place where you can set aside distractions and competing thoughts for a while. Where you can free yourself to really see and consider what is around you for what it is. Where you can immerse yourself in the experience of creating.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
A cheap trip
I am not really joking when I say changing up your normal routine or environment occasionally is a cheap trip. It can produce some of the same benefits we often get from travel. Granted, it may not be as much fun, but it is a lot cheaper. And you can do it anytime or anywhere.
No, I’m not suggesting that this is an excuse to go buy that great new lens you have been wanting. Of course, whatever excuse works for you is up to you. But that shoots down the idea of a cheap trip.
Getting out of our normal territory and traveling to a new location often puts us in a more mindful attitude as we shoot. It amazes me that everything we see becomes an interesting subject. Part of that is because we set aside the uninterrupted time to be there and shoot. But I believe a large part of it is that we are seeing things new. That refreshes and energizes us.
I am suggesting another way to stimulate a similar effect of travel is to change something about our routine. Something to make us think, reconsider, focus more on what we are doing. Something to make us see past mechanics and rules of composition and social media likes.
Make it a habit to challenge yourself like this periodically. It does not require an uncomfortable 10 hour plane ride.
Today’s image
The image at the top of this article is an example of shaking myself out of a rut. This was taken in the Rockies in fall. Normally during this time I am concentrating on beautiful fall colors and aspen trees.
In this case, I tasked myself with ignoring the leaves and shooting the mountains after dark. No trees or fall colors visible. This is the Eisenhower Tunnel from the Loveland Pass road. Stars are just becoming apparent as the last light fades, illuminating the mountain silhouettes. The trail of lights in and out of the tunnel adds unique interest.
I felt good about it. Definitely not a conventional fall landscape.
January 8, 2025