Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Category: Artist

Depth of Insight
In a recent Medium article, Marc Overmars gave a good introductory description of depth of field (DOF) This is a technical term uniquely applicable to photography. I want to take the concept in a somewhat more philosophical direction. Maybe there is a concept of depth of insight.
Purely technical
On the surface, depth of field is purely a technical concept. it only applies to photography, because it is associated with the physics of focusing through a lens.
I went into some of the issues in a previous blog. Sorry for the math. 🙂 I know most people don’t like that. I don’t have much use for it either, and I would never use it when I’m out in the field shooting, but some level of understanding is helpful for mastery of the art.
Maybe the most challenging concept from that article, and a fundamental concept of DOF, is “circle of confusion”. The idea that there are acceptable levels of unsharpness. Very briefly, only one point in the frame is technically “in focus”. But practically, a certain amount of unsharpness can be tolerated before we would consider something blurry. The size of this allowable unsharpness is called the circle of confusion. So, when your DOF calculator gives you a distance range, those are the points where the focus becomes unacceptably blurry. The math is exact, but the concept isn’t.
Perhaps there are analogies in our understanding of what we shoot.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Looking deeper
Let’s set the math and technical details aside for now. I can hear the sigh of relief.
I propose that there is an analogous concept concerning the sharpness of our intent when we are shooting. That is, did I just point my camera at a subject, make a decent composition, and shoot? Or was I clear in my mind why I was taking the picture and what it was really about?
I have often referenced the Ansel Adams quote that “There’s nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.” There are 2 reasons for that. First, it is a brilliant observation. Second, it is something I struggle with, so it is very real and close to me.
Yes, I can compose, and I can use good technique to get the sharpness I want. I can use light to my advantage, and I have a lot of experience post processing. But even so, I often look at my images in despair. Too often they are sharp images of a fuzzy concept. When I am honest with myself, I know that sometimes I didn’t have much in mind when I shot them.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Art happens in our head
Maybe it is too obvious to state, but art happens in our head, not in the camera or the computer. As with any definite statement about art, this is a generalization. Sure, there have been many times when I was working with a scene and experimenting (e.g. playing), and things seemed to come together. That is the exception, though.
All too often I look at my images and realize they are, at best, just record shots of a place I was at. No depth of insight. Not much below the surface to give you a reason to pause over it and consider it.
The fault is entirely my own. I didn’t have anything to say, and I said it.
There is a marked contrast with the images I get when I go out to shoot a project, or ones I shoot when I feel strongly about the subject or the situation. Many more of them are strong and satisfying.
We all know this: the more we put into something the more we are likely to get out of it. Why don’t I remember it more when I am out shooting?
My excuse, other than simply laziness, is that I like to go out exploring and shoot interesting things I come across. I don’t always find interesting or “deep” things. That is just that, an excuse. Maybe it is as much that I didn’t have much to say that day. I try to remind myself of Jay Maisel‘s quote that “If you talk with nothing to say, that’s bad. When you shoot with nothing to say, that’s worse.”
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Circle of confusion
So, is there a “circle of confusion” concept for our shooting? Maybe so. If we can’t get our ideas into focus, maybe we shouldn’t shoot. Do our ideas have to be in perfect focus? No. Like the technical term, maybe there is an acceptable level of unsharpness. I hope so.
What do I mean by this? Well, sometimes I realize exactly what the scene means to me, and I can determine exactly how to shoot it. That is great. I am often happy with the result. Sometimes, though, I just have a feeling, a sense of what I am experiencing. I have learned to follow those instincts even if I cannot clearly express their meaning at the moment. If something is drawing me, there is probably a reason.
Later, while editing, I may realize what was calling me to it. Sometimes an image I was initially dismissive of emerges as the strongest of the shoot. It could be that’s just luck. I prefer to think my instincts were trying to tell me something.
Maybe I am being too hard on myself. Jay Maisel also said “You always end up with too many pictures to edit and too few that you feel ‘got it’.” I suppose the feeling is common to all photographers, but it still is frustrating.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Projects for focus
I am learning to use projects to help me focus more clearly. A project is a chance to think deeply about something, decide how I feel about it, and then find opportunities to express it.
It is basic psychology that when you are concentrating on something you are more attune to it. A simple example: a friend was thinking about buying a Nissan car. I don’t think about there being many of them around, but after that conversation it seemed like every other car I saw was a Nissan. I was more attuned to them.
A somewhat more relevant example is from a recent trip to France. It was a family trip, not a dedicated photo expedition. But I didn’t want to come back with just random tourist shots. So, I created a few projects to keep in mind to focus my thoughts and energy. One of them I called Sacred Places. It helped me be much more aware of cathedrals, of course, but also monuments and memorials and standing stones. Even a small village celebration of their liberation in WWII. I felt it helped me to see more opportunities, and I looked deeper at the occasions I found.
If I don’t see it, why should you?
Circling back to Jay Maisel’s quote: “If you talk with nothing to say, that’s bad. When you shoot with nothing to say, that’s worse.” If we can’t focus our feelings and experience, are we shooting with nothing to say? Just taking a sharp or well composed picture isn’t enough. If you can’t participate in the experience I felt, then I’m not bringing you anything other than an “I was there” picture. Maybe it is pretty, but there isn’t much to feel or remember.
Perhaps I do not have to be able to precisely express what I was feeling at that moment. Maybe there is a “circle of confusion” associated with our understanding of the image we are creating that gives us some margin for imprecision. But the circle of confusion in focusing helps discuss a range of acceptable sharpness, not permission to be out of focus. Maybe there is a range of acceptable understanding of our feelings leading to making an image. But little or no understanding is out of range. With no real understanding or feeling, there is little interest for viewers. Have something to say.
I am starting to concentrate. much more on depth of insight than depth of field.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Head image
I mentioned having Sacred Places in mind and encountering a memorial celebration in a small village in France. The image at the top was a result of that. We happened, by accident, to be there on the day of their annual celebration of liberation in WWII. They still remember and memorialize it to this day. That is heartwarming.
This flag display was presented while local dignitaries and military officials made speeches. I didn’t understand enough French to follow it, but it was moving.
Having the Sacred Placed project in mind made me more attuned to this. We stayed for all of it and loved being there. When they discovered that we were Americans I barely avoided having to give a speech at their village celebration afterward.
I hope a little of the dignity and solemnity of their memorial comes through.
October 1, 2025
Solitude
Solitude is a longed-for state for some, a fear for others. I am going to argue in favor of it, but maybe in a different sense than normal. I believe learning to embrace solitude is a component of fine art photography.
What do we think of?
I think most of us, when solitude is mentioned, picture being completely alone in a remote location. No connection with the outside world. No cell phone service.
How do you react to the thought of it? Does it sound like a welcome break from our too busy, demanding, normal life? Or is it terrifying to think of being cut off from human contact. To be cut off from the flow of events and the latest news.
Many of us have been so trained by our devices and social media that fear of missing out would paralyze us. I mentioned before that studies show that some people would intentionally inflict pain on themselves rather than be alone or bored for a few minutes.
So, to a great portion of people, even artists, the idea of solitude sounds like pain and suffering. Something to be avoided at all cost.
Is that how you feel?
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Why seek it?
Without talking about what solitude is, let’s talk about why we may want, or even need, it. Most of us live in a world of constant demands. We are over scheduled, always running to catch up. There is a constant bombardment of outside sources telling us what to think, where to go, what to buy, what to do.
This is the noise of modern life. It is as real and debilitating as the constant loud noise of a busy downtown.
In this environment, we are in a constant state of distraction. Our thoughts are not our own. From the demands of our soul-sucking job to having to run the kids around to their after-school activities to keeping up our image on social media to just constantly fighting to keep our place in the world, we are pulled in a thousand directions at once.
I’m told that a trend in startups is to adopt the “996” system. In that, you work 9am to 9pm 6 days a week. That is a scheduled and expected 72 hour work week. Hiring advertisements proudly list this as a “feature” of the company and plainly say that if you do not buy into this, don’t even apply. I hope you don’t buy in.
Our brains can’t thrive in such busy environments. We are organic beings, not machines. If you want to use your brain, you must care for it and strengthen it. A key to this is to give it time to rest, to build and maintain connections, to sort through its accumulated input and discard some and build the rest into memories and knowledge.
Solitude provides opportunity for this brain healing. Like a field that lies fallow in winter is renewed, so too our brain needs some down time.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
What else is it?
I have a photographer friend I have mentioned before who routinely does solo wilderness trips in the Colorado mountains. That has to be a form of extreme solitude. But I do not think that is the only way to achieve a goal of relaxing and refreshing.
Solitude is an attitude at least as much as it is being alone. With the right frame of mind, we can have solitude riding on a crowded bus surrounded by people glued to their cell phones. The key is, where is our mind. Are we thinking or are we letting some external entity think for us? Are we disengaged from the external demands and noise, or are letting that direct our mind?
Here is a similar example of what seems to me to be the same problem, but at the other extreme. We just got back from a trip to Switzerland. There were times hiking in the high Swiss alpine valleys that I would see someone walking along with their face stuck in a cell phone. They seemed almost oblivious to the incredible beauty around them.
Maybe I am judgmental, but it seems like they ignored an excellent opportunity to look and think and relax their mind. Instead, they chose the cold addiction of technology.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Not mindfulness
I advocate mindfulness in a lot of my writing. But solitude is somewhat different. It is important in different ways.
Mindfulness, as I use it in the context of photography, is being very aware. Being in the moment and attuned to what is happening around you. That lets us see things other people might miss. To perceive relationships that are non-obvious. By having all our spidey senses on alert, we do not miss opportunities. We might even find insights that others miss.
Solitude, on the other hand, is being in a quiet place, at least figuratively. Calming our mind and letting it rest and review and build connections. Letting our mind wander. This is critically important to learning and making meaning for us.
Learn to do it
As I said, solitude seems to be fearful for many people. It is so alien to our normal life that it seems wrong. But perhaps it is our normal life that is the mistake.
Start small. Do not suddenly go out into the wilderness on a solo trek. That would be like deciding you aren’t going to be a couch potato anymore and going out and trying to run a marathon the next day. Your body would let you know that that is not a good idea without the proper training.
Start with going for short walks “all by yourself”. No cell phone in your hand, no music playing. Just walk around the block. Give yourself permission to let your mind wander. No fair thinking about the projects you are working on or the concert you are going to next weekend. Try to make your mind blank and see what surfaces.
The first few times you try it, it probably won’t work. That is, you will think about work or what the market is doing or the political situation or what you will fix for dinner. That’s OK. It takes practice. Push through it. After a few times you will find your mind wandering to unexpected places. Things you didn’t think you would think about. That is very healthy. Your mind is learning to accept and use solitude.
Increase the length and frequency of your walks. Extend it to sometimes just sitting quietly at home with all your gadgets off. Just thinking.
Eventually we can learn to be happy and accepting alone. We are no longer dependent on the constant entertainment we were used to in the world. Now we have some time to think and dream and envision. Even just letting our mind wander is healthy.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
So what?
Why should you go to this trouble and learn the discipline of disconnecting from the world? It is healthy for you in several ways.
Solitude recharges our batteries. We connect with our heart and feelings. It helps us develop relationships with others and more understanding of ourself.
Solitude helps us develop our emotional resilience and independence. We re-develop the ability to think for ourselves. To be able to figure things out. We are better able to trust our judgment.
It also helps our creativity. We give ourselves the space to explore ideas and conceive of new possibilities.
The sound of silence is good for us. It helps reduce the toxic byproducts of the stress generated in us in our everyday life.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Solitude, them mindfulness
i am a proponent of mindfulness as an ingredient of becoming a more creative photographer and artist. But I am also coming to see that many people first need to develop the ability to give themselves solitude. That helps us be a stronger human being.
Solitude gives us the energy to be creative and independent. Mindfulness helps us look and see better. They work together, but solitude comes first.
I hope I have encouraged you to stop fearing being alone with yourself. Learn to embrace solitude. Practice until it becomes part of your creative life. It is well worth it. There is power in learning to be comfortable alone with yourself.
I hope it becomes a sought for, pleasant state. Not something to fear.
Post script
At a recent doctor visit, I thought I would be a hypocrite after writing this if I did not consciously practice it. So I sat in solitude for the 40 minutes I was waiting in the exam room. I didn’t read my book or open my iPad or phone or AirPods. At first my mind was swirling with thoughts about the procedure I was about to have and some other things that were bothering me. After a few minutes, I got control and just let my mind wander. It was healthy and the time passed quickly.
But then I realized that I do this almost every day. When I go out wandering and walking and photographing, that is a solitary session. For the 1 to 3 hours I seldom allow distractions and I do not open my phone or listen to music. Solitude.
September 3, 2025
Do You Like It?
Do you like your art? Are you shooting what someone else wants or for yourself? Do you hang it on your own wall and proudly show people? I believe that answering the question “do you like it” is very important.
A marketplace
Some people view the world as a marketplace. The only thing that matters is what sells. To sell, it must meet the current definition of popularity and be “trending”. That implies our personal likes do not matter compared to what is selling.
I realize there are reasons an artist may feel like this. Perhaps you have committed to photography as your livelihood. You will, of necessity, have to follow the trends and give the market what it wants. Unless you are in a position of setting the trends, but very few of us are.
The second reason is based on your personality type. If you are extroverted, you probably have a strong tendency to get your rewards externally. You want the validation of other people, and that comes from likes and awards and sales. These are external validations of our work. Inward satisfaction counts for much less.
I have a friend like that. Great guy. He has been a close friend for many years. But he cannot be convinced that anything he creates is worth more than what someone will pay for it. Or more than the lowest price he can find advertised anywhere. Because of this, he completely discounts his artistic work, because he does not think he could sell it for much, therefore it is not worth much.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Intensely personal
My art is intensely personal. Except in very rare cases where I am doing work for other people, my subjects, my treatment, my style and presentation are all selected by me and for my pleasure.
My art reflects what I am seeing and feeling. The themes running through my life. It is influenced by my artistic taste and personal values. Printing an image and hanging it for others to see is an intimate act. It is giving others a glimpse of who I am, what I feel and see. Speaking as an introvert, that is very personal and terrifying.
What if people do not like it? That can hurt. It used to hurt more than it does now. At best, now, I may dialog with them to try to understand what their reaction is and why they don’t like it. At worst, I may change the subject and try not to dislike them despite their terrible judgment ☺.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
What if you don’t like it?
But what if you don’t like your work? I have seen it happen. People get bored with their work. They feel burned out. They may lose interest in the subjects they shoot. The creative spark and joy are gone. They may give up photography completely or only shoot selfies.
Or perhaps you feel trapped. You are getting likes and good feedback from social media, but your real interest has moved on and you fear that if you show the work you like now, it will lose your audience. Success can be a trap if we are not confident enough to go our own way.
Or maybe what you see when you review your images is far short of what you felt or imagined when you shot it. You just don’t know how to improve.
So, what if you don’t like your work? It is easy to get discouraged and even give up photography.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
I encourage you to clarify your goals. That should help sort out the objectives.
Unless you are a commercial photographer shooting for clients, no one other than you should be able to dictate your subjects or your vision of how to shoot. Does your camera club have a very narrow criteria for what is acceptable? Drop them. I did. Years ago. It was liberating.
Are you afraid of losing your social media followers? But answer this, how much money are you making from them? I’m serious. You like the dopamine hit of likes, but what are they worth in tangible terms? Trust your creative instinct more than the internet. Take a risk and show the work that pleases you. If your followers leave, that’s OK. Find new ones that appreciate the art you want to do.
If people look at your images and say, “that’s weird” or even, “I don’t like it”, so what? They are welcome to like or buy whatever makes them happy. But our purpose for creating images should be to make us happy.
He may be unpopular these days, but I think Bill Cosby was correct when he said, “I don’t know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.”
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Do you love it?
My point is that our art is our art. Unless we are working for hire, we ultimately do not have to please anyone other than ourselves. We should love our art. It should be a source of pride and satisfaction. An expression of our creativity.
Whatever subject and presentation you choose should be the thing that makes you the happiest. Go through your portfolio and honestly evaluate its impact on you. If you do not love what you see, change.
I can’t criticize your choice. But I hope you go deeper than just pretty pictures that get likes on Facebook. This is your creative outlet. It should feed your soul. It lets your viewers – and you – have a peek at what is deep inside you.
I know an artist who seems to be a happy, bubbly lady, but who does art that is dark and brooding and mysterious. Does that mean she has some deep mental problems? No. It just means that is what comes from her creative spirit and makes her happy. The same way that reading crime novels does not make you a potential killer.
Be passionate about your art. Fall in love with it. Be proud of it, whatever it is. Make prints and display them for people to see. Never be apologetic. Unless they are not well executed. Then work to improve. But well executed or not, like your work.
It is uniquely you. I sincerely hope you love your art as much as I love mine.
August 27, 2025
Permission to Be an Artist
There is only one thing stopping us from being an artist. We need to give ourselves permission to call ourself an artist. No one else has the authority to do it.
Who regulates “art”?
Who regulates art? Maybe that seems like a silly question, but many of us are hesitant to call ourselves an artist because we have not been officially designated one by some standards board. We haven’t received our certificate.
I don’t know if it is good or bad, but that standards board does not exist. The certificate does not exist, and if it did, it would be meaningless.
Many people and organizations want us to think they are the keepers of the purity of the arts. But they only have authority as far as they can convince other people they have it.
The gatekeepers, whether they are large galleries, or internet influencers, or art schools, or even your local camera club, have no authority to control what is art and who gets to do it.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Who is keeping you from being an artist?
I believe many of us are afraid to consider ourselves an artist for fear that someone will come and say no, we are not qualified. We are afraid we would be publicly humiliated and denounced as not good enough. We did not pass the qualifications. By calling ourselves an artist, we might fear we are elevating ourself to a higher plateau.
Well, we are. But that is a good thing.
This is art, not brain surgery. We do not have to go to school for 12 years then do years of apprenticeship before going before a review board to grant us a license. I’m glad they train doctors like that, but it is not a good model for artists.
The best definition I can remember of art is that anything done as art, is art. So, if you intended that image to be art rather than just a selfie or record shot, then it is art. No one can say it is not.
That no way says that if you intended it to be art then it is great art. Its quality depends on many factors, including your skill and maturity. We learn and improve all our life.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Photographer or artist?
So, when someone asks you what you do, what is your answer? Are you an artist, or a photographer, or do you respond with something vague like, “oh, I like to take pictures”? How you answer and view yourself is your business. But what is keeping you from considering yourself an artist?
I recognize that if we announce ourselves as an artist, we are claiming greater mastery. We present our work and ourselves in a different light. In a different way. Those of us who are introverts get nervous about that. We do not seek attention,
The reality, as I see it, is that it is not about ego or skill level. If we believe we are doing art, we should confidently assert to the world around us that we are artists.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Prove it
Some people are born salesmen. They try to talk the talk without learning how to walk the walk. I do not think that is the case for you who read this. You understand that you must prove what you can do, who you are as an artist. And that is what we do with every image we show the world. It is just as important, if not more important, to prove it to ourselves.
How do we do that?
John Paul Caponigro said “Singular images prove your craft. A body of work proves your artistry.” I think there is wisdom in that.
When you go through your catalog critically, do you find images you would show anyone, anywhere without fear of ridicule? If you find a few, great. You are learning the craft and starting to produce interesting work.
Have you, or can you, put together one or more projects around a theme? A good project would have 10-20 excellent images showing cohesiveness and consistency. This demonstrates your ability to create a body of work.
A single great image may be luck. A good body of work proves you can repeat it. That you are can create regularly and to a consistently high level of quality.
This is certainly not the only way to prove your mastery, but it is a good way. Give it a try and you might surprise yourself.
If you have proved to yourself that you are an artist, do not be afraid to take the label for yourself. Say it proudly. You have given yourself permission. You are the only one who matters.
July 23, 2025
Confidence
I believe one of the things we develop as we mature as photographers is confidence. Not arrogance, but certainty in who we are and what we want to do.
Introvert
I’m an introvert. I suspect many of you are, too. Introversion seems to be strong in artists. After all, what we do is not really about social events or winning contests or getting to praise ourselves. If you seek those things, you are probably an extrovert and you do art for entirely different reasons than I do.
As an introvert, you wouldn’t think at first that confidence is one of the traits I would claim. But confidence comes from competence. We know we can do what we need to do. We know what we like and when we find it, we are confident we can deal with it well.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Arrogance
This is not arrogance. Arrogance gets into hubris and self-importance. Confidence is the simple assurance that I can do it. Now, the “it” may be different for different people. For me, it is that I know that when I see a scene I want, I can photograph it in a way that will make an image I will be proud of. That does not mean I know how to make that image well known and sought after in galleries. That is a whole different skill set.
But our confidence is arrogance if we believe we are too good to learn how to improve. We should always listen to criticism. And be our own worst critic. Learning and practicing and trying to improve are part of our life-long growth.
Confidence also lets me stay away from things I know I would not like or would be bad at. For example, if, for some strange reason, you came and asked me to shoot a wedding, I would turn you down. Even if the money is great, I know from experience that I would hate it. I do not enjoy the pressure of a bride’s expectations and performing to someone else’s shot list. And I really do not enjoy trying to pose people and make them seem like they’re having fun.
But if you want me for a second shooter to get candid shots, we might do a deal. I love shooting spontaneous moments, and I’m often pleased with the results. Studying people and anticipating a good moment is fun for me.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Not technical skill
The confidence I am talking about is not mainly in the technical side of photography. I have done photography for many years, and I am introspective enough to learn from my mistakes. Technical skill should be a given for a serious photographer.
You won’t find me “chimping” a lot, checking the back of the camera to see if I got the shot. I may check to verify I nailed the focus and placed moving elements in the right position or got the right blur if it is a slow shutter speed. But the technology of making a properly exposed image is rather straightforward.
I urge you to practice to the point where you are confident in your ability to get what you visualize. It makes me wonder when I hear photographers asking a workshop leader or another photographer what exposure they used. That is basic craftsmanship that we must put in the reps to learn.
Besides, our cameras do a wonderful job of helping us out. With great auto focus, including eye tracking, with powerful computers analyzing the overall exposure, even giving us real-time histograms, with constantly improving sensors with great dynamic range, it gets easier all the time. I remember when shooting film, there was always the fear of not exposing correctly. Now, with digital systems, our technical confidence should be high.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Vision
Our vision shapes our work, and it is unique to each of us. Confidence bolsters our creativity. We see connections and possibilities. Scenes are recognized intuitively as aligning with our vision. Our confidence encourages our creativity to express new insights, because we know we can do that new thing we have never tried.
We are self-assured to go for it, to stretch for that artistic vision just out of reach.
And even if we could not quite reach far enough this time, we know we did the right thing by trying and next time we will be even better equipped to succeed. Our confidence is built by failure, because each failure brings us closer to our goal.
We take in information, blend it in our brains, and a random spark ignites some sort of alchemy. Whole new things emerge. We’re almost spectators in the process. But confidence tells us what is happening, that we have seen it before, and we will go with it to see where it leads us. Confidently.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Independence
Despite its potential for good, more often social media is a force for conformity. When we are unsure of ourselves and rely on likes or comments for feedback on our worth, we are channeled to do work like everything else we see there.
The “same as everybody else” images get likes. But the fresh, possibly genre-bending new things are voted down. Until a well-known influencer picks it up and starts promoting it. Then, suddenly, everyone is doing it.
Our confidence in our own vision and ability should help us break out of this stifling cycle. If you’re out shooting with 10 other photographers and you see something they ignore, will you shoot it? I hope so. That is confidence in yourself.
Confidence helps give us independence. We do not have to follow what someone else thinks. We do not have to do work that is mostly like what an “authority” thinks is good.
It is a wonderful freedom to set our own standards and select our own subjects and treatments. This allows us to make the art we can bring to the world, not someone else’s.
Color outside the lines
So confidently color outside the lines. Or inside, if that is what you prefer. Or don’t do that paint-by-numbers sheet at all. Go find your own blank frame to fill in.
Outside, inside, saturated or black & white, tack sharp or blurred, rule of thirds or not, shoot at the golden hour or at noon. Find what you are called to do right now and confidently do it.
No one can tell you what you must like. No one can tell you what picture you must make. That should come solely from within you. Have confidence in yur vision and ability.
July 16, 2025