Category: Artistic Process

Posted on

En Plein Air

Fence built of skis

This is a big buzz with my colleagues who manually put pigment on a substrate (e.g. they paint). There is an aura created making it something noble or exotic about painting “en plein air”. It’s not. Actually, plein air is what I do, too.

Plein air

In itself, plein air art is not a new concept, or even an artistic concept. It has been done commonly by painters since the 1800’s.

It is sometimes spoken like an advanced technical term. Something your have to be an insider to truly appreciate. But it is just an everyday French phrase. I have been studying French recently (another story) and was surprised to find this in normal use. It literally means “plain air”, or outdoors. Nothing fancy or hidden there. If you go to a “plein air” concert it just means you are going to an outdoor concert.

Silhouetted tree at sunset©Ed Schlotzhauer

In painting

So if you are a painter and you gather up all your stuff and take it outside to paint scenes from nature or whatever is in front of you, you are painting “en plein air”. Doesn’t seem like anything special.

But to give them credit, it required major technical and workflow innovations for this to happen. We forget history sometimes.

It used to be (pre-1800) that artists had to find or buy their own pigments. Then they had to purify them and laboriously grind them into an extremely fine powder and mix them in a binder, usually a type of oil. By the way, you know those beautiful warm, rust toned palettes favored by Renaissance artists in Italy? Ochre pigment was a common, naturally occurring mineral there. Go figure.

But then, sometime in the early 1800’s, the technology for producing and selling pigments already ground and mixed and in tubes was developed. This allowed the artists two things: first, they could get any colors they wanted. But second, and more important for this discussion, it became much easier to take your oils with you. As the desire to move about more grew, enterprising vendors also developed smaller, portable easels and pre-stretched prepared canvases. Artists were not tethered to a studio nearly so much.

Now artists could pack their gear into a relatively small bundle and go where they wanted. One of the places they moved was outside.

Monet

I find I use Monet as an example a lot. I like his work, but another thing is that he was an innovator and revolutionary. He fought the entrenched art establishment and helped establish a whole new style. Something photography is still struggling to do.

Monet was one of the early practitioners, even instigator, of the plein air movement. One of the motivations of the whole Impressionist movement was his and others desire to paint outdoor scenes. As Guy Tal put it in his marvelous book The Interior Landscape, (I get no incentives for promoting it) “Monet famously credited the success of his work to the emotions he felt when working out in nature … As Monet himself put it, ‘My only merit lies in having painted directly in front of nature, seeking to render my impressions of the most fleeting effects.’ “

Working outside and observing fleeting effects. Hummm….

Moving clouds, moving lights©Ed Schlotzhauer

I work outdoors

The same impulse motivates me, even though the technology I use is very different. I find and capture my images almost exclusively outdoors. Shooting in a studio does not motivate me.

Seeing things most other people do not see excites me. Finding those things, especially the little, seemingly insignificant things, so I can show them to you gives me joy. Especially if I can show you something and you share my joy and excitement.

I admit I do not have the patience for painting. It’s too slow for me. Spending a few hours to days capturing a scene would be so frustrating to me that I would quickly give up. Seeing something, visualizing what this could be and what to do with it is hard and takes lots of experience. That is one of the main fun and creative parts to me. The process of capturing and producing the artifact doesn’t need to be so difficult.

Other than post processing work on my computer, all of my images come from outdoors, en plain air.

Wow, I’m special

Wow! I must be special, advanced, revolutionary! Have I created a new genre of art? Should I trademark the term “plein air photography”? Sign up for my workshop!

Well, I probably can’t do that. Photography has always been strongly associated with the outdoors. I think the first surviving photograph was an outdoor scene. Admittedly early photographs were outdoors because that’s where a good light source was available. Flash had not yet been invented. Even when it first was, it was difficult and dangerous to use (and smoky).

But those are technical considerations. The fact remains that photography has always had a strong connection to the outdoors. Especially for crazy people like me who photograph outside year around in a place like Colorado.

Snow, wind, cold - all the ingredients for a great photo shoot.©Ed Schlotzhauer

It’s the outdoors that motivates me. I’m a hunter, that’s where I find most of my prey.

I wrote this because I get chaffed when other artistic genres “discover” something that is only new to them and co-opt it as “their” special domain. Study your history.

To the painters, if working outside motivates you, excellent. We share a common bond. But you didn’t just invent the concept and it is certainly not unique to painting. Plein air is not even an artistic term.

I’ll be looking for you outside. But I’ll be moving about a lot discovering a lot of things while you are rooted in one place for hours. Not better or worse, but very different. Both en plein air. Sorry if I step on your concept.

Posted on

Don’t Show It All

Small cascade in Colorado Rockies

Not like that. This is a follow up to my last post on portfolio selection. A simple, overarching principle to keep in mind is: don’t show it all, or even most of it. Actually, not very much of it.

We’re proud of our work

A blessing and curse of digital photography is that we now shoot thousands of images. Of course, we’re pretty good, too. Everybody should like to see 500 pictures of my cat. After all, they are all different poses. And that big trip we enjoyed so much, here are the very best 900 pictures from that great trip to France. They’re all worth seeing.

We fall in love with our own pictures. This is a fact of life. Each one is special because it was exciting, memorable, unique for us. We remember what we experienced at the time. It makes it significant to us. To us, each one of those 900 pictures from France is worth showing to other people.

And when we are too attached to our pictures we tend to overlook problems that are obvious and distracting to others. The telephone pole growing out or your kid’s head is not seen. After all, it is a really cute expression. And we overlook all those people in the foreground of the beautiful picture of Chambord. Just look at how spectacular that Chateau is. It is too easy to convince our self that that tilted horizon is not a problem, or the poor composition, or the bad color balance.

But we have to be adult. Part of that means being very aware of the actual quality of our work and of what is appropriate for the situation. And in most situations, less is more.

Other people generally don’t care

I don’t want to pour cold water on your enthusiasm, but other people are not excited about what you have. That is a hard reality you have to learn.

They weren’t there. They did not experience what you did. None of these images have the same meaning or impact for them. It wasn’t their vacation, or their family, or their cat. Call up your pictures of France and hand the phone to someone to page through. If they are good friends, they will fake interest and flip through a lot of them. But even they will probably not look at any image for more than 1-2 seconds.

When they look at your pictures, they don’t see it the same way you did. They can’t and never will. Understanding this is a key to getting our images viewed by other people.

It gets much more challenging when we are wanting strangers to view our work. They do not know us, they were not there when the image was taken, it may not be anything they are interested in. But here, look at my pictures. Thanks, but I’ll pass.

Photographing a true icon - The Eiffel Tower©Ed Schlotzhauer

Context is key

The context where we are and where and when we are presenting our images makes a huge difference. Is it to friends or strangers? Is it one-on-one or a public venue? What is drawing people to pay attention to your photos?

Pushing pictures on social media is a main venue for many of us. The audience is friendly if it is our network. They will politely scan through a few of the pictures. A few of the viewers may even give us a thumbs up to make us feel good. But did they actually see them or care? We can’t tell. And we won’t know.

And how often have we been cornered by friends who have “a few” pictures to show us? They hand us their phone, sure we will love the 50 pictures they took of the great sunset last night. It is one of those “just shoot me” moments. But if they are a friend, we have to be polite. Back in the film days it was a common joke theme to go over to a friends house only to have them get out the slide projector to show “a few” pictures of their trip. After the first few hundred we want to fake a heart attack to get away.

Up to here we are only bothering captive audiences. We can get away with little editing and selection. It will make us look foolish, but our friends will forgive us – eventually.

But perhaps we decide we’re pretty good and book a booth in an art fair. Now the audience has no connection to us and no inherent reason to look at what we have. We will get a glance as they walk by. People will only pause to give a second look if we present something that captures their attention. They will only come in to look more closely if we show them something exceptional.

Now take it to the big leagues. We get an opportunity to show our portfolio to an art director or gallery manager. That is a tough audience. These are professional art viewers. They look at huge numbers of pictures and it is their job to reject almost everything. What are you showing that will capture their attention? It better not be 100 of your best cat pictures.

How many?

How many images are in a portfolio? There is no hard rule for this. It depends on what the portfolio is for.

Peter Eastway, the publisher of Better Photography Magazine, has a nice little ebook titled “Creating a Portfolio“. It is worth reading if you can get a copy. He tries to address this and many other considerations of putting together a portfolio.

In his Australian humor, he says “The number of photographs in a perfect album is 12. Or sometimes 8. Or maybe 24.” In other words, it depends. No rules. But the number is probably much lower than you thought, and whatever you put in needs to be the best. No filler. Nothing that’s there because you want to show some variety to widen the interest.

Peter gives an interesting test. He says do not put an image in your portfolio unless you think you will still be proud of it in 12 months time. That is significant to me. I often am enthusiastic about an image, only to find I cool off toward it with time. My filtering process has built in delays. It take months for me to elevate an image to “one of the best” status. I do that intentionally to let the initial enthusiasm be replaced with a more objective evaluation.

In general, between 12 and 20 for any collection of images in a project or portfolio works for me. I would feel free to violate my own rule if I were doing a documentary or a book. Or for a multi-year project that had significant importance to me. But I would have to make a very conscious exception.

More than a rock - seeing it different.©Ed Schlotzhauer

Less is more

I advocate that we take a mindful “less is more” attitude. Always take out images until it hurts. Then take our a lot more.

Remember, your audience has a short attention span compared to your view of your portfolio. Any weak image will loose their interest. They may even abandon looking at that point. I have heard it said that you will be judged by the weakest image in your portfolio. I believe it. It is human nature to find the worst as a way to critique the whole.

I consider building a portfolio kind of like an athletic contest. Teams have to compete in and survive multiple rounds of playoffs to be chosen the champion. Hopefully the best emerge. Same with our images. It is a brutal, hand to hand contest.

If you are evaluating coolly and objectively, every one removed makes the remaining set stronger. Remember, when you remove one, you are not saying you don’t like it or it is a bad image. You are just acknowledging that it does not hold up against the competition of the rest of the group. That is good. But hard.

It is very hard for me. If I want to select a project with max 20 images, I may pull at least 60-80 very good candidates. Doing the first cut is only a little painful. Maybe that gets me down to 50. I try to toughen up and go slashing again. Now maybe I have 35 left. OK, I swallow hard and cut some more and get it down to 30. Still a long way from 20.

The trouble now is that I really love every one of the 30 candidates that remain. The pain of eliminating any of then is extreme. Remind myself over and over that taking one out is not saying I don’t like it. It would be a lot easier to relent and let myself use all 30.

You would think it would get easier now. After all, I think all of them are great. But the reality is that there is a rank order to be discovered. Some are better than the others. That is what I still have to resolve. Eventually I get there. It is painful and lengthy. But a funny thing happens. I love the set that survives, and forget about the pain of the ones that didn’t make it.

The optimum number to show people is fewer than you think. When we learn that we don’t have to show it all, we can build stronger portfolios.

If you’re not your own severest critic, you are your own worst enemy.

Jay Maisel

Posted on

The Hardest Part

Canterbury Cathedral

I have figured out what I consider the hardest part of photography. Excluding Marketing. It is selecting a portfolio.

Pick a few

It’s a common situation. Perhaps I am entering a selection for a gallery competition. Maybe a client has requested a few choices for a job. It could be just needing to pick some images for this blog post. Whatever the reason, I am faced with the problem of selecting a small set of images for a certain use.

Oh sure, I have the images that would work. It’s not like I”m not happy with my choices. The problem is selecting only a few.

I’m calling what I am doing here making a portfolio. That is not precisely correct. Formally, a portfolio is a collection of images designed for presentation to an audience. Often one-on-one. However, the process is substantially the same for that and the situations I described. So I will not distinguish them.

Embarrassment of riches

Please don’t take it as bragging, but I have lots of images that I like. I have been at it a long time. Lots as in many thousands. That’s just the ones I promote to my top level selection category. A lot of others in my catalog would be useful for certain applications.

Yes, I have a disciplined filing system. Everything is culled through multiple levels of selection. I find it is hard to pick the ones I like best from a shoot, so my process is oriented around rejecting the ones that are not as good. I don’t know why, but it is easier for me to say “I don’t like that one as well” than to say “I like that one best.” That is repeated through multiple levels. I apply more stringent criteria at each level.

Giant bear peeking into an urban building©Ed Schlotzhauer

Most of my images are filed geographically and I have an extensive keyword system for tagging all sorts of information. And I use it.

All this should make it easy to find just what I want. You would think, but no. It is easier in that I am only wading through thousands, not hundreds of thousands of images to pick. But that’s not even the most difficult part.

No guidance

We are awash in training material to help us become better photographers. Some if it is actually good. There are thousands of hours of videos on camera operation and composition and visual design. Many more on techniques in the field and techniques for post processing. And gear guides are limitless. As are books to supplement the videos. All of this can help boost our knowledge and improve our technique.

But when it comes to pulling together a portfolio, the advice is: it’s hard, keep editing, get it down to a few great images.

Thanks, but that is not really helpful. Well, it is helpful to find out that I should expect it to be hard and I have to do it myself. But where is the video that shows me to pick this image instead of that one?

Should a choose a tight theme with carefully coordinated image selections, as for a project? Or would it be best to present a range of subjects and styles to show the breadth of my work? Would it help to research the curator of the exhibit to try to guess what they would like? Why would this image work better than that one?

I feel kind of left hanging out there.

I’m on my own

That’s the point and the conclusion. We are on our own. We have to be grown ups and make responsible decisions. That is no fun. It is downright hard. That’s why, to me, this is the hardest part.

Very abstract created image. Representa the evolution of an image.©Ed Schlotzhauer

So a typical scenario is that I have to select, say, 4 images for a gallery. Open theme. I’m on my own. No guidance. It is very easy to go through my catalog and pull 50 images that I would like to submit. Another pass or two might get it down to 30 images. Then it gets harder and harder as I push on. I love every one of these images. Eliminating one seems like I am abandoning it. I know that’s not the case, but the feeling is there.

It is sometimes easier if I set it aside for a few days to let the emotions settle down. Then I do my best imitation of being coldly realistic to screen out some more. But what seems to happen is that I get down to, say, 8 images. I can only have 4. That final cut is extremely painful.

i envy people who have a colleague or mentor they can work with to advise the process. I don’t. The decisions have to be made by me with no help. I have an awesome wife, but she isn’t an artist and cannot help with this.

Well, I get there. It is painful. I come away with sadness because I had to eliminate some of my favorites in the final mix. That disappears with time, though. After a few days I can look at the final set and be proud of them.

Overthinking it

A reality is that I tend to overthink it. What I know is that the images I pull are all very good. And I know, and have demonstrated to myself often, that, with a set of excellent images, every time you eliminate one, you make the overall set stronger. That is, if you make intelligent choices. I try to remind myself of great advice I got one time that you will be judged by the worst image you show.

So why do I agonize over it so much? It’s not like I throw a great image away if I remove it from the set.

I think there are two problems. First is that I love these images and feel bad about taking one out, because I’m emotionally attached to it. I can live with that. But the second and bigger problem is, how do I know I have made the best choice?

Self doubt

That is the core of the problem. There is no guidance. I am on my own. There are much bigger and more important choices in life that are like this. Who to marry, what career to pursue, where to live, what investments to make, etc. We must use our judgment to make the decision. It hurts. We want someone to look over our shoulder and tell us we did the right thing. Unfortunately, being an adult doesn’t work like that.

Picking some images for a use is way down in importance from those big life events. Why is it so painful then? I think it is the same fear of failure and the consequences. But I try to be realistic.

So I try to convince myself that the final set I choose will be excellent. Even though I feel like I am in the spotlight and I am being examined to see if I am worthy, I know that if I do the best I can, that will be good enough. And if not, well, nobody dies.

I tell myself that, but it doesn’t feel like it when I am in the pain of the process.

All parts of the photographic process are interesting and challenging. All are subjective, But there seems to be a lot of help to be had in all phases of it up until the final image selection.

Resources

There actually are a couple of resources I have found to help give some education in this. Unfortunately they are not freely available. Peter Eastway, editor of Better Photography magazine, has written an excellent ebook on creating a portfolio. As it says, it is specifically oriented to putting together a portfolio or exhibit. But it still gives a lot of good insights.

Creating a Portfolio might be available at www.betterphotographyeducation.com without a subscription. If not, it is an excellent publication and you will enjoy it. 🙂

Another option that I have found out is not paywalled is a three part series of newsletters in the Paper Arts Collective newsletter. This is a hidden gem of a publication. The series I’m referring to was titled Evolution of a Small Project, and it traced the decisions and selection process he went through to put together an exhibit. If you do prints then you should check out Paper Arts Collective.

But I come back to my original problem. It is hard, no one can really help you, you have to make hard choices yourself based on your judgment and artistic vision. And you have to have confidence in your decisions. To me, it is the hardest part.

Posted on

Authentic

Woman cooking pizza in an outdoor oven

The important people are constantly telling us we need to be authentic. As if authenticity is some kind of badge of artistry or truth. Is this really true?

Authenticity

Authenticity means to be genuine or of undisputed origin. It can also mean accurate or reliable. These are correct definitions of authentic, but what does it mean to us?

I am completely ignoring any discussion of forgery or fraud. That is a huge subject, but not very applicable to me.

What we are usually told, and what I have said before, is that we need to be ourselves. Everything has been shot, painted, sculpted, and written about. True originality is rare. The main way to differentiate ourselves is to be authentic. To show our unique and individual interpretation of the subject.

This is very true. I believe that. But it is hard for some people. Especially if the only metric you have to go by is social media likes. And I think some take too simplistic an interpretation of what that means in practice.

Opposite of authenticity

The opposite of authentic is to copy someone else. The world strongly encourages us to copy others, even as it says we need to be unique. Social media is a powerful crucible of conformity. Mediocrity is enforced. Everyone is pushed to the average. True originality tends to be knocked down. If you want likes and positive comments, you have to show things that are basically just like everyone else.

In a similar way, many self appointed gate keepers set themselves up as the authorities to vet the worth of other people’s art. These may take the form of teachers, “influencers”, critics, curators, contest judges, gallery owners, etc.

When they reject our work, the only true statement these people can really make is “I don’t care for your work.” If they are actually running a business, they could say “this work is not a good fit for my market.” That is a useful and accurate statement of fact rather than opinion.

But what usually comes across is “I deem you unworthy as an artist.” That is arrogant and offensive and discourages many artists. History teaches us that the intelligentsia are not good predictors. They more often opposes things that seem a threat to their established position.

I hope even just the description of that makes you want to rebel against it. But I’m afraid too many accept these forces as the arbiters of taste and art.

We are complex

Please pardon the rant. It is a hot button.

It seems to me that artists settle into one of 3 broad groups. They conform their work to be similar to what is popular, they intentionally oppose the mainstream, or the take little notice of what trends or authorities have to say.

Great Sand Dunes NP

Personally, I value this last group.

But let me get back to the idea of authenticity. We are told we are all unique (just like everybody else). And as such, we should express whatever it is we see or feel.

Well, yes and no. Humans are extremely complex beings. We have lots going on in many dimensions. Not all of which is useful or beneficial.

The mantra of being authentic should not be an excuse for removing our filters and doing or saying or making anything that pops into our mind. We should be thoughtfully and intentionally creating, not just pouring out our random impulses. Our work should never be the equivalent of “oh, did I say that out loud?”

The real me

Let me give an example in the opposite direction. I am boring. I’m the most boring person I know, and I know a lot of really boring geeks. Watching me work would be like watching paint dry.

That doesn’t mean my art or writing should be boring. Our creative engine is completely separate from our daily life. Like most of us, what we create can rise above what we appear to be on the surface.

I have heard it said, for instance, that many good writers are introverts and pretty boring in real life. There is an apocryphal story about a famous writer who went to a hotel for a conference. One day while he was there some students went to meet him for breakfast to visit with him. They came to the front desk and asked if he was up yet. The answer was “how would I tell?”.

As a person he certainly didn’t light up the room.

That’s me. If I was around, you probably wouldn’t know it. You probably wouldn’t even be able to find me. I would just be out by myself exploring and taking pictures.

That’s the me in real life. But I try hard to make my art different and compelling. I try to make my writing interesting and engaging. Does this mean I am being inauthentic? Not by my definition. The reality is I am truly being authentic by expressing my vision and values. My creative side is different from my public persona. My audience deserves the best I can create. And why would I be satisfied with anything less?

Simple Photoshop example. File size is 22x larger.©Ed Schlotzhauer

My take on authenticity

Authenticity is a holy grail for some people. I have to conclude that is because they know, deep down inside, they are fake. If you are following trends or popular influencers, you are living their life, not yours. Your art is going unmade.

Authenticity is not something I worry about. I am authentic in my life and work. I never consciously copy anyone. My images are an authentic expression of my perceptions and feelings and viewpoint. They are not done to get likes or popularity. But they also are not unfiltered outbursts from my subconscious. I aim to bring you positive, well crafted works that make you better somehow. Or at least make you see or think something new.

If I am shooting something I know is substantially the same as what others have done, I will ask myself why I am taking this picture. Unless I can say something appreciably different or bring you a new point of view, why do it? Sure, I take familiar pictures, but for myself. My memories. Why would I show you a copy of something someone else has already done?

I can’t talk at any length about my style. I’m not sure I understand it. Talking about vision sounds a bit self important for me. But I can promise you that what you see or read from me is authentically me. It also means it is not AI generated. But that is another topic.

Today’s image

This is at first glance a throwaway travel photo. It was taken during a cooking class in Italy. This section was doing pizza. The instructor could communicate well, but her mother, shown here, did not speak English. She just yelled at us in Italian. You know, speak loudly and make lots of gestures to try to be understood. What us Americans usually do when we travel. 🙂

But notice the repetition of angles and forms, including the pizza edge and the shadows, the repetition of triangles in the oven, and the “decisive moment” of lifting the pizza. Everything seems poised in anticipation.

Nothing is setup or posed. And even though it was a quick grab during a class, I had the presence to think artistically. It is not a world class image, but it completely represents the event and has enough staying power to hold my attention. It is authentic.

Posted on

Wait For It

Familiar subject at an optimum time.

In my last article I suggested reacting to subjects and shooting with minimal planning. This time I talk about the need to study a subject and find the optimum conditions. To wait for it. Am I inconsistent?

Shoot what you find

Last time I recommended that you take what you find, shoot where and when you can, make the best of what is there. Obviously, I think this is good advice, or I wouldn’t have said it.

This is the path I take most of the time. I enjoy the challenge of working with what I find, even if the conditions are not optimum. Whatever “optimum” means.

A quote attributed to Freeman Patterson captures the spirit of this for me. He said “It’s just light. What are you going to do with it?” I take this to mean “it is what it is”. The light is there. The conditions are there. You can’t change them. Work with it. Are you a good enough craftsman to make a great image in any light? Or are you so locked in to a certain expectation of what you want that you cannot make an image unless everything meets your criteria?

Do you remember the blizzard conditions in the picture with that last post? It was not what I expected or wanted. That kind of day, it would be much easier to stay inside. But in retrospect, I like this image much better than “normal” pictures of plain rock walls. I worked with what I found.

Wait for it

On the other hand, sometimes you have to work with a thing until you discover what it wants to say.

It is not my style or interest to plan out the optimum time of year, time of day, location, etc to get a trophy shot. I don’t care much for trophy shots.

But you know when something keeps catching at you gently? When it seems like it is trying to tell you there is something there if you can just see it? That’s the way it works sometimes. Our subconscious is more receptive than our conscious mind.

When you get this tingle and there is a scene you have regular access to, sometimes it helps to keep working it to see what it looks like in different conditions. This is what I call waiting to see what it has to say. Even a common, familiar, boring subject can be brilliant once. Finding that brilliance is the trick.

If you are mindful as you are out shooting, I imagine, like me, you have suddenly seen something you walk by every day in a whole new way. Maybe it is the light that is different, or the weather, or just your mood. But something clicks and this boring thing suddenly is exciting. It is a great feeling. Like discovering a hidden secret.

And when people ask you about it you can say, you know that thing over there you walk. by every day…? They are impressed; and incredulous. That’s very satisfying.

Perhaps best of all, you feel like you now have a unique insight on that subject. Until now, it was incomplete. Now a dialog has been accomplished, an exchange between you the artist and this subject. You have seen what this can be, in a way no one else has.

Resolving the conflict

So, last time I said shoot it as you find it. This time I’m saying wait for the perfect conditions. Am I inconsistent? Am I just playing with you?

Not at all. Both are right. There is a time for each. Do you remember that great bit of dialog in Fiddler on the Roof where someone says “He’s right, and he’s right – they can’t both be right”? And his answer is “You know, you are also right.” 

Yes, I firmly believe both approaches are right, each at the right time and in the right conditions. Part of maturity is figuring it out.

I completely believe you should shoot where and when you are there. Don’t pass up a shot you think you want because it could be better someday. Do it now. And if you have the opportunity, work a scene frequently to refine and improve your comprehension of it. It really is true that working a familiar subject over time will lead to deeper understanding. And with frequent access, you might indeed find it at that perfect time no one else has understood.

You’re an artist

And. when all is said and done, you are the artist. Only you create the image through your craft and feelings. Do the best you can.

Are conditions unexpected and maybe not what you hoped for? Too bad. That’s what you have. Use it. Make something good out of it. It may require reframing your perspective. Changing your plans. That’s OK. We have to be flexible. That is part of the craft.

And when we get the chance to frequently return to a familiar subject, take the opportunity to get intimate with it. Learn its moods. Dig below the surface to learn about it in more depth. Then you have the chance to catch it revealing itself to us. If you are there, if you know it well enough, if your craft is good enough, that leads to the opportunity to get an image you feel brings a unique insight into the subject. Something no one else has seen.

A reason Monet painted water lilies in the pond at his house was because he became intimately familiar with them on a daily basis and they were changing all the time in different light and seasons. He found a subject he could live with and grow old with.

Whether this is the first time you have seen the subject or it is an old familiar friend. Whether the weather and light is “good” or “bad”, use your expertise to make a great image if you feel it is worth it. It is up to you.

Today’s image

This old battered factory and silo is 1 mile from my studio. I walk and drive by it frequently. I keep my eye on it and occasionally shoot a few images. The silos are 200 feet tall and 40 feet in diameter each. An imposing sight.

This day, magic happened. The combination of the clearing storm and the rainbow, being in just the right position to highlight the place, the light from the clearing storm being perfect. Well, it made it into something special. I had never seen it like this before and I have not since.

I gave a print of this to a friend whose dad supervised the construction of the silos decades ago. He had recently passed away and this was very special to her. It is special to me, too. It turned a broken down old industrial eye sore into something very different.