Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Category: Attitude

Image Quality
As photographers, we often obsess over image quality. The highest resolution, the sharpest focus, the best light, the best composition. All these things are important, but is that really what defines image quality?
Technical perfection
Photography is more closely tied to technology than most other 2-dimensional art forms. Our cameras embody sophisticated technology. Our editing tools are leading edge, sometimes AI driven.
The field seems obsessed with specifications and details. What is the MTF of this lens? Does this sensor have 14 bits of dynamic range or only 12? Should I go to a 100 MPixel medium format system to be a better photographer?
I have chased all of this at times, and I still have that tendency. A couple of times recently I have gone through the specs and lens choices for medium format, longing for a move up to the “better” gear.
Underlying all this is the belief that better technology will give us better image quality. But a more technically perfect image is not necessarily a better one.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Composition rules
The visual arts seem to accumulate a large set of rules meant to guide our work. These are generally sound principles, based on long history of practice and evaluation. Most of them are good, except for the “rule” part.
The “rule of thirds”, for instance, helps balance compositions and give some dynamic life to an image. Same for rules like leading lines or diagonals or don’t center the subject. All are good advice to keep in mind. The problem comes when it becomes an absolute rule. When a gallery or a photo club judge rejects our photo because it did not conform to one of the standard composition rules, then we are in the wrong place.
Know and use the rules, and understand that you can freely “break” them whenever you feel you need to. Guidance like these “rules” are good general advice. But general advice does not apply to each individual case. You are the artist. Your decisions create the image. Trust your intuition.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Work the scene
Other advice I have heard recently is to work the scene to develop it into the best shot. We are counseled to take many exposures from different angles and maybe with different lenses, with the objective that by shooting all this variety, one of the shots will be “best”.
It is probably true that one will be best, but is this the best, or only way, to get there? Let’s work through a scenario. Say I am there with lenses of 24mm, 35mm, 50mm, 70mm, 100mm, and 200mm (full frame equivalent). Let’s further say that that I have access to shoot front left from ground level, center above ground level, front right at eye level, and rear center at ground level. Just those individual choices give 24 shots to take. Then throw in bracketing for aperture and exposure and composition and that gives possibly hundreds of shots. For one scene.
It is true that if you do that, you may occasionally be surprised by the one you select as best. It is a great learning exercise if you are developing your style and vision. And a good exercise to go through occasionally to check yourself.
But I generally know what I want. I have the experience of shooting and viewing hundreds of thousands of images. My preferences are established, but flexible. That is, I experiment frequently so as not to fall into a rut. But I do not need to shoot hundreds of frames of one scene to get to what I would consider “best”.
And ever worse, I fear that blindly following this “work the scene” advice will lead to the best possible shot of a mediocre scene. Meanwhile, we miss the better, more imaginative, more creative scene because we were over-concentrating on one thing. I prefer to use my judgment to frame the best shot and go on to find the next, even better one.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Disappointment?
I have done all of these. For years I chased technical perfection. During my time in a camera club, I faithfully followed the composition rules. I shamefully confess that as a judge I criticized some images for not following the rules. And at times I have ended up with piles of images bracketing one scene to insensibility. Usually with the result that I kept one of the first ones I shot and threw the rest away.
Many of these efforts led to technically good images that are lifeless and disappointing. They do not capture my reaction or relationship to the scene. There is no depth of insight. Only a very small fraction are printed and hanging on my wall now.
I have had to completely rethink what “image quality” means.
Image quality
These observations are strictly my personal judgments. I have no authority over your artistic values. As artists, we each should come to our own conclusions.
I have seen that many of the famous photos and paintings in history are not technically perfect. But something about them elevates them above the crowd. What is that? I know I have images shot with inferior cameras with cheap lenses that are “better” than many taken with much better cameras. This makes me wonder what image quality really means.
Now days, we are inundated with images. Most are adequately sharp and well exposed. What makes one stand out among those trillions of bits of noise?
We must reevaluate what it means to be a good image. It is no longer the obscurity of the location or the difficulty of the shot or the perfect composition or the sharp detail. None of those are enough, by themselves, to make an outstanding shot. In a Substack article, Lee Anne White said: “There are always photographs that are technically solid, but missing that something extra“. Ah, that something extra is so hard to describe.
Photography is a craft as well as an art. We must strive to do an excellent job of technical perfection, composition, etc. But those things are not the something extra that make an outstanding image.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Something extra
In the crowded and noisy world of images, it seems that what we look to now is an emotional attachment. Something must touch us personally. To do that, it generally had to touch the artist, too. We must be able to let our emotional reaction to the scene come through our image.
Maybe this is what Cartier-Bresson meant by the decisive moment. Perhaps this is what Jay Maisel means by the gesture of something. Either way, an idea is that the subject is expressing something. We must be in sync with it and ready and able to capture the best expression of that.
These instances sometimes happen in a fleeting moment. Perhaps we can anticipate them and be setup and prepared. Sometimes it is a singular event, and we have one shot at it. But either way, we must recognize and react. We must understand what is happening and be mentally and physically prepared to capture it.
And being prepared involves understanding our emotional involvement with what it is. We must recognize when that gesture is best expressed to us, and pounce on it.
Of course, images do not have to be of a fleeting moment to be good and express an amazing gesture. There are those that are static scenes, where you can linger over it to wait for the right light or weather.
Still, what the viewer relates to is your feeling about it. Why did you take this picture? Why did you select it out of all the others?
Paraphrasing Jay Maisel: “If the thing you’re shooting doesn’t excite you, what makes you think it will excite anyone else?”
If an image meant something special to me, and I can capture that and make you feel what I felt, then there is a chance the image is meaningful to you, too. That it embodies the “something extra.” Isn’t this what image quality is about?
November 19, 2025
Lean Into It
I can’t be passive about my art, my photography. The only way I know to approach it is to lean into it. To boldly and confidently attack it.
Different styles
We all have different personalities and different working styles for our art. A portrait photographer or wedding photographer might need to be in positive control of the situation. To direct the subjects to get the shots and results anticipated. On the other hand, a street photographer may unobtrusively “stalk” the shots he wants. He works completely in the background and usually without the subjects being aware of being photographed.
A landscape photographer may plan a trip long in advance to be at a certain location at what he determines to be the best time for the shot he wants. Or another one may just go wandering with no preconceived plans or shot list.
These are examples. All show different methods of approaching the craft. But regardless of the approach or the personality, one of the common ingredients in our art is intensity.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Intensity
All good artists I know share a certain type of intensity about their craft. When they are doing their art, they are “on” – focused, earnest, single-minded.
In my limited experience, this seems to be true no matter what genre they work in. Their personality modifies the way this intensity is expressed, but it is usually there.
I think this intensity helps to focus us on where we are and what is happening. On our goals or what we are experiencing. It helps us to stay in the moment.
People talk with some longing about flow states and how desirable they are. But in my art and in the career I had before that, I find them common. Valuable and wonderful, but fairly easily achieved.
That is not bragging. I think the intensity and focus I can bring to my work enables flow. It is not uncommon for me to be so caught up in my photography or writing or editing that hours can pass without me being conscious of them. From talking to other artists, I believe this is a shared experience for many.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Mindful
I often talk about the desirability of being mindful. The intensity of our focus on our work leads to this type of mindfulness. Mindfulness in the sense that we are completely caught up in the moment. We are immersed in our art and the creative process. Other concerns and considerations do not exist for us at that moment.
Let me emphasize that I am taking about lower case “mindfulness”. Not some system of chants or meditation. It is not a semi-religious experience for me. I hold my own religious beliefs, and they are separate from this.
I believe this type of mindfulness is a result of my intense focus on my art, not a cause of my creative output. That is, my focus leads to creativity and mindfulness, not the other way around.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Do it
We all get into creative slumps. No new ideas are popping up. We aren’t even enthusiastic about getting out and taking pictures or editing. That’s natural.
But I feel that one of the worst things we can do is just sit around waiting to feel inspired. At these times, I believe it is important to get up and get out and work. Go out to “do” art and do it until we loosen up and get into the moment and things start to flow.
This is what I mean by “lean into it“. It is a process of embracing what we are doing and the situation we are in, making it into something good. It is a matter of overcoming a situation or our inertia. We push back against what is resisting us, and deal with it, with confidence and determinism.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Resistance can often be a good thing. That is what exercise basically is. Forcing our body to work against the weights or the track builds up strength and endurance. I believe strongly that it works the same way for our mental powers. We need to read and think about challenging material. Things that exercise our brain. I can’t prove it, but I believe it also works for our creative powers. We learn to create better by going through the pain of creating.
Same in our photography. We often blame circumstances, and they are real and inescapable. But much of the time the real barrier is our attitude. We are not willing to change our attitude and put in the work to overcome the situation. Get out the door (or go to where you do your work), get switched on, find your intensity. Lean into it.
Nike was right: just do it.
Do one thing every day that scares you. Those small things that make us uncomfortable help us build courage to do the work we do.
Eleanor Roosevelt
Inspiration is for amateurs. Us professionals just go to work in the morning.
Chuck Close
October 22, 2025
If No One Ever Saw It
Would you still take this shot if no one ever saw it? The answer to that can tell us important things about our goals and motivation.
There are many reasons for shooting images. I am focusing on “serious” pictures. Not just selfies or simple travel pictures or sunsets. Rather, ones where we are motivated to put our best effort into it because it is important to us. Where we are trying to create something lasting.
Shoot for hire
Some photographers are hired to create images for a client. It may be commercial photography or weddings or other things. but the result is that you will shoot images as specified by the client. They expect to see most if not all of the shoot.
This is a good way to earn money and build a reputation. If you can impose some of your style and personality on the result, it can also be a creative outlet. But ultimately, the client dictates.
In the context of this article, the point is that the client expects to see most of your shots. They will pick the ones they want to use.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Shoot for a competition
Sometimes we shoot for a competition. Whether it is International Photographer of the Year or your local camera club monthly contest, the process is generally the same.
We probably are given a subject or genre to focus on. We may have a deep catalog of relevant images to choose from, or we may go out and shoot specifically for the contest.
But ultimately, we will have to go through the painful process of deleting all except the one (or 5 or 10, depending on the contest) that will be submitted. Then it will be judged and, hopefully, shown to the “world” as a winner.
The point is that this is an outward focused process. The result of the exercise is to carefully present our star image to the world to compete. Sometimes we even study past winning images and the judges to try to game the system and give ourselves an edge.
The goal is to win in a public arena. Maybe at the expense of what we really like best.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Shoot for exposure
Many believe the siren song of “likes”. That lots of clicks, comments, and followers makes us a “real” artist, maybe even important.
I am having to talk here from what i have observed. I do not personally participate in this. Sorry if I overstate it.
I will just ask what has that social media presence earned you, versus what it has cost you? Becoming well-known and widely followed, maybe even becoming an ‘influencer”, is usually a long process with lots of time and effort. It involves learning the algorithms used by your social media channels of choice and trying to optimize for them. Maybe this involves conforming to the type of work that is popular with their viewers. The things that usually get “likes’.
This may not be the work you resonate with. Perhaps your real creative work is unpublished.
Keeping up with this takes a lot of time and may involve bending our artistic vision to the popular taste du jour. I can see that if you are a commercial photographer this might be a way to get visibility and some new clients. But I do not play this game. It is not worth it to me.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Shoot for ourselves
Or, if you are very lucky or strong minded, you decide to shoot primarily for yourself. You are the audience who matters.
It is hard to get rich or famous like this, so why would anyone choose to do it? Well, I believe that comes down to our goals, our personality, and our situation.
Is your goal to be famous and, maybe, rich? Or is it to satisfy some creative need within? I shoot to fill that creative need. I am an introvert. The marketing and self-promotion required to shoulder my way into the mainstream art world is alien to my personality. It is too big a price for me to pay. Trying to do that made my art drudgery, not creative fun. Plus, I am very lucky and grateful that my situation doesn’t require me to earn my living from my art. At this point in my life, I can reserve it for my personal joy and expression.
I realize that everyone is different and has varying goals and needs. This is just being honest about my motives.
You won’t see it
So, back to the question of what if no one sees it. I think I have established that my primary audience is myself. I’m not trying to make my income from photography, and I do not really care about likes or comments. They are welcome when they happen, but they are not the reason for making an image.
I do share some images with friends and the occasional show entry or online article, like here. Even an infrequent hanging in a gallery. Most of my images are for sale. But I would give a print away to a friend who appreciates it rather than sell it for an insulting price that doesn’t even cover my costs.
And the ones anyone does see just are the tip of the iceberg. I would not show an image I am not proud of. That means only a small portion of the images I shoot might ever be seen.
If I shoot thousands of images but only consider a few of them worthy of being seen, am I a failure? Not in my mind. My standards are high, and I am not motivated to try to get much seen publicly.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Would I shoot it?
Photography is mainly a creative exercise for me. I resonate with the challenge of trying to do something above average with the scene I find. If I am learning and growing and making fresh new work that pleases me, I am content. That is my standard and reason for making pictures. Your mileage may vary.
So, would I take the shot if no one ever saw it? Trick question. I will see it, and I am the audience that matters for my work. Yes, whenever I get the chance, I will shoot it. It may not be a “money” shot. It may not make me famous. But if it excites me, that is what is important.
Note: The inspiration of the phrase “if no one ever saw it” came from Nuno Alves on Medium.
October 8, 2025
Run & Gun
There are arguments for working slowly and carefully. But there are times when we must be fast and in automatic reaction mode. There is no one-size-fits-all in photography. Sometimes the best choice, or your only choice, is run & gun.
What is run & gun
I doubt there are any hard definitions of this, but by run & gun I mean shooting fast and without prior planning. It is working fluidly, rapidly, instinctively, without setups or lots of takes. Some would call it “fast and loose.”
This is often constrained by external circumstances. The. idea comes to mind for me because I just got back from a vacation in Europe where I was put in exactly this situation on most of the tours I did. These were not specific photo tours. Rather, one where the guide says, “here is the Strasbourg Cathedral; go in and look around and meet back here in 15 minutes.” Gulp. No planning, no chance to work the scene, no bracketing, not even a tripod. I have never even seen this place before and do not know what to expect, other than that it is one of the tallest churches in the world.
Other situations where this is necessary are sports photography, concert photography, or candid wedding photography. All are places where we cannot control the action or pose the subjects.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Arguments for slow
It’s easy to argue the merits of shooting slow. We have time to contemplate, to consider options. To walk around and look at different angles. Maybe to wait for better light.
This is the kind of shooting Ansel Adams or John Fielder would do. When you are carrying heavy, large format cameras way out into the field and exposing expensive film plates, it imposes a discipline on you.
You would always use a tripod (necessary for slow film anyway). You would compose carefully and thoughtfully. Exposures would be calculated in detail, maybe using the Zone System to make sure all the tones are captured and placed where you can do the darkroom work you want later.
In slow shooting you may go out for a day of shooting and come back with a dozen or so exposed images. But each is very carefully considered.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Arguments for working a scene
On the other hand, in Light, Space, and Time: Essays on Camera Craft and Creativity, (I get no consideration for the reference) David duChemin argues eloquently for working a scene thoroughly. That is, to shoot your first instinct, then to move and shoot more, look at it from different angles, try to refine your idea and improve on what you did.
He says that, when teaching workshops, if a student says they are not happy with their work, he scans through their images on their camera. He is not looking for technique but for the number of frames they shot of it. His point is that if the student shot 3 images of something and then stopped, they did not explore the possibilities adequately.
I believe most photographers would improve their work if they did this. Most of us shoot digital now, so we are not limited by the cost or bulk of film. We can review our images immediately on the camera. This quick feedback can help, especially if we are learning composition and camera technique.
It is amazing how even a slight movement or re-framing can make a huge difference in the impact of an image. Having the time and self-discipline to do this can be beneficial.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Arguments for shooting less
On yet another hand, I just read an article by a friend, Dean Allen, arguing that we should shoot less. His is a minimalist argument. The burden of sifting through all those excess images we shoot to find the few good ones is time consuming. It is hard to find the needles in the haystack.
Doing this would certainly save a lot of time culling and editing. I think most photographers would rather be out making images instead of sitting at the computer. So yes, in this sense, fewer is better.
It sounds attractive to say to only shoot the good ones, but I would counter that it is very hard to tell at the time which one will be the best.
But when that doesn’t work
There are situations where one of these disciplined approaches can’t be used effectively. I mentioned being on a tour with limited time to see a spectacular location. There are others.
My nature is that I do not like to perturb a situation to set up a shot. Whether that is on a tour in a cathedral or at a sports event or a family gathering or doing street photography, I prefer to accept what I find then use my skill and experience to be able to get a good image.
This is a basic conflict with my wife. She thinks good pictures of people have them lined up in front of whatever the scene is, staring at the camera, with big smiles on their faces. I would never do this. To me the shot to work for is a candid capture that reveals someone’s personality or thoughts or feelings. One that shows them doing something natural and characteristic.
Not trying to control the situation is a healthy acceptance of reality. And an opportunity for creativity.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Skill and reflexes
Sometimes you must shoot fast and instinctively. There is no opportunity for planning or even thinking much. The run & gun approach. This is a learned skill. One that I enjoy working on.
To me this is a kind of dance between me and the subject. They are moving or doing whatever they do, and I have to be in sync with them, to anticipate the movement, to recognize the right composition and moment and be ready to react instantly.
It would be nice at times to be able to spend time to move and re-frame and shoot lots of trials, but that is usually not an option in this style of shooting. I find that I am in reaction mode. That is not bad. It is a kind of hunting, where I have a general idea of what I want, and I am patiently looking and waiting for the situation or composition to develop, then I must recognize it and act fast.
It is a rush of adrenaline and satisfaction when I press the shutter and know I have captured a good image.
One way to practice this is to go to a High School football game. Decide what the interest is to you – the action on the field, the sidelines, the cheerleaders, the fans – and to concentrate on that.
If you have kids or grandkids, they are a rich opportunity. They will be comfortable enough with you around that they will ignore you and go about their play.
Using a camera is the best practice, because you are working with the actual framing and exposure and lighting and people. And the get the real feedback to see how you did.
But sometimes in these situations, I simulate it. That is, I imagine I am using a certain focal length lens, I try to visualize the composition as the camera would see it, then think “click” when I would press the shutter. It is good practice for reacting, but you do not get the feedback of seeing actual results.
Expect lots of bad pictures until you get the timing and reflexes. Don’t be discouraged when good results do not come fast. Keep on learning and practicing. Even after a lot of practice, do not expect the same percentage of keepers you normally get.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Adapt to the situation
I do not believe there is a single right approach to photography, unless you are a commercial photographer in a narrow product niche. Different situations present different opportunities and challenges. It is good to practice approaching scenes from a variety of perspectives and with different skill sets.
Shooting in a run & gun manner is right for some times. And there is a certain wild exuberance from shooting this way. Especially if you are comfortable with it and you have practiced enough to have a good success rate. It is one of my preferred ways to work.
I love the challenge of taking things as I find them and seeing what I can make of them. In some situations, it may be the only way to shoot.
Try it. You may love it.
September 10, 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