Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Category: Attitude

That Didn’t Work
You had an idea. You tried for it, but the result must be considered a failure. If that didn’t work, what do you do? Does that mean you are a bad artist?
An idea
You get an idea of something you want to try. Call it an inspiration if you will. More likely it is an extension of what you have done before, maybe applied to a new subject or situation.
As an artist, most of our work begins with an idea. As a photographer, we than follow up the idea with trying to realize it as an image. Maybe several, working different positions, lenses, shutter speeds, etc. to try to optimize the resultant image.
If you are very experienced with your craft, you might be able to visualize fairly accurately what the result will be. But no matter how experienced you are, you will get surprises. Surprises can be fun and a great creativity boost.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Fail
But whether you blast away 100 frames or selectively shoot 1 frame of a scene, you will sometimes look at the result and say it was a fail. How we react to such a failure is very important. Your reaction could ultimately determine the level of success you have later.
I’m using the idea of failing, but what does that mean? The definition will be different for each of us, but in general, I hope we can agree that it means the result does not meet our expectation. It does not necessarily mean the image is terrible or unusable, or even bad, but what we planned or pre-visualized did not happen.
At the risk of sounding like a cliché, this is a learning opportunity.©Ed Schlotzhauer
Permission to fail
Failure seems like a terrible fault to some of us. I am one of those in many things, but not in my photography. For my art, I have given myself not only permission to “fail”, but the expectation that I will and should. I have embraced failure as a healthy part of growing as an artist.
This was a big step for me. I discovered that the fact of failure was not the main problem. The larger problem was fear of failure.
How much are we held back in our art by fear of failure? Do we fear being humiliated? Or that people will dismiss us as an untalented lightweight? Do we believe we are somehow bad when a shot does not meet our expectation?
Here’s the reality: few people care about what we do. They are not sitting around thinking about us and they take little or no notice of our work. If they’re not fixated on it, why should we be?
We are our main audience. Our work succeeds or fails based on our own perception. All that matters is whether we get to a result we are happy with. Failures along the way should not matter.
Risk
Author Herman Melville once said, “It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation.” I believe the greater risk in our artistic life is to fail to be creative.
AI is constantly learning how to mimic all existing art. The only solution is to be different from what exists.
If we are repeating the same boring stuff that 99% of photographers do, what have we contributed to art or to ourselves? Chasing likes on social media is normalizing. That is, it brings us down to the average level of everyone else.
Theodore Roosevelt said: “It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed. In this life we get nothing save by effort.” If we are an artist, the risk is to not give it our full effort and not become what we can be. To let what is within us die because of fear of failure. That seems too great a fate to risk.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Learn, modify, try again
The sports legend Michael Jordan said “I’ve missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.“
Unlike Michael Jordan, we don’t have millions of fans watching live as we fail. We can curate our work and select what gets presented to people to see. You won’t see my failures, unless I am trying to make a point.
Given that, why should we consider failure a problem? A failure is an experiment. We try something, we see the result, and we like it, or we don’t. Either way we can learn something new and try again. But the reality is, we learn more from failing than from success. But only if we make the effort to figure out the cause.
So, when we’re shooting, we have an idea or a vision of what we want to achieve. We make the image. Later, we examine it closely on our computer. Sometimes the result is far from what we envisioned. That is a time to introspect. To determine what we did or didn’t do that made the result different from what we wanted. Maybe to ask if the result is better or worse than what we visualized.
These days, I find that less of my fails are because of exposure or composition problems. Most are concept-level issues. Ansel Adams said “There is nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.” Concept failures are harder to diagnose and correct, but they certainly keep me thinking more.
But whatever the cause of our failure, our goal should be to learn, modify, and try again.
Success is not final; failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.
Winston Churchill
Sketches
I consider most of my images to be sketches. Things that are helping me work toward an idea I haven’t fully envisioned. When I shot film, these experiments were expensive, and I tried to minimize the loss. Digital frames seem almost free. No problem to take several experimental tries.
So now we should be free to work a scene as much as seems valuable. But I seldom do it that way. My sketches are more tests to see if what I saw can become a good image. Perhaps it is a fault of mine, but I spend little effort making many slight variations of a scene.
I don’t like doing comparison tests of 12 different views of a scene to try to figure out which is best. If I come up with 4 that are equally good, how do I decide a “best”? When I find myself in this situation, I often conclude I am not really applying much creativity to the image. I seem to be optimizing for technical concerns.
A possible exception is shooting intentional camera motion (ICM) images. Each frame could be considered a failure from a purist technical perspective – blurry, motion, no sharp subject. These are fun because it is an abstraction technique, and each frame is unique. For these, I may do a few variations on a scene, trying different motion techniques. You never know exactly what the outcome will be. There are occasional happy surprises.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Discoveries
When we allow ourselves permission to fail, we sometimes discover that we have stumbled onto something entirely new. We see a glimpse of a new creative statement starting to form.
This is a different form of courage in the face of failure. The recognition that yes, we failed in what we tried, but it opened a new insight on our world. The first emergence of this new idea is probably crude. It seems like a failure. But as we reflect on why we are drawn to it, why we do not immediately delete it, it may give new insight to change our viewpoint and try to perfect it.
This is one of those rare and exciting moments when we get a tingling in our spine and we perk up and wonder what just happened here? That is a cue that we are about to step outside our comfort zone. It is dangerous for an artist to be too comfortable for too long.
That is creativity. Sometimes creativity is based on recognizing that what I did didn’t work, but I now see a glimpse of something better. Being an artist is a process, not a destination. Failure can be an opportunity to advance ourselves to a better state. Analyze it, experiment, modify, try again to see if you are going in a good direction.
Sometimes, finding “that didn’t work” could mean we are on the brink of an exciting new step in our art.
August 20, 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
Its Been Done
There’s nothing new left to photograph
It’s been done! We all know it and feel it. The world is over-photographed. Why bother anymore? Nothing new is left. Should we pack up our gear and stow it in a closet?
Too many photographs
Trillions of photographs are taken every year. Think of that. As many as if every man, woman, and child on the planet takes over 100 pictures a year. Most of them seem to be uploaded to social media.
Every person. you meet is carrying around a good camera – their phone. And they’re not afraid to use it.
How many times have you been enjoying the view at a peaceful overlook, only to have a car skid up and unload a noisy group of parents and kids. The kids are herded in front of you and lined up and forced to smile so they can take a group selfie to show they were there. They may even ask you to take the picture. Then they rush back to their car to get back on their phones.
Probably 99.9999% of this flood of photos are uninteresting selfies or food shots or other things like that that are just “look at me” pictures. Just think of the Exabytes of disk space they are taking up. Yes, this is judgmental on my part, but I am making a point. And I’m talking about uninteresting in an artistic sense.
There is such a glut of pictures that it devalues photography as an art form. Why should I be interested in your photograph? I can take my own. I’ve seen that scene 1000 times. To the point that It’s a yawn.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Everything interesting is shot
Every location on, above, or under the Earth that can be reached without the funding of a major expedition has been shot to death. Even the ones that are ridiculously hard and dangerous to get to have. So, should we give up?
That depends on your goals. Since you are reading this, you probably consider yourself a “creative”. What does that mean to you? Do you define your creativity as photographing a location no one has ever shot before? If so, perhaps you should modify your definition. All the major sights have been photographed.
There are other ways to be creative.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Do something bizarre?
But for many, the perceived need to stand out and be different leads to strange ends. To try to create things no one has ever done sometimes leads to going for shock, or bizarre, or, at the other extreme, deliberate banality. Is this what you want for your art? If so, go for it. You do your art. But ask yourself if that is really you.
Others may go back to film for its nostalgia. Maybe even to other non-traditional technology such as tin type or wet plates. People deliberately leak light onto film, use badly flawed lenses, or develop their film in unusual chemicals. Some use intentional camera motion or deliberate focus problems or other “errors”. Sometimes just for the goal of making something no one else has ever done.
We are led to believe that creative means totally new that no one else has ever seen or done. Perhaps this is an overly strict definition of creativity.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Be you
Artists have always done the same subjects over and over. There are only a limited number of subjects and not that many truly different ways to approach them.
Are you not going to do ponds because Monet has “done” them? Are you not going to do a night sky because Van Gogh was the only one to be able to do that? Da Vinci did the definitive portrait, so no sense going there. Likewise, will you never photograph landscapes because there are no more to do after Ansel Adams finished? Must you forever avoid flowers because O’Keeffe did everything that could be done?
Have all the songs been created? Have all the novels been written?
Of course not. Humans always come up with creative new ways to present things. Therefore, “never been done” is not the strict test of creativity.
Apply your style
If artists do the same subjects over and over, where is the creativity? Isn’t it in the unique perspective of the artist? The new point of view or treatment or interpretation they can bring to it.
If the famous ones can do it, then why can’t we? We are artists, too. Each of us can still do new, fresh, creative work.
Sure, if you park at Tunnel View in Yosemite and put your tripod in the same spot that thousands of others have used and shoot the same wide-angle scene, like everyone else, it is going to be hard to stand out. But look around. There is a nice river there, and beautiful trees. Wildlife is around, flowers, and people doing weird or dumb things. We can direct our creativity in other directions.
We each have our own unique point of view and way of expressing it. Use it. Be intentional. You are drawn to certain things. Recognize that and work it. You do not need to chase the crowd of popularity. It does not matter what “influencers” are promoting.
Say what is in you, about what calls to you, in your own way. Unless you are on a commission, your art should be first for you. If everybody loves your work, but you don’t, isn’t that a failure? If you love your work but no one else seems to, isn’t that still satisfying your need to do art?
By making art, we are trying to express something we feel or perceive. Maybe to other people, but sometimes just to ourselves. That brings a unique perspective to it. If we succeed, it is perceived as different, meaningful. That is creative. No one else has done that the way you do.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Creative, our way
Creativity is not usually something radically new. Sometimes it is an incremental build on the past. It is the little twist that makes it uniquely our own. The little spin on the conventional way it has been done. Sometimes it is spotting what others overlook and treating it as art, not just something on the side of the road.
Be curious. By going through life with a mindful attitude, we can see things other people look past. Our vision usually applies to the unique way we see the same thing other people see, but don’t really see. We will not often see something that no one else in history has ever seen before. The secret is what we bring to the common. Can we make something new out of things everyone else ignores?
Everything has been photographed. But not everything has been seen.
To be a photographer today requires us to see more clearly and think deeper and work harder to separate ourselves from the crowd, but we can do that. We are artists. We have the right to be obsessed and passionate. After all, this is our art.
Follow your enthusiasm … The only quality common to all great artists and creative people is that they are obsessed with their work.
Richard Avedon
Today’s images
Given what I am talking about, I decided to feature unexpected, hopefully creative images. All are things found in my explores. None are grand landscapes or iconic locations. These are the kind of treasures I like to collect. I hope they are all things you have never seen.
June 25, 2025
Ethics of Editing
I thought this question was completely discussed and laid to rest. But just in the last week I have seen 3 posts questioning the ethics of editing images. Not really saying it is wrong, just questioning it in general.
Let me give you my conclusion so you can stop reading if you disagree: the question is wrong. It is not an ethical issue for art.
Are photographs special?
Because of its nature of recording the scene in front of the camera, some people still assume that photography is some kind of “pure” imaging form. That is, that what you see is reality. It is not and never has been.
You would never make that assumption of a painting. It is clear to everyone that it is a constructed image. Even if it was painted as “plein air”, the artist would leave out things that distract and freely put in things that “should” be there.
Just because the sensor (or film) images everything in the field of view of the lens does not certify that the resulting image is “truth”. And speaking of the field of view, changing it is a valid and common way to change the story you are telling. Zooming in on a small part or moving to the side a little may completely alter the message of the image. Is that ethical?
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Modifying darkroom prints
Prints were routinely modified even from the days of film and darkroom printing. Filters made serious modification to tonal renderings in the captured negatives. Negatives were spotted to remove dust (or distractions). Dodging and burning further altered the tonality of the original scene.
If you are familiar with Photoshop, you know that one of the layer blend modes is Screen. Do you know where this name came from? A way of compositing film images was to project 2 images together onto a screen, then re-photograph the resulting combined image.
Photographers are resourceful. They find a way to make the image they need or want to make. Even if the result departs from the original.
Modifying digital images
But it is so much easier to alter digital images. Does that somehow make it unethical to do it?
We have wonderful technology in our computers and image processing software. But would we be better artists if we printed our images “straight” – unmodified in any way?
No, we would not. Digital sensors are amazing, but the straight output of a RAW file is bland, low contrast, probably with a bad color cast, and it has dust spots and distractions. You could never sell an image like this, and it would be foolish to even show it to viewers in this state. Other than to make a point about how important correction is.
Even black & white prints are an advanced modification of color images. It is no longer a throwback to simpler and more pure times.
We are expected to correct the color and contrast, to remove spots and distractions, to alter the lighting and tonality to make it more pleasing. You could never win a contest or be admitted to a gallery without doing at least those steps.
Beyond that, pixels can be processed and combined much more freely than film images ever could. To say that it is wrong to do that with digital images is like saying that writing should only use the grammar and vocabulary of 19th Century English, because it was more pure.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Why do it?
Is it too simple to say, “because we can”? Simple but true. We can. Pixels are raw material. They can be modified or combined or stretched or colored at our will. The same way that a painter can use any colors or put any brush strokes down on his canvas.
What we choose to do depends on the image. Sometimes we compose the “final” shot almost entirely in camera. We recognize what we want to do, and we can make it happen in the field. These images still need a lot of work to bring out the quality we want, but the result may be very close to the scene as shot.
But sometimes I go out shooting what I call “raw material”. These images are deliberately not intended to be a finished image by itself. They become parts blended or composited together with other parts to form a final image concept. Is that valid? Is it ethical? To me, completely.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
When not to do it
There are times that images should be labeled as “truth”. If you are representing the work as photojournalism or documentary, it should relatively unmodified. Relatively in the sense that it may be cropped or spotted or exposure balanced. Things like that that do not seriously alter the result that is presented to the viewer.
Even so, there are the issues of point of view and field of view. I discussed field of view. For journalism what the photographer chooses not to show may completely change the ‘truth” of an image. And anyone, even a seasoned journalist, has a point of view they bring to the shoot. That POV determines how they represent the scenes, what to feature, how to frame it, etc.
So, we must accept that what we see is the truth from their point of view.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Ethics?
One of the articles I read recently asks “how much we can ethically alter a photograph?” My response is that only photojournalists and documentary photographers should be expected to “tell the truth”. Other than that, there are no ethics involved. The concept does not even apply to art.
All other photographers are creating something artificial. The resulting image is a creative work of fiction. Trying to say that there is some artificial ethical limit on what they do is like saying all writers must only tell the absolute factual truth. I hope not. I like reading fiction.
There are many reasons for creating images. A few uses of them should maintain a semblance of truth. Most do not have any link to truth.
My images are only truth in the sense that I created them (no AI involved), they are my product, and they represent what I felt or believed at the moment. Any ethical questions are within my mind and based solely on my values. If anyone else raises an ethical concern about my work, I thank them for being interested, I might want to find out their concerns, but I would tell them to apply their ethical anxieties to their own work.
Of all the things there might be to worry about in the world, the ethics of altering my images is not one of them.
The real ethical dilemma
There is a serious ethical issue that needs a lot more discussion. That is AI generated work and creating images that deliberately lie about events. But I am out of room here.
June 18, 2025