Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Category: Craft

  • I’ll Think of a Reason Later

    I’ll Think of a Reason Later

    I get tired of hearing all the pronouncements from leading photographers about how all our shots should be carefully planned and pre-visualized. While this is good advice sometimes, it is not always true. At least, not for me. I have come to see some of my best work as happening when “I’ll think of a reason later”.

    Source

    I got the title from an old country & western song by Lee Ann Womack, lyrics by Tony Martin and Tim Nichols. Great lyrics, but the song has nothing to do with photography or any art. But when I heard the title, it seemed to perfectly fit what I often experience. So I decided to “repurpose” it.

    You know how you sometimes hear something that sparks other ideas or seems to crystalize some ill-formed thoughts that have been gnawing at you? This was that for me. I love the image it brings to my imagination.

    Planning

    It is part of the accepted religion of many photographers that you never shoot a picture without a well thought out plan. Even to a firm visualization of what the final product should be. Being a matter of faith, it is unquestioned and can’t be reasoned. But I will question it. There is an old quote that says “sacred cows make the best burgers”.

    Is there a time for careful planning? Yes. Of course. Otherwise the whole controversy would be foolish.

    When is planning important? First, on any commercial shoot, where a certain result must be obtained, on schedule and on budget. You will not work in the industry if you can’t deliver repeatable and acceptable results to your client. Sure, you must also have a recognized style to flavor your work, but that is secondary to the results the client wants.

    Second, if you are doing some type of conceptual photography, where you have to synthesize the result from materials you shoot specially for it. It all has to be coordinated so the right materials are available for constructing the final image. The parts must be consistent in lighting, focal length, position, color, etc. Most of all, they have to be complete. You don’t want to start bringing your product together and find that a key piece is missing. This process takes good planning and visualization.

    A third possible one is a once in a lifetime trip to an exotic location. It would be reasonable to scout the location, plan for lighting, weather conditions, etc. I say maybe, because I probably wouldn’t do it. I might want to have some idea of what to expect, but I would be more energized by abandoning preconceived notions and reacting to what I find.

    Spontaneity

    What’s missing in this very disciplined notion of planning? To me, it is spontaneity, happy accident, feelings, reactions. These are the things I thrive on. These things make my work more alive and vibrant.

    The things I find, unanticipated, can captivate me. When something excites me and energizes me, I find I am generally happier with the results. The engagement is memorable and meaningful. I am drawn to the subject or the scene. The feelings I have seem to come through in my images. Dare I say it, there is love there.

    Can a planned, rehearsed shot engage me? Yes, sometimes I like to really get deep into whatever I do. But that is accidental. Usually I find in those situations that my engagement has to be secondary to the planned event. For me, I don’t want it to be secondary.

    I enjoy the discipline of shooting for a project. But even when I have a certain theme in mind, I do not have a fixed plan for what I will shoot. I may hypothesize what some of the images in the project might look like, but that is only a guide to spark my imagination.

    I would much rather find joy in something no one else has noticed. Something that, at just that moment, is interesting, even exciting. Tomorrow it may look like junk, but right now it is something else. This is more interesting to me than getting yet another beautiful shot of an iconic scene.

    I’ll think of a reason later

    So, “I’ll think of a reason later” means to me that I will follow my instincts, my interest at the moment. Later, when I am working on the image on my computer, I will see if I can think of the reason it called to me. Usualy there are some good reasons.

    I will be lead by my heart. Planning can be useful, but I will not be a slave to it. I have no problem abandoning a plan to shoot something more interesting.I am a fine art photographer, not a commercial shooter. This means I will follow my instincts, shoot what I like and what I am drawn to at the moment.

    I will be the first to admit that this does not always lead to the best possible results. Sometimes I follow my instincts down a rat hole to a dead end. That’s OK. Better than OK. It is wonderful. It is better to me to try and fail and sometimes achieve something special than to rise to nothing more than mediocrity.

    So I am amazed sometimes working on these spontaneous images on my computer, to see things I was not conscious of at the time I shot it. I see shapes and forms, color harmony, framing, patterns, and lines that work to make an interesting image. These were mostly subconscious at the time I was shooting.

    I seem to be able to use all my years of training instinctively. Was I pre-visualizing my images? Probably, but it wasn’t conscious. I was not aware of it in the moment I was shooting. The measure for me is: was I excited at the time? This is I’ll Think of a Reason Later.

    What works for you

    I’m reacting here to intense evangelism I see from some so called authorities. The reality is, there is no “one way”. At best, they can tell you what works successfully for them. Sometimes they just want to evangelize you to their point of view.

    An artist’s working style and subject matter is intensely personal. What works for one will completely trip up and block another. Do what works for you without thinking you have to follow a plan some famous photographer told you.

    I don’t mean to ignore everybody. Listen, try their ideas out. Experiment. But ultimately reject what doesn’t work for you.

    Today’s image

    This image was taken going down the Seine River in Paris. I glanced up and instantly recognized a scene of interest to me and snapped it. It was not pre-visualized, and I was not consciously searching for a situation like this.

    Sometimes happy accidents happen. I plan on it. That is, I find if I am receptive and looking around with interest, they happen. Frequently.

  • Moving Past Perfection

    Moving Past Perfection

    Photography is a rather technical art form and most photographers get caught up in the gear and techniques. This can be appropriate for some work, but not always. I have stopped worrying about the last line/mm of resolution and absolutely perfect focusing and steadiness. It can be that imperfections can make some images better. I am moving past perfection as a goal.

    Perfection

    Sure, I love technical perfection. I think at some level most photographers do. It is a characteristic of what we can capture. We don’t want to just take a picture of a bird. We want to resolve every detail of every feather. The texture in an image should be so present that the viewer can easily imagine what it feels like. Every part of the subject must be in crisp focus and highly detailed.

    Technical perfection like this is a form of craftsmanship. It shows our viewer that we know how to use our tools and that we can check the craft boxes to prove our work is worthy.

    But this craftsmanship is a table stake, to use a business term. A table stake is the minimum viable offer that will be considered. For example, if you are buying a new car, you would not consider one that does not have a backup camera. It used to be a luxury but it has become an expected necessity. In the same way, digital photography has improved our product so much that there is little room for imperfection. Technical perfection, where is is required, is a necessity to be considered a salable print.

    Unless it is deliberate imperfection. More on that later.

    Don’t let it become the reason for the image

    An overused quote (at least, I seem to overuse it, because I believe it is very insightful) is Ansel Adam’s comment that “There’s nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.”

    I take that to mean that a good image will not be a great image solely because of its technical perfection. Instead, the technical details must serve the mood and intent of the image. Sometimes that means the technical details must be front and center, because they provide the framework that supports the resulting image. But in other cases they may actually subtract from the artist’s intent.

    I keep talking about sharpness, but the same applies to any other technical details. Composition does not make an image. There has to be more there. The absolute peak time and weather conditions at a certain location may help you make a very good image, but by themselves will not guarantee it.

    Who defines perfection?

    But what is “perfection”? That is very difficult. Must every image be 50MPixels or more at 3000 line pairs/mm resolution? Does every picture have to be perfectly aligned with “rule of thirds” lines and points? Does the color balance of the print have to exactly replicate the color of the original scene? How about images that do not have a definite foreground/middle ground/background? And how about the ones where the histogram is just wrong, say pushed too far to the left or right?

    Do these things define perfection? Can we make a great image that violates some or all of these “rules”? If you are thinking about some other articles I have written, you will know that the answer, for me, is there are no rules. There is no authority with the right to define what characteristics my image must have.

    If I have defined for myself that I am doing things in an Ansel Adams style, then that puts me in a box and defines certain expectations of look and sharpness. Or if I have defined that I am doing portrait photography in the style of Richard Avedon, that sets expectations of subject matter and style and print sizes.

    But notice that these are self imposed limitations. I reserve the right to define for myself the nature of perfection for my images. It may or may not include technical perfection.

    How can an “imperfect” image be good?

    If I set the definition of perfection for my images, then what does imperfect mean? It will only be imperfect if I fail to achieve the result I want.

    Think of some of the great shots of photojournalism or street photography. Some of them are a little our of focus. They might be over or under exposed. They might be grainy. But they captured a moment, an emotion, a comment on the human condition that completely overwhelmed all technical considerations. They are great despite their imperfections. Maybe because of them.

    I love (and was infuriated by) the types of comments I used to hear in camera club competitions. A judge might say “the composition would be improved if the photographer had taken 2 steps left”. I appreciate your feed back, but if I had moved left even 1 foot further I would have been over the edge of a cliff. Thank you, I will live with the composition I could get. It works, despite your sincere attempt to improve it.

    Past perfection

    So what do I mean by moving past perfection? For me it is the realization that perfection is not the highest goal. An image can be excellent even if there are technical flaws. Other things can and often are more important. The recording a “perfect” moment that exactly captures the nature and personality and essence of the subject can make a great image, even if there are imperfections.

    Actually, I am finding a lot of my current work is intentionally “imperfect”. I often use camera motion or subject motion as a design element. Some entire projects do not have a single sharp pixel in them. That is what I want, so I am pleased with it.

    A different take on craftsmanship is being able to use your medium to achieve your goals. Would you rather follow your own goals and create work that pleases you or struggle to achieve someone else’s ideal of perfection?

    Judge by your expectations

    No one except you can judge the perfection of your work. The definition of perfection is yours and yours only. They might say they would like it better if it was sharper or more/less colorful, or more/less saturated, of brighter/darker, or composed differently, or if the mid tone contrast was enhanced/reduced. And they may be “right”, in the sense that, after you think about it you decide yes, if I were shooting it again I would change it somewhat.

    But it is you changing your expectations that causes the difference in evaluation. No one else is in a position of judging your work unless you allow them to.

    Today’s image

    This is a horribly imperfect image. And it is just what I wanted. 🙂 It was shot out of a fast train in France. I wanted to represent the sense of speed and motion and changing terrain whipping by. There is not a single sharp pixel in the frame. The focus may not be right, I can’t tell. But this was one of the best of many, many tries, and to me, it captures what I was perceiving.

  • Depth of Field, Again

    Depth of Field, Again

    In my last article I discussed, in probably too much depth, the technical aspects of depth of field. But I try to keep this series focused more on artistic issues and creativity. Let me take a different look at depth of field again as a concept.

    Purely technical

    On the surface, depth of field is purely a technical concept. I went into some of the issues in my last article. Sorry for the math. 🙂 I know most people don’t like that. Actually, I don’t like it much either, but some level of understanding is necessary for mastery of the art.

    Maybe the most challenging concept from that article was “circle of confusion”. The idea that there are acceptable levels of unsharpness. Perhaps there are analogies in our understanding of what we shoot.

    Looking deeper

    Let’s set the math and technical details aside for now. I can hear the sigh of relief.

    I propose that there is an analogous concept concerning the sharpness of our intent when we are shooting. That is, did I just point my camera at a subject, make a decent composition, and shoot? Or was I clear in my mind why I was taking the picture and what it was really about?

    I have often referenced the Ansel Adams quote that “There’s nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.” There are 2 reasons for that. First, it is a brilliant observation. Second, it is something I struggle with, so it is very real and close to me.

    Yes, I can compose and I can use good technique to get the sharpness I want. I can use light to my advantage and I have a lot of experience post processing. But even so, I often look at my images in despair. Too often they are sharp images of a fuzzy concept. When I am honest with myself, I know I didn’t have much in mind when I shot them.

    Art happens in our head

    Maybe it is too obvious to state, but art happens in our head, not in the camera or the computer. As with any definite statement about art, this is a generalization. Sure, there have been many times when I was working with images on my computer and experimenting (e.g. playing) and things seemed to come together. That is the exception, though.

    All too often I look at my images and realize they are, at best, just record shots of a place I was at. No “depth of focus”. Not much below the surface to give you a reason to pause over it and consider it.

    The fault is entirely my own. I didn’t have anything to say, and I said it.

    There is a marked contrast with the images I get when I go out to shoot a project, or ones I shot when I was feeling strongly about the subject or the situation. Many more of them are strong and satisfying.

    We all know this: the more we put into something the more we are likely to get out of it. Why don’t I remember it more when I am out shooting?

    My excuse, other than simply laziness, is that I like to go out exploring and shoot interesting things I come across. I don’t always find interesting or “deep” things. That is just that, an excuse. Maybe it is as much that I didn’t have much to say that day. I try to remind myself of Jay Maisel‘s quote that “If you talk with nothing to say, that’s bad. When you shoot with nothing to say, that’s worse.”

    Circle of confusion

    So, is there a “circle of confusion” concept for our shooting? Maybe so. If we can’t get our ideas into focus, maybe we shouldn’t shoot. Do our ideas have to be in perfect focus? No. Like the technical term, maybe there is an acceptable level of unsharpness. I hope so.

    What do I mean by this? Well, sometimes I realize exactly what the scene means to me and I can determine exactly how to shoot it. That is great. I am often happy with the result. Sometimes, though, I just have a feeling, a sense of what I am experiencing. I have learned to follow those instincts even if I cannot clearly express their meaning at the moment. If something is drawing me, there is probably a reason.

    Later, while editing, I may realize what was calling me to it. If I was diligent enough to work the scene a bit to get several views and takes , I might be lucky to find that one of them captures what I was feeling.

    Maybe I am being too hard on myself. Jay Maisel also said “You always end up with too many pictures to edit and too few that you feel ‘got it’.” I suppose the feeling is common to all photographers, but it still is frustrating.

    Projects to focus

    I am learning to use projects to help me focus more clearly. A project is a chance to think deeply about something, decide how I feel about it, and then find opportunities to express it.

    It is basic psychology that when you are concentrating on something you are more attune to it. A simple example: a friend was thinking about buying a Nissan car. I don’t think about there being many of them around, but after that conversation it seemed like every other car I saw was a Nissan. I was more attuned to them.

    A somewhat more relevant example is from a recent trip to France. It was a family trip and we were going to be traveling around quite a bit but I didn’t want to come back with just random tourist shots. So I created a few projects to keep in mind to focus my thoughts and energy. One of them I called Sacred Places. It helped me be much more aware of cathedrals, of course, but monuments and memorials and standing stones. Even a small village celebration of their liberation in WWII. I felt more aligned with the concept of the project, it helped me to see more opportunities, and I felt I looked deeper at the occasions I found.

    If I don’t see it, why should you?

    Circling back to Jay Maisel’s quote: “If you talk with nothing to say, that’s bad. When you shoot with nothing to say, that’s worse.” If we can’t focus our feelings and experience, are we shooting with nothing to say? Just taking a sharp or well composed picture isn’t enough. If you can’t participate in the experience I felt then I’m not bringing you anything other than an “I was there” picture. Maybe it is pretty, but there isn’t much to feel or remember.

    Perhaps I do not have to be able to precisely express what I was feeling at the moment. Maybe there is a “circle of confusion” associated with our understanding of the image we are creating that gives us some margin for imprecision. But the circle of confusion in focusing helps discuss a range of acceptable sharpness, not permission to be out of focus. Maybe there is a range of acceptable understanding of our feelings leading to making an image. But little or no understanding is definitely out of range. With no real understanding or feeling, there is little interest for viewers. Have something to say.

    Today’s image

    I mentioned having Sacred Places in mind and encountering a memorial celebration in a small village in France. This image was a result of that. We happened, by accident, to be there on the day of their annual celebration of liberation in WWII. They still remember and memorialize it to this day. That in itself is heart warming.

    This flag display was presented while local dignitaries and military officials made speeches. I didn’t understand enough French to follow it, but it was moving.

    Having the Sacred Placed project in mind made me more attuned to this. We actually stayed for all of it and loved being there. When they discovered that we were Americans I barely avoided having to give a speech at their village celebration afterward.

    I hope a little of the dignity and solemnity of their memorial comes through.

  • Depth of Field

    Depth of Field

    In a previous post I said I would talk about this later. Here it is. I believe most photographers only vaguely understand what depth of field (DOF) means. That’s probably OK, as long as we can still use it to our advantage. You don’t have to know in detail how your car works to be able to drive it, but it helps.

    What is it?

    You have seen it. We focus on a subject, but when we look at the image we are disappointed that another subject or the background was out of focus. We have been bitten by too little DOF.

    Depth of Field is the distance between the nearest and farthest points in the frame that are in acceptably sharp focus. OK, we can intuitively understand distance that is in focus. But what does “acceptably sharp” mean?

    The reality is that when your focus your super expensive, multi-element, rare earth material lens, it technically only focuses at exactly one point. Everything else is to some degree out of focus. But like many things in life, the precise details do not matter. What matters is the result.

    For most of us in most of our applications, it is OK for things to be a little bit out of theoretical sharp focus. We can’t really see that unless we magnify an image greatly.

    Circle of Confusion

    So for most of our work, we will accept a certain amount of out of focus as unnoticeable. The measure of this for Physicists and Optical Engineers is called the “circle of confusion“. If you focus on a point of light, you expect it to be imaged as a sharp point. But as one of these points gets in front of or behind the sharp focus plane it becomes a circle instead of a point. You have seen this as you adjust the focus point in a scene.

    The overly technical term “circle of confusion” refers to how large these circles are. And what we care about is how large they can get before we perceive them as out of focus. This picture helps illustrate that. The center diagram is focused precisely. The top one is focused slightly behind the focus point. The bottom one is slightly in front of the focus point.

    Circle of Confusion illustration

    Physics

    You probably don’t actually care about the math. But here is it:

    The approximate depth of field can be given by: {\displaystyle {\text{DOF}}\approx {\frac {2u^{2}Nc}{f^{2}}}}

    for a given maximum acceptable circle of confusion (c), focal length (f), f-number (N), and distance to subject (u).

    This is precise, but not helpful. There are DOF calculators available, but most of us will not use them when we’re out shooting. I never would, and I even understand the math. 🙂

    What does it really mean?

    It means that if we want to maximize the apparent range of sharpness in a scene to our advantage, we need to understand some basic things about our cameras and how to adjust them for the results we want. None of it is magic and we do not need to become mathematicians.

    Controlling the DOF becomes just another of the design choices we make more of less automatically as we set up a picture. When we become familiar with the concept it gets to be an easy thing to take in consideration.

    How do you control it?

    If you unpack the equation above you discover that there are are really only three things to juggle: focal length, aperture, and distance to the subject. I take circle of confusion as a relative constant, since we don’t usually think about it while we are shooting.

    Normally we consider the aperture to be our main control of DOF. That is because it is the easiest one to adjust. You have discovered or been taught that a wide aperture (small f/ number) gives a shallow DOF and a small aperture (large f/ number) gives the most DOF. This is true, as far as it goes.

    But there are 2 other components to the equation. We also affect DOF by our lens focal length choice and by our distance from the subject.

    For any given lens, the closer we are to the subject, the shallower the DOF is. Telephoto lenses exaggerate the effect more than wide angles. Increasing the focal length reduces the DOF. And getting further from the subject greatly increases the DOF. Looking back to the formula briefly, notice that the focal length and distance to the subject are both squared. This means they are a much stronger influence than the aperture.

    Aperture, focal length, and distance to the subject all work together to determine the DOF A smaller aperture (larger f/ number) increases it. Moving further from the subject increases it a lot. Using longer focal length lenses decreases it a lot.

    It is said that wide angle lenses have greater DOF

    Conventional wisdom is that wide angle lenses have more DOF than telephoto lenses. Actually, no. But practically, yes.

    The discrepancy is how we tend to use them. We shoot with a long lens and decide there is not enough DOF. So we put on a wide lens and shoot the scene from the same position. DOF increases a lot. But the field of view has also expanded, so we have a much wider shot. If you were to walk up to the subject to make the image size field the same as before, the DOF would be the same. Thank you physics.

    But in practice, yes, using a wide angle lens usually gives us a great DOF because we usually shoot from relatively far away.

    Hyperfocal distance

    One “trick” that has been used for a long time and that simplifies getting maximum DOF is to know about hyperfocal distance. The hyperfocal distance is an optimum point where everything from infinity to a point near the camera is in acceptable focus. Seems too good to be true, but it is just physics again.

    The technique is getting harder to determine now and is probably falling into disuse. Way back we tended to shoot prime (non-zoom) lenses and they had focusing scales. For a given aperture, all you had to do was adjust the lens so the distant aperture number was at infinity. You were now focused at the hyperfocal distance. Everything from the near focus scale mark to infinity is in acceptable focus. It was easy and very useful.

    Now, though, zoom lenses have gotten very good and most of us use them. The problem is that they are optically complex and do not focus the same. They cannot, by their design, provide us with focus scales.

    What to do? A pretty good solution is called the double the distance method. There is some estimating (e.g. guessing) and approximations involved, but it is better than a lot of alternatives.

    Say you want to have a flower about 5 feet away in focus and have everything in focus all the way to infinity. Focus at about 10 feet. Choose a “suitable” aperture, probably around f/11 to f/16. I told you there was guessing. But by doing this, the field from about 5 feet to about infinity will be sharp. Check it in your viewfinder. Adjust if necessary. The hyperfocal point is about 1/3 of the way from the closest point you want sharp to infinity. You have to estimate it.

    Making some educated guesses based on knowledge of what’s going on is better than a random guess based on no knowledge.

    Just do it

    Photography and video production are probably the most technical of the arts. We are constrained by the physics of the sensors and materials, the properties of the optical systems and lens design, and the effects that can be created by these. Compounding these is the reality that we are typically imaging real subjects with all their flaws and constraints. It’s wonderful!

    Don’t get caught up in the math or the technical details unless you are a nerd that really likes that. It is seldom necessary for making good photographs. I just put the DOF formula in to show you it is based on science, not some mystical mumbo jumbo. I would never use it in the field.

    Learn that depth of field is a balance between the aperture, the lens focal length, and the distance to the subject. Experiment with them. Get a feel of how they relate and practice getting the results you want. It is harder to describe than it is to do.

    Today’s image

    This image demonstrates intentional shallow depth of field. I wanted the foreground and background definitely blurred, but still recognizable. The effect was achieved with a moderate aperture, f/11, and a short telephoto of 70mm close to the subject. Remember, increasing the focal length and decreasing the subject distance both strongly reduce DOF.

    Experiment more. Make the use of your equipment to achieve your intentions automatic.

  • Traveling

    Traveling

    I have been traveling more than usual this year. It gives me the opportunity to reflect on what I shoot and why. Perhaps it will trigger a response in you.

    This is not a typical travel photography article. You won’t find the expected rules and checklists and how-to advice.

    How I travel

    Travel for me is a rather solitary activity. Being an introvert, I work best alone. Having people around who want to talk about what I am doing and “help” me find pictures is almost always a negative. My wife is occasionally along on these trips, but she has learned to get out of the way and leave me alone when I am shooting. Not always, but that is the norm. I don’t want to make it sound like I push her away, it is just that she knows me enough to recognize when I am in a zone and don’t want to talk.

    When I am traveling with an option of doing photography I prefer to drive or be on foot in a large city. In either case I preserve the freedom of exploring, setting my own path, managing my time. I strongly prefer to explore out of the way, seldom seen sights, even if it means missing the main tourist attractions. Actually, especially if it means missing them.

    As you can tell, if I have to take a tour, especially in a bus, I feel handcuffed, in prison, doomed to follow someone else’s agenda. I may see some interesting things, but there is seldom the chance to explore something as i would like.

    What am I seeking

    As I learn more about myself, I realize I can never restrict myself to certain subjects. I’m afraid I will never be that guy who is known for mountain landscapes, or still lives, or seascapes. I recognize that this is a disadvantage from the sense of marketing and branding. Too bad.

    Of course there are certain subjects I am naturally drawn to. I like particular kinds of landscapes. The area that might be termed wabi sabe – simply things that age and weather with character – appeals to me. It is almost a given a given that I would check these things out. A joke with my wife and some close friends is that, if we see an old rusty truck, I will want to stop and photograph it. Like most humor, it is based in truth.

    But in a more general sense, I have learned that what draws me is the chance to exercise my creativity. When I see an opportunity to bring a fresh perspective or a creative treatment to a subject, I go for it. It does not matter if it is an obscure something on a back road that nobody cares about. If I can visualize it fresh and make an interesting image, that is what I want.

    This is one reason I seldom hang out at the iconic viewpoints that everybody seeks. I have no interest in shooting the same image that thousands of other photographers have made. Yes, I may shoot it for my memory, but I would seldom publish a photo like that.

    How I approach subjects

    This is pretty nebulous. I do not have a distinct process I have written down. I’m just trying to reconstruct my thought processes.

    Basically I have an imaginary dialog with the subject. “Who are you?” “What is your story?” “How would you like to be seen?” I don’t really express these things verbally or even consciously. But this is a process I think I go through.

    In effect, I am making a portrait of the subject. In a good portrait, the photographer tries to get to know the subject enough to recognize the key characteristics and the underlying personality of the person. This is what I try to do, even if I am shooting an old truck.

    It sounds kind of silly to write it down, but it is how I work.

    Environment

    There are some powerful environmental conditions I have control of that have a strong influence on the outcome and productivity of my shooting. I have learned over time to manage these things.

    A powerful one is to get off the freeway. I have seldom made an interesting image alongside a freeway. Cruising down that wide road at 75 mi/hr or more tunnel vision takes over. My focus is the road ahead and cars around me. The most wonderful scene I have ever imagined could be right there next to the road and, if I noticed it at all, I would probably convince myself it was not worth pulling off and falling behind in the traffic stream.

    Another is sound. I find that listening to the radio gives a focus that distracts me from creative viewing. My car radio is often off all day. If I am driving at night I may turn it on to help keep me alert, but that is the only time.

    Having mild ADHD tendencies, I find I cannot ignore words, either when someone is speaking or in music. When that stimulus is occupying me I tend to ignore a lot of things going on outside. And it is easy to get in a groove and be reluctant to stop to check out possible subjects.

    And having a fixed agenda works against my creativity. If it is the middle of the afternoon and I know I have 250 miles to go before I stop, it becomes too easy to judge that this thing I just saw is not worthy of stopping and putting me behind schedule. Agendas can’t always be avoided, but I try.

    Gear

    Photographers tend to be obsessed with gear and the technical side of the art. Who doesn’t like a great camera and a selection of excellent lenses?

    Sorry to disappoint, but I find I become less interested in that with time. The key thing is what you see and what you can do, not your gear. I seem to take less gear each outing.

    On a 1 week road trip I just returned from, I took one body and I only shot with 1 lens – a 24-120 f/4. I had a couple of excellent lenses with me, but never attached them. The lens I used is surprisingly good and covers the range I normally shoot in. I like to become comfortable and familiar with what I am using so that once I have visualized what I want, I just pick up the camera and it is a quick and automatic process to capture my vision.

    Actually the bulkiest equipment I brought was 2 tripods and a monopod. And I didn’t use 1 of the tripods. Next time I will probably not bring it or the other lenses I had with me.

    Just me

    I readily say these characteristics are peculiar to me. And I am peculiar. I am in no way suggesting you should do things this way.

    Over time I have learned what works for me and what I did that increased the amount of images I like. Being an introvert makes it easier for me to reflect on things like this. I like to figure things out. You need to figure out what works for you and maximize it.

    We each have our own unique characteristics and strengths and weaknesses. Learning who we are and what works for us is a big step toward improving our work. And being happier along the way.