An artists journey

Category: Mastery

  • Loud Whispers

    Loud Whispers

    Most images today are designed to explode, to attack, to shout. Are these the ones you remember? I usually don’t. I think the quiet ones, the loud whispers, have more staying power.

    Attention

    It is repeated endlessly and taken for true that we are in an attention economy. Media vendors make money by keeping people engaged on their site. So entertainment, doom-scrolling, click bait, fake news, short videos, and many other products and psychological tricks are used to hook us and keep us watching. I read that the average person now touches their phone 2,617 times a day. We spend over three hours daily on social media alone.

    A byproduct of this attention manipulation is that it changes us mentally. Many people develop a short attention span. We must be continually stimulated to keep the dopamine flowing. Basically, the companies encourage us to regress to childhood.

    Do not believe that the media companies care about art. It is just a commodity. They don’t care what they sell so long as it keeps eyeballs on their app.

    Layers of grafitti©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Photography

    This short attention span affects much photography today. Images are expected to have punch, to hook us immediately. It is believed that they should immediately reveal their meaning without requiring any work by the viewer.

    Implicit in this is the assumption that a viewer will look at an image for about 1 – 2 seconds and then go on, looking for the next exciting image. The next dopamine hit. Doom scrolling until we go blind.

    Even in a gallery or a museum, where it would be expected that people would have a higher level of appreciation, it is normal to watch people just strolling by the lines of art on the wall. Just idly considering some of them, but dismissive of most.

    Now I will be quick to say that a lot of art, including photography, can be quickly dismissed. Things that try so hard to be “creative” that they forget to be good. If it is made by or for the short attention span generation, there is little staying power.

    Sunset on the plains, two trees©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Impact

    I believe that much of the “impact” that is promoted in the attention economy is false. It’s like eating candy. There is a quick sugar rush that feels good for a minute, but it fades quickly and there is no food value that is good for you. It is actually worse for you than skipping it completely.

    The dramatic, over saturated sunset is pretty, but there is little to get from it. The classic landscape image is pretty, but it is just another wide angle shot from the same viewpoint everybody stops at. Portraits tend to be either selfies or would-be fashion shots that tend toward creepy.

    Most of these are easily forgettable. A few minutes later we don’t even recall anything about them.

    I guess the question is was it OK to put it out there just to get a few “likes”, or did you want people to engage with your image? That is a very personal question. I can’t claim there is a universal right or wrong answer.

    Spreading oak branches.©Ed Schlotzhauer

    What stays

    I have noticed, over the years, that many of my images are “nice” and people like them, but only a few leave a lasting impression on me. It would be nice to be able to give a definitive description of what makes one have staying power, but I cannot.

    Since I cannot define it, I cannot reproduce it on demand. Often, I do not recognize these images immediately. It is not uncommon for the images that excited me when I was taking them to not be ones that had this staying power. It may even be that some of these long term keepers are on the edge of being culled out during editing. Sometimes, though, something pulls at my subconscious, and I keep it until I can figure out how I feel.

    It may be days or weeks in coming, but eventually I have a mini-epiphany and recognize that there is something significant there calling to me. Or perhaps I must work with the image for a while. Crop it, change it around some, maybe see it in black & white. But at some point, a new understanding may emerge. It changes magically from a picture I guess I will keep to something I really like.

    That is like finding a buried treasure.

    Three paths. Don't take 2 of them.©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Quiet

    I said I can’t define what makes one of these images, but one thing I can identify as a frequent characteristic is that they are quiet images. They don’t shout for attention. They don’t jump up and scream “look at me!”

    Instead, they are often more reserved, almost shy. These are the ones that whisper instead of shout. These are the loud whispers. They quietly have something to say, and they know it. It is there to see, if the viewer takes the time to look for a while. The reward will come through investing the time and attention to appreciate it. I think that is the side of the attention economy I prefer.

    Fence built of skis©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Out of the mainstream

    So, maybe it is true that the attention economy. has completely taken over photography. Perhaps most people expect every image to jump up and shout and bare all in 1 second.

    I am old and out of touch. I still have this notion that a photograph must be well crafted and thoughtful. That it should be something you want to keep coming back to. You want to spend time with it and reflect on the subtle interest and meanings you find. These are the ones I call a loud whisper.

    So, I will continue to shoot a lot, to experiment freely, and to try to think fresh about my subjects. Occasionally I will discover one of these quiet gems. I will continue to go along my own path of obscurity, but content in the joy and satisfaction my work brings me. And it does. Sometimes the whisper becomes a shout.

  • Does the Image Find You?

    Does the Image Find You?

    Does the Image Find You? It is often repeated. I don’t think I agree with this. Maybe it is just a matter of semantics.

    It finds you

    I have often heard it said that the image finds you more than you find it. I can’t find a print reference, but I know Kai Hornung said it in a very good recent Nook presentation on Inspiration.

    This sounds reasonable in a Zen sort of way. And sometimes I agree with it. I know it is sometimes frustrating to go out determined to “make an image.” They don’t seem to be there when that is our attitude. But then we give up and put our camera away and suddenly images seem to come out of hiding. They are everywhere. We frantically get our camera out again and snap away.

    Was this a case of the image finding us? Or was it us taking the mental barriers away and finally being able to see the images that were there?

    Freshly filled wine bottles©Ed Schlotzhauer

    It doesn’t care

    This leads to my quibble with the quote. The responsibility is with us, not the potential image.

    My cynical nature does not believe images come looking for us. I think they don’t care. They just are there. Images don’t look for us; they just go about their life on their own terms. They are doing their own thing with no particular interest in or need of us.

    Think of a scene like a child playing out in the yard. They are in their own magic world. They may be acting out roles or playing an imaginary game or just moving and enjoying themselves. It could be them following their curiosity on a voyage of discovery.

    Beautiful, meaningful images are being generated constantly while they play. Not for us. Not because of us. But they are there for the taking if we let ourselves see them and react to them.

    In moments like that, the best we can do is be aware but be careful to not interfere. Don’t get in the way or interrupt the flow. It is not about us.

    Red barn, red truck©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Wisdom of Jay Maisel

    So, if images do not come looking for us, all the responsibility is on us to find them. We must stay receptive to what is happening around us.

    Jay Maisel is one of my favorite photographers to quote. He is a rich source of wisdom.

    Here are a few of his gems that I believe apply to this subject:

    It’s always around, you just don’t see it.

    It is important to realize that the pictures are everywhere, not just where you want or expect them to be.

    Don’t overthink things in front of you. If it moves you, shoot it. If it is fun, shoot it. If you’ve never seen it before, shoot it.

    If you’re out there shooting, things will happen for you. If you’re not out there, you’ll only hear about it.

    What you’re shooting at doesn’t matter. The real question is, does it give you joy?

    You can’t just turn on when something happens. You have to be turned on all the time. Then things happen.

    Had I not been told to look, I would have quit, ignorant of what was really there, because I had “made plans” and was wearing visual and emotional blinders that limited my perception and vision.

    Try to go out empty and let your images fill you up.

    Being receptive

    From these quotes and from my own experience and beliefs I think I can safely say good photography is not a passive experience. In most cases, we can’t just sit around and wait for images to come find us.

    Pictures are everywhere, but when we try to make them happen on our schedule and to our expectations, it often doesn’t work. What Jay called “visual and emotional blinders that limited my perception.”

    When we limit our perception, we are usually going to miss the exciting things that are happening instead. And as he says, the pictures are there, just probably not where and when we expect them. Sometimes you need to turn around and look a different direction. The interest may be happening somewhere else.

    One of Jay’s most famous themes is that we must “go out empty.” We must put our expectations aside and be open to see the images that are there, not trying to “make” them happen. And the images are going to happen where and when they happen. We must always be ready when we’re out shooting. After they happen is usually too late to react.

    Dancing in the Rust©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Whichever, take it

    So, whether you believe images come looking for us or you believe we must go looking for them, do it. Don’t let semantics get in the way.

    Not much advice is universal. I realize that commercial photographers always do planned and staged shots. That is not what I do so I don’t talk about it. I am just talking about what works for me.

    The rest of us who rely on everyday magic must be ready, mentally and with our equipment at hand. Be prepared to respond when we recognize that great image. Get out of your own way. See it – shoot it.

    Let your images fill you up. Collect them with gratitude.

  • Transmogrification

    Transmogrification

    Photography is a process of transmogrification – a transformation of one form to another. It’s a wonder an image ends up a recognizable representation of a scene. Some don’t.

    Transmogrification

    If “transmogrification” is unfamiliar to you, you are probably not a Calvin & Hobbs fan. I am a shameless fan. In my opinion, it was one of the most creative and humorous cartoon strips in history.

    Calvin (a little boy) and Hobbs (his imaginary friend who is a stuffed tiger) were always getting into typical little boy trouble. One of his “inventions” was a transmogrifier, a device (cardboard box) that could transform anyone into anything else.

    One of the reasons the comic is meaningful to me is that I had 2 active boys who always pushed the limits, and then some. Now, I have another newborn grandson, so I will be starting over in that world.

    I thought the author, Bill Watterson, invented the word, but it turns out to have been used as far back as 1671. It is a real word, not a made-up cartoon word.

    Not deep philosophy

    This discussion of the transformations that take place in making a photograph will be purely practical. I will not get into philosophical questions. We could do long analysis of indexicality or semiotics or formalism or the photo theories of John Szarkowski or any of dozens of other theories that attempt to explain why we see what we see.

    I don’t avoid this just because I am not capable of the deep thought. My nature is to be more of a pragmatist in my basic life philosophy. That’s why I went into Engineering rather than Science.

    A theory of why I made a particular image may be of a little bit interesting to me. It might help me to understand my process and vision. But I don’t think it benefits my viewers or really changes the final image.

    To someone viewing my image, it is what it is. It has to stand on its merits as they see them. I may have had deep theoretical intent behind what I did. but they don’t care. And despite any philosophical basis I may have used, if I don’t like the image either, it is useless. Don Giannatti recently said on Medium “A good photo is a good photo.” So true

    A series of transformations

    There are 3 main groups of transforms between a scene and a final print: in our head, in the camera, and in the computer. I include our head because it is probably the most important one. I will only describe a raw image processing path, since that is all I use. When I talk about a processing step, I mean a point where the result can be altered.

    Image processing transform in our head©Ed Schlotzhauer

    We see a scene and our brain goes through a lot of steps before we are even close to pressing the shutter release. We evaluate what we are seeing, determine what is significant, decide how we feel about it, what is our intent in taking this picture and if it is even worthwhile, and generally how we will compose and frame it.

    These steps may happen rapidly and instinctively, or they may be a slow deliberate process. That depends on the situation and our shooting style and our experience. But they probably happen.

    Camera transforms

    image transforms in the camera©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Assuming we decide to take the picture, now several processing steps take place within the camera. First, the light from the desired scene comes in through our lens. The lens determines the field of view, wide or narrow. It also “contributes” its own distortions – the MTF, barrel or pincushion distortion, chromatic aberration, vignetting, etc.

    After or within the lens is the aperture. This opens or closes to let in more or less light. As a side effect, the aperture size determines the depth of field – the amount of the image that is in sharp focus. Focus depth is one of the creative decisions unique to photography.

    Then the light is controlled by the shutter. The shutter opens for a precisely controlled amount of time when the photographer presses the shutter release. That opening time controls the amount of light that can pass through. The aperture and shutter work together to provide two of the key variables that determine exposure. The side effect is that shutter speed also determines the perceived motion blur of the scene. This is another creative decision.

    Next, the light hits the sensor where photons are converted to electrical signals. The total number of pixels is fixed here, as is much of the quality of the final image. The sensor also introduces some kinds of noise into our data.

    A deep, dark secret that many people do not internalize is that at the sensor, the information is “analog”. That is, it is varying levels of electrical signals. It goes through an Analog To Digital converter (ADC) to digitize it. Gain is also applied here as determined by the ISO setting. Higher ISO values apply more gain to boost the signal. There is a tradeoff the artist must make about the ISO setting, the amount of gain, since that determines a lot of the noise in our image data. Each pixel’s electrical value is digitized to create the matrix of digital values representing the image.

    Next the digital data flows through the digital signal processor (DSP) section. Each manufacturer applies its own proprietary “secret sauce” of processing to enhance the response of the sensor. This is why there is a Leica look and a Fuji look, etc. A jpg image is also processed from this to create a quick preview of the RAW data. The data is assembled into RAW data format for storage and then written to the memory card.

    The memory card receives the raw data that represents the image as processed by the camera.

    All these steps are just what is within the camera. I have not even mentioned our decisions of how to orient the camera or support it. Is it fixed or intentionally moving? Where is it positioned in relation to the scene? These decisions were probably made at the “head” stage.

    Computer transforms

    Image transforms in the computer©Ed Schlotzhauer

    We typically take that memory card and read its contents into our computer through a cataloging program such as Lightroom. Now the data is stored locally on our computer system for access.

    The type and amount of processing that can be done here is too vast to describe. We might use Lightroom or Photoshop or Topaz or any of several other software applications to operate on the pixels, bending and shaping and polishing them to our satisfaction. We may crop or delete large sections, combine images in various ways, change color drastically, even to black & white. There is little limit.

    Finally, to make a print, our print processing software uses profiles for the printer and paper we will be using to re-transform the image to a new color space. This is necessary to create a print that mostly matches what we see on our monitor. Raster Image Processing is used to do error diffusion and other complex calculations to create a new representation that creatively shapes the pixel values to patterns of microscopic ink dots that will produce the final image. The printer sprays the ink onto the paper substrate.

    We now have an image.

    Uniqueness of photography

    This series of transformations partially serves to define the basic difference between painting and photography. It should be clear that a photograph is a capture of all the light and forms that was seen by the lens. Everything gets recorded.

    The photographer has command of composition and viewpoint and lens selection and exposure to control what gets captured. But everything that was there is recorded. One of our jobs is to carefully select what to record, removing distractions.

    Distraction removal often continues to the post processing steps. And new elements may be added to the image. These happen long after the image is captured by the camera.

    A painter starts with a blank canvas and adds the elements he desires. Nothing can be there unless it was his intent to place it there. If he didn’t paint it in, it does not exist.

    Photography is a subtractive process while painting is an additive process.

    Over time we photographers learn how to control what ends up imaged on the sensor. We must be vigilant as we are looking through the viewfinder. Learning to actually see all the faults and distractions is a skill. Learning how to deal with them is part of our art, as is learning how to process the image to end up with the result we want.

    Looking through clock, Musee Orsay©Ed Schlotzhauer

    The chain

    As we can see, there is a complex chain of transforming steps that an image goes through between the “real” scene and the resulting depiction in a print. Most of these steps can seriously change the final result.

    I take 2 main points from this: all images are modified and as artists we exert the control over the intent of what we are creating.

    An image is not the object or scene. It is possibly a representation of the original. Or it can be completely different. I intentionally avoid any discussion of referent philosophy, other than to say a picture is not the original thing, it is an image that may or may not have something to say about the thing..

    How the image corresponds to the “real” scene is the artist’s choice in creating the image. As artists, we have an abundance of control points in the process. How we choose to use them is our decision. It is what we do as photographers. The result of all these transformation steps is an expression of our artistic vision.

    I called it transmogrification because the complexity of what is going on is almost science fiction or fantasy. But this is what we deal with every time we take a picture. As photographers, we must understand this chain. We do not have to understand all the technical details, but we must be able to use the steps available to us to create the image we want. As artists we must understand how to control all this technology to shape the final image to our vision.

    It’s a great thing, though. Taming all this technology and learning to use it well is part of the joy of being a photographer. It gives us tremendous creative freedom.

    Ultimately, though, our viewers do not care at all about our technology. They only look at the image and decide if it is worth looking at for more than an instant and if it has some relevance to them. Technology, like good magic, should be invisible.

  • No Learning Required

    No Learning Required

    Photography is a craft we traditionally spend years learning and practicing. What if we could shortcut all that and have some “hacks” that would let us make great images with little work or training?

    The click bait

    It seems like I am getting more and more click bait like this (actual names redacted to protect their anonymity, and to not support their sales offer):

    Most photographers spend years trying to figure it all out on their own—slow progress, scattered tutorials, lots of frustration.

    But what if you could skip that?

    What if this is the year you jump straight to clarity, consistency, and results?
    That’s exactly what the [program name] gives you: the proven system that pros actually use.

    If you’re at the bottom of the learning curve this seems attractive. Who wouldn’t want to be able to leapfrog to the top of your game with little effort? This would save years of hard work.

    For a little money, I could buy my way to success, fame, and fortune. I could become a respected artist quickly. What’s not to like?

    There are 2 things: there is no secret knowledge, and it still involves a lot of hard work and learning.

    Decrepit railroad tie, no track.©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Secret knowledge

    It is a popular and successful sales pitch to insinuate that there is secret knowledge known only by elite practitioners in a field. If someone shares this secret knowledge with you (for a fee), you, too, can be one of the elites.

    The problem with this is that photography does not rely on secret knowledge. Rather than being a closed league, like a guild, the field is very open. Most photographers readily and openly share their knowledge and insight.

    Why would they make all this knowledge available? I think it is for 2 reasons.

    First, many photographers rely on workshops and book and tutorial sales to supplement their income. It is just a reality. The number of people who live solely on image sales is relatively small.

    Second, they know their knowledge is not secret. It does not need to be closely guarded, because it is wisdom based on years of experience. Every photographer who has been in the game long enough basically knows the same things. Most of the ones I know are eager to share their experience and help others benefit.

    Learning required?

    Are there “hacks” you can use to get you where you want to go faster? Maybe. Depending on where you want to go.

    If you are the family photographer, there are simple things you can learn to make your images more enjoyable. Making yourself aware of the lighting and how to control it, framing the subject more deliberately, using shallow depth of field to isolate, and seeking a “decisive moment” are techniques to raise yourself above the norm.

    Or if you want to make your vacation pictures less boring to others, there are “hacks” that can be used. Learning to see and use the light, actively looking at what is going on all around your frame, use wide and close and high and low views. Culling out most of your shots will help a lot, too.

    If these are the kind of specific goals you have, then certainly learn the “tricks” and be satisfied. You will take better pictures but not be an artist.

    One tree leaning on another one©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Results or creativity?

    So, what is the goal? Many people, probably most people, only care about getting a decent shot to put on social media or in a memory album. I do not criticize this at all. That is where their values lie. Learn some simple techniques that will improve your photos.

    But if you aspire to be an artist, if your goal is to make creative and interesting images that express your point of view, that is an entirely different path. If you go to photography school, you will learn techniques like I described above. Probably in the first semester. Then you will be pushed onward to learn actual image making.

    Creativity is hard. You must know the basics of the craft very well, but then you must develop your own unique way of seeing and have something to say. It goes far beyond just being able to take a good picture.

    Are there shortcuts?

    The ad I quoted talks about “slow progress, scattered tutorials, lots of frustration” being involved in the way photography is usually learned. Maybe they have synthesized a program that guides a person through this messy time. Or maybe they just have a rigid program to follow to make a novice a clone of the instructor.

    I believe. that learning to be a creative photographer is hard work. Personally, I don’t think there is a reasonable shortcut. A good mentor can help immensely by pointing things out and giving good feedback. But you still must do the work. It is long and frustrating and sometimes you want to give up. We want to be progressing faster, but we don’t seem to be getting there yet.

    Henri Cartier-Bresson famously noted “Your first 10,000 photos are your worst.” That is true. It does not, however, mean your next 10,000 will be great. As someone who has shot many multiples of 10,000, I know that it is a long and difficult road.

    But we keep pushing, because something compels us to do it. Psychologists tell us we learn more from failures than from successes. As aspiring artists, we generate a lot of learning opportunities. And we do learn. Practice and ruthless evaluation eventually pays off.

    Night landing at the airport©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Doesn’t AI do the work?

    An elephant in the room these days is AI. Won’t AI provide the shortcuts we want? Can’t we rely on it to make our images better?

    Yes, we can. It already happens every day with AI “enhancements” when we take a picture with our phone. And there are many AI “enhancements” that can automatically be applied to our images in Lightroom or Photoshop or whatever your tool of choice is. It will only get more powerful and more pervasive.

    If your goal is to make your image better, then yes, it will be glad to do it for you. But you didn’t do it. And by letting AI do it, you didn’t learn how to do it better next time. We become a tool of the machine rather than it being the other way around.

    If our goal is to become a creative artist, my opinion is that this is going the wrong direction. An artist is responsible for all the creative decisions in making an image. We delegate some simple things to our tools, like when I put my camera on Aperture mode and let it choose the shutter speed based on the aperture I selected. That is a simple technical calculation, it is not taking creative responsibility for the image.

    Maybe AI is one thing driving the resurgence of photographers shooting film and doing chemical darkroom work. They remain firmly in charge of all aspects of their image.

    Foggy night in the park©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Look back

    Sometimes looking back helps us look forward.

    In my blog I have given some glimpses of my culling and evaluation techniques. I will not describe them in detail, just to say that I do not use a basic 5-point ranking scheme. My images must go through several rounds of critique and editing to progress up to my top set. The ones I would be proud to show anyone.

    Recently I was going back through to catch up on my backlog of hundreds of images that are still “in progress”. It is a time to look realistically at each image and decide if it deserves to be promoted to the next level.

    An interesting thing occurred. Having to revisit these hundreds of images, I couldn’t help thinking that I have been making some pretty good and occasionally creative pictures. I shoot so much that I sometimes forget to look back and see the arc that is traced by the past. It was encouraging.

    Art is hard

    Becoming a better picture shooter is easy. Becoming an artist is hard. It involves lots of learning and practice and self-examination. And suffering. At least the mental suffering of falling short of your expectations. But even then, there is no certificate, no award ceremony, nothing to tell you that you have arrived. You keep pushing and reaching forward.

    It takes time and effort. I do not believe there are any magic shortcuts that will get you where you need to go. Put in the work. Put in the time. It is worth it.

  • Generalist or Specialist

    Generalist or Specialist

    We are often told that we must specialize in a genre of photography. Otherwise, we will not make a name for ourselves and become successful. Is this really true?

    Specialist

    Conventional wisdom is that a photographer must specialize to have a market and recognition. After all, the overall field is so crowded that you need to focus your efforts on a narrow slice to be able to compete. Only by becoming one of the best ____ can you ever be seen.

    Specialization gets very selective. Are you going to be a portrait photographer or a pet photographer? A fashion photographer or a food photographer? The list goes on endlessly. Aerial, underwater, astro, street, wedding, event, etc. There are probably dozens if not hundreds of narrow genres.

    The advice to specialize is probably wise from a financial perspective. The more you can narrow your market the easier it is to identify and reach customers. If you work at it, you can probably become one of the well-known pet photographers in your city. That can become a good business.

    Plus, in theory, a specialist should become an expert in the nuances of their field. They should be familiar with the subtle signs that elevate a common moment to an extraordinary one. And they should be completely familiar with the “tricks of the trade” that other pros use to make outstanding pictures of their chosen subjects.

    Bicycle wheels©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Generalist

    A generalist usually covers a broad set of subjects and locations. Like a small-town doctor who treats everything from kids to the elderly and everything in between.

    The equivalent in photography might be the artist who says they do not restrict themselves to a single subject but shoots anything that interests them. A generalist, again in theory, may have a good working knowledge of the overall field but lacks deep knowledge in any area.

    Such a photographer will probably have a difficult time of making a name for themselves. A natural human tendency is to label people. Galleries or dealers or museums want shortcuts. They want to say this photographer does this type of subject. Then they can file that away until they are looking for works of that subject. But if we say we do “everything”, then to this audience that effectively means we do nothing.

    That is not them being mean or overly narrow minded. They are just efficiently dealing with an overload of information. One way to do that is by pigeon holing people. And that is reinforced by their underlying belief that artists must specialize to become well known.

    Dead tree in snow. Bent, broken, but still trying to stand.©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Only choices?

    Are specialist or generalist the only choices? Is that even the right question?

    In my simple-minded view, there are only 2 reasons to be a specialist. The first is because you truly love a subject and want to devote your life to studying only that. For some it may be flowers. For others it may be dogs. It doesn’t matter what it is. The point is that for you, it is big and important enough to block out everything else.

    The other reason to specialize is to make more money. As I said, specialists can develop a reputation and generate lots of business. In this case the focus is on business rather than art. I can’t say that that is bad. That is for you to decide.

    But maybe the question is do you execute a business plan or follow your artistic instincts where they lead you? They are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Photographers Joel Grimes and David duChemin come to mind as examples of changing their subject matter focus over time as their artistic vision changes. And in painting, Picasso is a significant example. He went through several periods of distinctly different art styles.

    Steam locomotive in Fall©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Omnivorous

    I’m not a specialist and I am not really a generalist. At least in the sense that a generalist does a little of everything.

    I see my artistic style as being omnivorous. In the sense of taking in or using whatever is available. There are some subjects that interest me greatly. These are things I will nearly always shoot when I find them.

    But the larger space is things I encounter that pique my interest because they are a creativity challenge. Things where I see a situation and think it could make an interesting, even good picture if I work it right. The challenge of making something attractive out of an ignored or inconsequential seeming scene motivates me. It is kind of like making something out of nothing.

    Layers of grafitti©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Is the subject really important?

    Is the subject the overriding concern? This seems like a strange question, because the discussion of specialist or generalist revolves around the choice of subject. Looking back on my work over the years, I see a strong trend of moving from a small set of subjects to a broad interest in more things.

    Along with this is the realization that particular subjects are less important to me than they used to be. I get excited from making something interesting out of what I find where I am right now. It is not the subject in this case. It is the graphic or composition possibilities or the lighting or possibly the symbolism. The challenge of making an interesting picture out of what most other people would ignore.

    So, I have discovered that now, I seldom go looking for certain subjects. Instead, I seek compositions that are interesting. I try to find what would be considered mundane or uninteresting things and make them interesting. I understand that, once I capture the image, it is not that subject anymore. It is a 2-dimensional image containing that subject. What the image becomes is often independent of the actual subject.

    I think this is one reason why I seldom photograph people. A person is a dominant element in an image. Almost any photo containing a person becomes about that person. I prefer to control my composition more. If to me it was about the lighting or the graphical design, I want to be able to make it so.

    Make your own kind of music, sing your own special song. Make your own kind of music, even if nobody else sings along. 
    Cass Elliot

    Specialist or generalist?

    Is it true that we need to specialize in one genre of photography to make a name for ourselves? Probably. It is easier that way. But is it true that we must specialize to be a creative and good photographer? My feeling is: absolutely not.

    At this point in my life, photography is a personal challenge and a creative exercise. I feel compelled to make beauty out of uninteresting things. That is my personal reaction to the world today. And I prefer spontaneity, even chaos. Sifting through the clutter to find something interesting is fun.

    I am more closely related to generalists. But with a difference. I pick and choose based on what interests me, what draws my eye, what poses a challenge I am willing to accept. I love some subjects more than others, but the subject itself is becoming less important to me than the creative challenge.