Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Category: Mindfulness

Accept the Gift
I believe that many of our most interesting photo opportunities are gifts presented to us. We must accept the gift.
A gift
I save a lot of quotes. Some are to trigger writing topics and others are collected wisdom I refer to on occasion. Or both.
I was recently impacted by the repeated message of several quotes I encountered in series. They were from different people and different sources, but together they had a message for me.
Here are 4 in no particular order:
The best compositions are the ones you don’t look for.
Alister Benn
Photography by wandering around: exploring without specific goals or expectations in mind, taking a slow pace, seeking to see beyond the most obvious features of a landscape, and enjoying the process regardless of the results.
Sarah Marino
Without expectations, I am open to serendipity, and that allows the world to present itself.
Don Giannatti
Creativity isn’t merely a gift; it’s a craft that requires cultivation and flourishes when we allow our brain to notice what it previously categorized as mundane and filtered from our consciousness.
Chrissy Donadi
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Could not plan it
A common element in these is the acknowledgment that my best work comes more from recognition than planning. My experience is that “I’m going to this place to make this particular picture” is not nearly as effective as “Wow, I’ve never noticed the way that looks in this light.” Discovery trumps planning for me.
Maybe I have a skewed definition of planning. I often “plan” shoots in a sense. If there are storms boiling up, I want to get to a place where I can get a good view of them (without getting my car pounded by large hail). When there is a good snowfall I will sometimes try to decide where the fresh snow might look nice. If I am flying somewhere I will try to get a window seat. There may be nothing to photograph, but I can’t if I’m not by a window.
This is the extent of the planning I do for a photo shoot. I try to put myself in a place that might have interest. Then I rely on my curiosity and vision to guide me to discover compelling images.
I need to restate what I have said many times: I am a fine art photographer. I do not shoot for clients. The results I create are first and foremost to please me. That is my only criteria.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Be ready
A key behind this style of working is the need to be ready. We must be mindful of ourselves and our surroundings. Of little things we ordinarily pass by and grand scenes that call to be a picture. Of the way the light is interacting with things, of textures, of coincidences that bring things together.
Being able to react to things like this is only possible if we are thoughtful. Our minds must be engaged and not distracted. Email, social media, probably even our favorite playlists take us away from being thoughtful. They make us inwardly focused instead of being receptive to the visual world around us.
When you are walking, can you turn off the distractions and keep your attention focused on the world around you? When you are driving, can you stay conscious of what is passing by rather than being internally focused? It is too easy to be concentrating more on your to-do list or what that rude driver ahead of you did or what’s on the radio.
Our world tries to demand all of our attention. But our attention is too valuable to let them. have it. We should control where and when we use it.
If we want to be receptive to discovering the unplanned pictures that are all around us, we must control our attention and direct it to that purpose.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Know what to do
Then when one of these happy circumstances presents itself, we must know what to do. That is usually not the time to be trying to remember how to use our equipment. Unless you are just getting started on your photography journey, it is not the time to be thinking much about aperture or shutter speed settings or trying to remember the rules you have heard about composition.
Maybe a first step that should not even need to be stated is that without a camera you are not going to take any pictures. Carry your camera. I have discovered that when I pick up my camera it is a statement of intent, a signal to myself. I now go into a mindset of thinking about pictures.
And remember that your camera is just a tool. We must learn our tools well, until using them is second nature. I don’t want to set the bar too high. Never be discouraged to go out shooting just because you are not expert enough with your camera yet. You might miss some shots or be discouraged by the results. That’s OK. It is about learning and experience. They take time. Henri Cartier-Bresson said that our first 10,000 pictures are our worst.
A goal we strive for is for our tools to become an extension of our mind. To the point where we almost forget they are there. Our hands and eye and mind work together automatically to create the image. Our thought is on the composition, not much on the mechanics of using the camera.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Use it
To circle back to the opening quotes, a lot of the best photography is about wandering and being open and receptive. It’s often about the ability to see interest in the mundane things you used to ignore. or the way the light is playing on a subject
And always be ready to accept the gift of serendipity. Great things are often the result of good fortune, of happy coincidences. Being in a good location at a good time helps, but serendipity is more important.
Be grateful. Say thank you and take the picture. Enjoy the process.
But that good fortune will go by unnoticed if we are not paying attention, if we are not receptive. That missed opportunity may never repeat.
I hope that motivates us to disconnect from the noise sources that are demanding our attention and instead be open to the world around us.
May 6, 2026
Dancing With the Frame
All 2-dimensional art exists within a frame. The frame is a powerful creative spark, because it requires choices and it strongly influences the resulting image. This is the magic of the frame. I have come to consider the process “dancing with the frame”.
Finite
I do 2-dimensional art. Most paintings or photographs are. But besides being flat, 2-dimensional works are also bounded. They cannot extend to infinity. So, a print may be 16×20 inches, or maybe 6×9 feet, but there is a limit. A print of a landscape scene is not an attempt to physically transport the scene to your wall. The image is an interpretation.
And because the print is bounded, there are edges. The edges create the frame, or more precisely the bounding rectangle of the image. I am assuming rectangular prints for the discussion. So, in simple physical terms, the frame is the box that encloses the print.
Likewise, our sensors or film are rectangular. There are pragmatic reasons for this. The point is, though, that the image we see through our viewfinder and capture in our camera is rectangular. It lives within the bounding box of a frame.
It turns out, though, that this simple bounding box gives life and drama to the content. And taking a picture is dancing with the frame. At least, for me.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
A window
The frame is much more than an annoying constraint of the shape of the sensor or print. Something magical happens when we look through the viewfinder or crop our image in our processing software.
What we see through the frame is our window onto the world. This window sparks much of our creativity. As we move and zoom and continue to examine our subject through this window we compose our image within it. We visualize the image and intuitively or deliberately decide what is important to bring out, what should be excluded, and how the parts should be arranged.
Since we are photographers, we are usually working with an existing scene, at least, I am. We seldom can go physically re-arrange things to suit us – at least I don’t. Instead, we must change our position or lens selection to arrange the parts in what we consider the most advantageous orientation.
We may realize the interest is not the whole scene, but only certain parts of it., and they should be presented from a certain point of view. So, we adjust our window and keep searching for the magic.
After all, if we are an artist, we want to bring something to our viewers that is more than just what anyone would have shot if they walked up on the scene. We bring our own interpretation. A big part of this is how we decide to arrange what we see in our window.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Composition
Over the centuries many “rules” of composition have been formed. I put it in quotes because there are no real r ules. The “rules” are observations of patterns that have been found to be generally pleasing to viewers.
It was very interesting to me to realize that most of these “rules” are defined by or relative to the frame. Let’s look at a few.
The rule of thirds helps to increase dynamic tension by placing the subject along the intersection points of dividing the window into 3 groups horizontally and 3 groups vertically. This is totally relative to the frame.
Along with that is the oft quoted “do not put the subject in the center” – of the frame.
The horizon should be level – relative to the frame.
Diagonals can add a lot of interest to many compositions. The diagonals exist because of their relation to the frame.
Leading lines are often recommended. They help encourage the viewer’s eye to lead from the edge of the frame to the subject and keep them exploring.
We need to be careful to not have distracting elements at the edges of the frame.
Unless it is really your intent, we must be careful to not cut the subject off at the edge of the frame.
This could go on a long time. Go examine your favorite composition rules and see how many are describing relationships to or within the frame.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
The dance
What I describe as dancing with the frame comes from my typical shooting style. I am mostly an intuitive photographer. I don’t carry flip books of composition ideas or sample books of other photographer’s work. My shots are seldom pre-planned.
When my subconscious notifies me that there is potentially an interesting shot nearby, I get engaged. I seem to know from experience the lighting and exposure details and camera settings. Those don’t occupy much of my thought. The dance really starts when I raise my camera to my eye and see what the camera sees. What I perceive through the viewfinder now becomes the main focus of my attention. The view in the frame.
Now I can inventory what I have to work with in the scene. It probably looks like a performance art to the observer. I move and zoom and bend and twist to rearrange things in the frame. What is important? What needs to be minimized? Are there diagonals I can use? Where should I move to make the composition pop? Are there distractions at the edges that I could remove by repositioning?
These decisions seem to flow effortlessly during the dance. It is kind of like manual focusing. Turn the focus knob. Did it get better or worse? If worse, go the other way. Keep going until it gets clear then starts to get blurry again. Carefully go back a little to where the peak sharpness was.
Working within the frame is like that to me. It is a dynamic process of optimizing. The big difference is that, with manual focus, the results are objective. Composing within the frame is an intuitive process of real-time judgment. That is part of what makes it hard but fun.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Artist’s judgement
So, part of the work of a photographer is to arrange the elements within the frame in the most pleasing or impactful way. This is the magic of the frame. The frame imposes a dynamic tension between itself and its contents. It is the canvas where we compose. It is the crucible where our creativity is tested. I can only do it well while looking through the viewfinder.
Since the camera sensor captures everything in the frame, it is not only critical to arrange the elements as we wish, but it may be as important to know what to exclude. That is one of the tricks of photography. What is in view of the sensor will be in our image unless we consciously figure out how to eliminate it.
Much of the artistry is in working the frame: figuring out what is significant and how to present it within the frame. It is the stage where we work our magic. It turns out that the frame is more important in our work than we usually express. This is what, to me, is the magic of the frame.
April 15, 2026
And Be There
If you have done photography for a while, you probably have heard the expression “f/8 and be there.” Have you ever thought about it?
Origin
The quote is most often associated with the photographer Arthur Fellig (also known as Weegee). It is actually not known if he originated it, or even said it. But it has stuck and become a cliché.
Keep in mind that this originated in the first half of the 20th Century. As a photojournalist Weegee used a bulky SpeedGraphic 5×7 film camera with film holders. These are slow and heavy and difficult to use at the best of times. These were manual focus, manual exposure with no metering, and single shot film holders.
Weegee shot mostly at night in New York City in fast moving situations. He was usually competing with the police to be first on scene so he could get a good picture. Often, he developed his film in a makeshift studio in the trunk of his car.
He became one of the masters of this craft of gritty photojournalism. When asked the secret of his photographic technique he is supposed to have replied “f/8 and be there”.
Was that just a clever throw-away phrase or did it have meaning?
©Ed Schlotzhauer
f/8
We know that f/8 refers to the aperture of the lens. It is a truth of lens design that the “sweet spot” or maximum sharpness of a lens is generally around f/8 or f/11. That was very true in Weegee’s day and is still true today. So, presetting your aperture to f/8 is a pretty good initial guess for a balance between exposure, depth of field, and sharpness.
Weegee is reported to usually leave his camera focused at 10 ft and aperture f/11 or f/16 (contrary to the reported quote). Then it was already set to a good guess for a fast-breaking situation. His big flash bulb would light up the exposure at night. Remember those?
Weegee was a master of his craft. His Speed Graphic was slow and heavy compared to modern cameras, so he believed in presetting his camera to a good starting guess for the situations he expected. He was comfortable using his tools and tried hard to keep time consuming technical decisions out of the way.
This sounds like good advice for us, too. Being so familiar with our cameras that we can adjust them quickly, even instinctively, for the creative situation we encounter will usually help us come away with good pictures. Anticipating settings for what we will encounter is even faster.
So, my takeaway here is that f/8 is not a magic setting, but we should practice using our tools until we can adjust them to the settings we want quickly and even in the dark. The technical process should fade into the background. It is sad to miss great pictures because we are fiddling with camera settings.
And f/8 is a pretty good default choice.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Being there
Maybe the more important part of the phrase is “being there.” We can plan, we can spend all day on Google Earth or PhotoPils or studying peoples online posts, planning what we would do if we were there, but if we are not there, we can’t shoot it.
My virtual mentor Jay Maisel said:
If you are out there shooting, things will happen for you. If you’re not out there, you’ll only hear about it.
Jay Maisel
Weegee was out there, every day, in the worst conditions, racing the police to crime scenes. His persistence is one reason we still talk about him today. He got results.
Going out and making photographs where you are may be more useful than spending all year planning for that “big” photo trip. What good is it to get to that bucket list location but not know how to use your equipment well enough to capture what you planned? What do you do if you get there and conditions are completely different from what you planned for? Do you have the mental toughness and technical savvy to look around for something else interesting?
If you shoot fast and instinctively, constant practice develops the muscle memory that makes camera settings automatic. That frees more of our mind for considering composition, feeling, and interpretation. Part of it is education, but a lot of it is practice.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
For us
I think, for most of us, the situation is very different from Weegee’s day. We have fast acting and accurate automatic cameras with speedy auto focus lenses. So then, is the f8 and be there saying still relevant?
I think so. I read it as encouragement to learn our equipment well enough that it is not a barrier to getting the shot we want, and to put ourself out in the action, because that is where things are happening.
The “action” does not have to be fast breaking photojournalism on the gritty streets of New York City. Go out exploring frequently in your local environment. Take a few day trips to surrounding places. Try to get a window seat on the airplane and be that guy who shoots out of the window during the flight.
Basically, be tuned in (mindful) wherever you go and wherever you are. Weegee may have meant the phrase as a quickly tossed off platitude. But I believe it contained some truth we can learn from. It may have been a platitude, but that does not make it incorrect.
F/8 and be there. Practice it.
April 8, 2026
Moments 2
Moments are frozen instants in the flow of time. Our life is about moments. Most art, but especially photography, is about capturing moments.
Flow of time
Time is like a stream flowing around us. It goes from infinity to infinity as far as we can perceive. But we can’t stop it or dam it up. We can’t even jump in the stream and ride a moment forever. Instead, we must watch it flow by and hear the clock ticking.
Time itself may be virtually infinite, but our time is not. We have been alive a certain time, but we have no idea how long we have left. There may be many years left, or our time may be done tomorrow.
Many of us live our lives as if we have infinite time left. That is simpler and less troubling than acknowledging the impermanence of our existence. So, we become numb to the passing of time. We bury our self in our job or other responsibilities or diversions. Days flow into weeks into months into years and we barely realize it. Someday we look back and wonder where the time went.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Art is moments
All we can clearly perceive is the current moment we are living in. The past is a sequence of moments that are gone. The future is a potential sequence of moments we cannot yet see.
A characteristic of a lot of art, especially photography, is that it records moments. They may be beautiful moments, or touching ones, or poignant ones, or frightening ones. But the moment itself is the art.
Art portrays these moments so we can look at them from outside the time stream. It gives us a new perspective on the moment. Whether the art captures the moment as a 2-dimensional image to hang on our wall, or a 3-dimensional form, or a poem or story we can visit whenever we want, they re-create for us a moment or a scene we want to save.
One of the powerful aspects of our art is that it is concrete. That is, it is fixed, unchanging, staying as it was created. This plucks moments out of the stream of time and preserves them for us, beautiful and unchanging. A photograph is a frozen moment.
What we remember
Our memories are really a collection of remembered moments. Do you remember what you did at your job last month? Probably not, but you remember that time last month when your boss came to you and praised you on doing a great job on something.
Do you remember college? Or is your memory based on some great times, some miserable times, a time when a professor said something that opened a whole new world of thought for you?
In our lives and with our families we tend to remember events, certain happenings – in other words, moments. Everything else is just a blur.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Moments we miss
Astounding moments are flowing by us all the time. Mostly, we don’t notice. Those moments are lost and can never be regained.
Mindfulness is a practice of being aware and “in the moment.” It attempts to let us forget the past and not worry about the future but instead be very aware of what is happening right now.
Being mindful is a good thing, but when you look up “mindfulness” it often gets co-opted by types of eastern mysticism. Ignore that. The concept is simple, even if the practice may be hard.
When I say we should be mindful I simply mean we should practice greater awareness of the world around us and the way we are responding to it. As artists this is especially important. There is beauty and interest almost everywhere. Fascinating moments are happening all the time wherever we are. Mindfulness is teaching our self to see them. We must notice moments.
This usually involves unplugging from our technology and stepping away from the fast pace of our lives for a bit. A walk is a great tool for me. Being outdoors and getting exercise helps me see more of what is going on. Of course, this only works if we put the phone in our pocket and take off the headphones, freeing our self from our tether to the machine.
But being there and seeing the moments are two different things. We must be open to the experience. Pause and marvel at small moments. At common, ordinary things around us that can become magical sometimes.
The way we live our moments is the way we live our lives.
Annie Dillard
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Photography is about moments
By its nature, photography is about capturing moments. The shutter opens on a scene in the “real world” for a fixed slice of time. The sensor records what is happening during that time slice. What we get is not imagined or fake. We have captured a moment. If we are good, it is a worthwhile moment.
Of course, I can create fantasy art that is impossible or surreal. I enjoy doing that. But most photography is a relatively straight capture of a real scene.
The typical photograph is a portrait of a moment. It is not the moment itself, but an abstract image of it. We have plucked it out of the stream of time and set it aside for contemplation, to show other people what was there that they could have seen. Since there is such a rich flow of moments passing before us, one of the challenges is to develop the experience, the “eye”, to recognize a worthwhile moment as it is happening. In a sense, what Henri Cartier-Bresson called a “decisive moment”.
Shoot it when you see it. Painters may be able to hold a moment in their memory well enough to be able to sketch and paint it back at their studio. But photographers must react immediately. Capture it or lose it. The famous Jay Maisel so rightly said “Always shoot it now. It won’t be the same when you go back.“
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Prints freeze moments
Even in the realm of photography, there is the special case of the print. A print takes this fleeting moment and casts it in a permanent form onto a substrate like paper or canvas or metal.
The moment becomes a real object. It has weight and form and texture. This is important because by being an object of substance, we have a different relationship with it. An ephemeral moment has been transported to a physical object we can see and touch and hold.
Even more, it has permanence. Memories are unreliable things. They fade and change. A print holds the moment up for us to see for many years to come. We can come back to it and relive it at will. Maybe only to remind ourselves that great moments are happening all the time and we should be more mindful of them.
In computer speak, a print is read-only-memory. That is a technology that, once written, can never be altered. Once the print is printed, it is an unchangeable record of the artist’s intent at that moment. The digital file can be altered and a new, modified print can be created, but the original print is fixed for its lifetime.
A print celebrates a moment that is worth keeping among the continuous flow of time.
Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.
Susan Sontag
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Moments
Be intensely aware of moments. They are our life. Each moment we have should be precious to us. Don’t let them drift away unnoticed.
As photographers, we should be on the lookout for the moments we want to record. To do this we must be very aware of the world around us, mindful, in other words.
We have the privilege of capturing moments and presenting them to people so they can marvel at the moments that have gone by. This is one of the things artists do. This is awesome.
January 14, 2026
Shoot What Interests You
Should we shoot what we are paid to do, or what we love, or what interests us? Yes, probably all of them. But perhaps the most important thing is to shoot what interests you.
Motivation to shoot
We are motivated by different things at different times. Everything from paying the bills to self-actualization are motivators. We must bend to the circumstances.
When a client is paying you to create a shot, we have to rise to the occasion. We give it our all, even if our heart is not in it. Chances are we are not in love with the product they want to sell. The executive’s head shot is probably not our idea of the pinnacle of creative artistry. And this wedding. Well, maybe we would rather not be here.
But if we receive money for it, we must give good value to the client and make them happy. Paying the bills is often a motivator.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
What we love
It is often said that we should shoot what we love. I have probably said it. I agree in principle, but there are other considerations.
What we love may inspire us. But long term, we could trap ourselves. We can get burned out on a subject. We still love it, but at some point, it does not challenge us anymore. It is easy to get into a rut. Doing the same things over and over with little new thought. See it – shoot it.
This becomes a comfort zone trap. It becomes too easy and safe. We may believe our favorite subject is the most beautiful thing there is. But if we run out of things to say about it, our images get stale.
This happens sometimes with “experts” in a field. They become more interested in protecting their position as expert than they are about learning new approaches or even contradictory ideas. We can sort of build a mental fort around our thoughts to protect ourselves from being challenged.
I see this myself with 2 dispirit things I love to shoot: landscapes and stained glass. I live in Colorado. Rich sources of landscape opportunities are all around me. But as time goes on I find it harder to create something new with them. Similarly, I am drawn to beautiful stained-glass windows. I can’t help but shoot them. But I recognize when I am doing it that this is the same old record shot of a window. It is very hard to find much new to say about them.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
What interests us
I have come to believe the greater motivator is to shoot what interests us. This may not be what we think we love.
More and more I believe that our curiosity is a searchlight that will lead us to challenging and creative new work. I love a phrase from David duChemin: “Go in the direction your brain is already running.” This beautifully captures the idea that our interests and our curiosity is pulling, nudging, directing us forward to new things. We just have to follow. And marvel at how we got there.
He points out that this might take us far from what other people are doing. But that is great! It lets us play in exciting new areas that other photographers are not trampling all over, working to death. Our curiosity will lead us to areas that are uniquely our own vision.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Practice
Everyone is naturally curious as kids, but it seems to be squeezed out of us as we “adult”. But we can relearn. it. How can we practice being curious? Easy. Let go and don’t try to force it. Ask yourself questions.
Curiosity is our brain making connections between things and asking questions to learn more. The more sources of connections we have, the better that works. We must encourage the questions.
One way to learn about curiosity in practice is to be around a 4-year-old. They have questions about everything. Many of their questions are things we might wonder about but wouldn’t ask because we are too “mature”. That’s the advantage of the kid. They feel free to ask any question. Imitate that. Ask the questions, at least in our head.
And since curiosity is about our brain making connections, it helps to feed our head, Dabble in all sorts of different things. Get a little information on everything you encounter, even if you don’t think you will be interested in it. No telling where that path will take you or how that random bit of information may emerge later.
You know that Google makes an extensive dossier of you based on your searches (don’t use Google search). Be so eclectic that their algorithm gives up on you because it can’t pigeonhole you.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Challenge
Creativity needs challenge. Without challenge, it will atrophy. Staying in a safe comfort zone does not challenge us. This is why I believe it is important to shoot what interests us. When we are shooting pictures, always be asking “What if…?”
Our interests are fluid. They shift and move to new ideas as we learn and think more. And if we accept the challenge to experiment with those ideas, we can see new things in even the common things around us.
Following our shifting interests keeps us fresh and challenges us with learning and adopting new viewpoints. It is based on our curiosity rather than a particular subject.
Always be curious. Always be asking questions. And give yourself permission to follow your curiosity. No one is stopping you except you. Follow your curiosity and shoot what interests you.
January 7, 2026