Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Category: Process

Just Taking Pictures
I need to get back to the simple joy of taking pictures. Just having fun and exploring creatively. No pressure.
Pressure
Taking pictures used to be fun. Now, it seems I worry too much about whether it is a great picture, a portfolio image, does it further a project I am working on?
That puts a lot of pressure on me.
I seem to get caught up in feeling like the images are “important” and that, somehow, I am being judged by the quality of every one I take. When I got to the point that I could occasionally take a pretty good picture, then somehow, an attitude developed that all of them need to be excellent. That if most of them weren’t “winners”, then I must be losing my edge, backsliding. The artistic muse must be gone.
This is silly when you think of it. After all, I would never show you most of my photos. The mediocre ones (hopefully) get culled out. But there is a natural reaction that some of us have that leads to a fear of failure. At some point we are afraid, or at least discouraged, to do more work for fear that it will not be as good as what we did in the past.
I can understand this. It happens to me, but I am trying hard to not accept it. At the minimum, it leads to my photography becoming work, a chore instead of fun. That pressure to always exceed my best can suck the joy out of my art.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Who is it for?
I need to keep reminding myself who the real audience is. Who is your audience? I sometimes forget.
If you must produce a high-quality image from a shoot for a client contract, you are clear who the audience is. And you have the pressure of having to create to client demands. That is a clear pressure situation that you have willingly accepted by signing the contract.
Or if you feel pressure to post daily shots that will get “likes” from your internet viewers, that is another clear pressure situation that you have bought into. You have pressure to shoot for your viewer’s tastes rather than your own.
Those generally do not apply to me, though. I may occasionally shoot for someone, and I occasionally post images to the internet, like in these articles. But in almost all cases, I am the audience that matters. That is what I must keep in mind.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Inhibition
There must be a “so what” here. If I lose sight of who I am shooting for, what are the consequences?
The consequence to me is the pressure that builds to always exceed the best of what I have done. A result of this is that I shut down. I feel inhibited from taking any pictures. I look at something that seems interesting and think “yes, but I may not be able to make an outstanding picture from that.” So, I don’t shoot. I don’t take the chance.
I find that when I get stuck in this self-imposed pressure trap, I lose my will to take pictures. Nothing seems worthwhile. I don’t feel “inspired.” I have come to understand that much of this is really inhibition caused by fear of not living up to my past performance, combined with fear of moving away from what has worked in the past.
If I only shoot “safe” scenes, this leads me to becoming less creative with time. Stagnating. I’m boxing myself in. Creativity inspires taking chances, doing things that probably will not make a great picture, but may answer a question or lead to something new. But this is the messy way new ideas and approaches are discovered. It is risk taking and exploration.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Inspiration
When you’re low and feeling uninspired, what do you do? All the artists through time have experienced this, I’m sure there must be a variety of strategies. There are 2 I have worked out that are usually effective for me.
One, probably the big one, is to get up and do something. If I sit around feeling sorry for myself and waiting to be inspired, I will probably be there a long time doing nothing. I need to make myself do something, even if it is just throwaway stuff. There is a lot of inertia to overcome, but eventually I get moving. And things get better and I feel creativity returning.
The most recent session of this (working on it now), I attacked the problem on my computer rather than by forcing myself to shoot more. I enjoy doing weird, abstract composites. So, I made myself sit down with my Lightroom catalog and do some. I would scroll through and pick out something that looks interesting as a base image and throw it into Photoshop. Then I would scroll some more until I find another image that I feel might combine in an interesting way with the other one. I take it into Photoshop and start working with them together.
I might poke away at them a while and delete the result. Or it might lead to something that intrigues me. That may serve as a base to bring in other elements and textures to make it richer and more complex. This has moved quickly from something I made myself do to something I’m having fun with. Doing this energizes me and I find my new image shooting has picked up.
The second mental kickstarter I use is to take a trip. A change of scenery works wonders to shake me out of lethargy. This strategy is usually effective, but more expensive. I don’t do it as often as I would like.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Take pictures
When I get trapped in one of these down cycles, I find the solution is to do something. Take pictures. Do something. Don’t worry about the results. Try something new. Tell yourself that you are experimenting, and the results are not expected to be great. Give yourself permission to work without pressure.
The muse – however you visualize inspiration – seems to only be there when we are working.
Excited
Being an introvert, I’m not very demonstrative. Unless you know me well, it may not be apparent to you when I’m excited. But I know. When I’m caught up in a project or exploring new techniques or ideas, I’m excited. My mind is not just engaged, it is spinning, sparking, generating new ideas constantly. It is a great feeling, and it seems like I can’t do bad work while I’m riding this wave.
But the issue is how to get back into this zone when we are parked on the bench, out of the game? I can’t give you a foolproof formula. Sorry
What I can recommend is that action always seems to help. Force yourself to pick up your camera and go out and shoot something. Don’t worry that they are not going to be your best images. Just shoot. Throw them away if necessary. But get moving in the right direction.
I talked about how creating composites is helping get me going. Taking a trip to a new location is usually effective. Other ideas are to study a new artist’s work (Rocky Nook has a lot of good books by artists), go to a good art museum, or visit some galleries. Even reading an inspiring book can help. Whatever works for you to stimulate your curiosity, spark ideas, motivate you to do something.
When we are moving and working, fear and inhibitions fall away. We are no longer held back by uncertainty, and we aren’t focused on what we did in the past. We are moving forward doing exciting new work. Do your work to please your #1 audience – you.
I’m trying to keep in mind the joy of just taking pictures. I hope you do, too.
Get moving. Go shoot something. It doesn’t matter what it is or what pictures you get. Start something and ride the wave.
July 29, 2026
Culling
I recently finished a major part of a large project to cull my “best” images. It was much harder than I thought. Culling is hard.
Why
More than once, I asked myself “why?”. I thought this would take me 2-3 weeks. It ended up taking 4 months.
Why in the world would I take on something like this voluntarily? I felt it was necessary to be honest with myself. This is a follow-up and expansion of a previous article on critiquing your own work.
I use a multi-layer “grading” system to promote my best work up the ladder. It has been in place for several years and it seemed time to do a reality check to see if I believed my system. It is too easy to rate a picture higher just because I like it without it being truly worthwhile.
And to be honest, there were a couple of concerns I wanted to check on. These are hard to express or admit, but I wanted to see if my recent work was as good as my earlier work and if my work, overall, was up to the standard I want for myself.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
How
My methodology was just to plow through it from beginning to end. I did not attempt to organize images by subject or style or anything. It is just a huge, roughly chronological list of my top-rated pictures.
My criterion is that any image in this top group meets my standards. I should be able to randomly select any one and I will be glad to hang it on my wall or enter it to a show. Of course, I don’t like each one equally. I have favorites. But any of this top group should be a very good representation of my work.
All the images are in a collection in my Lightroom Classic catalog. In general, the goal is to examine each image and keep or demote it. These are ones that have made it to the top of my list. In no case did I delete any pictures, except for a couple of cases of duplicates. Rejecting an image from my top category means demoting it a level, not removing it.
If things were actually that easy, it would have gone faster. The reality is that it is hard for me to keep from “improving” some of them. So, I occasionally take side trips into editing. I enjoy that, but it is a time sink.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
What did I learn
I went back through nearly 20 years of images in my Lightroom catalog. I have used Lightroom since its beta release. It’s first production release was in 2007. That is quite a trip down memory lane.
I have not had time to do an intense analysis, buy here are some observations.
20 years ago, I was more active, willing to do more vigorous physical activity in any weather. I have slowed down (or gotten smarter). I still get out in a lot of weather, but fewer long back country treks.
Way back, I seem to have been a little more willing to shoot anything that was mildly interesting. Now I am older and more cynical and judgmental. I have lost some of the child-like wonder of the world. I am less likely to shoot if I don’t feel it will be a good picture. This is something I need to work on. Staying in a state of wonder is important to me.
Many of my oldest pictures are travel related. I still shoot a lot when traveling, and I like it, but I have improved my mindfulness and attention in everyday shooting near home. This is good.
My old pictures tend toward technical perfection and formal compositions. I have moved quite a way beyond that. For one thing, I’ve developed more taste for movement, both intentional camera movement and subject blurring. “Perfection” has a whole different meaning for me now. Abstraction is more common.
I’ve always had a “good eye” and the ability to isolate interesting events and creative compositions. It has gotten more refined with time. That is encouraging.
Many of the themes I used to shoot are still well represented in my newer work. I haven’t run off in wildly new directions. One thing I do note is that I seldom photograph people anymore. This is a shame, because I like a lot of what I did in the past. But times seem to have shifted, and I don’t want the potential hassles that can come with it anymore.
It is probably fair to say my older work showed more youthful enthusiasm while my newer work is more mature and investigative. I’m sure there are deeper insights that will come with more thought.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
What’s next
If I was really going to do this rigorously, I guess I would create sub-collections of these surviving top images by topic: all landscapes, all architecture, all travel, etc. That way I could more closely compare the changes that have happened in the treatment of similar subjects over time. I probably won’t.
E.B. White said that “analyzing humor is like dissecting a frog. Few people are interested and the frog dies of it.” I think it would be like that for me if I did such a detailed analysis.
I’m not really that interested in the fine points of how I have changed. I will just note that it happened. The reality is that I wanted to sneak up on that question I was afraid to consider too openly: is my current work as good as my old work? With some reservations, I will say that the new is good.
What I do observe and mentioned before is that I have lost some of the child-like wonder and innocence that used to be there. I need to do more stupid, crazy, improbably things just to see what happens. Even if I’m pretty sure it won’t be a keeper. Just to see it.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Was it worth it
It is harder to definitively say it was worth it. This took a lot of time. But yes, critically reviewing what I considered my best work over the last 20 years was worth it. Just renewing the memories was worth it.
I tried to be brutal in my screening, but I am surprised that I only “demoted” about 20% of my collection. The changes in the quality of my sensors and lenses over time is obvious. A surprise is that did not necessarily affect my perception of the quality of the images. When a jpg image taken with an old 6 MPix sensor and only a fair lens can hold its own next to one taken with a great lens on a 47 MPix sensor shooting RAW, that says it is something other than just technical perfection.
Expressing this indefinable quality still eludes me. I got some insight on the effect, but I cannot clearly put it in words. But I guess some insight is more than I had before.
I called this exercise culling. It turned out to be much more. I encourage you to do something like this as a self-check.
A parting observation
I just went through my entire collection of “good” images. I had to edit quite a few of them while I was at it. They just needed it. I couldn’t pass over them without it.
While going back through the collection to review them for this article, I had to edit some of them again. Even though I had just been through them.
This brings up something I have learned about myself over the years: an image is an opinion that changes with time. Even over the course of a few weeks, I can change my opinion. This is one reason prints are important. They freeze an opinion at a point in time.
May 20, 2026
Post Exploration
We focus a lot on the process of taking pictures. And rightly. But the world of post processing is another rich opportunity for “making” images.
Taking pictures
When we think about photography, we think about taking pictures. After all, that is what photography is, isn’t it? That is where we capture the data that becomes the final image. For many, the thinking stops there. Click – picture.
Maybe crop it a little or remove a distraction. Perhaps work on the overall color. But the picture is the picture. No reason to make many changes.
Many people, especially some “serious” photographers, feel that the image should be made whole and complete in the camera. Anything other than simple edits that make no substantive changes to the original image is suspect or forbidden. That is their opinion, and they are welcome to it, so long as they do not try to bind it on me.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Post processing
But for other photographers, the world of post processing is much larger than that. Yes, there is cropping and distraction removal and some color tweaks, but those are just the basic first steps.
I will go out on a limb and say that post processing is as large and important a skill as is capturing images. The world of digital imaging has thrown us into a situation where what happens after the shutter press can be as important as what happens leading up to it. And our tools have become far more powerful, enabling “darkroom” processing far beyond what any film shooter ever dreamed of. It would be foolish not to take advantage of it.
I assume you shoot RAW images. There are times to shoot jpg, but those are rare in my world of fine art photography. But RAW images require extensive editing. They look bland right out of the camera, since they did not go through heavy-handed jpg processing that is trying to make a best guess of what we wanted.
Just enhancing
After that initial round of basic edits, we get more serious for the images we pull out to work up. Now we probably do some initial sharpening. Then set overall contrast, black & white points, maybe some clarity to punch it up some more.
At this point the image is starting to take shape. Now I may spend a lot of time working on tonal gradations. Working on the details of lighting and separating element so they can be seen more clearly. Then there is working on global saturation and luminance and maybe even hue of individual colors.
We may decide to add a vignette to help focus attention on the subject. Perhaps we will use color grading or profiles to change the overall “look” of the image. Maybe so far as going to black & white.
There are so many more. This is just the tip of the iceberg. We can easily spend hours on one image doing these and many more. I have watched hundreds of hours of tutorial videos describing techniques for doing these things. Really getting in depth on Lightroom Classic or, especially, Photoshop is a project requiring years. And they are moving targets.
But at this point, we have a nicely corrected image – that is still basically the original photograph. It may be exactly the scene as we remember it, or it may have a color wash, or even be in black & white, but it is the same photograph.
Again, this is where another large group of photographers stop.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Permission to play
And that’s where I stop with most of my images. But there are other doors to open that can lead to new destinations.
Here is a statement of belief for me: pixels are raw material. They are just pieces of data saved on your computer. They do not “mean” anything except for the meaning we ascribe to them when we view them all together as an image. This is my belief. but since it is not based on laws or regulations or fundamentals of nature, it is just my belief. Feel free to disagree and act accordingly.
But since this is my belief, I am free to do anything I want with my data. There is nothing like PETA for protecting against the abuse of pixels.
I give myself unlimited permission to play with my data. And I do, to degrees. The problem is that it is hard to break away from old habits and beliefs. Too often, I am trapped by my limited thinking. I see an image. I don’t always see what those pixels could become. That, more than camera resolution or tools or computer power, limits what I make.
Permission to play does not mean I will always take advantage of my freedom. I am self-limited. My actions don’t always follow my beliefs. But I’m trying to break my mental barriers.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Making new images
I love compositing, combining 2 or more images to make something new. It is a joy when I can take 2 dissimilar images and make something different from either. Sometimes I put together 3,4, 10 images. The resulting image may only have bits and pieces of each source file. Did you know that a TIFF file has a maximum size of 4G Bytes? After that you must bump up to the PSB format. Quite a few of my experimental images do that.
And I love taking an image and processing it with different textures or digital effects to create a very different look. So much so that sometimes when I am out shooting, I mainly shoot textures. I have a good library of them.
And have you played with some of the interesting Photoshop filters that are built in? Quite a variety of tools for blur, rendering, warp, landscape mixer, distort, stylize, etc. I can experiment for hours in Photoshop trying new combinations of things.
Some actually create results I like. But you never know until you try.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
The digital world
My point is that our “photo opportunities” do not stop when we press the shutter. Capturing a good image is very important. But there are endless possibilities for improving it or totally changing it in post processing. Sometimes we see opportunities for doing more than just making an image look better. Post processing is another creative outlet.
Digital images are much more malleable than film. Pixels are just data. Data can be processed. There is a world of opportunity in the post processing, if we can break out of our limited view of what can and should be done to our pixels. I call it post exploration.
If you are a fine art photographer, the ethical choice is to do your best, most creative work. Not to protect pixels.
October 29, 2025
Lean Into It
I can’t be passive about my art, my photography. The only way I know to approach it is to lean into it. To boldly and confidently attack it.
Different styles
We all have different personalities and different working styles for our art. A portrait photographer or wedding photographer might need to be in positive control of the situation. To direct the subjects to get the shots and results anticipated. On the other hand, a street photographer may unobtrusively “stalk” the shots he wants. He works completely in the background and usually without the subjects being aware of being photographed.
A landscape photographer may plan a trip long in advance to be at a certain location at what he determines to be the best time for the shot he wants. Or another one may just go wandering with no preconceived plans or shot list.
These are examples. All show different methods of approaching the craft. But regardless of the approach or the personality, one of the common ingredients in our art is intensity.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Intensity
All good artists I know share a certain type of intensity about their craft. When they are doing their art, they are “on” – focused, earnest, single-minded.
In my limited experience, this seems to be true no matter what genre they work in. Their personality modifies the way this intensity is expressed, but it is usually there.
I think this intensity helps to focus us on where we are and what is happening. On our goals or what we are experiencing. It helps us to stay in the moment.
People talk with some longing about flow states and how desirable they are. But in my art and in the career I had before that, I find them common. Valuable and wonderful, but fairly easily achieved.
That is not bragging. I think the intensity and focus I can bring to my work enables flow. It is not uncommon for me to be so caught up in my photography or writing or editing that hours can pass without me being conscious of them. From talking to other artists, I believe this is a shared experience for many.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Mindful
I often talk about the desirability of being mindful. The intensity of our focus on our work leads to this type of mindfulness. Mindfulness in the sense that we are completely caught up in the moment. We are immersed in our art and the creative process. Other concerns and considerations do not exist for us at that moment.
Let me emphasize that I am taking about lower case “mindfulness”. Not some system of chants or meditation. It is not a semi-religious experience for me. I hold my own religious beliefs, and they are separate from this.
I believe this type of mindfulness is a result of my intense focus on my art, not a cause of my creative output. That is, my focus leads to creativity and mindfulness, not the other way around.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Do it
We all get into creative slumps. No new ideas are popping up. We aren’t even enthusiastic about getting out and taking pictures or editing. That’s natural.
But I feel that one of the worst things we can do is just sit around waiting to feel inspired. At these times, I believe it is important to get up and get out and work. Go out to “do” art and do it until we loosen up and get into the moment and things start to flow.
This is what I mean by “lean into it“. It is a process of embracing what we are doing and the situation we are in, making it into something good. It is a matter of overcoming a situation or our inertia. We push back against what is resisting us, and deal with it, with confidence and determinism.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Resistance can often be a good thing. That is what exercise basically is. Forcing our body to work against the weights or the track builds up strength and endurance. I believe strongly that it works the same way for our mental powers. We need to read and think about challenging material. Things that exercise our brain. I can’t prove it, but I believe it also works for our creative powers. We learn to create better by going through the pain of creating.
Same in our photography. We often blame circumstances, and they are real and inescapable. But much of the time the real barrier is our attitude. We are not willing to change our attitude and put in the work to overcome the situation. Get out the door (or go to where you do your work), get switched on, find your intensity. Lean into it.
Nike was right: just do it.
Do one thing every day that scares you. Those small things that make us uncomfortable help us build courage to do the work we do.
Eleanor Roosevelt
Inspiration is for amateurs. Us professionals just go to work in the morning.
Chuck Close
October 22, 2025
Depth of Insight
In a recent Medium article, Marc Overmars gave a good introductory description of depth of field (DOF) This is a technical term uniquely applicable to photography. I want to take the concept in a somewhat more philosophical direction. Maybe there is a concept of depth of insight.
Purely technical
On the surface, depth of field is purely a technical concept. it only applies to photography, because it is associated with the physics of focusing through a lens.
I went into some of the issues in a previous blog. Sorry for the math. 🙂 I know most people don’t like that. I don’t have much use for it either, and I would never use it when I’m out in the field shooting, but some level of understanding is helpful for mastery of the art.
Maybe the most challenging concept from that article, and a fundamental concept of DOF, is “circle of confusion”. The idea that there are acceptable levels of unsharpness. Very briefly, only one point in the frame is technically “in focus”. But practically, a certain amount of unsharpness can be tolerated before we would consider something blurry. The size of this allowable unsharpness is called the circle of confusion. So, when your DOF calculator gives you a distance range, those are the points where the focus becomes unacceptably blurry. The math is exact, but the concept isn’t.
Perhaps there are analogies in our understanding of what we shoot.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
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 that sometimes I didn’t have much in mind when I shot them.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
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 a scene 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 insight. 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 shoot when I feel 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.”
©Ed Schlotzhauer
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. Sometimes an image I was initially dismissive of emerges as the strongest of the shoot. It could be that’s just luck. I prefer to think my instincts were trying to tell me something.
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.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Projects for 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, not a dedicated photo expedition. 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 also monuments and memorials and standing stones. Even a small village celebration of their liberation in WWII. I felt it helped me to see more opportunities, and 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 that 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 out of range. With no real understanding or feeling, there is little interest for viewers. Have something to say.
I am starting to concentrate. much more on depth of insight than depth of field.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Head image
I mentioned having Sacred Places in mind and encountering a memorial celebration in a small village in France. The image at the top 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 is heartwarming.
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 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.
October 1, 2025