Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Tag: art

Do You Like It?
Do you like your art? Are you shooting what someone else wants or for yourself? Do you hang it on your own wall and proudly show people? I believe that answering the question “do you like it” is very important.
A marketplace
Some people view the world as a marketplace. The only thing that matters is what sells. To sell, it must meet the current definition of popularity and be “trending”. That implies our personal likes do not matter compared to what is selling.
I realize there are reasons an artist may feel like this. Perhaps you have committed to photography as your livelihood. You will, of necessity, have to follow the trends and give the market what it wants. Unless you are in a position of setting the trends, but very few of us are.
The second reason is based on your personality type. If you are extroverted, you probably have a strong tendency to get your rewards externally. You want the validation of other people, and that comes from likes and awards and sales. These are external validations of our work. Inward satisfaction counts for much less.
I have a friend like that. Great guy. He has been a close friend for many years. But he cannot be convinced that anything he creates is worth more than what someone will pay for it. Or more than the lowest price he can find advertised anywhere. Because of this, he completely discounts his artistic work, because he does not think he could sell it for much, therefore it is not worth much.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Intensely personal
My art is intensely personal. Except in very rare cases where I am doing work for other people, my subjects, my treatment, my style and presentation are all selected by me and for my pleasure.
My art reflects what I am seeing and feeling. The themes running through my life. It is influenced by my artistic taste and personal values. Printing an image and hanging it for others to see is an intimate act. It is giving others a glimpse of who I am, what I feel and see. Speaking as an introvert, that is very personal and terrifying.
What if people do not like it? That can hurt. It used to hurt more than it does now. At best, now, I may dialog with them to try to understand what their reaction is and why they don’t like it. At worst, I may change the subject and try not to dislike them despite their terrible judgment ☺.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
What if you don’t like it?
But what if you don’t like your work? I have seen it happen. People get bored with their work. They feel burned out. They may lose interest in the subjects they shoot. The creative spark and joy are gone. They may give up photography completely or only shoot selfies.
Or perhaps you feel trapped. You are getting likes and good feedback from social media, but your real interest has moved on and you fear that if you show the work you like now, it will lose your audience. Success can be a trap if we are not confident enough to go our own way.
Or maybe what you see when you review your images is far short of what you felt or imagined when you shot it. You just don’t know how to improve.
So, what if you don’t like your work? It is easy to get discouraged and even give up photography.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
I encourage you to clarify your goals. That should help sort out the objectives.
Unless you are a commercial photographer shooting for clients, no one other than you should be able to dictate your subjects or your vision of how to shoot. Does your camera club have a very narrow criteria for what is acceptable? Drop them. I did. Years ago. It was liberating.
Are you afraid of losing your social media followers? But answer this, how much money are you making from them? I’m serious. You like the dopamine hit of likes, but what are they worth in tangible terms? Trust your creative instinct more than the internet. Take a risk and show the work that pleases you. If your followers leave, that’s OK. Find new ones that appreciate the art you want to do.
If people look at your images and say, “that’s weird” or even, “I don’t like it”, so what? They are welcome to like or buy whatever makes them happy. But our purpose for creating images should be to make us happy.
He may be unpopular these days, but I think Bill Cosby was correct when he said, “I don’t know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.”
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Do you love it?
My point is that our art is our art. Unless we are working for hire, we ultimately do not have to please anyone other than ourselves. We should love our art. It should be a source of pride and satisfaction. An expression of our creativity.
Whatever subject and presentation you choose should be the thing that makes you the happiest. Go through your portfolio and honestly evaluate its impact on you. If you do not love what you see, change.
I can’t criticize your choice. But I hope you go deeper than just pretty pictures that get likes on Facebook. This is your creative outlet. It should feed your soul. It lets your viewers – and you – have a peek at what is deep inside you.
I know an artist who seems to be a happy, bubbly lady, but who does art that is dark and brooding and mysterious. Does that mean she has some deep mental problems? No. It just means that is what comes from her creative spirit and makes her happy. The same way that reading crime novels does not make you a potential killer.
Be passionate about your art. Fall in love with it. Be proud of it, whatever it is. Make prints and display them for people to see. Never be apologetic. Unless they are not well executed. Then work to improve. But well executed or not, like your work.
It is uniquely you. I sincerely hope you love your art as much as I love mine.
August 27, 2025
The Camera as Teacher
We often are told that as photographers, we need to learn to see. Yes, but… There are probably at least 2 parts to that, learning to be more mindful and learning to see as the camera does. In this second case, the camera will show us what it can do. We need to understand the camera as teacher.
Seeing
If we don’t see a scene and recognize its potential, then we will not photograph it. This type of seeing is based on perception and attention, not the quality of our eyesight. I advocate this type of mindfulness in many of my writings.
This kind of seeing can be learned and practiced. A camera is not even required. David duChemin had an intriguing statement in Light, Space, and Time: “We see through the lens of our thoughts.”
I recommend that we become so obsessed with our art that we see almost everything as a potential image and be plotting how to capture it best. Obviously, there are some times and scenes we would not want to do that, but it can be our default behavior. It is good training. When I am driving or walking around, I am usually playing a “what’s here and how would I capture it” game in my mind.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Seeing as the camera does
Seeing potential shots around us does not assure we will execute them well. There is a huge difference between how we see the world and how our camera records it.
As we become serious about our art, we must become serious about learning our tools and medium. These are our means of expression. A pre-visualization of the greatest scene we have ever imagined is not much use if we cannot realize the shot.
The camera has its own strengths and weaknesses that characterize what it can and cannot do. Any medium does. This is not a limitation so much as a creative opportunity.
Our eyes
Our eyes are marvelous devices. And when I say “eye” I consider the whole path from the lens into our brain. Our visual system.
I will not try to. analyze this, only point out a few ways our visual system is completely different from a camera.
Our eyes and our camera both have a lens and a “sensor”. The eye’s sensor is the retina. This is about the extent of the parallels.
Our camera has a flat, 2-dimensional silicon sensor that captures the scene all at once, in parallel. That is, the entire sensor is exposed to the light coming through the lens while the shutter is open, and this makes one image capture. The pixels are all equally sensitive to light.
Our eyes, though, are not uniformly sensitive. There is a region of the retina that has the most resolving power (the fovea). So, unconsciously to us, our eyes are always scanning our field of view. This process is called saccade. Our 2 eyes jump and focus together momentarily on a point. Then we move on to another point. We repeat this several times a second.
Through this process, our marvelous brain works with our eyes to paint this information together into a smooth, seamless visual sensation in full 3D. We effectively have real time HDR, panoramic vision, and image stitching – in 3D.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Meaning
Even more exciting is that our brain also constantly tries to make sense of what we see. Scientists postulate that we utilize a bottom-up then top-down analysis process to understand scenes and to develop meaning. And we do this in. milliseconds.
We tend to see what we pay attention to. If we are looking for something or if we are concerned about something, we see it more readily. The brain constantly attempts to give us the meaning we need in what we see. The process seems also to be directed by our knowledge and expectations.
Our cameras do not search for meaning. At least, not yet. Eye tracking is not meaning. People detection is a focus aid, not meaning.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
The medium of photography
All that helps to let us see that the camera does not see like we do. So if we want to use the camera as a tool for our art, we must learn what it does. Then we can use it for what it can do and stop wishing for what we would like it to do.
We point our camera at a scene and press the shutter, but the results are not what we expect. Was this a failure on our part? Perhaps it is better viewed as a learning opportunity.
If we used a very fast shutter speed, movement in the scene was frozen. This is different from what our eyes perceive.
Maybe we used a very long shutter speed and discovered that all the motion is blurred. Again, our eyes do not perceive this.
Or we shot it with a wide aperture of, say f/4, only to find that much of the image is out of focus. But we are used to our eyes “seeing” everything in focus.
If you hand hold your camera you may be disappointed to find that many of your frames are not as sharp as you intended. After all, our eyes seldom perceive things as unsharp, but in the camera there is a balance of exposure settings to juggle to get a crisp image exposed properly.
We pointed the camera at a brightly lit daylight scene and found that some highlights were overexposed, and some shadows were underexposed. Our eyes usually see everything correctly exposed. The automatic HDR we employ can lead us to forget that the camera can’t do that.
Through experiments like these, and many more, we eventually learn how the camera will capture a scene under almost any condition. It takes some experience, and a lot of thrown away images. The camera gives us feedback by faithfully recording the scene according to how we adjusted it. We may not always be happy with the result. Failure is a great teacher.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Limitations help define art
But eventually it is no longer mysterious. We learn to control the tools we have and make them work for us. Our camera becomes a means to realize our vision.
Along the way, we discover something marvelous. These limitations we had to learn to work around are opportunities for artistic expression.
For instance, we have a whole new perspective on time. The camera can slice time down to thousandths of a second to stop motion. Or it can keep its shutter open for seconds or more to show the effect of motion over time. Our eyes and brain cannot do this, so now we can open whole new views on the world.
We can intentionally underexpose a foreground to create a dramatic silhouette. Or we can intentionally overexpose the scene to produce a dreamy washout. Basically, we can alter the exposure values to any degree we wish to create the effect we like. They do not always have to be “correct”. What we see with our eyes is almost always correct.
We can superimpose multiple layers or remove distracting elements. Want to feature the form of something? Black & white is excellent for that. With the right tools we can peer into almost total darkness or shoot a picture of the surface of the sun. We need our camera and software to do these things. Our eyes can’t.
A good tool is a force multiplier. It allows us to do things we could not do unaided.
As we listen and let the camera teach us what it can do, we discover new artistic possibilities. Maybe we want to use them. Maybe not. That is up to us and how these things fit in our vision. But the toolbox becomes larger and better stocked as we learn more.
So, when you look at an image and think “Wow, what just happened here?”, maybe that is an opportunity to discover a new feature of the world of photography. One that you might be able to exploit to your advantage. The camera can become our teacher.
July 30, 2025
Photography is Human
Photography is a human activity. It is by humans and for humans. Why else would anything you call art be done?
By humans
Photography is a uniquely human product, as is all art. Humans have an innate desire to record and to express. We preserve memories or pour out what we feel or even just want to make something “pretty” or significant.
No other creature feels a need to produce lasting works of visual art.
I do not believe it is just because we have opposable thumbs or have mastered tool making. It is much deeper than that.There is something we feel and have to express. We want to leave some record of our passage through this life.
And this is a near universal, spontaneous need. It just comes out because we are human.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
For humans
Who do we create art for? Isn’t it always and only for humans?
There is no need to make a large landscape mural for your dog. He will not appreciate it. He may be your best friend, even almost a surrogate child, but he won’t even notice the art you created for him.
But don’t assume quantity of views is a valid measure of worth, or that we have failed unless we have public showings attracting large numbers of people. I am an example of that. I have had showings, but I am clear that my main audience is myself. That is, ultimately, I am the one who gets to approve my art. But, then, I am a human. My art is for humans.
I believe you can have a rewarding satisfaction of being an artist even if you only show your work to a select set of friends. The value of our art should not be measured in the amount of publicity we get or the number of collectors holding our work.
I love it when other people see my work. Some are even kind enough to make encouraging comments. That is a kind of connection and validation. It feels good since it comes from humans.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Uniquely human
Humans create art for other humans. We are the only creatures who can value or even recognize it. Unlike your dog, people can be touched by an image. Viewing it can translate to multiple feelings and emotions in another human.
Animals don’t create art. Fish don’t either. Only humans. We have a need to create.
If we visited some tribes making cave art in France 20,000 years ago and asked them why they did it, what do you think they would say? I doubt they would say they were decorating the cave so that when they moved out and a bear moved in, it would be happier. No, they would probably just say they felt a need to create and to record events and to establish aspirational goals for younger people to follow. And because they liked it. That is human.
Whenever we live and wherever we go we feel the need to paint on our walls.
The largest AI model might, with good prompts, make a picture that would be acceptable for some uses. But it could never step back and look at it with satisfaction and think “Wow, i like that”.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Not just taking pictures
To be clear, I am only talking about photography intended to be art. What is often called fine art photography. There are other kinds.
I guess that most of the photographic images captured daily are taken by machines. Try to picture the vast amount of automatically captured imagery. Police surveillance cameras on every corner, speed cameras, security cameras on every business and house, dash cams, body cams, Google Street View captures. More than we can probably imagine.
There must be millions of hours of video and millions of still images captured by robots every day. However, none of those robots are emotionally attached to the images. The machines did not feel excitement or sadness or awe when they “looked” at any of the frames. They did not feel anything. And the machines did not take the images with the goal of causing happiness or warmth or longing or any other emotion in human viewers.
Those automatically captured images are not art, and they are not for humans, really. Some may be used by humans for a particular purpose, but none of it is printed and framed and hung on their wall to be called art.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
First, live life
Before we are artists, we are humans. In life we experience joy and success and sadness and loss. We grow from these experiences. Our values and life views develop. It gives us a point of view. Sharing this point of view is called art.
Don’t photograph just to be technically perfect. That is shallow and dead. Photography is a beautifully technical craft. Technical skill is required to make an interesting image, but it does not by itself make an image great. Machines can do technical perfection.
Don’t photograph to “make art”. That is a false goal. Photography is a perfectly valid art form. However, if we don’t have anything to say, we will say that. Make images that are art because you are an artist and have feelings or a view that you want to share with your viewers.
Photography that is art comes from life. Living and experiencing is something only a human can do. Don’t give up your humanity to machines or algorithms. Live the life only you can live. Be who only you can be. Let it come through in your images.
It’s not about metrics or hits or any other numbers. It is about you seeing and expressing something and being able to help other people to see and feel it too.
Postscript
Steven Levy of Wired Magazine recently gave the Commencement talk at Temple University. A topic on graduates minds is will they lose their jobs to AI. Steven addressed this and had what I consider an insightful observation.
In his conclusion he said “The lords of AI are spending hundreds of billions of dollars to make their models think LIKE accomplished humans. You have just spent four years at Temple University learning to think AS accomplished humans. The difference is immeasurable.”
You are a human. Art is a human activity. Only you can make art.
April 30, 2025
Choose Your Style
Many photographers wonder if they have a style, especially if they are fairly new to the game. Do you ever look at the wonderful work other photographers are publishing and think it would best to choose your style to be like them? Don’t.
What is considered a style?
There is no hard and fast rule that defines what a “style” is. To some, it is the type of subjects you shoot. That is, they see little or no difference between style and genre. Here is another list, longer almost to the point of being absurd, but still talking mostly about what the subject is.
Others refer to photographic style as the effects you use to make your final picture. Our phones have an abundance of them. You can find many sets of “styles” available to purchase for use in LIghtroom Classic or Photoshop. They are mostly shortcuts for making your picture look a lot like another artist’s work.
More advanced authors extend the concept to include not only what you shoot, but how you shoot it..This is starting to get to the point.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
My view
When you look at some famous photographer’s work, can you make a good guess who made the image? That is because they have an established and recognizable style.
In my view, style is not as much about what you shoot as it is about what the final image looks like. This final image is not only a function of what the subject is and how you “treat” it to get the look you want, but how you were thinking about it, and the lens you choose and how you frame and compose and expose it. In other words, your own viewpoint on it.
You have a point of view, the way you see the world around you that is different from anyone else. This determines your style. It comes naturally.
That is why, when you see a print of a grand landscape with superb detail and the blue sky printed almost to black, there is a good chance that is Ansel Adams. When you see another black & white image, but blurred in a long time exposure and overall very dark, it may well be a Cole Thompson. Those things are not certain, but they have a defined style.
Can you copy one?
One of the ways we learn is to copy. It is instructive, and can be fun, to try on the style of famous artists to see if it “fits” us. We may find bits and pieces that we adopt.
But most of the time we will decide soon that that was instructive, but I’m done with it. Maybe we’ll go off to copy someone else for a while.
Ask yourself why you are copying someone else’s style. Is it because you admire their work and want to explore it in more depth? Are you really searching and trying to figure out what your style is? Is it because one is “popular” and you think it will help you to sell more?
I can’t question your motives, but I can predict that you will eventually give up trying to copy a style and settle down to doing your own work. It is hard to just copy. You are faking it. Besides, in a new situation, how would you copy someone if you haven’t seen any similar work they have done?
©Ed Schlotzhauer
How do you develop yours?
In most cases, you don’t. What you do is shoot a lot. Cartier-Bresson said your first 10,000 photos are the worst. I think one of the things he was telling us is that we have to experiment a lot to find out who we are.
Yes, we can copy other people’s styles to see if we can learn anything from them. If we are lucky, we might have good mentor to give us honest feedback. But ultimately, it is up to each of us to figure out who we are as artists.
I believe a style is something we look back on and discover. It is not something we plan to get to someday.
Look in your image catalog
How do we know if we have a style and understand what it is? A good start is examining your image catalog. I am using Lightroom terminology, but it applies to whatever sorting and filing system you use.
I assume you have a system for grading your images. You know which you consider your best. Have you put together portfolios? Small collections of your very best work organized by subject or project or location, for instance. If not, pick out, say, your 50 best images. Be brutal. This is important and you do not have to show them to anyone else.
Now go through them carefully and examine them from the point of view of what they can tell you about your artistic likes and beliefs. Are most of them landscapes? Are they predominantly square cropped or black & white or low key? Can you see that your favorite pictures are typically shot with a certain lens?
What about the subject matter? Are your favorites more likely to be a rusty truck than a portrait? Do you favor highly detailed or very simple? Sharp or intentional camera movement (ICM)? Travel locations or mostly close to home?
There are too many questions to enumerate. The idea is to look at this body of work and figure out who you are as an artist. This is you. This is your style. It certainly does not mean this is all you can do. It is just what you naturally gravitate to.
Now you can stop trying to be someone else and concentrate on developing yourself.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Be who you are
This is a very enlightening exercise. You will probably come away thinking “wow, I have a style!” It can be very hard for us to think about and accept our style. That is just something that other people have. People who are real artists.
But yes, you do have a style. It is unique to you, so there is no need to try to copy someone else’s. Your point of view and values will come through in your images, if you are being honest with yourself.
Here is a recent personal example. I was watching a video by a photographer talking about his style. It wasn’t very interesting to me and I was about to turn it off when he said something that caught me. He said he understands his style to be very simple. He is a portrait photographer and he uses simple lighting, plain backgrounds, and basic head shot poses.
That lit up something in me. I hadn’t considered something like simplicity a dimension of style.
I did the exercise I recommended above and saw clearly for the first time that I like complexity, detail, extremes of color and contrast and action. That is a common thread through many of my favorite images.
What does it mean? Nothing in itself. It is just some insight on my work. But I understand myself a little better now. I will be less surprised when I see I am being drawn to these.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Choose your style
I started with the notion of whether or not we should choose our style. I hope I have established that you don’t really choose your style. Your style chooses you. You can imitate someone else’s style for a while for the education and experience, but ultimately we find ourselves drawn back to what comes naturally to us.
Don’t fight it. Don’t worry about it. Relax. Be yourself.
But to be yourself, you have to continually learn and practice and improve. It is a lifelong quest.
March 12, 2025
It’s Just a Camera
That piece of technology we use to make images, it’s just a camera. Not magic or sentient or automatic. It still needs someone to take the picture.
Brushes
I really like my camera. It is a good tool to use to make images I like. When I’m in the field, my camera is the vehicle for my creative expression.
Have you ever had someone look at one of your pictures and say “Wow, you must have a great camera”? Or see you taking pictures and say “You must be a professional, since you have a big camera.” I have. Many times. Now, I basically just smile and go on.
But if you see a painting hanging in a gallery, who looks for the artist and tells them “Man, those must be some great brushes you have.” Or, seeing a nice wood carving, tell the sculptor “you must have some really sharp chisels”.
The public has a tendency to attribute a good photograph to the camera more than to the photographer. Being a piece of technology, somehow there is the implication that the camera somehow made the picture.
As artists, we should not encourage this attitude.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
A box
At it’s most basic, a camera is a box that keeps out light. The name comes from “camera obscura”, which was a dark space, often a room, with a small opening to let in light. This caused an inverted and reversed image to be projected on the back wall. It is believed this technique has been used since 500 BC.
The first “modern” cameras were wooden boxes that had a lens on one end and a holder for coated glass plates on the other. This is how many great historical photographs were exposed.
They have certainly become much more sophisticated now, with auto focus, camera shake compensation, exposure measurement, ability to automatically set exposure parameters, etc. Too much to list. The user manual for my Nikon Z7 II is 823 pages. Astounding, but it still doesn’t take the pictures. At it’s most basic, it is still a closed box to keep light off the sensor until time to record the image.
I appreciate many of the features in modern cameras. They make my art easier and extend the range I can operate in. It is great to have our little “dark spaces” getting smaller all the time. Even to becoming little flat things we can put in our pocket (phone).
I fear there will come a point where we will face some major decisions.
It’s still a tool
Right now our cameras and phones have amazing capabilities. Some of them are just basic technological advances. Some are deemed “AI”. Many of the best features are appearing first in our phones.
The ability to “sweep” our phone across a scene and have it automatically stitch together a panorama is very useful. Face detection is common now and can be useful for some types of work. An interesting feature I have seen is where, when taking a group shot, some cameras actually take many images and pick out and merge together the “best” look for everyone. At least, ones when they are smiling and their eyes are open.
Features like these make shooting pictures less technical and less stressful. Anyone can get “professional” level results. That is probably a good thing. It is an aid.©Ed Schlotzhauer
A coming “revolution”
There are still some of us who want to make the artistic decisions ourselves. Even if it is difficult and requires lots of training. Even if we make mistakes and bad choices. Those don’t matter. It is our art, our decisions, our responsibility. The technology is likely to get a lot more intrusive.
Probably right now most major camera manufacturers and all phone makers have teams of smart people trying to go all in with AI. People who actually believe in it and confidently think AI actually is or will become intelligent. Some who actually think AI can do art.
I can imagine one of the user stories they are working from: “(Camera speaking) Attach the 24-70 lens. It is best for this shot. Move me 34.7 inches left and lower me 9.3 inches. I detect a glare. Attach the lens hood. Place the subject at the Rule of Thirds point I am illuminating in the viewfinder. I will shoot it now and remove the non-subject person traversing the frame. I am also correcting the 3° tilt to the right and the overall color. Done. “
To me, this is a dystopian scene. I do not want to relinquish my artistic vision to anything, especially a machine. I am very willing to use smart tools to assist my work. In-camera features like eye identification and focus tracking can be very handy. On the computer, making it easier to make selections or to remove distractions is useful. But I do not plan to give control over to the camera to make it’s own decisions
Plasticity.
In The Interior Landscape, Guy Tal states
For any medium to be useful to an artist, it must allow a generous degree of plasticity. It must lend itself readily to subjective expression of concepts and feelings originating in the artist’s mind and not just those inherent in or commonly associated with the subject.
Mr. Tal was not referring to AI here, but I believe it applies. An AI controlled camera could probably expose images that would be regarded by most consumers as pleasing. The pictures would be a faithful and well exposed depiction of the subject. Most users would be happy. Unfortunately, the AI could not know the subjective expressions that are in my mind. It cannot know my vision and intent.
Again in The Interior Landscape, Guy Tal states
There are well-established compositional templates knows to impress viewers, requiring only mechanical skills but no expressive intent. Art raises the bar. Art requires from the artist a degree of emotional investment and an elevated subjective experience, as well as the skill to express visual concepts beyond “here’s something pretty,” “look where I’ve been,” or”see how lucky I was”.
I resonate with this concept of plasticity. It gives structure to my desire to create images that are not simply representations of what is there. I want to use the camera and other parts of the technology of photography simply as tools to help me capture what I visualize and feel.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Make art
You might get the impression that I am not a fan of AI. Well, I definitely am not a true believer. It could be a useful tool for some things. One of the big problems is that most people do not understand its limitations, so they believe it is something it is not.
By it’s nature, AI cannot be creative. It is a compendium of what it has been trained on. The output of AI is a statistical prediction of a response given an input. So, at best, it is an average of what it has been given. It cannot think or feel or have inspiration.
I am a human. I do think, get depressed, find inspiration, feel love, and see things in my own quirky way. If those are faults compared to AI, then I readily admit to being deeply flawed. But from those flaws, and all the other strange bits of my makeup, I can create art. Because my art comes from my unique human understanding and viewpoint.
I like my camera. It is a great tool. I have actually read most of the user manual in order to know what features it has and to pick which I choose to use. The reality is that I probably only use, I would guess, less than 20% of its capabilities. That’s OK. It’s a tool, not the center of my attention.
I know that designs have gotten so good that camera manufacturers are up against boundaries of physics. It is easier to add value through new “intelligent” tricks than to expand resolution or dynamic range or reduce noise. AI is a hype magnet and a path of least resistance. I get it.
Who/What is in charge?
But if the next camera I select is bloated with AI features and the price is double because of that, I will pass. I can even envision them wanting me to pay a monthly subscription to use the features in my new camera. If these things happen, my next camera is likely to be an older, used camera with less features but better raw performance and easier manual operation. Yeah, I’m an old curmudgeon. I get to be. I’m the artist in charge.
The camera does not make images. The artist does. It will continue that way for me as long as I have something to say about it. And I do. 🙂
So modern cameras are wonderful tools. I would love to have a new one. But are you an artist or just someone who takes pictures? If you are an artist, do not forget that the camera is basically just a dark box that holds the lens and sensor in the right positions. It is an instrument allowing us to create art. The artistic intelligence is in you. Do not surrender your artistic vision to a machine.
Photography is based on technology more than most other arts. That does not mean the technology makes the art.
“The equipment of Alfred Stieglitz or Edward Weston represents less in cost and variety than many an amateur ‘can barely get along with.’ Their magnificent photographs were made with intelligence and sympathy – not with merely the machines.”
Ansel Adams
February 12, 2025