Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Tag: art

  • Two Questions and a Problem

    Two Questions and a Problem

    I don’t like to get too deep into philosophy, but sometimes I step in it and get some on me. Lately I have pondered the question of what is good in art. A quote by Henry James brought up 2 questions and a problem that I can’t resolve.

    The quote

    Henry James was a well-known literary critic in the late 1800’s to the early 1900’s. Many people rightly disagreed with Henry James, but he was articulate and good at presenting and defending his points, and never at a loss for an opinion.

    Even though his work was in literary criticism, many of his comments seem to me to apply to visual art, too.

    Anyway, James once proposed what might be a template for art criticism. Paraphrased, it is “What is (the artist) trying to do? Does he do it? Was it worth it?”

    When I first read it, it seemed reasonable. But the more I considered it, the more I got sucked into a spiral of imponderables. I will be forced to reveal the shallowness of my philosophical thinking.

    Photographers stay out - except for me©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Author’s intent

    This first question is the artist’s intent. At first, it seems like it shouldn’t be a problem. We just need to decide what the artist wanted to create or achieve with the work. I often hear this given as a necessary step in analyzing art.

    But… how can we know? Unless the artist clearly stated their intentions, all we can do is speculate. Any criticism of the work would start with I think they were trying to do this, or I think their goal was to create that.

    Doesn’t that setup a framework of our own ideas that we evaluate the work against? That seems invalid and unfair to the artist.

    Some genres might be deduced with relative accuracy. We can look at some images and think that “that seems to be a traditional realistic landscape along the lines of Ansel Adams.” But it is still our interpretation of their intent. Therefore, it may or may not be right.

    And, on the other hand, is the artist required to justify each piece by thoroughly describing their intent? Without doing this, does it open them to criticism based on any criteria the viewer sets up? What about the artist who wants to leave such questions to the viewer? Are they sabotaging themselves?

    So, I’m already stuck on the first question and haven’t even gotten to the one I called a problem.

    Through a Screen©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Author’s success

    The second question embedded in James’ statement is whether the artist achieves his intent. To me, this still has the problem of not being addressable without knowing the answer to the first question. If we don’t clearly know what they are trying to do, can we say if they did it?

    We can criticize it for being out of focus, or what we consider to be an unbalanced composition, or poor lighting or exposure. But maybe the artist was making a satirical comment about postmodernism and the meaninglessness of meaning. Maybe what we criticized was exactly what they intended to do, and they successfully did it.

    Without understanding intent, can we do more than saying “I don’t like it” or “this doesn’t appear to be as well done as other images that seem similar”? Maybe both are true statements, but do they address the artist’s intent?

    There’s a big difference between saying “that didn’t succeed by my standards” and “that did not achieve what the author was trying to do”. One is judging it by my standards, the other is judging it by the author’s intent, which we may not know.

    Intentional Camera Movement©Ed Schlotzhauer

    The problem

    But then comes the problem for me. The part of the question that asks, “was it worth it?” Who can answer that?

    A Twentieth Century science fiction author named Theodore Sturgeon put forth what is known as Sturgeon’s Law. He said that “ninety percent of everything is crap”. These are words I have lived by, but my corollary to this is that Sturgeon was an optimist.

    I have become rather jaded in my view of art. It seems like a small percentage of the art I see, including photography, including mine, has any great inherent worth. Value is subjective. A Rolex watch has a high price tag, but low value to me. I don’t want one. I know people who value them highly and wear them. A personal value judgment that I can’t criticize.

    It is a joy to me when someone sees one of my pictures and values it enough to spend money to have it. It means that they want to hang it to see every day and it has worth to them. But that is a personal judgment based on their values. Did it mean that picture was worth it? Well, it was to them. Probably to me. But not necessarily to someone else. Worth seems a very subjective thing.

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

    What does it mean for me

    I guess my takeaway is that I’m not going to precisely and accurately figure out the value of other artist’s work and other people are not going to be the faithful judges of my work. So, I should stop being a critic and I should develop a thick skin against criticism from others.

    Should I have to write a detailed description of my intent and thought process behind a picture? I hope not. Most of the time I couldn’t give a very impressive explanation. I much prefer to leave it to my viewers to create their own story.

    I have developed a cynical view of theories and movements and lots of words poured out by people who talk but don’t do.

    If a critic or a juror or a gallerist or another artist gives me feedback, I should receive it gratefully as input and consider it, but not necessarily take it as a truth carved on stone that I must act on. It matters more to me if the image met my expectations. If it succeeded according to my intent. They did not know what was in my mind.

    I see a scene or I have an idea, and I make an image that represents the best of my ability. If it is a true representation of what I saw or felt or wanted to convey, and if it is a level of creativity and craftsmanship that I am proud of, that, to me, may be a good image. If it delights me, it is worth it. But not all images that meet my intent actually have lasting power. That is another discussion.

    I find that when I over-analyze my art or get too formal in making it, some of the life gets sucked out of it. Better results come from following my instincts and my feelings. Doing that leads to pictures that I can say are worth it.

    “What is the artist trying to do? Does he do it? Was it worth it?” The 2 questions and a problem I brought that I struggle with. I can only discuss them accurately about my own pictures.

    The deeper questions of criticism will have to be left to philosophers. I don’t know what makes good art. But I know what delights me.

    I decided to accept as true my own thinking. I have already settled it for myself, so flattery and criticism go down the same drain, and I am quite free.

    Georgia O’Keeffe

    The purpose of art is to inform and delight.

    Horace, 1st century AD

  • Loud Whispers

    Loud Whispers

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

    Attention

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

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

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

    Layers of grafitti©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Photography

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

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

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

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

    Sunset on the plains, two trees©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Impact

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

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

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

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

    Spreading oak branches.©Ed Schlotzhauer

    What stays

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

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

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

    That is like finding a buried treasure.

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

    Quiet

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

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

    Fence built of skis©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Out of the mainstream

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

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

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

  • Does the Image Find You?

    Does the Image Find You?

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

    It finds you

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

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

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

    Freshly filled wine bottles©Ed Schlotzhauer

    It doesn’t care

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

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

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

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

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

    Red barn, red truck©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Wisdom of Jay Maisel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Being receptive

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

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

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

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

    Dancing in the Rust©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Whichever, take it

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

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

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

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

  • Moments 2

    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.

    Lobster shack, Maine coast©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.

    Sailboat, healed over in the wind.©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

    Sunset with power lines©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.“

    Pinocchio?©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

    Fabric covered head©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.

  • No Learning Required

    No Learning Required

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

    The click bait

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

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

    But what if you could skip that?

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

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

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

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

    Decrepit railroad tie, no track.©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Secret knowledge

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

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

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

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

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

    Learning required?

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

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

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

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

    One tree leaning on another one©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Results or creativity?

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

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

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

    Are there shortcuts?

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

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

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

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

    Night landing at the airport©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Doesn’t AI do the work?

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

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

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

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

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

    Foggy night in the park©Ed Schlotzhauer

    Look back

    Sometimes looking back helps us look forward.

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

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

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

    Art is hard

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

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