Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Tag: creativity

Solitude
Solitude is a longed-for state for some, a fear for others. I am going to argue in favor of it, but maybe in a different sense than normal. I believe learning to embrace solitude is a component of fine art photography.
What do we think of?
I think most of us, when solitude is mentioned, picture being completely alone in a remote location. No connection with the outside world. No cell phone service.
How do you react to the thought of it? Does it sound like a welcome break from our too busy, demanding, normal life? Or is it terrifying to think of being cut off from human contact. To be cut off from the flow of events and the latest news.
Many of us have been so trained by our devices and social media that fear of missing out would paralyze us. I mentioned before that studies show that some people would intentionally inflict pain on themselves rather than be alone or bored for a few minutes.
So, to a great portion of people, even artists, the idea of solitude sounds like pain and suffering. Something to be avoided at all cost.
Is that how you feel?
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Why seek it?
Without talking about what solitude is, let’s talk about why we may want, or even need, it. Most of us live in a world of constant demands. We are over scheduled, always running to catch up. There is a constant bombardment of outside sources telling us what to think, where to go, what to buy, what to do.
This is the noise of modern life. It is as real and debilitating as the constant loud noise of a busy downtown.
In this environment, we are in a constant state of distraction. Our thoughts are not our own. From the demands of our soul-sucking job to having to run the kids around to their after-school activities to keeping up our image on social media to just constantly fighting to keep our place in the world, we are pulled in a thousand directions at once.
I’m told that a trend in startups is to adopt the “996” system. In that, you work 9am to 9pm 6 days a week. That is a scheduled and expected 72 hour work week. Hiring advertisements proudly list this as a “feature” of the company and plainly say that if you do not buy into this, don’t even apply. I hope you don’t buy in.
Our brains can’t thrive in such busy environments. We are organic beings, not machines. If you want to use your brain, you must care for it and strengthen it. A key to this is to give it time to rest, to build and maintain connections, to sort through its accumulated input and discard some and build the rest into memories and knowledge.
Solitude provides opportunity for this brain healing. Like a field that lies fallow in winter is renewed, so too our brain needs some down time.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
What else is it?
I have a photographer friend I have mentioned before who routinely does solo wilderness trips in the Colorado mountains. That has to be a form of extreme solitude. But I do not think that is the only way to achieve a goal of relaxing and refreshing.
Solitude is an attitude at least as much as it is being alone. With the right frame of mind, we can have solitude riding on a crowded bus surrounded by people glued to their cell phones. The key is, where is our mind. Are we thinking or are we letting some external entity think for us? Are we disengaged from the external demands and noise, or are letting that direct our mind?
Here is a similar example of what seems to me to be the same problem, but at the other extreme. We just got back from a trip to Switzerland. There were times hiking in the high Swiss alpine valleys that I would see someone walking along with their face stuck in a cell phone. They seemed almost oblivious to the incredible beauty around them.
Maybe I am judgmental, but it seems like they ignored an excellent opportunity to look and think and relax their mind. Instead, they chose the cold addiction of technology.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Not mindfulness
I advocate mindfulness in a lot of my writing. But solitude is somewhat different. It is important in different ways.
Mindfulness, as I use it in the context of photography, is being very aware. Being in the moment and attuned to what is happening around you. That lets us see things other people might miss. To perceive relationships that are non-obvious. By having all our spidey senses on alert, we do not miss opportunities. We might even find insights that others miss.
Solitude, on the other hand, is being in a quiet place, at least figuratively. Calming our mind and letting it rest and review and build connections. Letting our mind wander. This is critically important to learning and making meaning for us.
Learn to do it
As I said, solitude seems to be fearful for many people. It is so alien to our normal life that it seems wrong. But perhaps it is our normal life that is the mistake.
Start small. Do not suddenly go out into the wilderness on a solo trek. That would be like deciding you aren’t going to be a couch potato anymore and going out and trying to run a marathon the next day. Your body would let you know that that is not a good idea without the proper training.
Start with going for short walks “all by yourself”. No cell phone in your hand, no music playing. Just walk around the block. Give yourself permission to let your mind wander. No fair thinking about the projects you are working on or the concert you are going to next weekend. Try to make your mind blank and see what surfaces.
The first few times you try it, it probably won’t work. That is, you will think about work or what the market is doing or the political situation or what you will fix for dinner. That’s OK. It takes practice. Push through it. After a few times you will find your mind wandering to unexpected places. Things you didn’t think you would think about. That is very healthy. Your mind is learning to accept and use solitude.
Increase the length and frequency of your walks. Extend it to sometimes just sitting quietly at home with all your gadgets off. Just thinking.
Eventually we can learn to be happy and accepting alone. We are no longer dependent on the constant entertainment we were used to in the world. Now we have some time to think and dream and envision. Even just letting our mind wander is healthy.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
So what?
Why should you go to this trouble and learn the discipline of disconnecting from the world? It is healthy for you in several ways.
Solitude recharges our batteries. We connect with our heart and feelings. It helps us develop relationships with others and more understanding of ourself.
Solitude helps us develop our emotional resilience and independence. We re-develop the ability to think for ourselves. To be able to figure things out. We are better able to trust our judgment.
It also helps our creativity. We give ourselves the space to explore ideas and conceive of new possibilities.
The sound of silence is good for us. It helps reduce the toxic byproducts of the stress generated in us in our everyday life.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Solitude, them mindfulness
i am a proponent of mindfulness as an ingredient of becoming a more creative photographer and artist. But I am also coming to see that many people first need to develop the ability to give themselves solitude. That helps us be a stronger human being.
Solitude gives us the energy to be creative and independent. Mindfulness helps us look and see better. They work together, but solitude comes first.
I hope I have encouraged you to stop fearing being alone with yourself. Learn to embrace solitude. Practice until it becomes part of your creative life. It is well worth it. There is power in learning to be comfortable alone with yourself.
I hope it becomes a sought for, pleasant state. Not something to fear.
Post script
At a recent doctor visit, I thought I would be a hypocrite after writing this if I did not consciously practice it. So I sat in solitude for the 40 minutes I was waiting in the exam room. I didn’t read my book or open my iPad or phone or AirPods. At first my mind was swirling with thoughts about the procedure I was about to have and some other things that were bothering me. After a few minutes, I got control and just let my mind wander. It was healthy and the time passed quickly.
But then I realized that I do this almost every day. When I go out wandering and walking and photographing, that is a solitary session. For the 1 to 3 hours I seldom allow distractions and I do not open my phone or listen to music. Solitude.
September 3, 2025
That Didn’t Work
You had an idea. You tried for it, but the result must be considered a failure. If that didn’t work, what do you do? Does that mean you are a bad artist?
An idea
You get an idea of something you want to try. Call it an inspiration if you will. More likely it is an extension of what you have done before, maybe applied to a new subject or situation.
As an artist, most of our work begins with an idea. As a photographer, we than follow up the idea with trying to realize it as an image. Maybe several, working different positions, lenses, shutter speeds, etc. to try to optimize the resultant image.
If you are very experienced with your craft, you might be able to visualize fairly accurately what the result will be. But no matter how experienced you are, you will get surprises. Surprises can be fun and a great creativity boost.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Fail
But whether you blast away 100 frames or selectively shoot 1 frame of a scene, you will sometimes look at the result and say it was a fail. How we react to such a failure is very important. Your reaction could ultimately determine the level of success you have later.
I’m using the idea of failing, but what does that mean? The definition will be different for each of us, but in general, I hope we can agree that it means the result does not meet our expectation. It does not necessarily mean the image is terrible or unusable, or even bad, but what we planned or pre-visualized did not happen.
At the risk of sounding like a cliché, this is a learning opportunity.©Ed Schlotzhauer
Permission to fail
Failure seems like a terrible fault to some of us. I am one of those in many things, but not in my photography. For my art, I have given myself not only permission to “fail”, but the expectation that I will and should. I have embraced failure as a healthy part of growing as an artist.
This was a big step for me. I discovered that the fact of failure was not the main problem. The larger problem was fear of failure.
How much are we held back in our art by fear of failure? Do we fear being humiliated? Or that people will dismiss us as an untalented lightweight? Do we believe we are somehow bad when a shot does not meet our expectation?
Here’s the reality: few people care about what we do. They are not sitting around thinking about us and they take little or no notice of our work. If they’re not fixated on it, why should we be?
We are our main audience. Our work succeeds or fails based on our own perception. All that matters is whether we get to a result we are happy with. Failures along the way should not matter.
Risk
Author Herman Melville once said, “It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation.” I believe the greater risk in our artistic life is to fail to be creative.
AI is constantly learning how to mimic all existing art. The only solution is to be different from what exists.
If we are repeating the same boring stuff that 99% of photographers do, what have we contributed to art or to ourselves? Chasing likes on social media is normalizing. That is, it brings us down to the average level of everyone else.
Theodore Roosevelt said: “It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed. In this life we get nothing save by effort.” If we are an artist, the risk is to not give it our full effort and not become what we can be. To let what is within us die because of fear of failure. That seems too great a fate to risk.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Learn, modify, try again
The sports legend Michael Jordan said “I’ve missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. 26 times I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.“
Unlike Michael Jordan, we don’t have millions of fans watching live as we fail. We can curate our work and select what gets presented to people to see. You won’t see my failures, unless I am trying to make a point.
Given that, why should we consider failure a problem? A failure is an experiment. We try something, we see the result, and we like it, or we don’t. Either way we can learn something new and try again. But the reality is, we learn more from failing than from success. But only if we make the effort to figure out the cause.
So, when we’re shooting, we have an idea or a vision of what we want to achieve. We make the image. Later, we examine it closely on our computer. Sometimes the result is far from what we envisioned. That is a time to introspect. To determine what we did or didn’t do that made the result different from what we wanted. Maybe to ask if the result is better or worse than what we visualized.
These days, I find that less of my fails are because of exposure or composition problems. Most are concept-level issues. Ansel Adams said “There is nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.” Concept failures are harder to diagnose and correct, but they certainly keep me thinking more.
But whatever the cause of our failure, our goal should be to learn, modify, and try again.
Success is not final; failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.
Winston Churchill
Sketches
I consider most of my images to be sketches. Things that are helping me work toward an idea I haven’t fully envisioned. When I shot film, these experiments were expensive, and I tried to minimize the loss. Digital frames seem almost free. No problem to take several experimental tries.
So now we should be free to work a scene as much as seems valuable. But I seldom do it that way. My sketches are more tests to see if what I saw can become a good image. Perhaps it is a fault of mine, but I spend little effort making many slight variations of a scene.
I don’t like doing comparison tests of 12 different views of a scene to try to figure out which is best. If I come up with 4 that are equally good, how do I decide a “best”? When I find myself in this situation, I often conclude I am not really applying much creativity to the image. I seem to be optimizing for technical concerns.
A possible exception is shooting intentional camera motion (ICM) images. Each frame could be considered a failure from a purist technical perspective – blurry, motion, no sharp subject. These are fun because it is an abstraction technique, and each frame is unique. For these, I may do a few variations on a scene, trying different motion techniques. You never know exactly what the outcome will be. There are occasional happy surprises.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Discoveries
When we allow ourselves permission to fail, we sometimes discover that we have stumbled onto something entirely new. We see a glimpse of a new creative statement starting to form.
This is a different form of courage in the face of failure. The recognition that yes, we failed in what we tried, but it opened a new insight on our world. The first emergence of this new idea is probably crude. It seems like a failure. But as we reflect on why we are drawn to it, why we do not immediately delete it, it may give new insight to change our viewpoint and try to perfect it.
This is one of those rare and exciting moments when we get a tingling in our spine and we perk up and wonder what just happened here? That is a cue that we are about to step outside our comfort zone. It is dangerous for an artist to be too comfortable for too long.
That is creativity. Sometimes creativity is based on recognizing that what I did didn’t work, but I now see a glimpse of something better. Being an artist is a process, not a destination. Failure can be an opportunity to advance ourselves to a better state. Analyze it, experiment, modify, try again to see if you are going in a good direction.
Sometimes, finding “that didn’t work” could mean we are on the brink of an exciting new step in our art.
August 20, 2025
Permission to Be an Artist
There is only one thing stopping us from being an artist. We need to give ourselves permission to call ourself an artist. No one else has the authority to do it.
Who regulates “art”?
Who regulates art? Maybe that seems like a silly question, but many of us are hesitant to call ourselves an artist because we have not been officially designated one by some standards board. We haven’t received our certificate.
I don’t know if it is good or bad, but that standards board does not exist. The certificate does not exist, and if it did, it would be meaningless.
Many people and organizations want us to think they are the keepers of the purity of the arts. But they only have authority as far as they can convince other people they have it.
The gatekeepers, whether they are large galleries, or internet influencers, or art schools, or even your local camera club, have no authority to control what is art and who gets to do it.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Who is keeping you from being an artist?
I believe many of us are afraid to consider ourselves an artist for fear that someone will come and say no, we are not qualified. We are afraid we would be publicly humiliated and denounced as not good enough. We did not pass the qualifications. By calling ourselves an artist, we might fear we are elevating ourself to a higher plateau.
Well, we are. But that is a good thing.
This is art, not brain surgery. We do not have to go to school for 12 years then do years of apprenticeship before going before a review board to grant us a license. I’m glad they train doctors like that, but it is not a good model for artists.
The best definition I can remember of art is that anything done as art, is art. So, if you intended that image to be art rather than just a selfie or record shot, then it is art. No one can say it is not.
That no way says that if you intended it to be art then it is great art. Its quality depends on many factors, including your skill and maturity. We learn and improve all our life.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Photographer or artist?
So, when someone asks you what you do, what is your answer? Are you an artist, or a photographer, or do you respond with something vague like, “oh, I like to take pictures”? How you answer and view yourself is your business. But what is keeping you from considering yourself an artist?
I recognize that if we announce ourselves as an artist, we are claiming greater mastery. We present our work and ourselves in a different light. In a different way. Those of us who are introverts get nervous about that. We do not seek attention,
The reality, as I see it, is that it is not about ego or skill level. If we believe we are doing art, we should confidently assert to the world around us that we are artists.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Prove it
Some people are born salesmen. They try to talk the talk without learning how to walk the walk. I do not think that is the case for you who read this. You understand that you must prove what you can do, who you are as an artist. And that is what we do with every image we show the world. It is just as important, if not more important, to prove it to ourselves.
How do we do that?
John Paul Caponigro said “Singular images prove your craft. A body of work proves your artistry.” I think there is wisdom in that.
When you go through your catalog critically, do you find images you would show anyone, anywhere without fear of ridicule? If you find a few, great. You are learning the craft and starting to produce interesting work.
Have you, or can you, put together one or more projects around a theme? A good project would have 10-20 excellent images showing cohesiveness and consistency. This demonstrates your ability to create a body of work.
A single great image may be luck. A good body of work proves you can repeat it. That you are can create regularly and to a consistently high level of quality.
This is certainly not the only way to prove your mastery, but it is a good way. Give it a try and you might surprise yourself.
If you have proved to yourself that you are an artist, do not be afraid to take the label for yourself. Say it proudly. You have given yourself permission. You are the only one who matters.
July 23, 2025
Confidence
I believe one of the things we develop as we mature as photographers is confidence. Not arrogance, but certainty in who we are and what we want to do.
Introvert
I’m an introvert. I suspect many of you are, too. Introversion seems to be strong in artists. After all, what we do is not really about social events or winning contests or getting to praise ourselves. If you seek those things, you are probably an extrovert and you do art for entirely different reasons than I do.
As an introvert, you wouldn’t think at first that confidence is one of the traits I would claim. But confidence comes from competence. We know we can do what we need to do. We know what we like and when we find it, we are confident we can deal with it well.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Arrogance
This is not arrogance. Arrogance gets into hubris and self-importance. Confidence is the simple assurance that I can do it. Now, the “it” may be different for different people. For me, it is that I know that when I see a scene I want, I can photograph it in a way that will make an image I will be proud of. That does not mean I know how to make that image well known and sought after in galleries. That is a whole different skill set.
But our confidence is arrogance if we believe we are too good to learn how to improve. We should always listen to criticism. And be our own worst critic. Learning and practicing and trying to improve are part of our life-long growth.
Confidence also lets me stay away from things I know I would not like or would be bad at. For example, if, for some strange reason, you came and asked me to shoot a wedding, I would turn you down. Even if the money is great, I know from experience that I would hate it. I do not enjoy the pressure of a bride’s expectations and performing to someone else’s shot list. And I really do not enjoy trying to pose people and make them seem like they’re having fun.
But if you want me for a second shooter to get candid shots, we might do a deal. I love shooting spontaneous moments, and I’m often pleased with the results. Studying people and anticipating a good moment is fun for me.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Not technical skill
The confidence I am talking about is not mainly in the technical side of photography. I have done photography for many years, and I am introspective enough to learn from my mistakes. Technical skill should be a given for a serious photographer.
You won’t find me “chimping” a lot, checking the back of the camera to see if I got the shot. I may check to verify I nailed the focus and placed moving elements in the right position or got the right blur if it is a slow shutter speed. But the technology of making a properly exposed image is rather straightforward.
I urge you to practice to the point where you are confident in your ability to get what you visualize. It makes me wonder when I hear photographers asking a workshop leader or another photographer what exposure they used. That is basic craftsmanship that we must put in the reps to learn.
Besides, our cameras do a wonderful job of helping us out. With great auto focus, including eye tracking, with powerful computers analyzing the overall exposure, even giving us real-time histograms, with constantly improving sensors with great dynamic range, it gets easier all the time. I remember when shooting film, there was always the fear of not exposing correctly. Now, with digital systems, our technical confidence should be high.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Vision
Our vision shapes our work, and it is unique to each of us. Confidence bolsters our creativity. We see connections and possibilities. Scenes are recognized intuitively as aligning with our vision. Our confidence encourages our creativity to express new insights, because we know we can do that new thing we have never tried.
We are self-assured to go for it, to stretch for that artistic vision just out of reach.
And even if we could not quite reach far enough this time, we know we did the right thing by trying and next time we will be even better equipped to succeed. Our confidence is built by failure, because each failure brings us closer to our goal.
We take in information, blend it in our brains, and a random spark ignites some sort of alchemy. Whole new things emerge. We’re almost spectators in the process. But confidence tells us what is happening, that we have seen it before, and we will go with it to see where it leads us. Confidently.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Independence
Despite its potential for good, more often social media is a force for conformity. When we are unsure of ourselves and rely on likes or comments for feedback on our worth, we are channeled to do work like everything else we see there.
The “same as everybody else” images get likes. But the fresh, possibly genre-bending new things are voted down. Until a well-known influencer picks it up and starts promoting it. Then, suddenly, everyone is doing it.
Our confidence in our own vision and ability should help us break out of this stifling cycle. If you’re out shooting with 10 other photographers and you see something they ignore, will you shoot it? I hope so. That is confidence in yourself.
Confidence helps give us independence. We do not have to follow what someone else thinks. We do not have to do work that is mostly like what an “authority” thinks is good.
It is a wonderful freedom to set our own standards and select our own subjects and treatments. This allows us to make the art we can bring to the world, not someone else’s.
Color outside the lines
So confidently color outside the lines. Or inside, if that is what you prefer. Or don’t do that paint-by-numbers sheet at all. Go find your own blank frame to fill in.
Outside, inside, saturated or black & white, tack sharp or blurred, rule of thirds or not, shoot at the golden hour or at noon. Find what you are called to do right now and confidently do it.
No one can tell you what you must like. No one can tell you what picture you must make. That should come solely from within you. Have confidence in yur vision and ability.
July 16, 2025
Shoot It Now
Shoot it now. If you see it and like it, shoot it. It may not be the same later. This moment is the most control you have.
Conditions change
The world about us is in constant motion and change. The light, the weather, what people are doing, how things are arranged, even our attitude. Things are different all the time. We must give ourselves permission to take advantage of what we find when it is there and right.
It is too easy to say: “that’s nice. I will plan to come back and shoot that scene when I have time.” But we’re not in control of events. When it is convenient for us, everything else may be wrong. My experience is, it likely will be so different that we will lose interest in it.
Or have you found conditions to change quickly, but you were able to take advantage of it? Maybe you were at a location you like, trying to make a good landscape. Except conditions were not helpful. Perhaps it was cloudy and rainy, and the mood was not what you hoped for. But you stayed there seeing what you could do, and, for a moment, the clouds broke. A golden sunbeam poured through and spotlighted the subject you wanted. It was magic.
The whole look and feel of the scene changed in a blink. And then it was gone in seconds. You had to shoot it right then, in those few seconds when conditions were optimum.
When we find a subject we like in conditions we like, we better shoot it right then. It may never be the same.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Nothing is permanent
When something has been there for a long time, it is easy to take the attitude that it will be there forever, so we can shoot it at our leisure or when conditions are spectacular.
Maybe. But maybe not. We do not control circumstances and other people’s decisions.
This image at the top of this article of the car on a roof is an example. I shot it at various angles and conditions for years. It was always there as an exercise to work on. Until one day it was gone. I didn’t pass by the location for a couple of days and next time, the car was no longer there. I can never shoot it again. All the future shots I had envisioned for finding certain weather or light are useless now. I have to be content with the ones I have, that I took the time and effort to shoot when I had the chance.
In the same way, that interesting railroad track fragment in the next picture was evocative to me and a metaphor for several ideas. But it does not exist anymore. It was removed
Another example, at the other extreme, last week we had a heavy rain – rare here. I walked a new trail the next day and there were a couple of places where dirt had washed across the path, making interesting patterns. That is something that interests me, so I shot a couple of frames and went on, intending to come back and work it some more after I thought about it. I only walked down, maybe, a half mile and came back, and a city worker was sweeping the path. Gone.
Shoot it now.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Now is the moment
A good picture is a dance of many conditions. If everything comes together ideally, we have a much better opportunity to get an image we want.
Likewise, when we have a mindful attitude and are open to seeing things, we often encounter things we did not deliberately go looking for. And when the conditions and our observation come together at the right time and place, we discover magic.
But those magical moments are transitory. Light changes, people move, trees are cut down, even building are torn down. Floods change things. Forest fires alter the landscape. Have you ever gone back to a spot you really liked after a couple of years and found it a condo development now?
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Gone forever
It’s like in a conversation where you had something important to say, but as you were waiting for the right opportunity, the direction changes and it would no longer be relevant. The opportunity was there, but you didn’t take it and now it is gone forever.
One of my heroes, Jay Maisel, said “Always shoot it now. It won’t be the same when you go back.” I have found this to be true too often.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
To be honest, I am a mindful explorer. I follow some of Jay’s other advice to “go out empty”. That is, I usually do not have specific shots in mind. Instead, I am mindful of interesting things I encounter as I wander. This may not be your style. I understand. Photography, like all art, is intensely personal.
But for me these days, I try to shoot it now. If possible and it’s not too disruptive, I stop to shoot it when I see something I feel is worthwhile. Apologizing for being late feels better than missing the shot. I have a lot of regrets of shots I didn’t stop to take when I had the chance.
That realization of the possible fleeting nature of our subjects drives me to act outside my comfort zone. My “what if” is engaged all the time.
July 9, 2025