Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Tag: fine art photography

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
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
Photography Isn’t Creative
Photography isn’t creative. I know, those are fighting words. Please put down the pitch forks for a few minutes and let me explain the distinction I see.
A medium
Photography is a medium, not something magic. Merriam Webster defines the aspect of “medium” I am referring to as “A means of effecting or conveying something; a mode of artistic expression or communication”.
I know artists who express their art by taking pictures, some who put paint of a canvas, some who sculpt, others who make fabric creations, some who write or create music or make videos. I have known some who build art from scrap metal, even some who cut out bits of paper and create designs on a wall with them, and one or two who dance. These are just some I know personally.
These artists all use a different medium for their creation. The medium sets parameters about what the resultant creation is: large, small, heavy, light, 2 dimensional, 3 dimensional, persistent or transient, etc. But the medium does not create the art. It is the mode through which the art is expressed
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Cameras don’t create
A camera is a tool of the photographer. Some people think photography is not art because you just point a camera at something and press the button and capture it. When you do this, you usually get pictures that look like you just pointed the camera at something and pushed the button. No life. No excitement. Not that much interest. A record of something, not art.
Luckily we have not gotten to the point that AI-equipped cameras try to make art all by themselves. It is still up to the photographer as artist to make the creative decisions.
These decisions are what shape most of the outcome.
Skill
Photography is a medium and a technology. As such, it has limits on what it can do. Some things can be done very well and some things are difficult or impossible. For instance, it is difficult to create 3D images photographically. Not impossible, but difficult.
Amazing things can be done by a craftsman wielding their tools expertly. As a photographic artist, we learn to think photographically, to internalize how to use the technology to create what we visualize. How to use our tools.
But what I am describing is a process of an artist using tools to create art. The tool does not create the art. It helps express the artist’s will.
A general flow for photography is establishing a concept, visualizing the intended result, capturing the image, and refining it on the computer. Which of those stages allow creativity?
Trick question. All of them.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
People create
A paintbrush does not create a great work of art. A chisel does not produce an amazing sculpture. And a camera does not produce an amazing, creative photograph.
It is the artist using the tool that receives the credit, because it is his creative vision that applies the tools skillfully to achieve his intent. Every artist or craftsman I know appreciates excellent tools and likes to use the best he can afford. The quality and precision of great tools makes the creative process more of a joy when you know how to use them well.
Same with photography. All the photographers I know love to talk about their tools. They long to have the highest quality cameras and lenses, the best computer and monitor. But they also recognize that these things are only tools. Good tools might make their work a little easier, but it doesn’t change their art.
But the tool does not do the creative work. Photographic technology is a medium. If we are using a camera we must understand the strengths and weaknesses of the medium. As creatives, we must know how to use the medium to achieve our goals. That is very different from just taking a picture.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
The medium isn’t the art
So the medium is the channel we use to create or deliver our art. Nothing more. It is a “means of effecting or conveying something.” What we convey is our artistic vision. How we use the properties of the medium is part of the creative process.
The way we express our vision may be different in a painting versus a photograph. We may have to choose the correct medium to achieve certain outcomes. You would have a challenge to express your music as a painting, for instance. Or maybe that would inspire you to push the medium of painting in new directions.
Note: AI isn’t people
An elephant in the room in conversations about art and creativity is AI. Let me go on record as saying, in my opinion, AI does not and cannot create art. It can make nice pictures that are very useful for advertising and utilitarian use. But it can never create, because computers can’t think, or feel, or appreciate art.
AI models are trained using data from existing work. This is a major ethical question being debated, but not the issue here.
Everything the model “knows” is work that has been done in the past. It will not be inspired to create something new. Inspiration requires a consciousness. Only humans are able to do that.
AI can be useful as a helper, just not as a creator.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Photographic art
Despite being maligned and excluded from the ‘inner circle” of fine art by established interests, photography continues to make inroads as a recognized art medium. Photographic artists continually push the limits of the medium and use those limits to inspire their creativity. Much of the creative discovery is at the limits of what can be done.
Photography is just a medium. As that, it is not creative in itself. But artists can product creative works using it. The medium influences the art. The art uses the medium.
Postscript
As I write this, it is the day of the 50th anniversary of the release of the movie Jaws. The story behind it is fascinating. I would like to share a few highlights I have found that are relevant to today’s topic.
Jaws was conceived as a low budget horror movie. It was given to an almost unknown director named Stephen Spielberg. But 2 unanticipated things happened that set it apart and allowed it to become one of the iconic movies of history.
First, Spielberg collaborated successfully with a relatively unknown music writer, Jon Williams. Many say half the impact of the movie was the famous theme song.
But of even more interest to me is that a huge factor in what the final product became was that the mechanical shark didn’t work. It was cheaply made. No one had thought to test it in salt water. Because it didn’t work reliably and he felt it looked pretty dumb, Spielberg showed it a lot less than they originally planned. Surprisingly, this resulted in greater drama and made the shark more menacing. Overall, the movie was a great success, partly because of a balky mechanical shark.
A great artist, creatively adapting to the limitations of his medium and budget, unexpectedly created something wonderful. Something that is still recognized as great 50 years later. Creative problem solving. That is inspiring.
July 2, 2025