Ed Schlotzhauer

An artists journey

Tag: fine art photography

  • I’m Not Good Enough

    I’m Not Good Enough

    This is the message you will hear from the world around you when you do something, especially if it is something new. You’re not good enough; you don’t have the credentials; you don’t have enough years of experience; other people are better; give it up.

    You can choose to listen to them and do nothing or you can listen to that voice inside of you that is whispering “I don’t care what you say, you’re wrong; I can do it.”

    My friend Cole Thompson’s recent newsletter had this quote from Georgia O’Keeffe: “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.”

    Brave, Georgia! I wish I could claim to really behave that way. But criticism still hurts. Rejection still hurts. Being looked down on by the “elite” still hurts.

    Ed Morris’ newsletter recently had a link to a commencement speech Denzel Washington gave at the Univ. of Pennsylvania. He talked about pushing on through failure. It was inspiring. I especially liked the part about when he won a Tony award on the same stage he was rejected from 30 years before.

    I’m finding that rejection is something you learn to expect and deal with. OK, I was rejected. I didn’t die. None of my loved ones died. The “authorities” did not come confiscate my camera and files. As a matter of fact, nothing bad happened, except for the rejection. I can live with that. Like exercising a muscle, you get better at it over time even though it is painful in the process.

    The real challenge is for me to decide if I am a failure or not. No. I’m not willing to accept the label and slink away. I believe in my capabilities. I believe my artistic vision is unique and is worthwhile to show to other people. I want the world to see through my eyes, see my view of our surroundings. The old quote “those who can, do; those who can’t become critics” is becoming much more meaningful to me. If someone is critical of my work I try to examine to see if there is validity in what they say, but my first reaction is to think, yeah, show me your work that is so much better. OK, I’m flawed. But everyone has their own biases and preferences. Being critical of art usually means it does not fit that person’s preferences.

    I am coming to accept that putting yourself forward in any way invites rejection and criticism. Brene Brown says ““Courage is a heart word. The root of the word courage is cor—the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage meant ‘To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.’” That is what I am trying to do with my art. I don’t like disclosing a lot about myself, but that’s what my art does. There is nothing I can do to prevent people from rejecting it or being critical. This is what is in me and I have to speak out. I have no choice.

  • The Magic of the Frame

    The Magic of the Frame

    The Frame. Almost all 2D art exists in it and benefits from its constraints. The frame is the reality where an image gets made.

    The frame is just the edge: the edge of the canvas or the print or the sensor or the crop. It is the region within which the image is composed. Some have said that composition is simply placing elements in relation to the frame.

    Why is this important? The frame defines the world. The whole world of the image exists within the frame. Nothing outside of the frame exists except in the imagination of the viewer.

    This gets to one of the distinctions between painting and photography. If I am painting I start with a blank canvas and carefully place each element on it as a deliberate design decision. When I photograph I also start with a “blank canvas” in the sense that there is no information on the sensor or film until it is exposed to light. But when I expose an image everything the lens sees is immediately written on the medium. So one of the great challenges is to eliminate the unwanted. Photography is an exercise in keeping out the elements you don’t want. It is an understatement to say this can be tricky.

    Photographic composition is based on the same design principles that have been knows for hundreds of years: proximity, repetition, alignment, balance, color, contrast, light, etc. These are not unique to photography, they come from the psychology of human visual perception. Photographers have the task of deciding how to frame their subject to create an interesting composition that includes only the elements necessary to support the intent. The points, lines, curves, shapes, and other elements in an image change their perceived relationships as they interact with each other and the frame.

    Seeing a fine art photographer work can seem like a dance. They move, they get low, they get higher, they get nearer or farther from the subject, they circle the subject. All this to get the best balance of composition, light, and the elimination of distraction. It can seem random, but they are working the scene within the frame. They are incrementally improving the image, maybe through a series of many frames to explore variations until it is optimum.

    The image evolves within the frame. The frame is always there to bound its world. It always defines the composition by the relationship of elements to and within the frame. The frame is a fundamental constraint on 2D artwork, and that makes it it a powerful design tool. Embrace the frame. Use it to make better art.

  • Who Says?

    Who Says?

    Who are the arbiters of quality and worth in art? How did they become the gatekeepers? Why do people follow what they say? Or do they?

    Art is intensely subjective and personal. Anyone in the role of a critic can only be speaking from the viewpoint of their own likes and dislikes. Who cares? They are welcome to their opinion, but their opinion does not determine whether or not the works an artist creates are “good art”. It does not matter what their education or credentials are, they were not granted a license to be a gatekeeper. But it is a role that many want to play.

    In his excellent short book “A Beautiful Anarchy“, David duChemin has a great chapter entitle “Winning at Yoga”. He makes the point that, although humans are very competitive, that isn’t necessarily beneficial when it comes to art (or love or …). The very notion of art competitions seems as out of place as competitive yoga. If you practice yoga you are only “competing” against yourself. Likewise an artist cannot compare himself to any other standard other than his own vision and capability.

    An artist can create to win a competition or he can create to satisfy his inner vision. The first may lead to some recognition in the short term. Longer term he will probably realize that that is not his art, it is just a work product. Which is important to you depends on your values and situation. After being in that place, I have chosen to create for myself even if it does not get recognition.

    What about the gatekeepers? They can serve a valuable role, but recognize they can only tend their own garden. A gallery or a designer chooses art that generally satisfies their own opinions and values. If you find one who has curated work that you like, too, then use them. They have gone through a lot of work to sift and filter their selections. That is value. But remember, this person cannot really say what is good or bad, only what they value.

    I’m an artist. That means I have to let my creations loose into the world. Not everybody will like them. Maybe nobody will like them. They are free to criticize my work from their point of view of perfection or artistic merit. That is part of the game. I have to be able to thank them for their opinion and try to find something to learn from it. The important thing for me is whether or not I like the work and am I growing in the direction that feels right to me. I cannot let gatekeepers determine that for me. I will not settle for living someone else’s opinion of what my life should be.

  • Does DPI Matter?

    Does DPI Matter?

    People sometimes get hung up on DPI like it really matters. It doesn’t, at least not in the way you may think. The number of pixels matters. The scaled resolution of an image to print matters. DPI is just a setting and an indication of when scaling is required. Where I’m really going is to say an artist must be a craftsman with his tools and technology.

    I get information from people all the time requiring image previews at a certain DPI. One client even required images at 72 DPI stating that it was for my protection – implying that a lower DPI image wouldn’t be copied or stolen.

    The number of pixels is what is important. DPI is just a setting. You get it by taking the dimension of the image in an axis and dividing it by the desired print length of the axis. So if I had an image that was 3000×3000 pixels and I wanted to make a 10×10 inch print, 3000 / 10 gives 300 DPI. This is a good resolution for printing. I know from looking at the DPI that no additional scaling or interpolation needs to be done.

    But what if I wanted to print that same image at 30×30 inches? In this case the DPI would be 100. I know that is too low. To print it well I should scale and interpolate it to at least 240 DPI. This is simple to do in Photoshop and Lightroom and various other tools are available to do it. So the DPI is really only useful as a metric to the person making a print or for a designer creating a layout. How did I know 100 DPI was too low? I have to know that. That is where I’m going.

    What’s the use of even bringing it up then? Well, I believe it shows a certain lack of rigor or even understanding by the people using the digital products. Too many artists say “I’m not technical. I just do things by feel.” That is too simplistic in the digital world. It is great to say you’re more interested in the artistic outcome than the technology. I agree with that. But pixels and sensors and lenses are the tools and resources we work with to create. An artist has to be a craftsman who knows his tools well. He has to know when and how to scale a collection of pixels to create an excellent print. He has to know when and how to sharpen an image to make it look great without introducing artifacts of over sharpening. He has to know how to do black & white conversions. He has to know how to do color corrections and tone mapping to achieve the look he wants. These things are specific technical skills and require knowledge of what is being done and why.

    I’m not saying an artist or craftsman must use the latest, best, most expensive tools. No, use the tools that you’re comfortable with and that work for you. But master them. Whatever your tools, you should be an excellent craftsman with them.

  • Fail With Style

    Fail With Style

    Failing. We hate the thought of it. We often don’t do new creative things because we’re afraid of failing.

    If you’re going to be a creative, though, failure can’t be avoided. As a matter of fact, it shouldn’t entirely be avoided. When you try something new or when you want to develop a new technique, you’re not likely to get it “right” the first time. You fail. But in that fail you learn something. The next time you still may fail, but maybe now you can see the beginning of a new direction you wanted to explore. Several failures may be required to get all the bad ideas out and determine what you really wanted to do. That’s OK.

    You don’t, generally, need to share all of your failures with your audience. I don’t agree with the philosophy of throwing everything you do out on social media for comment. Maybe that works for some people, but I am a more private person. You only see my images that I want to share.

    That could be a small set of them! I will usually show less than 10% of the images I take. And when I am experimenting on new abstract techniques, you may see much less than that. So maybe overall only about 1-5% of my images are for public viewing.

    That huge percentage of ones I’m sitting on won’t all be failures. Many may be variations of an image that don’t make the grade. But there are also some spectacular failures. Sometimes I have to say “what was I thinking?” Sometimes I have to say “that didn’t work and I don’t think it ever will”. But sometimes there’s the “that’s not very good, but I like the idea. I will look for opportunities to explore that space more.” Those are wins, not failures. They’re exciting; they lead me in a new direction.

    Michael Jordan said “I can accept failure, but I can’t accept not trying.” Good words. Failure hurts and it may be embarrassing. The little voice in us that tries to keep us out of trouble tells us to never do that again. But if you don’t take the chance of failing, you will never advance your skill or do anything new. I believe you cannot advance as an artist unless you are willing to accept failure.

    So expect failure. You can’t avoid it. Failure can be a sign that you are growing. Fail big; fail little; but pick yourself up, learn what you can from it, and start again even more motivated to create things that please you. Because you are the only audience that really matters.