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Context and meaning from the outside

After getting the heat cranked up in the studio, I got to start recording some podcast episodes. Damn, it was cool in here today. Now that it warmed up, we are digging into episode 606 of the Perceptive Photographer, where we are looking at the choices we make about what not to include in the frame. While we focus a lot on what we put in the frame, I am starting to wonder if what we leave out is more interesting.

Beyond the Frame

When I started in photography, I was focused on the frame. The composition, the point of view, the angle of view and such, but
composition isn’t random; we pick and choose what to include. What if what we don’t include tells us more about the photographer than what is in the frame?

What We Leave Out Changes the Story

In this context, what we exclude can alter the interpretation of an image. We actually rely on this and want viewers to fill in the blanks. This ambiguity provides curiosity and intrigue, or does it offer up a deception? For me, the more interesting question is: are we as the photographer even in on the deception?

Photographic Blind Spots

I know for a fact that I often do the same things over and over again. I have learned that these concepts work in my images. But these habits might actually become blind spots. I don’t see what I am doing, and what I am leaving out of the frame might be the very things I need to make a more meaningful image.

Expand the frame exercise.

Photograph a place you have photographed before, changing your position, perspective, composition (habitual actions), or framing. Go home, process them and then really spend some time comparing the image’s meaning. You might find that a simple change results in a completely different narrative.

Wrap it up already

Don’t just think about your photography as what you see and include in the frame, but also what you see that you don’t. It’s not only about what we photograph but also about what remains unseen. Maybe there is some mystery and storytelling that you can use when you open the story up a little.

Quotes from the end

I used to think I was the strangest person in the world, but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this, you know that, yes, it’s true I’m here, and I’m just as strange as you.
— Frida Kahlo8

You can look at a picture for a week and never think of it again. You can also look at a picture for a second and think of it all your life.

— Joan Miro

If I already have a vision, my work is almost done. The rest is just a technical problem.
— Hiroshi Sugimoto

What do you want me to look at and notice?

It is amazing how much this concept of audience, meaning and what an audience has to know about your work comes up. This podcast is a revisit of an oft-discussed topic in our episodes, but nonetheless, the conversation about what we should tell an audience about our work and what we shouldn’t keeps coming up for me again and again. 

So in this episode of the podcast, we return to look at what we should share and why we should share information about our work with our audience. I mean, I do get the point that some artist make that they don’t want to “taint” the audience into not having their own experience of the work. That idea comes with some big assumptions, like your audience has enough language to experience the work. So many times I hear photographers say that they like a photograph and can say no more than /i like it. It’s good. The reason for that feedback is that it is all they have in their language set to speak about an image. 

I feel that the more we can understand how to help the viewer see the work, the better. This can lead to a different set of questions and considerations that we should make as the photographer to help the viewer. Questions like: What is this? can offer a simple entry point to an image, but by asking more complex questions when we make the work, we might open the door to more meaning. 

Questions like:

• What do you want me to feel?
• What do you want me to consider?
• What are you asking me to do?

These types of more open-ended questions that go beyond what is just in the frame open up a deeper conversation between the viewer and the image. As I said, this isn’t a new topic on the podcast, but one that is always worth revisiting if you are interested in deeper connections with your work behind the camera, processing, printing and sharing the work. 

Also, don’t forget: if you are in Seattle, save the date for my lecture at the Photographic Center Northwest on November 5th—more details to come. 

Intro

Welcome to episode 604 of the Perceptive Photographer podcast. Before we jump into today’s topic, how long should your project take to finish? Just a couple of quick reminders. First, if you are in the Seattle area on November 5, make sure you save that date to come down and check out my lecture on landscape, meaning and identity at the Photographic Center Northwest. Also, if you are in the central Oregon area on October 17, I’ll be doing a one-day workshop with the Cascade Camera Club on workflow and editing in Lightroom. In the afternoon, I’ll help with image triage on the photos you bring in, focusing on editing and processing. Should be a lot of fun.

Today we’re talking about how long it should take to complete a project, which is a really interesting question. The short answer is it takes as long as it takes; however, a few things can impact our thoughts and approaches to working with projects.

Single Image or Projects

I think one of the first things that’s important is for you to decide if you’re working on single images or you’re actually working on a project. I think when we do single image photography, it’s fun. We enjoy it. It’s super interesting. But at some point, we realize we have a lot of the same sort of thing happening over and over again, and we think about how those images might relate. Thus, we start a project; even if we aren’t doing a project, we start one.

Clarity of Purpose

And I think as we start those projects, it’s important for us to consider the clarity of purpose around that project. Are we doing this for technical, artistic, narrative purposes? What do we need to do when the project’s done? What does it mean when we have work that we return to over and over again? Because the essence of a project is determined not by how much time it takes, but whether or not the project communicates what we want.

And as I mentioned in the podcast, sometimes what we end up with is a series of small projects that roll up into a larger project a project that might take a very short amount of time or a project that might take our entire life. There is no right length of time for a project. What there is is the right amount of time for us to get what we need out of a project. That might be something as simple as how the camera works or as complex as our identity as it evolves.

Conclusion

As I mentioned, in the beginning, it takes as long as it takes, but what matters is recognizing when a project is actually done, versus when we’re walking away because it’s hard, or that it probably never should’ve been a project at all.

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We are up to episode 603 of the Perceptive Photographer podcast, and this week we are going all meta meta on how to make projects.

Just a quick note before we jump into the actual meat and potatoes of the podcast show notes. Save November 5 if you’re in the Pacific Northwest area to pop by the Photographic Center Northwest for my lecture on the Landscape as Language and Identity. It should be an exciting evening and will be covering a lot of different photographic concepts.

For the podcast this week, as I said, we’re going a little meta. We’re talking about project ideas that help you come up with photo projects. It’s really just brainstorming ideas, but in my brainstorming I came up with meta meta as a title :). 

The goal of this week’s podcast is to help you feel more comfortable with your work when you’re feeling creatively stuck. At times, when we are working on our various projects, we can get tired, and that leads to running out of steam. At that point, it can be hard, even when looking at a bunch of photographs that we feel are somehow connected, to actually turn them into a project. So hopefully these five ideas can help jumpstart your process.

Personal experiences. I think if we look back over our life over the past year, there’s a lot of great stories to tell. We could tell a funny, happy, sad, or difficult story, but those experiences in life offer us a rich source of interesting ways to approach our photography. 

Combine unrelated things. When you find things that, in your mind, don’t seem related, put those words together and then see what comes up. This happened really well for me when I put the words photography and music together. For you, it might be something else; groups of things like family and architecture, food and memory, movement in nature and other pairs could be great for something unique to show up.

Contradictions. We’re looking for contradictions: two words that don’t seem to fit together, and then we photograph and explore what those might be.

Structures that exist with other narratives and storytelling formats. Looking at how stories are told, or projects are created in books, movies, poems, and plays, is a rich source of materials. Spend some time with one of these other forms and then figure out how to adopt some of that storytelling methodology into our own photography. It is also worth recognizing that every genre has a set of concepts and tropes that it uses for its storytelling and that we can apply those as well.

Hypotheticals Working with a list of what might be. Even if we don’t know how they might be possible, this should be just a fun brainstorming list of all the crazy things you can come up with. If you’re not getting very many crazy things, it’s cause you’re spending too much time trying to figure out how you might do something rather than just a list of what you might possibly do one day.

Hopefully this list of five things helps you jumpstart your crazy process when you’re feeling a little stuck on your Photographic projects, or they’re feeling a little stagnant and stale. Thanks so much for joining me this week, and we’ll see you next week on episode 604.

In this week’s episode, we’re gonna be talking a little bit about questions and asking the correct questions. Before we jump into the nuts and bolts of the week, just a couple of quick reminders: first, I’ve got a book club that’s running, so you can join that by clicking on the book club link from the workshops and classes section of my website. Also, save the date: November 5 for a lecture I’ll be presenting at the Photographic Center Northwest on ” Does a Landscape Speak, and How Do We Listen? It’ll be free to anyone who registers; it will be a great time.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been circling back on this question idea and asking the right questions with several of my workshops and conversations with friends. Each time, this notion of questions versus answers keeps rearing its head. And I’ve started to think really long and hard about the impact of asking the right question at the right time and how that makes us better photographers. I think too many times we ask the wrong question, get an answer and are just happy that we have an answer, and we move on. But so many times, if we ask the right question, we get access to that part of a project that we may not even be aware of the thing that sort of sits in our blind spot.

So today on the podcast, we’re going to dive a little bit into that notion of asking the right question and what that might mean for our creative process.

Hello, everyone! Thanks for joining me for episode 601 of The Perceptive Photographer. Before we jump into this week’s show notes, I want to take a moment to say thanks to every one who reached out with kind messages and emails during our milestone of 600 episode and to all of those of you who are listening all these years. Your support is awesome and really makes me appreciate the wonderful community around this podcast.

This week’s topic is again a smash up of a few random thoughts. The first is that recently I came across an insightful essay (they all are) by Guy Tall, where he discussed the time we dedicate to viewing others’ work verse the amount of time we wished people spent looking at our work. It really stuck with me and gave me pause about how our much of our attention we want on our work and how much we actually give to other photographers’ images. I reached out to several photographers I know, asking them to compare the time they want others to spend looking at their work with how much time they actually invest in appreciating others’ art. As usual, Guy was spot on. As I thought about it more and more, I don’t think many of us take the time to immerse ourselves in the depth of others’ work. If we did, we might learn more, connect more and might even foster a little more rapid growth and inspiration in our own work. I guess what I have been thinking is that if you’re looking to make better work, spend more time looking at other’s work. Writers read, movie people watch movies, photographers should look at photographs.

Once that thought ran through it picked up on a piece of wisdom my grandmother, mom and dad and other famous people often shared: “You can tell a lot about someone by the company they keep.” It got me thinking about who we spend time with photographically, and if we are I surrounding ourselves with photographers whose, conversations and critique inspires us or does it do the opposite? When I felt I wasn’t around the right influences and it showed in my work. Not always easy to fix and give up those “friends”, but it might be something we have to do for our own growth.

Finally that led me back to a good old topic of am I doing what I should be doing or what I am meant to do. The time spent on looking at work, the company we keep and what we should do can be good or it can be bad. If we find ourselves in a community that doesn’t help us with our goals, we can wonder off true path. Staying focused on what we are meant to do and not what we should do isn’t always easy but the right support goes a long way in helping.

Quick note if you are in the Seattle area and you’re looking for an fun experience the weekend of November 6th – 8th (2027) I invite you to join my workshop called “Landscape as Language” at the Photographic Center Northwest in Seattle! We’ll dive into how our landscape photographs are intertwined with our identities and the ways we connect to the environment around us. This master class promises to be a fantastic inquiry of how we communicate through our art, and I would love for you to be a part of it!

Thank you once again for tuning in and for being such a vital part of this journey. I can’t wait to jump into the mix with you all again in episode 602 next week.

Well, this marks a special episode of the podcast. Today we release our 600th episode of The Perceptive Photographer. I wanted to take a moment to say that it has been a blast to do that many, and at the same time it’s hard to grasp the significance of that number. That is roughly 11½ years of commitment to showing up every week. There are very few things in my life that last that long, so it is pretty cool to have a relationship with this podcast that is as consistent and reliable as it is. In looking back at the past 599 episodes, I feel the more fascinating part isn’t the number of episodes but rather what I’ve learned from the journey of consistently engaging with photography and creativity over such an extended period.

So as I look back over these past 600 weeks thinking solely about the impact of the podcast, I came up with some things that I have learned over the years that I wanted to share. First, I’ve realized that you don’t have to be inspired to create something worthwhile (or at least what I think is worthwhile 😀). There have been more than a few weeks where creativity felt like it was gone, and doubts crept in, but I really wanted to have that podcast every week no matter what. The inspiration was in the showing up. So, I’ve learned that true consistency lies in the willingness to pay attention, dig in and celebrate everything that is in your life that might inspire you, no matter how small, and to show up regardless of inspiration. Second, I’ve come to understand that questions are far more meaningful than answers. Sustaining this podcast has been driven by curiosity for what it means to try and be present for my photography even when I don’t pick up a camera at all. I find that by having to show up every week for my creative practice, I find myself constantly asking myself what I see and what is interesting that might make my photos better or the podcast topic list. Lastly, I’ve discovered that paying attention transforms more than just the photographs; it enriches every aspect of my life.

As we approach the end of this episode, it’s cool to think that 600 isn’t a finish line. There’s always more to explore, and next week, I’ll be digging into episode 601, and no, I have no idea what the topic is yet. Ha ha ha.

Finally, I want to say thanks for joining me on this podcast journey. I hope that for you it continues to inspire you to look, wonder, pay attention and make more meaningful photographs.

What makes something great in our work?

As I sit in the studio getting ready to record this podcast, I am finding the irony of the topic to really have a stinging bite to it. As I look across the studio, I see so many things that aren’t done, from putting away images recently returned from the gallery, to still lifes yet unfinished, to the buzz of the hard drive telling me that I haven’t finished the last of the organization of keywords and collections from my travels over the past 6 weeks. 

It has me wondering if getting things finished is the mark of a great artist.  I can’t count the number of conversations I have had with other photographers who, like me, don’t always finish what they start. There’s a certain weight that comes with those ongoing unfinished “projects”.  So in this week’s podcast, we’ll clean up, organize and finish a topic on our relationship with finishing our work. Before we jump in, this is episode 598 of the podcast, and I can’t believe that we are just two weeks away from episode 600 of the weekly episodes. Crazy to think that I have been doing this for 600 weeks. Finishing a podcast every week, I can finish, but that printed folio….I digress.

Let’s explore what happens when things remain unfinished. 

One of the biggest challenges that I think a lot of us face is when we realize that whatever we didn’t finish becomes just another line on our to-do list of things to finish. As this to-do list grows longer and longer, it can weigh heavily on our creative practice and make us think that we’re not able to successfully create anything at any time of any value. That is the trap of the unfinished; it creates in us a feeling that we aren’t able to accomplish what we set out to do on any given day.

What are things that don’t get finished?

One of the biggest challenges in figuring out the unfinished is that we often finish things that cost us all hours of the night to accomplish our goal, and other things slip by us. 

I think, if we are honest about it and sit down and make a list of the things we don’t finish, it might be somewhat depressing at first. However, in the long run, we might actually find that things we can let go of. You know, the parts of our creative practice that don’t really matter to us, but we are told they should matter to us. And like many things we should do and shouldn’t do, they don’t need to happen to keep us moving forward.

So, what are some of those unfinished projects we face? Everyone is a little different, but the biggest issue is likely the tasks we pursue endlessly with no real outcome. If we take an honest look at our uncompleted tasks, it may start off feeling a little daunting, but upon reflection, we often discover that some of these projects have no real significance anymore. Again, we feel pressured to finish, not because they genuinely resonate with us, but because we think they should. 

What would it look like if we did finish things?

One of the interesting aspects of thinking about this for a couple of weeks is realizing the value of having something finished, being able to take it off that to-do list, and marking it as done, for no other reason than getting to have it done. Back in my corporate job, it was a lot easier. I think that to finish things there, there were outside deadlines, outside expectations, people who wanted things done at a certain time, and to get them to be quiet and leave me alone, I would end up just doing it (ha ha), but now I’m working at my own pace, at my own speed. I find that it’s easier for me to get enamored with the new and to get frustrated by the old or what happens to me a lot; I walk out of the studio one day and come in the next and start something new for the day with no thought to yesterday. It’s easy to get discouraged when we think about things that we don’t finish, but in the long run, when we do start to make that shift, I think we end up in a much better place.

I think when we finish things, we end up feeling better. We have a sense of accomplishment; we feel like we’re taking steps forward. In many cases, we now have work. We can share, showcase or look at and say, “I have developed skills that matter, regardless of our ultimate decisions on how we finish.” In many cases, the ends are more important than the means. Like all journeys, we’re not sure which road we may be on, but we do know that once we reach our destination of having something successfully finished, things work out better.

So how do we get more finished?

This is one of the hardest things, I think, because for each of us, there’s something different that gets us to finish; each of us is motivated by different things and inspired by different things. Some of us are more apt to finish than others, but one of the important things I mentioned earlier is to go back to that initial to-do list of the things you wish you had finished, and this is where the important part comes in. We have to decide what is actually worth finishing. Working on a project that goes nowhere and offers no value isn’t something that needs to be finished. Often, we start things because we need to try things, learn things, experience and experiment. We don’t have to clean the plate if we don’t like the food. By letting those things go as needing to be finished, we make space and room for other things to happen, and I think for me that’s the big inside. Is it finished? Doesn’t necessarily mean completing it; it just means I’m ready to walk away from it with purpose and with intention, not because of some arbitrary reason of avoidance, insecurity, anger, or whatever else is brewing in me on that day.

For me, the big thing that helped was to grab a couple of highlighters on that list and mark off the ones that mattered, the ones I could let go, the ones that I could do quickly and the ones that would take a long time. Just having that structure helped make a big difference. I also think it allowed me to recognize that there are times and places where other priorities may show up. We can accept that. Now I don’t think that is reflected in that box of things that needed to be moved to the shed that’s been sitting by my studio door for four weeks. That probably could be moved to the studio around the corner in 30 seconds and no longer be on the unfinished list. Still, we have to know what those tasks are. We have to figure those things out. That’s part of our struggle.

So this week I would encourage you to spend a little bit of time thinking about your unfinished list and decide what matters to you and what doesn’t. I think the worst thing that could happen is you might free up some time and free up some headspace, and in the best case, you might find that there are a lot of things you could finish quickly and take a lot of pride in your work if you just gave yourself that last little bit of time to focus in and finish something amazing.

To sum it all up, finishing projects matters because they provide us with clarity, success, and ultimately, a deeper connection to our creative passion. Don’t shy away from what you have on your plate, even if you walk away.  Recognizing which pursuits resonate with you will illuminate the paths that truly inspire and excite you. 

The Sales Pitch

I was recently talking with a friend of mine who is an absolutely incredible salesperson. You can walk into his studio to bring him a cup of coffee, and within five minutes you’ll probably be discussing whether you need a painting or a sculpture. He is good at art, and he is good at selling his art.

And it got me thinking about how often photographers say, “I’m terrible at sales.” But like my friend, maybe we aren’t that bad. Maybe we’ve simply been thinking about the wrong kind of sales.

In this week’s podcast, episode 598, we’ll discuss the right way to think about sales and a sales pitch. Because every time we make a photograph, we are actually making a sales pitch. We are assessing whether what we are seeing, editing, processing, sharing, and printing is worth the cost. In this case, I think cost is equal to attention.
I know that some of you think the word sales is bad, and sales is one of those words that makes a lot of photographers uncomfortable. We often say we aren’t good at selling our work, talking about our photographs, or sharing what we create.

But here’s the thing: photographers are making sales pitches all the time.
We’re just usually selling the photograph to ourselves.

We buy our own products.

When you’re walking around with your camera, and something catches your attention, you begin a conversation with yourself: There’s something here. You look at the light, color, composition, moment or whatever. You move around. You might change lenses or wait and convince yourself that it is time to press the button.

That’s your first sales pitch to yourself. You sold the making of the photograph.

The second time you make a sales pitch to yourself is when you edit. Out of hundreds of photographs, how do we decide which ones deserve our time and attention? We’re asking again: Is this photograph worth working on? Is there something I can develop here? Again, making the sales pitch.

Now, I am not saying that we always get our sales pitches right. I mean, if you are like me, you have fallen for some bad sales pitches and bought some bad stuff over the years. The photos are no different, but rather than saying I was suckered on a bad deal, I call it useful feedback. 😀

Sharing is sales

The same thing happens when we share our work. WE are making the pitch again. This time we might consider an external audience, but we have to remember there’s a big difference between “I believe in this photograph, therefore I want to share it” and “People liked this photograph, therefore it must be good.” The first begins with our own conviction. The second gives that conviction to somebody else.

Printing is really a big sales pitch.

Printing takes the idea even further. When I commit a photograph to paper, I’m saying I believe enough in it to invest my time and materials.
The cost goes up. I have to really do a sales job when I am printing work to have it, or to sell it; the story, value proposition, evidence all have to point to something good, or I end up with a Midnight Home Shopping Network binge buy of a photo on my wall.

Wrapping it up

Ultimately, we’re not really selling photographs. We’re selling ourselves to our work. We’re deciding what is worth noticing, photographing, selecting, editing, processing, sharing, and printing. The goal isn’t to know which photographs are objectively good. It’s to become better at recognizing which photographs we believe in and when we push our creativity with a hard sell.

Thanks for listening, and I’ll see you in the next episode.

The Way We See: Topic Two is Attention

This week we dig into part two of our mini-series with a focus (pun intended) on attention. As photographers, we often find ourselves debating what essential gear we need in our camera bags. Is it the camera itself? A favorite lens? A sturdy tripod? While all of these pieces of equipment hold their own value, I would answer that way myself. In reality, I think one of the most important tools is our attention. Understanding this concept can explain not only your photography but also the way you experience everyday life.

We Photograph What We Notice

Have you ever noticed that you don’t photograph things that don’t catch your attention? Your photographs are essentially a record of what captures your attention. So, I ask you: what do your portfolio/images say about what you pay attention to? After all, we don’t often point our cameras at things that don’t interest us. But in that catch of attention comes the other side of the coin: the things we don’t notice. I feel that many times the things that we notice become more habit than anything else, and that for us to become better at our craft, we have to learn to shift our attention to the things we might not notice. Shadows over light, color shifts, texture shifts or whatever might be “outside” your comfort zone. 

Attention Is a Choice

In today’s world, our attention is constantly being divided. Phones and social media are a big part. Just yesterday on a walk with the dog, we almost got bumped into a half-dozen or so times by people just walking and looking at their phones. It’s no wonder that focusing has become a challenge. However, photography offers us an incredible opportunity to reclaim that attention. By practicing mindfulness, we can sharpen our focus and enhance our craft. Think about the difference between actively searching for photographs versus patiently waiting for them to reveal themselves. Often, when we search too hard, we overlook the moment right in front of us.

Revealing is also something that happens in processing and viewing photographs. We start to see deeper layers of content and meaning in the work by shifting our attention to what is there, what we can see, what we can learn and away from what we “already” know. 

The Camera Doesn’t Teach You to See

It’s important to remember that a camera is just a tool. It records images but doesn’t have the capacity to notice. That’swhere we come in. It’s our role to see relationships, light, emotion, timing, and storytelling within a scene. Photography is more than just a means to capture images; it’s about becoming someone who truly notices the world around them. The more we practice attention, the richer our experience of life becomes. Consider the beauty of morning light streaming through your kitchen window or the soothing rhythm of rain tapping against your roof. What about the fleeting expressions people make when they think no one is watching? These small moments, often overlooked, become treasures when we allow ourselves to see truly and then photograph.

Wrap it up! I gotta podcast to listen to. 

If your camera were to disappear tomorrow, would you still observe the world the same way? The essence of photography begins long before the shutter clicks. It starts with simply paying attention. We don’t photograph everything we see; we capture what we consciously choose to notice. The most important lesson photography teaches us isn’t merely how to snap better pictures—it’s about how to observe the world around us with greater awareness.

Attention isn’t just a skill for photographers; it’s a way of living.

A good photograph isn't just beautiful; it must evoke emotion, spark curiosity, or shift perspectives. Its value lies in impact and creativity, not just aesthetics. Each photo can be a stepping stone in a photographer's journey, guiding future work and questioning the nature of art rather than simply labeling it good or bad.

In episode 595 of the Perceptive Photographer, we discuss the importance of asking the right questions before taking a shot. Prioritizing technical aspects over emotion or storytelling can lead to disconnects in the final image. Balancing composition, technique, and narrative is key to creating meaningful photographs.

In episode 594 of The Perceptive Photographer, I take a deeper look at one of the most common pieces of creative advice: know your audience, and why I don't believe your audience is where your photography begins. Instead, I explore how your audience is made up of the people who recognize something of themselves in work that grows from your own curiosity, honesty, and craftsmanship not from chasing approval or trends.

This week we are talking critique and seeing. I think one of the most powerful ways to grow as a photographer, or any creative professional, is to invite critique from outside your own niche. A great photo editor can look at any set of photographs and know what makes good photography, reminding us that fresh eyes often see what we can’t. I also discuss how seeing isn't just behind the camera but an act that happens over and over again in our process.

This month, I'm starting a mini-podcast episode on silence in photography. What does silence look like? While we see silence as the absence of sound, it's more about how we capture it in images. Mindful observation helps us overcome both auditory and visual noise, allowing us to create calmer compositions. Silence lives in negative space and soft light, teaching us patience and restraint. The most meaningful photographs may not be the loudest, but those that encourage us to slow down and truly see.

This week we are talking plateaus. A creative plateau is that strange phase where progress feels stagnant. You’re not getting worse, but it feels like you’re also not getting any better. It’s like hiking. There are flat stretches where you can’t see the summit, yet you’re still on your way there, just on a less steep path. so in this episode we dig into those long flat stretches that are in many ways my favorite parts of a hike.

In Episode 590 of The Perceptive Photographer, we explore those moments when something in your work feels right or wrong and you can't explain why. Instinct isn't mystical. it's compressed experience, but we often drown it out with external validation and over-analysis. This episode examines how to tell healthy critique from noise, offers three practices for building trust with your own seeing, and encourages listeners to honor the quiet voice that responds before logic catches up. Mystery is part of the work, not a bug to fix.

In episode 589 of the Perceptive Photographer, we discuss how nothing is ever wasted in the creative process. Every effort, whether successful or not, contributes to growth. Mistakes and unfinished projects teach valuable lessons and enrich our artistic journey, ultimately shaping the photographer we are becoming.

Photography is something many of us do every day, yet we rarely stop to ask why. In the week's episode 588, we dig into some of the reasons and motivations for why we make photographs. Photography is more than documenting what we see; it is a way of noticing, remembering, understanding, and connecting with the world around us. The images we make reveal what captures our interest and what we value. Over time, our photographs become a reflection of how we see the world and, perhaps, a reflection of ourselves. Ultimately, photography is an act of attention and awarenes

This week we share in the sadness and impact of Jeff Schewe’s passing, a major loss to photography. We offer up some congrats to Makeda Best, new photo curator at MOMA! Finally we dig into and explore how hesitation can cost us great images.

Photographers often hear that they should "shoot with intention," and I mostly agree. But for today’s episode of The Perceptive Photographer (episode #586), I wanted to dig a little deeper. While some level of intention is always at play, we don’t always know what it is before picking up the camera. Often, we discover it later while editing, processing, or writing about our work. And importantly, intention doesn’t always start as a fully formed idea; sometimes it emerges gradually as we engage with the creative process.

In this episode of the podcast, 585, I talk about something that has come up in conversations several times over the past few weeks with different friends and colleagues: the challenge of photographing familiar places. There’s a tendency in photography to believe the next great image exists somewhere else. So we travel to new cities, another country, or another landscape. We just want something new, but some of the most meaningful photographic work comes from returning to the same places over and over again until they begin to reveal something deeper.

In Episode 584 of The Perceptive Photographer, I explore how photography is fundamentally about creating connection. Photographs connect twice: first visually through composition, light, layering, and perspective, and then emotionally through meaning, memory, and shared experience. The strongest images are created when visual structure and emotional resonance support one another. At its best, photography becomes more than documentation; it becomes a bridge connecting the subject, the photographer, and the viewer through a shared moment of understanding.

On this week’s episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I explore how editing reveals the photographer behind the image. From cropping and contrast to color and mood, our processing choices shape emotional meaning and reflect personal perspective. Photography may document the world, but editing often becomes a quiet form of self-portraiture.

May the Fourth be with you. It's Star Wars day and there is a lot of of overlap between photography and Star Wars I often say the camera doesn’t create meaning. We do. you have to learn to “Trust your feelings” . It's really about shifting how we see and embracing that way of seeing. Light shapes everything. In Star Wars, Darth Vader lives in shadow while light carries hope and tension. Every frame tells a story and being present matters. Yoda tells us can’t force a photograph, but rather you have to notice it. It’s about the moment and mindfulness in front of you. In the end, both photography and Star Wars are about learning to see and telling a meaningful story.

Welcome to episode 581 of the Perceptive Photographer. This week, I am sharing what I hope are five insightful suggestions to help you think differently about your work in your photography and deepen your creative practice. As I was digging into some new books, class prepping and thinking about some classic comedy and photographic techniques, I came up with five simple ideas for you to try out and see if it can jump start soemthnign in your work.

In this episode, I reflect on how easy it is to get lost in the technical side and why it’s so important to shift our focus back to what truly matters: our voice, our vision, and our story. I’ll talk about the value of studying our own work, learning from both successes and mistakes, and recognizing the hard and soft rules we set for ourselves in composition.

Welcome to episode 579 of the Perceptive Photographer. This week, we explore the unexpected connection between the distillation of alcohol and the art of photography. This idea came to me when I was thinking about a visit to a local distillery mean years ago. I was amazed how the process of removing impurities from spirits mirrors the photographic journey of refining images to their essential core.

Welcome to episode 578 of the Perceptive Photographer. In today’s show, I invited you to play a mental “what if” game. Specifically, what if nobody cared about what you care about in your photography? My hope is to challenge your assumptions about what really makes a photograph resonate with yourself and others.

Welcome to episode 577 of The Perceptive Photographer. Today, I’m exploring the power of composition and especially how the edges of the frame shape what we feel and see. You know me so a few quotes from the likes of Charles Traub, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Robert Frank got me going on this. So I’m looking at why building a photograph from the edges inward can lead to stronger, more intentional images. I’ll touch on how light, aspect ratio, and framing choices influence perception and how paying attention to them can elevate your work.

In this episode, I talk about finding the “sweet spots” in photography from camera settings and post-processing to sequencing your photos and optimizing how you view them. I share practical tips and personal insights to help you take sharper, more balanced images and create photo collections that truly tell a story.

This week, I discuss a positive "mind game" in photography that encourages a refreshing perspective on our work. Your mindset influences what you choose to photograph—whether it's objects, emotions, or concepts. By shifting focus from tangible things to feelings or ideas, you can create more meaningful images and deepen your engagement. This conscious approach helps uncover what truly matters in your photography, revealing that the essence of a photo often transcends its subject.

In episode 574 of The Perceptive Photographer, I dig into the idea of the emotional "entry points" that invite viewers into a photograph. This isn't about leading lines or the rule of thirds. It's about whether someone who knows nothing about you or your story can still feel something when they look at your work. It's easy to make work that's so personal it becomes a closed loop. It is meaningful to you, opaque to everyone else.

n this episode, I'm joined by Seattle-based fine art photographer Jenny Hansen Das for a conversation about exceptions in photography and working with galleries. Jenny's work blends analog and digital processes, with a focus on everyday moments presented in unexpected ways. She experiments with alternative techniques like cyanotypes and image transfers, creating handcrafted, one-of-a-kind pieces. She's also the founder of The Seattle Light Room, a community darkroom and gallery in Seattle's Seward Park neighborhood. Explore her portfolio at jennyhansendas.com, find her community darkroom at theseattlelightroom.com, and follow her on Instagram at @jennyhansendas and @theseattlelightroom.

Hey there!  I hope you are having a great week. In this week's podcast, I wanted to talk about some of the things that came up for me when I revisited John Berger's essay, "Understanding a Photograph." As I was preparing for a class, this essay got me excited for a podcast discussion about meaning in our work. Berger asks us, at the core of the essay, a few things. One of which is: What really gives a photograph its meaning?  Before we even get to first off, one of my favorite phrases from Berger is that a photograph is a "meditation of light." Photography is, at its core, about light—how it shapes, reveals, and transforms a scene. Love that idea. First off, I love that a photograph is the result of a photographer's decision to record a particular moment, event, or object. This is a deceptively simple but powerful notion. As John says, if we photographed everything indiscriminately, no single image would stand out. The act of pressing the shutter is what gives a photograph its weight. It's not just a neutral record; it's a message. When I decide to photograph something, I say, "This time, place, person, thing matters." Berger also makes a subtle but important distinction: a photograph doesn't celebrate the event or the act of seeing, but rather a focus on the message about the event. The photograph isn't about the photographer's experience or the event's essence. Instead, it's a statement: "This happened, and it was important enough to record." That's a powerful shift in thinking. It shifts the way I want to discuss and analyze work. What was compelling about this moment? Or what is the photographer trying to communicate? When looking at others' work, I may try to step into their shoes. What might have inspired them to press the shutter at that exact moment? The photograph uses the event it records to explain why it was made. Sometimes, the reason is obvious—a dramatic sunset, a fleeting expression. Other times, it's subtle or even external to the image itself. Before composing, spend a moment just watching how light interacts with your subject. What story does the light tell? Sometimes, the difference between a good photo and a great one is waiting for the right light. Be patient and responsive. Not every photograph will explain itself fully, and that's okay. Sometimes, the meaning is personal or contextual. Berger challenges the traditional emphasis on composition by comparing photography to painting. Painting is an art of arrangement (again, his words), meaning that every element is deliberately placed. Photography, on the other hand, records events that are inherently mysterious and can't be fully explained by arrangement alone. This doesn't mean composition isn't important, but it's not the whole story. Use composition as a tool to support the significance of the moment, not as an end in itself.  The difference between photographing at one moment or another can change everything.  He also says that, unlike painting, photography doesn't have its own internal language (not sure I agree here, but we'll give him the benefit of the doubt). We "read" photographs like we read footprints or medical charts. The meaning is tied to the event and to what we think of or know about it, real or otherwise. It isn't just a response to the lines and symbols within the image. Context matters and can matter a lot. When analyzing a photo, think about what's happening outside the frame. What's the story behind the event?  Berger's essay made me realize how important it is to know why I clicked the shutter at a particular moment. If I can't answer that, I wasn't truly connected to the scene. Sometimes, the best lessons come from the shots that missed, the ones I didn't take, or the moments I missed.  I can't recommend John Berger's Understanding a Photograph enough. It's a collection of essays that will challenge and inspire you to think more deeply about your photography.  Don't forget to check out the upcoming chat with Jenny Hansen Das, where we start a great conversation about meeting expectations.  Thanks for joining me. I hope you have a great week. 

In the start of our 11th year, episode 572 of The Perceptive Photographer, I dive back into a often discussed topic that every photographer eventually faces: conflicting critique. It is bound to happen to all of us. That moment when two thoughtful people look at the same photograph and see completely different things. One person calls it powerful and restrained. Another calls it distant and unresolved. Same image. Same moment. Completely different reactions.

In this episode, I dive into what really makes a great photograph, drawing on quotes from Ansel Adams and Edward Weston. We dig into how composition isn’t just about following rules, it’s about personal growth and expressing how we see the world. I encourage you to focus on your own vision and connection to your subjects, rather than trends or techniques.

In Episode 570 of The Perceptive Photographer, I found myself circling a couple of questions: Is an audience required for meaning, or just for momentum? And if no one ever sees a photograph, does it still matter? (and the difference between sees and seen) As photographers, we’re surrounded by feedback. Images are shared, measured, ranked, and quickly replaced by the next shot. It’s easy to absorb the idea that a photograph only becomes real once it’s been seen. But when I slow down and think about why I started making photographs in the first place, the audience was originally never part of that conversation (although is sneaks in now at times).

When was the last time a photograph or moment behind the camera lens truly made you stop and catch your breath? Not just a quick “oh, that’s nice,” but a real, lingering moment of connection? Well, that is the topic for the show today, which is episode 569, btw. podcastsIf you think about the images you see every day, there are so many of them. We’re living in an age of visual overload. It can be easy to become distant and sort of numb to the images. We walk past or scroll by without really seeing. I do it all the time. 

In this week’s episode, Episode 568 of The Perceptive Photographer, I explore the tension between photographing for validation and photographing for myself. I reflect on how my work changed when I stopped trying to impress, rediscovered curiosity, and allowed more honest, meaningful photographs to emerge.

In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I explore why two photographers never see the same scene. Photography isn’t objective; it’s shaped by perception, experience, emotion, and intent. Every choice such as where we stand, what we include, and when we press the shutter reflects how we see the world. Rather than searching for the “right” photograph, this episode encourages photographers to understand their own visual awareness. By paying attention to what draws our attention and why, we can create more personal, intentional images that reflect our unique way of seeing.

In this episode, I explore how photographs are encountered rather than what they depict, focusing on two modes of looking: transitional and relational viewing. Transitional viewing moves the viewer forward, prioritizing speed, clarity, and momentum, often seen in social media, editorial work, and portfolio reviews. Relational viewing asks the viewer to stay, allowing meaning to unfold over time through return, familiarity, and duration. I argue that this distinction matters because viewing is not neutral. As photographers, we shape how our work is experienced. Episode 566 ultimately asks whether your photographs are made for movement, for staying, or somewhere in between.

In this episode, join me and my guest Rachel Demi as we talk about the idea of the periphery in photography. Not only what’s just outside the frame, both visually and emotionally, but what else sits in our periphery. Rachel shares how her experiences, including night walks and struggles with addiction, shaped her work and her view on intuition, imperfection, and creative pauses. We discuss how meaning often comes from the edges, not just the center, and how embracing uncertainty and receptivity can lead to deeper artistic connections. It’s a conversation about seeing, feeling, and trusting what’s not always in focus.

Episode 565 opens 2026 with a reflection on a feeling many of us struggle to name. When our best work starts to feel boring, it is often mistaken for a lack of creativity or momentum. In this episode, I explore why that feeling usually appears when the work is becoming clearer, more consistent, and more intentional. We talk about familiarity, the loss of novelty, and the danger of overcorrecting good work just to feel excitement again. This episode is an invitation to trust restraint, allow distance, and recognize boredom as a possible sign of growth rather than failure.

In Episode 564, I explore the difference between consistency and coherence in photography. While consistency rewards repetition and recognition, coherence reflects a deeper continuity of attention. Through examples like Steven Shore, the episode argues that real voice survives change rather than resisting it.

In this episode, I explore the shift from searching for photographs to truly seeing. Searching narrows attention and demands explanation. Seeing allows uncertainty, patience, and quiet relationships to emerge. I talk about photographs that resist clarity, images that stop explaining themselves, and why those unresolved moments often hold the most lasting resonance. This episode reflects on attention, editing, and the value of staying with what does not immediately make sense.

In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I explore why making a good photograph does not automatically mean it needs to be shared. We look at the pressure to publish everything, the value of private work, and how choosing what not to show can strengthen both your photography and your relationship to seeing.

n this episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I talk about book ideas for the holiday season, especially for photographers and creative folks. Thanks to a listener, David, I once again share some of my favorite reads or books for giving ranging from creative practice and photography theory to memoirs and photo books. The goal of this week's episode (561) is to hopefully help you find meaningful books for yourself or the photographers in your life.

This episode explores the idea of working with what the photograph wants rather than forcing our intentions onto it. Once an image exists, it carries its own visual logic, weight, and rhythm. By slowing down, noticing what the photograph is already doing well, and letting accidents or imperfections remain, editing becomes a conversation instead of a correction. When we listen to the photograph’s internal voice, we discover a truer, more honest final image than the one we first imagined.

In this episode of the podcast I explore the idea of editing as translation. Rather than treating editing as technical cleanup, I look at how it becomes a way to interpret the lived moment of making a photograph. The camera captures facts but not the emotional truth, so editing bridges that gap. By shaping color, tone, and atmosphere, we translate experience into visual language and create images that feel honest, expressive, and connected to our intentions.