
Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I spent some time digging into a concept that’s easy to overlook but deeply important: the point of entry in photography. It’s that first moment of connection—the thing that makes you stop, raise your camera, and engage. Sometimes it’s obvious: striking light, bold color, or an expressive face. But often it’s more subtle, like a mood, a memory, or something you can’t quite explain. That entry point isn’t just a visual cue—it’s a clue to why you make the work you do.
When you start to notice what consistently pulls you into a scene, you begin to recognize your tendencies, your voice, and what matters to you emotionally and creatively. It shapes how you compose, what you leave in or out of the frame, and how your work is experienced by others. I’ve found that slowing down—pausing before I click the shutter and asking what’s actually catching my eye—makes a huge difference. It turns the act of photographing from reactive to intentional. Over time, those small observations build up into a deeper sense of clarity about your process and your perspective.
What makes this even more interesting is that no two photographers have the same point of entry. We each bring our histories, biases, and emotions to the act of seeing, and that’s what gives photography its richness. That’s why I always encourage conversations, critiques, and sharing work with others. When you can articulate why you were drawn to something—whether it’s a subject, a color, or a feeling—you’re well on your way to making more honest, more resonant images. So next time you’re out with your camera, take a moment to notice that first spark. That’s where your real work begins.
4.9
5454 ratings
In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I spent some time digging into a concept that’s easy to overlook but deeply important: the point of entry in photography. It’s that first moment of connection—the thing that makes you stop, raise your camera, and engage. Sometimes it’s obvious: striking light, bold color, or an expressive face. But often it’s more subtle, like a mood, a memory, or something you can’t quite explain. That entry point isn’t just a visual cue—it’s a clue to why you make the work you do.
When you start to notice what consistently pulls you into a scene, you begin to recognize your tendencies, your voice, and what matters to you emotionally and creatively. It shapes how you compose, what you leave in or out of the frame, and how your work is experienced by others. I’ve found that slowing down—pausing before I click the shutter and asking what’s actually catching my eye—makes a huge difference. It turns the act of photographing from reactive to intentional. Over time, those small observations build up into a deeper sense of clarity about your process and your perspective.
What makes this even more interesting is that no two photographers have the same point of entry. We each bring our histories, biases, and emotions to the act of seeing, and that’s what gives photography its richness. That’s why I always encourage conversations, critiques, and sharing work with others. When you can articulate why you were drawn to something—whether it’s a subject, a color, or a feeling—you’re well on your way to making more honest, more resonant images. So next time you’re out with your camera, take a moment to notice that first spark. That’s where your real work begins.
401 Listeners
662 Listeners
26,205 Listeners
697 Listeners
2,016 Listeners
401 Listeners
56 Listeners
276 Listeners
23,980 Listeners
111 Listeners
114 Listeners
95 Listeners
295 Listeners
121 Listeners
86 Listeners