Composition comes up all the time in photography conversations—and honestly, it’s one of those topics that can be both helpful and frustrating. Like a lot of folks, I started out learning the so-called “rules”: rule of thirds, leading lines, foreground interest… you know the list. They’re easy to teach, easy to check off. But over time—and with influence from people like Robert Adams, Paul Caponigro, and Ben Shahn—I started to realize that arranging lines and shapes in a pleasing way doesn’t necessarily lead to a photograph that matters.

In this episode of the Perceptive Photographer Podcast, I again sit down with Ken Carlson to dig into this idea of composition—not as a checklist, but as a way of seeing and expressing intention. We kept circling back to the same question: Why do we, and so many other photographers, get stuck on the rules? It’s tempting to believe that if you just follow the formulas, your photos will be good. Social media and tutorials love to sell that promise. But as we both admitted, that approach often leaves the work feeling a little hollow.

Ken shared some stories about technically perfect images that left him cold. I’ve certainly made my fair share of photos that looked “right” but didn’t feel right. That disconnect really boils down to one thing: intention. If we’re just arranging things because we’re supposed to, not because we mean something by it, the work loses its spark. Ken asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just arranging things for the sake of arrangement?” That question stuck with me.

Ken also brought up a metaphor I love: composition as a quiver of arrows. Each element—light, tone, line, texture, perspective, and so on—is an arrow you can reach for when the moment calls. You don’t need to use them all at once. You just need to know which one to grab, and why.

Here’s a quick breakdown of those arrows and what they can offer:

The goal isn’t to follow rules or use every tool—it’s to make choices that support what you want to say. Sometimes that means breaking the rules entirely. A centered horizon might be the right choice if it serves the image.

Ken and I also touched on abstract photography, where recognizable subjects fall away and form does all the talking. Without literal content to lean on, the weight of meaning rests entirely on structure, color, and design. That’s where a deeper understanding of composition really pays off.

We also talked about the way certain compositional choices carry personal or symbolic weight. Vertical lines might feel like support beams to one person and barriers to another. That’s the beauty of it—your experience informs how you compose, and that’s what gives your work its voice.

If you’re looking to explore this more, Photography and the Art of Seeing by Freeman Patterson is a fantastic resource. It’s clear, thoughtful, and goes beyond just making things “look good.”

At its core, composition isn’t just about arranging elements. It’s about creating meaning. As Ben Shahn once said, the artist’s job is to assume a viewer who is sensitive and intelligent—and to make something that speaks to that shared humanity.