One of the things I particularly like about the Seeing In SIXES concept for photography is its ability to expand or stretch time. Instead of the instantaneous photograph, with six images we have the capability to express a moment. I've never been comfortable with that term. Describing the unit of time for a Seeing in SIXES project is difficult. A moment is too short; an hour is too long. I think this is so because it's not a measure of clock time but rather of conscious attention. Somehow, "unit of consciousness" seems a bit clumsy.

Show your appreciation for our free weekly Podcast and our free daily Here's a Thought… with a donation Thanks!

I had an odd revelation at a concert last night. Afterwards, at dinner, the general consensus was that the pianist was incredibly talented and accomplished. Although I enjoyed the music immensely, I realized I had no ability to appreciate her skill. I don't play the piano i.e., I have no context for the difficulties of the performance. I have no way to judge her talent other than I like it or I don't. I wonder if this is the same with the public as they look at our photographs. They may not appreciate the technical accomplishment because they have no criteria against which they can measure what they see. Their analysis is reduced to I like it or not.

Show your appreciation for our free weekly Podcast and our free daily Here's a Thought… with a donation Thanks!

Major software updates have become a part of our photographic life. Some of these updates in software features are subtle, but occasionally an update introduces a major game-changing capability. What are we to do if a new update in software processing allows us to make a significant improvement in one of our images from yesteryear? Do we go back and "fix" the images processed with older software? If so, where do we draw the line?

Show your appreciation for our free weekly Podcast and our free daily Here's a Thought… with a donation Thanks!

Here's another thought experiment about producing artwork. I looked back at all I've done and divided my productivity into two piles. The first pile was photographs that essentially say, "I saw this very cool thing." And the second pile was the artwork where the essence of the work was to say, "This is what I have to say about this thing." I found I had way more work in the first pile, but that the most meaningful work I'd done was in the second. I wouldn't be surprised that you might find the same divisions in your work. If I'm right about this, what does that say about those projects we are yet to complete?

Show your appreciation for our free weekly Podcast and our free daily Here's a Thought… with a donation Thanks!

Here is some advice about travel that doesn't come from me, although I do agree with it. Strangely enough, it's a passage from the book Dodsworth by Sinclair Lewis, published in 1929. Not aimed specifically at photographers or artists, it still is an observation about travel that I think fits perfectly with our creative process as photographers.

Show your appreciation for our free weekly Podcast and our free daily Here's a Thought… with a donation Thanks!

At the risk of beating a dead horse, here are a few more thought about photography in frames, an extension of yesterday's comments about whether or not mats and frames are part of the artwork.

This RSS feed includes only the most recent seven Here's a Thought episodes. All of them — over 2500 and counting! — are available to members of LensWork Online. Try a 30-day membership for only $10 and discover the literally terabytes of content about photography and the creative process.

Show your appreciation for our free weekly Podcast and our free daily Here's a Thought… with a donation Thanks!

We don't just thumbtack our prints to the wall. Instead, we dress them up a little bit. We mat them and frame them and then hang them on the wall. Where does the artwork stop and the presentation embellishments begin? Said another way, are the mat and the frame part of the artwork?

This RSS feed includes only the most recent seven Here's a Thought episodes. All of them — over 2500 and counting! — are available to members of LensWork Online. Try a 30-day membership for only $10 and discover the literally terabytes of content about photography and the creative process.

Before you click the shutter, tell me what you see. I would be willing to bet big money that your description would mostly include details of the things you mentally isolate from the larger context. In essence, your description would be a list of objects you deem important enough to notice. Reread that last sentence and replace the word "description" with "photograph." To make a better photograph do we need a better description? Or, is what's missing emotional content and connection beyond mere description?

Show your appreciation for our free weekly Podcast and our free daily Here's a Thought… with a donation Thanks!

A friend of mine (who is a little older than I am) is involved in a massive project to create a digital catalog of his life's work. This consists of over 2500 finished images. He has inspired me to think about doing a similar project and catalog for my own work. But then, I had to ask myself, who would ever see it? Why would such a catalog be important to anyone other than me? Which is more important, doing new work or recording that past work has been done? Perhaps here is a compromise

Show your appreciation for our free weekly Podcast and our free daily Here's a Thought… with a donation Thanks!

When I started in photography some 50 years ago it was axiomatic and universally understood that it was important to learn the history of photography. There were, I'm guessing, a couple of hundred photographers who are still important to this day, who were the pioneers, whose work we needed to know at least briefly if not intensely. We built a library of their books, study their images, read their essays, and recognized intuitively that this was a prerequisite for our own photographic growth. Instagram and internet influencers have replaced the need to study the masters from the history of photography. I'm trying to imagine a novelist who doesn't read novels or a pianist who never listens to music.

Show your appreciation for our free weekly Podcast and our free daily Here's a Thought… with a donation Thanks!