When we look at artwork that's outside our normal likes and predispositions, it's easy to dismiss it and move on. I've found it very useful strategy to ignore my knee-jerk predispositions and to give the artist the benefit of the doubt and try to understand what they are attempting. Sometimes, with time, I learned to appreciate the artist's accomplishment in unexpected ways.

As fine art photographers, we are meticulous in everything that contributes to our artwork. That's good. There are, however, things that are simply beyond our control.

Every time we click the shutter, we have, more or less, some idea about what we would like the photograph to be. But of course in today's world of incredibly capable post-processing, that same click of the shutter could probably become so many different images. And interesting exercise might be to force yourself to process a favorite image into 10 variations just to be sure you aren't developing habitual grooves in your decision making.

Looking back on my 50 years of photography, one of the most interesting group projects I've participated in are a number of print swaps. I still think this is a valid idea, particularly in the first half of one's photographic life. In particular, it's a great way to break out of our self-imposed ruts.

Revisiting my thoughts on what today is the "original" in our photography.

A friend of mine just sold a signed Ansel Adams print for $3,500. But there's a story behind it that's even more interesting because of what it tells us about the art market.

Whatever happened to workshops where the goal and objective was to learn something about the art life, maybe a technique or two, and most of all to see some great work and hang out with some terrific and accomplished photographers? It seems like so many workshops I see being offered today are really traveled tours whose objective is to take you someplace that you couldn't supposedly explore on your own.

In the ongoing questions about OIS (optical image stabilization) and IBIS (in body image stabilization) on a tripod, I've discovered that it makes a big difference whether or not I have the center column extended.

I remember the first time I read a Charles Dickens novel. I could only do so with a dictionary at my side and found I needed to look up a new word or two on every single page. I was not only reading the plot but learning a vocabulary about description and character development. The same can be said about looking at photographs. We need to learn a visual vocabulary and that learning never stops.

Photography and the Creative Process has been the tag line for LensWork since its inception in 1993. But what is "the creative process"?