In episode 577 of the Perceptive Photographer, I wanted to offer a different take on how we approach composition that goes beyond traditional rules. Instead of simply arranging subjects within a frame, I wanted to start from the frame’s edges and working inward. I stumbled across this concept inspired by Charles Traub’s truism: “Construct your images from the edge inward.

For me, the edges of a photograph aren’t just boundaries—they’re pivotal to how an image communicates. Edges create tension, define limits, and invite viewers into the scene. By consciously shaping what lies within these boundaries, I mark a slice of the world as significant and have the power to guide how audiences experience the work. Photography isn’t just about lines, shapes, and objects. it’s also about psychology and emotion. I’ve always loved the way Cartier-Bresson spoke about aligning the head, eye, and heart, and Robert Frank emphasized speaking to the humanity of the moment. In my own practice, I find that the best compositions are always intentional. They provide clarity and hold the viewer within the image rather than letting them get lost.

If you want to strengthen your own images, evaluate them from the edge in. This shift in perspective can reveal distractions at the boundaries and lead to more intentional compositions. By constructing from the boundary inward, I’ve heightened my own awareness and created more engaging, meaningful photos. Rethinking composition from the edge inward transforms photographs from static arrangements into compelling experiences, guided by intention and emotion. Next time you frame your shot, let the edges take the lead on your composition.

In this episode, we explore the “sweet spots” in photography. You know when things feel right when those , settings, and workflow tweaks that make your images realy connect. From camera settings to post-processing, sequencing, and viewing, I spend a little time diving into these little adjustments which can elevate our photos

I talk about how small tweaks in camera settings can make a huge difference in your photos and how thinking about your approach to aperture, shutter speed, ISO, and white balance shift your awareness. When you adjusting exposure, contrast, color, and cropping it is again about trying to find a spot where the image speaks to us but not the decisions on how we technically make or edit it.

I also talk about how I sequence my photos, whether it’s for a portfolio, a slideshow, or a photobook, and why the order can completely change the story your images tell. The goal of starting with 10-15 is a sweet spot even if you want less or more images. Finally we dig a little into thinking about viewing conditions, not the monitor calibration and ambient light, but how we are distanced in seeing, emotions, thinking and connections.

Finding your photography sweet spot is about balance, experimentation, and trusting your creative instincts. Small changes can make a huge impact

This week, I explore a positive “mind game” you can play in your photography that can inspire you to see your work differently. These mental strategies can motivate you to approach each shoot with fresh energy and purpose. 

Your approach as you head out the door says a lot about your work. Are you looking for things, emotions, ideas, or concepts? What you set up as the basics is what will come out of the work. Recognizing how your mindset shapes your focus can help you aim for deeper, more meaningful photography. So if you want deep work, look for something more than just a thing. Part of our mindset as we head out the door will ultimately determine what we photograph that day. It isn’t uncommon to head out thinking about things we want to photograph. Places, people, and natural elements are all common things I myself want to go photograph. 

However, what if we shifted away from things to photograph and toward a feeling or an idea we want to photograph? Would that make for more meaningful images? Would that have us connect to our work differently? Focusing on feelings or ideas can deepen our engagement and bring new perspectives. No matter the seed we plant in our minds as we head out the door about what to photograph, it affects everything we see through the lens. 

If we make a more conscious, more focused effort to consider what we might photograph, we may discover what truly matters to us when we take a picture. It might surprise us that the essence isn’t just about the object itself. 

Thank you for being part of this journey with me. Your support means the world!

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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. Don’t make photos like walnuts that need a hammer. Make pistachios — already cracked open a bit so it is easier to get to the nut inside. 

Some things to consider. 

Balance personal meaning with room for others. Your perspective is what makes the work yours, but ask whether a stranger could find themselves in it too. S

Create presence, not just documentation. Adams’ landscapes work because you feel like you’re in Yosemite, not just looking at it. Sensory details  like light, atmosphere, texture matter a lot. They do more than description ever can.

Sequence when a single image isn’t enough. A series can provide context without spelling everything out. It gives viewers more ways in.

Foster dialogue, not monologue. The best images don’t announce themselves. They ask what you see. Ambiguity isn’t weakness; it’s an invitation.

The question I keep coming back in thinking about this: are your photographs building walls or opening doors?

In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I sit down with Jenny Hansen Das a great friend and Seattle-based fine art photographer whose work has always amazed me as it finds intersections of beauty, absurdity, and deep emotional connection and notions of everyday life. Jenny’s photography centers on the simplicity of the everyday but presents it in unexpected ways, combining analog and digital modes and prioritizing the creative process over where an image originates.

Her experimentation with alternative processes including chromoskedasic sabatier, image transfers, and cyanotypes reflect a deep interest in pushing the boundaries of photographic expression, often resulting in handcrafted, one-of-a-kind works that cannot be reproduced. 

We dive into a rich conversation about exceptions in photography .You know those happy accidents, rule-breaks, and process surprises that lead to the most compelling work, as well as the realities of working with galleries and navigating the fine art world as a practicing photographer.

Just a little about her, she completed the Certificate in Fine Art Photography at the Photographic Center Northwest in 2023, and is also the founder of The Seattle Light Room, a community darkroom and gallery in the Seward Park neighborhood of Seattle. As you will hear, this is a space dedicated to keeping analog photographic traditions alive and accessible and hosting interesting and relevant photographic art shows in the gallery.

You can explore her photography portfolio at jennyhansendas.com and follow her work on Instagram at @jennyhansendas. For The Seattle Light Room, visit theseattlelightroom.com or follow @theseattlelightroom on Instagram.

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.

When that happens, it can shake your confidence. So I thought we might try to unpack why critique in a slightly different way and remind everyone at the start of this 11th year that not all feedback lives at the same level. Some comments are about taste. Others are about craft. And sometimes the disagreement reveals something deeper about seeing in the image. After all meaning isn’t owned solely by the photographer. It’s created in the encounter between the image and the viewer.

My goal this week was to share a simple framework to help you filter critique: How does it relate to your original intent? Is it about structure or preference? Does it resonate when you sit quietly with your work? Most importantly, I explore how you can separate your identity from your photographs so that feedback becomes useful instead of personal.

If you’re navigating disagreement in your own work or with feedback from more than one source, I hope that you can think about critique not as contradiction, but as clarity emerging through differences. After all the goal isn’t consensus, It’s understanding.

I hope you are having a great week and thanks for tuning into this week’s episode of the Perceptive Photographer. The just happens to be episode 571 and we still have one week of the Winter Olympics left. Woo H00!. This week, we’re diving deep into the art of photographic composition and what truly makes a photograph great based on the inspiration of two quotes. One by Ansel Adams and the other by Edward Weston.

Ansel Adams once said, “A great photograph is a full expression of what one feels about what is being photographed in the deepest sense.” This means that a photograph isn’t just a picture; it’s a reflection of your emotions and worldview. Edward Weston’s perspective that “Good composition is only the strongest way of seeing the subject. It cannot be taught because, like all creative efforts, it is a matter of personal growth” It’s about developing your unique vision and expressing it through your photography.

The got me thinking that, while learning compositional rules is helpful, the essence of great photography really doe lie in personal connection and authentic expression. Your best work will come from a place of self-awareness and growth. Our great photographs are more than visual records; they are stories of our life told through our unique perspective. They reflect our values, emotions, and experiences.

Couple of reminder about some upcoming fun things to do:

I hope these insights inspire you to approach your photography with renewed passion and authenticity. Remember, your growth as a person and an artist is inseparable from your growth as a photographer. Thank you for being a part of this journey with me. Have a wonderfully creative week, and I look forward to our next episode together.

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).

For me, meaning starts in photography at the moment of noticing. The act of seeing and recognizing something worth paying attention to is already enough to give a photograph value. Some of the most important images I’ve made were never shared. They exist as points of understanding, memory, or emotional clarity. In those moments, the photograph did its job without ever leaving my camera.

An audience, however, does provide something else: momentum. Being seen can encourage us to keep going. It can create energy, dialogue, and a sense of connection. But it can also quietly influence what we choose to photograph, nudging us toward what’s expected or rewarded. When that happens, meaning can become secondary to reaction.

So maybe the question isn’t whether photographs need an audience, but what role we want that audience to play. If no one ever saw my photographs again, which ones would I still make? Episode 570 is my attempt to sit with that question—and invite you to do the same.

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. podcasts

If 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. 

But here’s the thing: photography, at its best, isn’t about quantity. It’s about the quality of attention. The images that stick with us. The ones that make us pause. The ones that invite us to be present, to really see, are the ones we want to have in our lives. 

Ultimately, great photography changes us. It expands our awareness, opens us up, and shifts how we see the world. Those moments that make us stop and catch our breath. They’re rare, but they’re worth seeking out, both as creators and viewers.

Next time you pick up your camera, or even scroll through social feeds, slow down. Be present and breathe.

Thanks for joining me and ahvr a great week