The Perceptive Photographer

In Episode 564 of the podcast, I’m thinking through an idea that comes up often in photography but is rarely examined closely: consistency. We tend to treat a recognizable style as a sign of maturity or a settled voice, a clear direction. And for a while, that recognition feels like progress. But consistency can quietly become a constraint. The problem is that consistency is often mistaken for coherence. Consistency lives on the surface of photographs. It shows up as repeated visual solutions: similar compositions, familiar subjects, reliable color and tone. Coherence operates underneath the work it is similar ot our voice or vision. It’s the continuity of attention or the way a we look, what we care about, and the questions we continue to ask, even as the work itself changes. So this week we talk about how consistency is reinforced by external pressures: audience expectation, institutional validation, and the quiet rewards of being easily recognizable, and how over time, this can lead photographers to protect a look rather than respond honestly to what’s in front of them. We also look at how to think about coherence as a resource forus to use in our work and processing. Steven Shore offers a powerful counterexample. American Surfaces and Uncommon Places look radically different, yet they belong to the same mind. Remember coherence isn’t stylistic. it’s conceptual. In this case of Steven and others, the work remains grounded in observation, description, and the ordinary, even as the visual language shifts. Lots of other photographers like Wolfgang Tillmans, Adams, Minor, and Sophie Calle operate similarly. Their practices change form, scale, and medium, but their attention to what matters remains the same. The danger of consistency isn’t repetition itself. It’s the narrowing of perception. Coherence asks something harder: allowing the work to evolve without abandoning what truly matters. Voice isn’t a look you defend. It’s comes paying attention to yourself, what you seee, and why it matters. And at that core, the work you create can can survive any consistency change.

In this episode of the podcast (episode 563), I want to first say Happy Solstice and how nice it is to start getting those longer days. I discuss the moment when a photograph and photographer stop explaining everything or at least trying to. Not because we fail,, but because it can’t explain everything nor should it. Most of us are taught to search for photographs. We head into the world with a sense of purpose, a checklist of things to photograph, or an idea of what would make the outing worthwhile. Searching is active can feel productive. It also quietly demands that the photograph arrive already formed, ready to justify itself and how well we did in the clicking of the shutter Seeing is different. Seeing has no urgency. It does not require the world to perform on command. It asks only that we stay. I notice that when I am searching, my attention narrows. I move faster. I recognize patterns quickly and dismiss what does not fit. The photographs that come from this state often easily explain themselves . There is nothing wrong with that, but there is a limit and it can be borning over time. AFterall, once the photograph has finished explaining, there is nothing else left to see. Seeing begins when searching exhausts itself. When I stop asking what I am going to make and start paying attention to what is already there. For me this is rooting in boredom or frustration when nothing else is working. Nothing is happening. The light is flat. The scene feels unremarkable. Yet, if I stay, something subtle begins to emerge. A relationship. A rhythm. A small shift in how I now look at things in the world. These photographs do not announce themselves. They do not resolve quickly. They often feel unfinished, even to me. And that is precisely what gives them room to breathe. A photograph that stops explaining does not close the conversation. It opens it. It allows uncertainty to remain intact. Instead of delivering meaning, it makes space for it. This kind of image asks the viewer to linger, to bring their own attention and experience into the frame. Seeing without searching is a discipline. It requires patience, restraint, and a willingness to leave with nothing. It means trusting that not every photograph needs to declare its purpose. Some of the most meaningful work I have made came from moments when I stopped trying to find something and allowed myself to simply be present. When the photograph arrived slowly. When it did not explain itself. When it asked me, and eventually the viewer, to stay.

In this episode of the podcast, I dig into an idea that feels increasingly important in a culture built around constant sharing. Not every good photograph needs to be shared. That may sound counterintuitive, especially when so much of contemporary photography is tied to visibility, platforms, and audience response. But making a photograph and sharing a photograph are two very different acts.For many photographers today, the question of where an image will be posted arrives almost immediately after the shutter is pressed. Sometimes it even arrives before. That subtle shift can quietly change our relationship to photography. The act of sharing begins to define the act of seeing. Over time, photographs can start to feel less like a process of exploration and more like a product designed for approval.Some photographs are meant to function as visual notes. They help us understand light, place, or emotion. They clarify what we are drawn to and what we are still wrestling with.These images might be strong, but their purpose is internal rather than public.They move our work forward even if no one else ever sees them.There are also photographs that are emotionally close. We might make images that are more closely related to memory, vulnerability, or personal experience which often carry a different weight. We can opt to keep those images close to home so to speak as a way of honoring the moment of seeing. Not to completely rag on social media and photographs, but right now the algorithms reward familiarity. They favor images that resemble what has already succeeded. If every good photograph must be shared, then experimentation becomes a no go. We will slowly stop taking risk to make more interesting work. We stop taking risk in the editing of images, the selection of images and ultimately in the sharing of images. Remember, editing is not just about selecting the strongest images. It is about shaping meaning. A body of work is defined as much by what is excluded as by what is included. Choosing not to share a photograph is still an editorial decision. I love sharing work so I by no means am trying to say that sharing is unimportant. Sharing connects us. It builds conversation and community. But it works best when it is intentional rather than automatic. When sharing becomes a choice instead of a reflex, it regains its power. I think it is worth redefining what success looks like in photography. A successful photograph is not always one that is widely seen or highly praised. Sometimes it is an image that teaches you something, shifts your attention, or reminds you why you enjoy making photographs in the first place. Letting some images live only with you does not diminish them. In many cases, it strengthens your relationship to photography. It allows the act of seeing to exist without expectation. And in a world that constantly asks us to show everything, there is quiet value in choosing to hold some things back.

In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I talk about book ideas for the holiday season, especially for photographers and creative folks. Thanks to a listener, David, I once again share some of my favorite reads or books for giving ranging from creative practice and photography theory to memoirs and photo books. The goal of this week’s episode (561) is to hopefully help you find meaningful books for yourself or the photographers in your life. so without future adieu here is a list: Creativity / General Art & Practice 12 Notes on Life and CreativityBird by BirdThe Secret Lives of ColorThe Meaning in the Making Photography Conversations, Interviews, Thought Interviews and Conversations, 1951–1998Ping Pong ConversationsMemorable FanciesPhotosoup EducationPhotosoup EnterprisePhotosoup 2022 Photography Theory / Essays The Photographer’s EyeBeauty in PhotographyWhy People PhotographWhy Photographs Work Photobooks / Monographs IlluminanceSongbookSongbookThe Notion of FamilyHouse HuntingIn DialogueThe Ballad of Sexual Dependency Additional Mentions Galen RowellCindy ShermanFred HerzogSally Mann If you are looking to buy a book you can ‘t go wrong with PhotoEye.com Bookshop.org Abe’s Books

In this episode of the podcast, I explore the notion of what it means for a photograph to be something it wants versus something I like. We all spend time thinking about what we want our photos to be or be about. We might even have some unintentional expectations that develop long before we click the shutter. Those expectations can be a problem because once the photo is made, it becomes something different than what we thought we photographed. So this week, we are going to dig into what it means to let a photograph be its own thing. I have started to think that every photograph we make can carry its own internal logic or way of being. Each image, good or bad, has structure, rhythms, weights, and a pull that is inside the frame. We can choose to fight that structure or enhance it. I always say to follow the light in an image. Work with what you have, not what you might want to have. How do the tones relate to one another? How do you make them something else? Is there a gesture or a space that pushes and pulls in unexpected ways? If we think of our photographs more as partners in the process, does the picture know more about what to focus on in processing than we might? At the root of all this are our intentions. The thinking about what we should do versus what we can do versus what image is doing. That intention often comes from a memory of the moment. We remember taking the shoot and what all went into that. And yes, all of that is valuable, but none of it lives inside the photograph. If we try to force the image to match our memory rather than honor its reality, we can miss out on something really cool. The question then becomes, what do we do in those positions? Well, I think you can ask yourself a simple question: what is this photograph already doing well without me touching a thing? Before I move a single slider or adjust a single tone, I want to get a sense of the image. That sense tells me what to do rather than the other way around. This allows for things like minor mistakes to become important to the image, and it asks whether the so-called flaw is actually what gives the photograph its interest. To all this, our editing becomes a conversation rather than a correction. I am collaborating with the picture. I respond. It esponds. We discover the image rather than follow my old formula for getting it done. If you give it a shot, you might be surprised that the photograph often reveals the one you didn’t expect, but the one you needed.

In this episode of the podcast I explore the idea of editing as translation. Rather than treating editing as technical cleanup, I look at how it becomes a way to interpret the lived moment of making a photograph. The camera captures facts but not the emotional truth, so editing bridges that gap. By shaping color, tone, and atmosphere, we translate experience into visual language and create images that feel honest, expressive, and connected to our intentions.

In this episode of the podcast, we explore the quiet tension between the solitude of making photographs and the importance of sharing the work we create. Photography often begins in private moments of deep attention, yet that same solitude can drift into loneliness and self-doubt. We talk about why showing your images to others is a vital part of the creative cycle, how feedback and connection help clarify your voice, and why your work deserves to exist beyond your own hard drive. This episode invites you to embrace both the stillness of seeing and the community that completes the photograph.

Episode 557 of The Perceptive Photographer, we explore how true creativity in photography comes from emotional connection rather than technical mastery. Inspired by Galen Rowell’s The Inner Game of Outdoor Photography, the episode reflects on passion as the fuel for creativity, intention as the guide for meaningful expression, and empathy as the bridge between photographer and subject. Daniel reminds listeners that the most powerful images reveal how we feel, not just what we see, and that authenticity, compassion, and awareness lead to a more honest photographic voice.

In this week's podcast, we talk about burnout verse resting. Creative burnout and creative rest may look similar on the surface, but they come from very different places. Burnout is the slow unraveling of connection to your work . It shows up when the camera feels heavy, ideas feel stale, and even looking at images becomes tiring. It often shows up after long periods of constant output or comparison, when making photographs becomes more about productivity than discovery...

n episode 555 of The Perceptive Photographer, I celebrate what I like to call “magic number day” by exploring the creative power of photographing the familiar. I share some personal stories about finding inspiration close to home and talk about how so many great photographers discovered beauty in the everyday. There’s something deeply rewarding about turning the camera toward what we already know—the people, places, and routines that shape our lives. When we slow down and really see those moments, we uncover meaning, connection, and a quiet kind of magic that’s been waiting for us all along.

As the days get shorter, I find myself paying more attention to how light changes this time of year. The low angle of the sun, the long shadows, and the quiet warmth that hangs in the air all ask for a slower kind of seeing. In this week’s episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I talk about using this shift in light as an opportunity think about how we approach our work and to build a small quick body of work.

In this episode, I reflect on five simple ideas to help keep your creative life moving forward. From finishing imperfect work to embracing boredom, learning from feedback, and finding value in small, steady steps, it is a reminder that progress, not perfection, is what keeps us creating and growing.

In this episode of the Perceptive Photographer podcast, I explore what it means to trust your own eye. Like learning to read and write, photography requires more than technical skill. Making a photograph is not the same as understanding one. By paying attention to what draws us in, moving through doubt, and listening to our instincts, we begin to see more clearly and develop a personal, authentic way of seeing the world through the camera.

In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer Podcast, I chat with Ken Carlson about moving from single images to building cohesive photographic projects. We explore motivation, intent, sequencing, and the role of mentorship and community. If you’ve ever dreamed of a book, zine, or portfolio, this conversation is packed with insight, clarity, and encouragement.

n Episode 551 of The Perceptive Photographer, I explore how what I don’t know often means more than what I do in my photography. Instead of trying to control every detail or follow every rule, I’ve learned to embrace uncertainty. Leaving out elements, breaking the “rules,” and allowing space for discovery can lead to stronger images and deeper connections. Viewers bring their own stories, and that gap between intention and perception is where the magic happens. By trusting the unknown, I create work that feels more authentic, surprising, and meaningful.

In this podcast episode, the importance of silence in photography is explored. Embracing quiet helps us be present, notice details, and connect with subjects. By slowing down and inviting stillness, we can make more intentional choices and deepen our photographic practice. Where can you invite more silence in your work?

When it comes to growth in photography, it’s easy to get caught up in the wrong metrics. In this week’s episode, I dig into the idea of measuring progress in ways that might make for better growth in our photographic practice.

We often talk about “telling a story” in photography. But when you look closer, a single image may only hold part of the story: the introduction, the climax, or maybe the resolution. In this week’s podcast, I explore how frameworks like Freytag’s Pyramid, the Hero’s Journey, and Pixar’s methods can inspire us to think differently about our photographs and how they connect with others.

In this episode, I talk with you about finding the right balance in your photography, or what I call your creative “spice level.” Based on a trip out for Thai food, I share how important it is to challenge yourself enough to stay engaged, but not so much that you feel overwhelmed. I also touch on the value of honest self-reflection and community, and let you know about some opportunities, like my Meaningful Image Workshop and the Lightroom Virtual Summit. Thanks for being part of this community and listening in as we explore the ups and downs of the creative process together.

Photography isn’t just about making a single strong image. It’s about what happens when we put images together. In this episode, we explore the creative shift from chasing individual “keepers” to building a body of work that tells a story. We’ll talk about what makes a sequence of photos more powerful than a single frame, and why the order of images can change their meaning entirely. Whether you’re building a project, putting together a portfolio, or sequencing a photo book, this episode will give you tools and inspiration to move from good pictures to great stories.