The Perceptive Photographer

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

In this week’s episode, Episode 568 of The Perceptive Photographer, I spend some time reflecting on a tension many photographers experience, whether we admit it or not: the pull between photographing for ourselves and photographing for validation.

At some point, often without realizing it, we start making images with an audience in mind. We think about what will be liked, shared, or understood rather than what genuinely holds our attention. Validation isn’t inherently bad. It can be encouraging and even motivating, but when it becomes our north star, so to speak, when we make photographs, it quietly starts to shape our choices. Subjects become safer, risks become fewer, and curiosity gives way to performance.

This comes up again and again in my work. I have it course-corrected, but a subtle change shifts it back off track. There will be periods when I am/was/will be clearly trying to impress—chasing responses rather than experiences. The camera shifted from exploration to results. Over time, that approach gets a little exhausting.

I also know that when I stopped trying to impress and started paying closer attention to what actually interested me. The work became quieter. The subjects became simpler. It becomes a meaningful body of work. And while the external responses might not be immediate or loud or what I hoped for, the photographs felt more honest and more meaningful. 

This isn’t about rejecting social media or avoiding sharing work. It’s about recognizing who you’re really making photographs for and what happens when you allow your own curiosity to lead. I invite listeners to consider what they would photograph if no one else ever saw the image—and why those photographs might matter more than we think.

In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I’m exploring why photography is never truly objective. I mean, why is it that two photographers standing in the same place, at the same time, will always see something different? This has always been one of the things that has always fascinated me about photography.

Same moment.

Different photographs.

That difference has very little to do with gear or technical skill and everything to do with perception and intention.

It’s easy to think of photography as a record of reality. After all, the camera captures what’s in front of it. But the camera doesn’t decide where to stand, what to include, or when the moment matters.

Those decisions belong to the photographer.

Every photograph is shaped by our choices, such as what we notice, what we ignore, and what we respond to. We are not recording the world as it is. We’re always interpreting and reinterpreting it.

Over time, we learn to recognize specific patterns of light, gesture, shape, or mood. And those things that begin to stand out to us, we repeat again and again. Our emotional state plays a role as well. When I’m calm and present, I tend to notice quieter moments. When I’m rushed or distracted, my images often reflect that.

In the end, I think we eventually learn that we don’t photograph what’s there. We photograph what we notice.

Once we accept that there’s no “right” way to see a scene, the pressure to match someone else’s image or expectation disappears.

The next time you’re out photographing, pause before you raise the camera. Notice what’s pulling your attention and what you’re leaving behind. You might be surprised by what you find in the viewfinder. 

In this episode, I begin by asking photographers to consider not what a photograph shows, but how it is encountered. I frame the conversation around two different modes of looking one being relational and the other transitional.

Transitional viewing describes photographs that move a viewer forward. The image is read quickly, its meaning largely resolved, and attention shifts to what comes next. I think you often find this in the pace of social media scrolling, editorial sequencing, or maybe a portfolio review. The goal of those works is momentum and clarity. Those concepts are prioritized. In these contexts, the photograph functions as part of a flow rather than a place to stay.

Relational viewing asks something different of the viewer. I talk about photographs that unfold over time and resist immediate understanding. Meaning develops as we come back again and again returning to familiarity and learning via duration. The images becomes something a viewer forms a relationship with rather than something they pass through.

As I explain in this episode, this distinction matters because viewing is not neutral. As photographers, we are always shaping the conditions under which our work is seen. So in the end, episode 566 ask you to consider whether your photographs are designed for movement, for staying, or for something in between.