The Perceptive Photographer

The Way We See: Topic Two is Attention

This week we dig into part two of our mini-series with a focus (pun intended) on attention. As photographers, we often find ourselves debating what essential gear we need in our camera bags. Is it the camera itself? A favorite lens? A sturdy tripod? While all of these pieces of equipment hold their own value, I would answer that way myself. In reality, I think one of the most important tools is our attention. Understanding this concept can explain not only your photography but also the way you experience everyday life.

We Photograph What We Notice

Have you ever noticed that you don’t photograph things that don’t catch your attention? Your photographs are essentially a record of what captures your attention. So, I ask you: what do your portfolio/images say about what you pay attention to? After all, we don’t often point our cameras at things that don’t interest us. But in that catch of attention comes the other side of the coin: the things we don’t notice. I feel that many times the things that we notice become more habit than anything else, and that for us to become better at our craft, we have to learn to shift our attention to the things we might not notice. Shadows over light, color shifts, texture shifts or whatever might be “outside” your comfort zone. 

Attention Is a Choice

In today’s world, our attention is constantly being divided. Phones and social media are a big part. Just yesterday on a walk with the dog, we almost got bumped into a half-dozen or so times by people just walking and looking at their phones. It’s no wonder that focusing has become a challenge. However, photography offers us an incredible opportunity to reclaim that attention. By practicing mindfulness, we can sharpen our focus and enhance our craft. Think about the difference between actively searching for photographs versus patiently waiting for them to reveal themselves. Often, when we search too hard, we overlook the moment right in front of us.

Revealing is also something that happens in processing and viewing photographs. We start to see deeper layers of content and meaning in the work by shifting our attention to what is there, what we can see, what we can learn and away from what we “already” know. 

The Camera Doesn’t Teach You to See

It’s important to remember that a camera is just a tool. It records images but doesn’t have the capacity to notice. That’swhere we come in. It’s our role to see relationships, light, emotion, timing, and storytelling within a scene. Photography is more than just a means to capture images; it’s about becoming someone who truly notices the world around them. The more we practice attention, the richer our experience of life becomes. Consider the beauty of morning light streaming through your kitchen window or the soothing rhythm of rain tapping against your roof. What about the fleeting expressions people make when they think no one is watching? These small moments, often overlooked, become treasures when we allow ourselves to see truly and then photograph.

Wrap it up! I gotta podcast to listen to. 

If your camera were to disappear tomorrow, would you still observe the world the same way? The essence of photography begins long before the shutter clicks. It starts with simply paying attention. We don’t photograph everything we see; we capture what we consciously choose to notice. The most important lesson photography teaches us isn’t merely how to snap better pictures—it’s about how to observe the world around us with greater awareness.

Attention isn’t just a skill for photographers; it’s a way of living.

Asking a simple question

I’ve been pondering a deceptively simple question: What makes a photograph good as part of my book club this month? But, before diving into that, a couple of quick announcements! I’ve got some new workshops lined up in 2027 at Badlands, Adventures in the Palouse, and the Oregon Coast and Redwoods. Check out the details on my website. Plus, I’ll be teaching a masterclass called “The Landscape is Language” at the Photographic Center Northwest in November 2026.

As for the topic of episode 596, the source of this question comes from re-reading The View from the Studio Door by Ted Orland. In the section Art & Society, Ted comes up with an interesting answer that we will get to at the end of the podcast. Sure, the what is a good photography questionseems like it should have a straightforward answer. We could list out a bunch of qualities: composition, light, color, timing, technical skill, originality, emotion. Maybe a photo resonates because it communicates something important or makes us pause and reflect. So, what are we really talking about when we say a photograph is good?

First off, we need to distinguish between “good” and “beautiful.” A photograph can be stunning without really offering much depth. Gorgeous light, perfect composition, beautiful colors—sure, but does it say anything? Conversely, a photograph can be rough around the edges but still pack an emotional punch. 

Good isn’t necessarily beautiful

First off, we need to distinguish between “good” and “beautiful.” A photograph can be stunning without really offering much depth. Gorgeous light, perfect composition, beautiful colors—sure, but does it say anything? Conversely, a photograph can be rough around the edges but still pack an emotional punch.

Who gets to decide?

Who determines what makes a photograph good? Is it because I like it? A critic? Other photographers? Does it matter if it’s hanging in a museum or selling at auction? Or is it simply about whether the creator feels they achieved what they set out to do? The more I reflect, the more I realize there isn’t a universal standard for art—and maybe that’s just fine.

What if we judged the “goodness” of a photograph by its impact?

– Does it make me stop?

– Does it hold my gaze?

– Does it shift my perspective?

– Does it make me uncomfortable or curious?

– Does it inspire creativity in me?

Can a Bad Photograph Still Be Good?

Suppose I take a photograph that falls flat. You have them too. You know the ones with bad composition, poor lighting, missing the mark entirely. On its own, it might not see the light of day. But what if that photo leads me to create ten better ones? What if it highlights what I don’t want in my work or points me toward an unexpected direction? Does that still make it a bad photograph? Aesthetically, sure. Creatively, it could be invaluable.

It makes me wonder if we’re sometimes asking the wrong questions about art. Instead of “Is this good?” maybe we should be asking, “What did this make possible?”

We don’t make masterpieces one at a time

I feel like photographers can get caught up in the notion that their work is a collection of standalone images. You make a picture, then another, and it’s easy to obsess over which ones are the “good” ones. But that’s not really how creativity works. It is a journey for us to follow, and the most important photographs aren’t necessarily the strongest ones; it might be the one that reshapes everything that follows

Ted’s key point with the photograph as a stepping stone

Ted Orland has this concept I keep returning to: a piece of work can be deemed good if it helps you move toward the next piece. I love this idea because it eases the pressure on each photograph. It doesn’t have to be the final say; it can be a question, an experiment, or even a failure.

Welcome to episode 595 of the Perceptive Photographer. This week, we are exploring the importance of asking questions about our work—not questions related to critique or the meaning of our completed images, but rather questions we consider before taking the shot.

I hypothesize that the questions we ask play a crucial role in shaping the central theme of the image. If we prioritize technical elements and settings over feelings or storytelling, the final image may feel off in its narrative. This disconnect occurs because we focused on the wrong aspects when creating the photograph.

When we make a photograph, there is a lot happening in our minds. If we concentrate on the wrong elements, that focus may not be conveyed effectively. However, this doesn’t mean that all elements aren’t important; they are. Composition, technique, emotion, and storytelling all matter. Ultimately, it comes down to determining which of these elements you want to prioritize in your work.

In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer (number 594), I return back to dig a little deeper into one of the most common pieces of creative advice: know your audience. Your audience is not your starting point. Your audience is the people who see themselves in the work you made that began with your act of seeing and sharing something more universal than just here is a picture of a thing. The more clearly you understand what you’re exploring through photography, the easier it becomes for the right audience to find and value your work. Finding your audience is about expressing what really matters to you with enough clarity, honesty, sincerity and , lets me honest here, craftsmanship that others recognize something of themselves in your work. The next time you pick up your camera, instead of asking, ‘Will anyone like this photograph?’ ask, ‘What question am I trying to answer?’ You may discover that the audience you’re looking for has been waiting for someone willing to ask that same question.

 

Just got back from several weeks on the road. the studio is a mess. the dog has to get a tooth pulled that she broke on the road trip, but it was great to see family. All that is to say that things are crazy here at the old studio. but that doesn’t mean we don’t to the podcast. So, in this week’s episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I dig into two big ideas that can impact your photography: who you invite to critique your work, and what it really means to “see” as a photographer.

I have heard this a few times over the past few months so I wanted to talk a little about it this week. That idea is the belief that feedback should come exclusively from those within the same genre. For example, landscape photographers often seek critiques from fellow landscape artists. However, this approach can be limiting. If someone already shares your knowledge and perspective, they may not offer fresh insights. Seeking feedback from diverse art forms can unlock new ideas and perspectives that challenge your usual way of seeing.

Consider, too, those who might not even identify as photographers. Legendary photo editors and publishers often lack a formal photography background yet possess a keen understanding of what makes an impactful image and more than photographers can they are amazing at recognizing the nuances of light, composition, and storytelling. Critiques can be incredibly valuable when they focus on the essence of what resonates in an image rather than genre-specific “guidelines” or “rules”.

The second thing I wanted to talk about was how we approach and talk about the act of “seeing” in photography. for many of us, our initial feelings about an image in the field differ from how we perceive it in post-editing or years later. Seeing isn’t just a one-time event. Seeing is actually an action. It’s something we do. It’s something we engage with. It’s not a passive response.

“Photography is about seeing. And to be a good photographer, we need to be engaged in the act of seeing.”