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.