nature photography Archives - Thoughts on the Art of Fine Art Photography

Photography As A Time-Recording Device

photo from skyline drive, shenandoah np — Whisper of a Sunrise, Shenandoah NP

What happens when artistic license is applied to a photograph intended to make us believe a moment actually took place? What happens when the power of photography is used to compel people to believe something happened, when in fact the moment / event never happened?

I watched a video by Hiroshi Sugimoto this morning about his collection of fossils, and it got me thinking about his belief that fossils and photographs are similar in that both are “time-recording” devices.

Fossils show us a likeness of something that lived millions of years ago. We can see the skeletal impressions of fine bones, and holes where eyes once were, and sometimes even the bones of what it had for dinner, resting forever in what once was an intestinal tract. Fossils are a documentary record of what actually was, at some moment in history.

Upon its invention in 1839, photography became yet another tool for humanity to document history, no less important than the archaeological record. Just as a physical object (like a fish) under pressure created the fossiles, the presence of light reflecting off a physical object could create a photograph, and thus document a real moment in time that fractions of a second later became history.

This is one of the aspects of photography that absolutely fascinates me. It’s ability to capture a moment in time; unique moments that would otherwise be lost forever as our brains quickly dismiss them in an attempt to rapidly process millions of other visual inputs. The realism of a photograph is what makes it so powerful as a ‘time-recording’ device.

People of my generation tend to believe the photographic image. We’ve grown up believing that photographs are a true facsimile of some event, some moment, that actually happened. Simply because most photographs we’ve seen throughout most of our lives were exactly that. While photographs may have been artfully modified to reflect the photographer’s vision (versus the camera’s), there was no doubt that the images were likenesses of something real at a specific moment in time. We didn’t question whether Ansel Adams’s mountains and rivers, or clouds, or cacti were real.

Now to be clear, artistic photography has always had an element of the ‘unreal’ behind it– we call it artistic license. Paintings, illustrations, and even doodles on a notecard are entirely contrivances of the human imagination and depend wholly on artistic license. We accept artistic license in art photography as being okay, because art in any form is intended to make us FEEL, and less so to make us believe.

Unlike art photography, documentary photography is primarily intended to make us BELIEVE, and less so to make us feel. Photojournalism is a great example. A news photograph of an event is intended to make us BELIEVE the event happened, and secondarily to make us mad, or happy, or just make us feel well-informed.

What then happens when artistic license is applied to a photograph intended to make us believe a moment actually took place? What happens when the power of photography is used to compel people to believe something happened, when in fact the moment / event never happened?

It’s so easy to do, especially in the emerging age of artificial intelligence and sophisticated imaging software. Photoshop a 93 year old grandmother in her wheelchair to make it appear as if she’s sitting at the top of Mt Everest. Or two world leaders made to appear to be shaking hands (or throwing punches at each other), even though they’ve never met. Or maybe a small child crying at the feet of a large man. Are these “photographs” real, or are they merely contrivances of the human imagination?

Once photographers–and those who use photographs–hijack the power of photography to knowingly make a false narrative intended to make us believe something that isn’t true, then the power of photography as a believable “time-recording” medium will be lost forever. The intent of a photographer will no longer matter, whether it’s to make us BELIEVE or to FEEL, because we will no longer believe in the intrinsic truth of photographs. All photographs will be viewed with suspicion, as “fake,” as “photoshopped.”

A Prediction: Future generations will likely believe any photograph to be a mere contrivance of human imagination, no more significant than doodles on a notecard.

I fear that’s the direction documentary photography is going, and it disturbs me, no less so than any form of falsehood or dis-information does. No one likes to feel manipulated by someone else, so when someone shows me a photograph and tells me it’s real (i.e., documentary) when it’s anything but, purely to dis-inform me and modify my belief in reality, that person will lose my trust. And I will also mistrust the gimmick he or she used to try to dis-inform me. Who in their right mind actually trusts a magician’s top hat?

Once we as a culture begin using the power of photography (specifically its power of believability) to propagate dis-information, it is certain that we will cease to believe in photographs as a facsimile of some real moment in time. The validity of the so-called “photographic record” will cease to exist. Photographers may just as well be doodling.

Perhaps we’re already at that point in the history of photography. Are we?

I still consider photography to be a “time-recording” device. As long as I wield a camera and make photographs, I will never make a fool of myself by trying to fool those who see them. My photographs all represent a real moment in time–each pixel or grain of silver, and each dot on the page was created by light reflected or emitted by a physical object that was part of the composition when I took the picture–unless I say otherwise–and even then I won’t refer to it as a photograph. Because it would be something entirely different.

How do you feel about this? Do you believe photography should be true to its power as a “time-recording” device or not? Or is it just me and Sugimoto?

Until next time,
J.
Picture of J. Riley Stewart
PS: Clicking on “Whisper of a Sunrise” will take you to its place in my online gallery, where you can see in more detail all the splendor of this unique moment in time in the Appalachian Mountains.

Art, science

Florence Nightingale, Art, and Healing

What does art have to do with health?

A lot has been written about the health benefits of art. But there’s a much more common implication in that knowledge than the benefits of art hanging on hospital walls.

For many of us, this time of year can be really stressful. Did you know that art can reduce stress and improve health? Florence Nightingale did. In fact, she was one of the first to recognize the health benefits of art.

We know that art moves us emotionally. That’s its only purpose, really. But why do some of us respond to a piece of art in a positive way while others respond to the same artwork in a negative way? Is it the artwork that makes us respond so differently, or is it something in us? The short answer is “yes.”

Let’s start with a story. Two boys are standing at a busy intersection with cars and busses zooming by. One of them stands at the curb edge, toes literally hanging over the curb, relishing the rush of turbulence as the vehicles pass. The other is standing away from the curb, placing hands over his eyes, eagerly waiting for the traffic light to demand that the chaos cease.

Such it is in life: some of us relish stress/adventure; some of us hate it and will avoid it at all costs. Most of us fall somewhere in the middle of the range, but it’s safe to say that most of us treat excessive stress as something we’d rather avoid than embrace. It’s not healthy to be stressed out all the time.

I worked in the healthcare industry for over 40 years, so I have a fair sense for the misery of disease and the relief in healing. For years I’ve been intrigued by the research into the effects of art therapy (the act of making art) and art intervention (the act of viewing art) to speed recovery in patients suffering from a wide range of temporary illnesses and severe stress.

The beginnings of modern art-related healthcare goes back to Florence Nightingale. She is credited with the movement that led to placing artwork in hospitals as a way to improve healing. Nightingale wrote in her 1860 Notes for Nursing that “the beneficial effects of art was not only on the mind, but on the body as well.” Her beliefs have since been proven time and again in a number of scientific studies.

One of those studies is something we see every day in our modern hospitals and medical clinics. What do you remember about your last visit to the doctor’s office? Do you remember the color of the walls and carpet, or do you remember the abundance of art on the walls? Most likely, it’s the art you remember.

We decorate our hospitals and clinics with art for a reason. Research shows that art improves not only mental but also physical well-being. It reduces length of hospital stays, reduces the need for certain medications, reduces blood pressure, improves patients’ satisfaction with their treatment, and reduces the cost of healthcare. Being sick is very stressful, and art helps reduce the stress, which helps restores health.

Not all art is beneficial in reducing stress. Some art actually enhances stress.

Different art styles and subjects generally evoke different feelings. A 2003 medical study showed that art having easily recognizable subjects from nature tended to restore health in patients faster. Art depicting calm or slowly moving water, verdant foliage, flowers, open landscapes, warming park-like scenes, non threatening animals like birds and pastorals, and natural scenes having nostalgic cultural artifacts are common restorative styles of art.

small cabin in the great smoky mountains in autumn — “Carter Shields Cabin” – from the Quiet of Appalachia Collection. A nostalgic homestead at the edge of a verdant forest and bathed in warming light.

Restorative subjects may appeal to those of us who are more like the kid standing well away from the busy curb, or who want to use art to create a calming, stress-free space or to realize the health benefits of art.

Just as some art calms and restores us, there are other styles of art that do just the opposite. Patients exposed to non-representational images and images having negative icons responded negatively to treatment. Specifically, art that is ambiguous, surreal, or abstract tends to evoke strongly negative emotions in people already experiencing stress or illness. Abstract art triggers the analytical/computational parts of our brains, and people who are already stressed out tend to interpret such images as potentially dangerous or harmful, not helpful, to their states of health and mood.

Certain iconic shapes, forms, and tones can evoke fear, apprehension, and suspicion even if highly representational and realistic. For instance, images containing visual negative icons like dark, razor-sharp or jagged edges, or subjects that represent dangerous situations such as rapidly moving water, or fire, or cold icy scenes are often interpreted as ominous and even hair raising.

People whose nature it is to be more like the boy with his toes hanging over the edge of the curb, or those wishing to raise the level of excitement and tension in their favorite space might prefer artwork that is more abstract or visually ominous in style.

"Blackwater Falls at Full Force" by J. Riley Stewart. — “Blackwater Falls at Full Force” by J. Riley Stewart. Torrential waters, deep shadows, and a heavy sense of gravity can evoke a sense of adventure and excitement.

As a final point, researchers claim that people very often react to the same art differently depending on their current mood or underlying nature. We can expect stressed or stress-averse people to respond very positively to restorative, calming styles of art and react negatively to abstract and visually ominous art.

Is your art working with you, or against you?

So, are our responses to art due to the art itself or are they due to something in us? The answer is yes, it is both. Art is the original “interactive media,” and we should expect our responses to a certain style of art to change as our moods and health change.

What we now know about the health benefits of art and how it affects our moods provides a compelling reason to consider how art might affect us in our own living and working spaces, doesn’t it? How do you feel about the art you have displayed in your favorite space? Does it calm you when you’re stressed? Does it bore you when you need a bit of excitement? Or is it just right? If not, perhaps you’ve changed.

Have a comment about this article or want to share your own experiences? Please leave a note below!

I’ll leave you with this reference if you’d like to read more about the health benefits of art: https://www.healthdesign.org/chd/research/guide-evidence-based-art

Happy collecting! And I hope you have no more stress than you’d like during the holidays!

This article is adapted from an earlier article I wrote in 2015.

Art, Expressive photography

Looking for the positives in the aftermath- beauty in devastation

Aftermath by J. Riley Stewart an example of beauty in devastation — “Aftermath” by J. Riley Stewart

Aftermath is an interesting word. When we think of aftermath, we normally think about the immediate bad consequences of something terrible that happens to us. But we can, instead, think farther down the road and consider something more positive, more hopeful. There can be beauty in devastation, given enough time.

As I write you this week, Hurricane Florence sits less than 24 hours off the Carolina coast. By the time you get this, you’ll know how serious it could be for you and your family.

Our weather forecasters have thoroughly warned everyone from Virginia to Georgia about the potential catastrophe that could hit us: high winds, torrential and persistent rainfalls, and widespread loss of power for days. We’re all on edge, understandably.

Of course, the hurricane is on my mind this week. Sometimes, the only way I can get through the angst and worry, and the threats at times like this, is to focus on the aftermath.

“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air, but only for one second without hope.” Charles Darwin

When I happened upon the scene depicted in “Aftermath,” all I saw was the profound beauty in the devastation. There was only peace in the downed trees resting in the quiet surf. I knew the story of how this scene came to be, of course. Moments that had wreaked havoc to the coastal forest right behind me. But I also knew that without the past devastation, I would not have experienced the peace and beauty I saw before me. I was on the positive side of the aftermath.

Stay safe and stay hopeful, friends. Whether you are in the midst of the hurricane, or the forest fires, or drought, or bitter heat (or cold). Remember it’s all temporary.

I hope you never have to suffer.
I hope in your suffering, you never lose hope.
I hope you can clearly foresee the positive side of the aftermath no matter how hidden it might be right now.

PS. Clicking the image of “Aftermath” will take you to its place in the gallery. There you can explore the details and see how it might give you just the right place to go when you need a bit of wonder amid the devastation.

Did you enjoy this edition of Friday Foto? Feel free to share this email with someone you think might also enjoy it, and invite them to subscribe to “Under the Darkcloth.” And please leave me a comment or ask a question by replying to this email.

Art, art appreciation, philosophy

Do you have fun with images?

My only point this week is that it’s not mandatory to accept images as being serious. When we see images, how we see them is entirely up to us. And sometimes, seeing them as humorous just makes them better.

In my role as an artist, I spend a lot of time looking at images and reading what artists and art promoters say about them. Maybe you do too. In fact, I hope you do.

So much of what I read from visual artists and art pundits suggests the seriousness of art. Descriptions like “sublime,” “contemplative,” “evocative,” “thoughtful,” and “emotional” frequent the narratives about art. And I agree, art is often all these things.

Maybe it’s just me, but these descriptions are just way too serious. Excepting obviously comedic and whimsical images, it’s rare that some expert characterizes art as “fun” or “funny.”

I like to have fun when I’m out photographing nature. I don’t mean having a beer with my camera or dancing in the woods with my tripod. I mean I like finding subjects that are funny to me.

Yes, sometimes even nature’s characters can be funny. But it usually requires me to impose on those subjects some strange, quirky human behavior; to personify the subject.

Back in October I wrote you about a completely different topic, but its featured image also was a natural personification. That time the subject was an old apple tree performing a dance recital in a clearing. This week’s featured image “Groupies” is another example.

I’ve always found the concept of celebrity-hysteria to be seriously quirky. I remember as a young kid when the Beatles took the US by storm. “Why are those kids bawling / screaming / jumping /fainting during the song?” Do you remember that? I found the whole thing well…..hysterical.

That memory hit me as I stood in front of this unusual arrangement of tree, boulders, and woodlands. The afternoon lighting seemed to bring all the important elements together in a single story: “Groupies, every celebrity has them.” I laughed to myself, and took its picture.

The whole process of personification in my art-making is fun. I often see humanly behaviors when in nature, and it’s so strong that it actually compels me to take a photograph.

Interacting with art, both making it and seeing it, can be fun. Art needn’t always be so serious and steeped in deep philosophical significance. In fact, if a piece of art makes you smile every time you walk by it because it strikes you as funny, that may be the most important outcome there is in life. At least during those brief moments!

Until next time,
J.

PS. Clicking the image of “Groupies” will take you to its place in the gallery, where you can explore the details and see if it amuses you too.

Picture of J. Riley Stewart

Art, Expressive photography, philosophy

Artful Images and the Question of context

abstract photograph of a stone fence as example of context matters — “Stones of Any Shape”

The first question we ask of an image is about context.

Have you ever wondered why you are drawn to certain images? I mean images you can’t take your eyes off of. Images that literally drag you in and stimulate you to recall precious stories from your own memory. The short answer is context, because in imagery, context matters.

The use of context in artful imagery is a huge factor in whether you may actually appreciate a given image (or not). Understanding this one aspect of imagery could lead you to collect art that you will love forever. It may also keep you from buying something that winds up in the attic after a few short years (…&*#@% !…).

The best way to explain why context is so important is to know that context is tightly linked to our own personal memories. Without a memory (or recognition) of a certain subject, your brain decides that it’s abstract and immediately switches to a more complex analytical pathway to make any sense of it.

The more difficult the recognition, the more the brain has to analyze and conceptualize. It can be quite intimidating while the brain interprets the puzzle. And an image with no context is a puzzle, for sure.

For example, if you’ve never seen a fishing fly, you have no way to describe this “thing.” That tuft of feathers on a curvy thingy may be quite confusing to you. But show you that same fly in the mouth of a fish, and it becomes more clear what it is and what it’s supposed to do.

You now have the context necessary to discern the purpose of the fly, and your brain doesn’t have to analyze it as much. (You now know what my favorite hobby is!)

Even though confused by abstractions, our brains are extremely capable of conceptualizing and letting us imagine what that abstraction could be. In fact, some of us love puzzles. We prefer abstract art forms and shapes precisely because it stimulates our brains to conceptualize. It can be exciting to imagine something in a highly abstract painting or photograph that isn’t really there.

I recently had an amusing discussion with a gallery visitor about what she saw in a highly abstract painting hanging on the wall. She swore she saw a horse; pointing out its nose, and mane, and back. Of course, I didn’t see her horse, no matter how hard I tried. Her brain was working hard to make something appear out of an abstraction that she could recognize, and that was great fun for her!

Personally, I like some context in the images I make, such as a log cabin in the woods, or a beautiful sunrise over a quiet river, or even a landscape vista during the peak of Autumn. These are subjects that push the brain to recall peaceful, nostalgic feelings and conjure stories from my own memory (and yours). I think realistic, context-rich art pulls on the heart while abstract art pulls on the brain. And I’d rather have my images pull on the heart.

The featured image “Stones of Any Shape” is a slight departure from my normal style because of its abstraction. I’m using it here as an example of how context matters. There’s not much context here, is there? Just stones arranged in an interesting pattern. The image says nothing about how, where, or why the stones are arranged this way. Is it a road or walkway? A fence? A wall? How large are the stones? What color are they?

Don’t worry, though. Your brain will conceptualize whatever you want to see. And that’s completely okay.

Is it necessary to know those things to enjoy the image? Usually not. You can love a picture without context, it just means your brain has to pre-process it somehow before getting to the “love” part. The other side of this pre-processing situation can also lead to rejection if the context can’t be imagined readily. I have another article you may be interested in that explains the role of mystery in images to either compel a sense of “boring,” “interesting,” or “bizarre”… check it out here.

And when context doesn’t provide the answers we want, we can always let our brains conceptualize the answers that makes the most sense to us, and just have fun with it.

As you look at images online or in a gallery, ask yourself about their context. Is the context obvious or elusive? Starting with that one simple question can often lead to many more questions, and in the process you may learn something about yourself and strengthen your appreciation of art.

If you’d like to read more about how our brains interpret visual abstractions, I’d recommend this article from Salon.

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I first published this article in my newsletter “Under the Darkcloth” on May 26, 2017. To get these articles sent to you personally, just subscribe HERE.

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Until next week, please share this email with others who you think might enjoy it.
J.

Art, Expressive photography, Nature photography

The Romance of the Carolina Lowcountry

I didn’t know what to expect. But a wedding hosted by good friends in Charleston, SC was a welcomed opportunity to see a bit of South Carolina’s Lowcountry for the first time.

My wife and I did the things all the guidebooks tell you to do when visiting Charleston: we walked the streets (stop it, now!), visited the local plantations, ate great food, and took a carriage ride. But there was so much more I wanted to do, photographically speaking.

If you want to photograph Charleston, the best time is before 9 am. At 9, the parking meters become active and fill up pretty fast. Parking in Charleston is a challenge after that time. As it happens, early morning is also the best time to photograph Charleston, so you’re in luck. The summer sun came up around 6am, so I had plenty of time to photograph the city uncrowded.

Most of what I really wanted to see, though, happened out in the rural Lowcountry: salt marsh, spanish moss hanging from the old oaks, historic plantation gardens, and the ocean, of course.

Folly Beach

The Folly Beach pier is probably photographed as much as the Statue of Liberty. There aren’t many ways to depict this structure that haven’t been tried already. I happened to catch this scene just at sunrise, so I had good light. Using a slow shutter speed to soften the waves and really bring out a sense of motion was important to me, and I purposely timed the wave movements to reveal the wet sand reflecting the lights from the end of the pier (which was tricky using a 1 sec shutter speed). The reflection was important compositionally.

A visit to Magnolia Plantation. Here’s another big tourist attraction, but if you look closely there are really great treasures to be found. One of the most interesting sights I found at Magnolia Plantation were the cypress groves. “Lowcountry Cypress” is full of light and shadows. Near the center of the frame is what appears to be a circle caused by a large arching limb and its reflection in the river that perfectly frames the brighter visual destination downriver. Along our visual journey, large cypress trees full of rich details entertain us.

Magnolia Plantation along the Ashley River, SC — Lowcountry Cypress

Characteristic of the Live Oaks found in the Lowcountry are the huge limbs that like to arch close to the ground. Spanish moss seem to love these limbs, and you often find it just hanging out there. The path is clear, under the arching limbs, and it’s a walk we must take. Spanish moss is very delicate, and I rarely found it just hanging still. The slightest breeze would send it dancing about. I chose to capture that motion in “Lowcountry Walk” because that’s part of the story, isn’t it?

South Carolina Landing State Park

Long before there was a Charleston on the peninsula, there was a vibrant settlement across the Ashley River. It’s now a beautiful natural area with lots of large oaks and spanish moss. I got there late morning and the sun was already making it difficult to photograph, but I think I made the trip worthwhile. There was far too much green in this scene, so I did what I typically do when I find that situation: I shoot it in B&W and emphasize the shadows and penetrating sunlight.

Edisto Island and Botany Bay Plantation

By far the most interesting site I visited on this trip, and one I’ll definitely return to again. A nature photographer’s paradise, this old plantation site has been turned into a protected wildlife management area.

A 1/4 mile walk through the salt marsh takes you to one of the most interesting beaches I’ve ever seen, Botany Bay beach. As a WMA, there are heavy fines for taking shells from here, and the pebbly beach is therefore covered with them. Many of the shells are intact and large. You almost never see these on public beaches. So what do people do when they can’t take their beach trophies home? They hang them on the numerous dead trees that also cover the beach. On another day, I might have found that sufficiently interesting to photograph. But not that day. My eye caught this lone, dead tree just waiting for the inevitable: it was a story that had to be told.

One lone dead tree awaits its inevitable demise at the hands of the ocean. — “Inevitable” – One lone casualty awaits its inevitable demise at the hands of the ocean.

Also on Botany Bay are many dirt roads and trails. If you’ve been following me very long, you know I love tiny dirt roads. Perhaps it’s the relative solitude I find when traveling them, or maybe it’s that I really like driving at 15 mph. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that along one of these roads I found “Spanish Moss and a Palmetto.”

Botany Bay scene — “Spanish Moss and a Palmetto” – Botany Bay, Edisto Island

At first glance, this scene appears busy and chaotic, but the more you look, the simpler it gets. The main characters in this story are the soft, swaying moss bending slightly toward the right side of the frame, seemingly leading us to find this little Palmetto tree hiding in the shadows. You rarely see Palmettos in a shaded place like this, but there he/she is, seemingly content to be dominated by the oaks and a cloak of moss.

There remain a few buildings from the time when Botany Bay operated as a farming plantation. I love historic architecture. It’s easy for me to imagine the stories of those who occupied and/or worked in these old spaces, and I often find myself wondering about such things when I stumble upon them.

I didn’t know what this structure was when I found it on Botany Bay Plantation. Its highly decorated facade led me to believe that it must have been something special and probably close to the main manor, but I didn’t know. As it turns out, it was the icehouse: definitely special and definitely near a family dwelling, when it still stood. Now it sits alone in a clearing, surrounded by encroaching trees and the ubiquitous spanish moss.

Angel Oak

No visit to the Carolina Lowcountry would be complete without a visit to the Angel Oak on John’s Island, SC. Words that describe this particular lifeform include “magnificent,” “ancient,” and “Godly.” This old fellow has been sitting on this spot for 1500 years, and since healthy oaks never stop growing, that’s a long time to get really huge.

Most photographs you see of Angel Oak include the whole tree, often with a person standing next to it. That perspective makes one get very far away from the tree because it’s so big.

But the story I wanted to tell about Angel Oak was more intimate: The story of how Resurrection Ferns take rook on the ancient branches-life from life. How the past loss of a limb still reveals the scars from that loss. How its branches bend and turn as events during its long life forced new directions, much as events during our own lives do. And how, like old people, its skin is heavily furrowed and worn. I offer “Enduring Arms” and “Neverending” as examples of these intimate portrayals of Angel Oak.

"Enduring Arms" - Angel Oak, John's Island, SC — “Enduring Arms” -Angel Oak perspective

I hope this little travelogue has stimulated an interest in visiting the Carolina Lowcountry. The Lowcountry is much more than the city of Charleston.

Technical and Ordering Information: I captured these images using a 4×5 large format camera with either color (Kodak Ektar or Portra) or B&W (Ilford FP4) film, scanned the negatives to high resolution using my drum scanner, then artistically interpreted them.

Pigment prints on heavy cotton rag paper are available from 16×20 up to 32×40 inches, framed or unframed, with the surface varnished to provide protection and enhanced vibrancy and texture.

To order, go do Lowcountry photographs

Expressive photography, philosophy, techniques

Artistic License and “photoshopping”

Mount Moran reflection in the Ox Bow Snake River, WY — “Purple Mountains Majesty”

“…is that Photoshopped?” : One of the most commonly asked questions to photographers

To some people, it seems to matter how much enhancement (i.e., “photoshopping”) I do to my photographs. I thought I’d share my opinion on the topic of “photoshopping.”

The question itself is unique to photography. No one would ever consider asking a painter if their artwork reflected the true nature of the scene they painted, so why ask a photographer? What’s different about photography (more about that in a future article)?

In truth, I really don’t think it matters to most people who ask this question, I really don’t. I think most ask it out of interest only, or just to keep the conversation going. No matter how I answer this question, I believe the experience of seeing the image would be exactly the same: They either love it or they don’t.

Enhancement of photographs means different things to different people. Documentary publications like National Geographic set strict guidelines with which they expect their photographers to obey regarding photo-manipulation, or ‘photoshopping.’ On the other hand, images created solely for artistic purposes have no such limitations: Art photographers follow the ambiguous rule of ‘artistic license.’

“You don’t take a great photograph, you make it” Ansel Adams

I’m not a documentary photographer, and that’s the first thing I tell people who ask if I enhance my photographs. But I do believe the NatGeo guidelines are pretty sound. Going excessively beyond basic cropping or adjusting lighting and colors soon becomes ‘digital art’ and not photography. But that’s just my opinion; others have no such qualms about compositing several images together, or using filters and overlays to create their ‘photographs.’ That’s okay. It’s artistic license. But it’s not okay when we expect a photograph to be a documentation of something that happened, such as in photojournalism, when nothing could be further from the truth. You get my point, hopefully.

I personally believe my job as an artist is to create imagery that makes you want to engage in the scene, to feel something at an emotional level (e.g., nostalgia, introspection, fascination, awe, etc) and perhaps even step into the scene and do the types of things you like to do, such as explore, learn, or just chill out. To create an emotion, at the very least, visual art must have heart.

My camera, on the other hand, is entirely uncaring of your needs: it has no heart; no capacity to record emotion.

The hardest part of my job as an artist, then, is to translate what the camera records into a scene having the life and emotions that I felt at the time I took the picture. This nearly always means that I must enhance my images; or said another way, I must ‘fix’ them; I must put the heart back into them.

In my personal artwork, I try to limit enhancements to the point where I’ve corrected for my camera’s failings; to re-instill the emotions I felt at the time I took the picture. After all, if I dislike overly-enhanced photographs, I don’t think you will either, and I will have done a very poor job as an artist.

The truth is there are plenty of fantastically interesting subjects in our world that, if we have our eyes and hearts open to the experience, and happen to be there at the right time, would make a great photograph (or painting) even without much enhancement.

My featured photograph this month “Purple Mountains Majesty” is a good example. I had been standing in this spot for about an hour waiting for this exact second, not really knowing what I was waiting for. When the moment arrived, I absolutely loved how the warmth of the setting sun cast a glow over the upper mountains and reflected into the dead-calm river below. The mountain shadows and their reflections were a deep beautiful purple invoking an intense sense of comfort and peace. But it was a color my camera and film seemed to dismiss as unimportant. My camera failed to recognize how beautiful the color transitions in the sky were, going from exciting warmth near the sun to that calming lavender farther away.

When I interpreted this particular scene, I found that I had to bring back (i.e., “enhance”) the color and emotion I felt at the time, and yes, I did that using photoshop. As is usual for me, I removed nothing and I added nothing of a physical nature; I merely put the life back into the scene. After all, that’s my job!

Try to not to get hung up by an art photographer’s use of ‘photoshopping.’ Remember that cameras never come with a heart, so the artist must make up for that failing. If you must ask an artist if they “photoshop.” that’s okay, too. You’re not alone!