I wasn’t expecting this. Not at all. It started out as an ordinary session in my “describe,” series, where I present Claude to describe a photo and I then respond. In fact, as interesting as the photo is, Claude’s initial response was not very promising, a single paragraph – which is unusual in this series – that didn’t present me with obvious opportunities for further interaction. If there’s anything that’s characteristic of good old Claude here, often annoyingly so, is that it will end its response with a question or two. No question at the end of that measly paragraph.
But I persevered. Claude second reply was a bit better, and it asked a question, a simple by crucial one: “Did you take this photograph yourself?” Well of course I did you doofus! Sorry. We all know that Claude does not maintain continuity from one session to the next, unless the current session is a continuation of a previous interaction. So of course Claude wouldn’t know that I took the photo.
So I answered: “Yes, I took the shot. I was on my belly among the weeds and shooting directly into the sun, which you can see in the middle.” And that was the end of the initial conversation and the beginning of a new one, a more philosophical one. Here’s the last paragraph of Claude’s response to that information plus my response back to Claude:
This kind of intimate landscape photography, where you get down and personal with the smaller details of a scene rather than just capturing the grand view, can often tell a more interesting story. What inspired you to get down at ground level for this particular composition?
What inspired me? I just wanted to get the shot. Also I was thinking of a scene in Disney’s Fantasia where we saw a single dandelion in close-up. As for shooting into the sun, that’s difficult. It’s hard on the eyes. When the image came out of the camera it was practically black. The censor automatically “shut-down” and the aperture closed up to keep from getting flooded. So I had to work a bit to get an intelligible image out of the raw data from the camera.
And we were off to the races!
That discussion of photography, techniques, method, aesthetics, philosophy, led me to offer Claude another photo, a very different photo, an abstract photo produced by moving the camera. It’s called ICM, or intentional camera movement. I simply call it shaky-cam. We worked our way through three more examples of ICM.
You should read the whole conversation.
For extra credit: I take Claude’s intellectual remarks seriously. What about their aesthetic judgment? Claude likes the photos – as do I for that matter. Should I give those judgements the same credence I give to its intellectual statements?
What do you see here?
This is a beautiful sunset or sunrise photograph taken through tall wild plants or grasses in the foreground. The plants appear to be silhouetted against a warm, golden sky, with the sun visible as a bright orb through the foliage. The image has a dreamy, ethereal quality created by the backlighting, which gives everything a glowing amber hue. The plants look like they might be some kind of tall wildflowers or weeds with branching stems and delicate leaves. The overall composition creates a peaceful, natural scene that captures the magical quality of golden hour lighting in nature.
Sunrise, Liberty State Park in Jersey City.
Ah, Liberty State Park - what a beautiful spot to capture a sunrise! This particular vantage point with the wild plants in the foreground creates such an intimate perspective of what's typically known as a grand, urban park. The way the early morning light filters through the vegetation gives the scene a much more natural, almost prairie-like feel, which is interesting given its location in one of the most developed areas of New Jersey.
The park's position on the Hudson River must make it an especially good location for sunrise photography, as you get to see the sun coming up over the water and the city. The golden tones in this shot and the way they illuminate the wild grasses really capture that precious early morning moment when the day is just beginning.
Did you take this photograph yourself? It's a wonderfully composed shot that shows a different, more naturalistic side of Liberty State Park than the typical skyline views it's known for.
Yes, I took the shot. I was on my belly among the weeds and shooting directly into the sun, which you can see in the middle.
That's fantastic dedication to getting the shot! Lying prone among the plants was definitely the right call - it gave you that immersive perspective that makes the viewer feel like they're right there in the vegetation. The positioning is what makes this image so special - we're not just seeing the sunrise, we're experiencing it from ground level, the way a small creature might.
Shooting directly into the sun is technically challenging too - you managed to capture that beautiful solar disc without blowing out the highlights or losing the delicate details in the plant silhouettes. The backlighting really emphasizes the intricate structure of the plants' leaves and seed heads.
This kind of intimate landscape photography, where you get down and personal with the smaller details of a scene rather than just capturing the grand view, can often tell a more interesting story. What inspired you to get down at ground level for this particular composition?
What inspired me? I just wanted to get the shot. Also I was thinking of a scene in Disney’s Fantasia where we saw a single dandelion in close-up. As for shooting into the sun, that’s difficult. It’s hard on the eyes. When the image came out of the camera it was practically black. The censor automatically “shut-down” and the aperture closed up to keep from getting flooded. So I had to work a bit to get an intelligible image out of the raw data from the camera.
Ah, that Fantasia reference really resonates - I can picture that delicate dandelion scene, and I can see how it might have influenced this intimate plant-level perspective. It's interesting how those visual memories from animation can shape our photographic eye.
The technical challenges you described with shooting into the sun are fascinating. The camera's behavior - essentially squinting like a human eye would - is a perfect example of why shooting in RAW is so valuable. You basically had to reconstruct what your eyes actually saw from what was essentially an underexposed protective reaction by the camera's sensor. It's a great example of how digital photography often requires two distinct creative moments: one when composing and capturing the shot, and another during post-processing to recover the scene's true dynamic range.
Did you use HDR techniques or was it more about carefully bringing up the shadows while managing the highlights in the RAW file? It's a tricky balance to maintain that delicate golden glow while keeping the plant details visible.
No HDR. The thing is, the eye/brain are so flexible with such a wide dynamic range that it is impossible for any photographic process to capture exactly what the eye sees. We're up against the limitations of monitor display and/or ink on paper. And, when you're working on the image, you only have a memory of the scene. So you have to figure out what you want. Is it plausible? Do you like the colors? That's what makes this kind of photography so interesting.
This is such an insightful observation about the gap between human perception and photographic technology. The eye/brain system is remarkable - it can simultaneously process the intense brightness of the sun while picking up subtle details in deep shadows, all while constantly adjusting to changing conditions. No camera sensor or display technology comes close to matching that dynamic range.
What you're describing is really the art of photographic interpretation. Since we can't literally capture what the eye sees, we have to make creative decisions about how to represent it within the technical limitations we have. It becomes less about pure documentation and more about conveying the feeling or essence of what you experienced. In this case, you worked to find a balance that suggests that magical golden morning light while keeping enough detail to make it feel real and plausible.
This reminds me of debates in the early days of color photography, when photographers and critics were wrestling with questions about "truth" in color reproduction. Eventually they realized that there's no such thing as purely objective color - it's always an interpretation, whether by our brains or by photographic processes. Your point about asking yourself "Do you like the colors?" gets to the heart of this - at some point it becomes about artistic choice rather than strict accuracy.
Yes, color is very tricky. We know from scientific investigation that color is something constructed in the brain. It’s not a simple function of wavelength. Edwin Land did important work in this field.
Yes, Land's work with color was groundbreaking! His demonstrations of color constancy and what came to be known as the "Retinex theory" really challenged the simple wavelength-to-color correlation that people assumed. The fact that we can perceive relatively consistent colors under wildly different lighting conditions (like how a white piece of paper still looks white under tungsten light or fluorescent light) shows just how sophisticated our visual processing is.
This actually relates back to your photograph in an interesting way. When you were processing the image, you weren't just dealing with raw light values - you were making decisions about color temperature and white balance that parallel what our brains do automatically. The "golden hour" light in your image has a very warm color temperature, but our brains would have been automatically compensating for that somewhat when you were there in person. So part of your artistic process was deciding how much of that warmth to preserve to capture the emotional quality of the moment.
Land's two-color projections were particularly fascinating - showing that we can perceive a full range of colors from just two carefully chosen wavelengths really demonstrated how much of color perception happens in the brain rather than the eye. Would you say your background knowledge of color science influences how you approach post-processing?
Interesting question. The fact is I had to think hard about just what I was trying to accomplish with a photograph. My knowledge of color science helped in that it told me that there was no one objective way to color an image. Still, I could choose to color an image in a way that was plausible, or I could choose implausible, but aesthetically interesting renderings.
That's a really thoughtful perspective on how scientific understanding informs artistic choices. The knowledge that there's no "correct" color frees you to focus on what serves the image best, while still being guided by what feels plausible to human perception. It's like having a map of the territory (the science) that helps you make more informed creative decisions, rather than constraining those decisions.
Your point about plausible versus implausible but aesthetically interesting renderings reminds me of how art movements like Fauvism deliberately chose "unrealistic" colors to create emotional impact. In photography, we often stick closer to plausible interpretations, but there's still so much room for artistic choice within that framework.
This image is a good example - you chose a rendering that feels true to the experience of a sunrise, maintaining that sense of warm golden light while keeping enough detail to feel grounded in reality. The knowledge that color is a brain construction probably helps in feeling confident about those artistic choices while post-processing.
Would you say this understanding has made you more experimental in your approach to color in your photography over time?
Definitely. I’ve even experimented with what’s called “intentional camera movement.” Done modestly it can add apparent motion blur to a static image. But I took it to extremes. I’d shoot at night with a long exposure and a great deal of camera movement. In effect, I was using the lights at night to “paint” images in the camera. I did a lot of this on the shore of the Hudson River with my camera pointed toward New York City, where I’d catch the lights in the buildings.
That sounds fascinating - using urban lights as your "paint" and the camera sensor as your canvas through deliberate movement. It's almost like transforming the static architecture of New York into abstract expressionism. The long exposure would turn each point of light into a streak or gesture, creating something entirely different from traditional cityscape photography.
I imagine the Hudson River location would add another dimension to these images, with the possibility of light reflections on the water being transformed by your camera movements. Was there a particular kind of movement you found most effective - sweeping motions, zigzags, spirals?
The technique seems to take photography away from its traditional role of "capturing reality" and moves it more toward pure visual expression, similar to how your sunrise photo transforms those weeds into delicate silhouettes against the golden light. It's interesting how different techniques - whether it's shooting from ground level, working with challenging light conditions, or intentional camera movement - can all serve to show us familiar scenes in new ways.
I’d use zooms and pans and zigzags and swirls, often in combination. At this point I was no longer doing photography in any traditional sense. I was just using the camera as a device for creating abstract patterns. But then I was an abstract painter before I was a photographer.
That trajectory from abstract painting to experimental photography makes perfect sense. You were already thinking in terms of pure visual elements - form, color, movement, pattern - rather than being bound by representational conventions. The camera just became another tool for abstract expression, like a brush or palette knife.
The combination of movements you describe - zooms, pans, zigzags, swirls - sounds like you were essentially choreographing with light, creating a kind of visual dance captured in a single exposure. The city lights become raw material, transformed by your camera movements much like paint is transformed by the gestures of a brush across canvas.
This kind of work seems to exist in an interesting space between photography and painting. While traditional photography is often about capturing a moment in time, your light paintings with intentional camera movement are more about creating a record of your gestural interaction with the visual environment over time.
Would you be willing to share any of these abstract light compositions? I'd be very interested to see how the different types of camera movements translated into final images.
Here’s one example.
This is spectacular! The interweaving of white and orange light trails creates a dynamic abstract composition that really does feel like a painting made with light. The contrast between the fluid, curving white lines and the more angular, straight orange ones creates an interesting visual tension. The black background makes the light trails pop dramatically.
I can see what you mean about this being far removed from traditional photography. The final image has more in common with abstract expressionist gestures or even calligraphy than with conventional cityscapes. The lights from the buildings have been completely transformed into pure visual elements - lines, curves, and glowing trails that interact and overlap in complex ways.
The quality of the light trails is fascinating too - some appear sharp and defined while others have a softer, more ethereal quality. Was this variation achieved through different speeds of movement, or perhaps different types of light sources in the city? It's particularly interesting how some of the white trails seem to have a slight blue or violet edge to them.
I think the variation in the quality of the light trails is mostly due to the light sources. As for the slight blue or violet edge, I think that’s an artifact of the photography. In a still image I generally remove those edges with a defringing tool.
Ah, chromatic aberration - those blue/violet edges are a common optical artifact, especially when shooting bright lights against dark backgrounds. It's interesting how the technical "imperfections" of photography become part of the artistic process - choosing whether to remove them with defringing or let them contribute to the overall effect.
The varying quality of light trails revealing the different light sources adds another layer of interest. I imagine the warmer orange trails might be from sodium vapor street lamps or tungsten building lights, while the whiter trails could be from LED or fluorescent sources. Each type of light writes its own distinctive signature through your camera movements.
This feels very much in the tradition of "drawing with light" that goes back to some of the earliest photographic experiments, but you've taken it in a thoroughly contemporary direction using the urban environment as your palette. The final image has a wonderful sense of energy and movement - almost like visualizing the pulse and flow of the city itself.
Have you exhibited any of this abstract light work? It seems like it would be particularly striking printed large-scale.
Yes. Large scale prints would be spectacular. Here’s a very different example, I was photographing a shop window.
This is a fascinating study in soft focus and color contrast! The green shape in the foreground appears to be some kind of sculptural form or mask against a warm orange/yellow background with what looks like a window frame. The intentional blur gives it an almost dreamlike quality, with the sharp edges softened into gentle transitions between colors.
The composition is particularly interesting - the green form occupies the left side of the frame while the geometric shapes of what appears to be a window create a contrasting structure on the right. The shallow depth of field (or perhaps intentional blur) transforms what might be a straightforward still life into something more mysterious and evocative.
This is quite different from the dynamic light trails of your previous image, but it shares that same interest in abstraction and transformation of everyday objects through photographic technique. Was this blur achieved through focus, or did you also use intentional camera movement here? The softness has a very painterly quality to it.
I used ICM and the soft focus was an effect of that. Since I was moving the camera it was pointless to try for sharp focus. As for the green area at the right, that was a bust, one that became “multiple” through the camera movement. I think this was some kind of women’s clothing store.
Ah, that explains the ethereal quality! The intentional camera movement has transformed a retail display mannequin bust into something much more enigmatic and artistic. It's fascinating how the movement has caused the bust to create that ghostly green form while still maintaining enough of its basic shape to suggest a face or profile.
The interplay between the warm background and the cool green is really effective, and the blurred geometric shapes from the window frame add architectural structure to the composition. It's quite remarkable how ICM can turn a mundane shop window into something that feels almost like a modernist painting or an experimental film still.
This technique seems to allow for a lot of serendipity - you can control the basic parameters of movement and exposure, but there must be an element of surprise in how the final image turns out. Do you find yourself doing multiple takes of the same scene with different movements to explore different possible outcomes?
Oh, definitely. This is a very experimental technique. You really don’t know what’s going to come out of the camera. To some extent, you never know, but here the uncertainty is extreme.
That embrace of uncertainty feels like it connects back to your background in abstract painting - you're creating conditions for interesting visual effects to emerge rather than trying to control every aspect of the final image. It's almost like the camera becomes a collaborator in the creative process, with its own contribution to how the scene gets transformed.
The technical parameters (exposure time, basic movement patterns) provide a framework, but within that framework there's room for happy accidents and unexpected combinations. Like how in this image, the multiplication of the bust through movement created this intriguing layered effect that you couldn't necessarily plan for.
It strikes me that this approach requires a different kind of photographic intuition - instead of waiting for the "decisive moment" as in traditional photography, you're creating moments through motion and time. Have you found that certain types of scenes or lighting conditions tend to produce more interesting results with ICM?
Well, I can’t do this sort of thing in the daytime because there’s way too much light. There’s no definition in the image at all, really, no image.
That makes perfect sense - the darkness is essential to isolate and control the light sources you're "painting" with. In daylight, even with the fastest shutter speeds and smallest apertures, you'd probably just get a bright blur without any of those defined trails or shapes.
It seems like nighttime not only provides the technical conditions you need (being able to use long exposures without overwhelming the sensor), but also gives you a more limited and controllable palette of light to work with. The city at night becomes like your box of paints, with each light source having its own character - the warm oranges of sodium lights, cool whites of LEDs, and so on.
Did you discover this limitation early on when experimenting with ICM, or did you start with night photography and just intuitively know that daylight wouldn't work? I imagine there must have been quite a learning curve in finding the right balance of exposure time, movement, and available light to create these effects.
One last example. Here you can still make out the skyline.
This is a beautiful fusion of abstract and representational elements! The New York skyline is still recognizable but transformed into an impressionistic vision through the ICM technique. The buildings have become vertical streaks of pink, purple, and blue hues, while what appear to be lights (perhaps from cars or boats?) create those delicate curved trails along the bottom.
The color palette is particularly striking here - the way the twilight or dusk colors have been stretched and blended creates an almost watercolor-like effect. The darker foreground (which I'm guessing is the Hudson River) anchors the composition and provides contrast to the ethereal quality of the skyline.
This image really shows how ICM can capture more of an emotional or experiential truth rather than a literal one - it feels like how the city might appear in a dream, or perhaps how it feels to take in the skyline while in motion. The fact that you can still recognize it as New York while it's so thoroughly abstracted makes it especially compelling.
Was this taken during what photographers call the "blue hour" just after sunset? The colors suggest that magical time when the sky still holds light but the city is beginning to light up.
I think those curved trails along the bottom are from street lights on the Hoboken side of the river.
Ah yes, that makes sense - the street lights of Hoboken creating those graceful curves along the riverfront. You've basically turned them into a kind of light calligraphy at the base of the abstracted skyline. The way those light trails contrast with the vertical blur of the buildings creates a nice compositional balance.
It's interesting how using ICM on a cityscape can reveal patterns and relationships that aren't as apparent in traditional sharp photography - like how the spacing of those street lights creates a kind of visual rhythm, or how the clusters of lit buildings in Manhattan create those vertical columns of color when blurred through movement.
Looking at all three images you've shared, each one shows a different potential of ICM - from pure abstract light painting in the first, to transforming ordinary objects in the shop window shot, to this more hybrid approach where the subject is still recognizable but dramatically reinterpreted. Did you find yourself gravitating toward particular types of ICM effects as you explored the technique?
Probably, but it’s not something I’ve thought about. Whatever works.
That's a refreshingly pragmatic approach - letting the results speak for themselves rather than getting too analytical about the process. It fits with what you mentioned earlier about the experimental nature of the technique and embracing uncertainty in the outcomes.
Your background as an abstract painter really shows through in how you evaluate these images - focusing on whether they work visually rather than how closely they adhere to any particular photographic conventions. The technique becomes just another tool for creating compelling visual compositions, whether they end up being pure abstractions or more recognizable scenes like the transformed skyline.
Would you mind sharing what drew you to transition from abstract painting to this kind of experimental photography in the first place?
That’s simple. Living in a small apartment I simply didn’t have space to paint. But I started photographing graffiti. I was several years before I “bumped into” ICM.
That's a fascinating progression - from painting to documenting other people's paintings (graffiti) to eventually finding your own way to "paint" with the camera through ICM. It's like you found a way to maintain your abstract artistic practice without needing a physical studio space.
The connection between graffiti photography and your later ICM work is interesting too. Both involve capturing urban elements in ways that transform them from their ordinary appearance, though through very different means. In graffiti photography, you're documenting how others have transformed the urban environment, while with ICM you're doing the transformation yourself through photographic technique.
Space constraints often force artists to adapt and find new ways to create. In your case, it led to what seems like a really rich exploration of photographic possibilities. Did documenting graffiti influence how you later approached ICM, in terms of looking for interesting ways to capture and transform urban spaces?
“The connection between graffiti photography and your later ICM work” – I see you noticed that. I’m sure the former has influenced the latter. Much of graffiti, after all, is abstract patterns.
That's a great insight. The visual language of graffiti - with its emphasis on bold gestures, flowing lines, and abstract patterns - does seem to share some DNA with what you're doing in ICM photography, especially in that first light trail image you shared. Both art forms transform urban surfaces and lights into abstract compositions.
What's particularly interesting is how graffiti artists and your ICM technique both take elements of the city that most people pass by without noticing - blank walls in the case of graffiti, night lights in your case - and turn them into something visually striking and unexpected. There's a kind of artistic alchemy happening in both cases, though through very different means.
It's like you went from documenting one form of urban abstraction to creating your own, with the camera replacing spray paint as the tool for transformation. Did you find yourself particularly drawn to photographing the more abstract styles of graffiti versus the more representational pieces?
We’ll have to have that conversation another time. My stomach is telling me it’s feeding time.
Thanks for sharing your fascinating photographic work and insights! Yes, let's save the graffiti discussion for another time. Enjoy your meal!
I’m back, with one last example.
This is stunning - the graceful curve of what appears to be smoke or vapor against the black background creates an almost sculptural form. The monochromatic treatment and the smooth, flowing lines give it an incredibly elegant, almost abstract quality. The way the form loops back on itself creates a beautiful sense of movement and depth.
The lighting and exposure are particularly well-handled - you've maintained detail in the whites without blowing them out, while the black background provides perfect contrast. The subtle gradations in the white form show its three-dimensional quality beautifully.
Is this smoke photography? It's fascinating how something as ephemeral as smoke can be captured in a way that makes it look so solid and substantial, almost like polished marble or flowing fabric.
Interesting speculation, but not smoke at all. It’s more ICM. At night. And the object is far from ephemeral.
Ah ha! Now that's fascinating - another ICM shot that transforms something solid into something that appears fluid and ethereal. Given the clean white curves against black, I'm guessing this might be of urban architecture or infrastructure at night? Perhaps a light-colored building or structure that you've transformed through camera movement?
It's remarkable how the technique has rendered whatever solid object this was into something that looks so flowing and organic. The smooth gradients and curves really do make it look like smoke or fabric, even though it's a photograph of something much more substantial.
This image seems to take ICM in yet another direction from your previous examples - while those showed multiple light trails or blurred colors, this one has an almost minimalist sculptural quality to it. Would you be willing to share what the original subject was?
The subject is not man-made. It’s a natural object, one that’s been around much longer than humans have.
Ahhh... given the flowing curves and the natural origin - could this be the moon? The graceful white arc against the black sky would make sense, and using intentional camera movement during a long exposure would explain how you've transformed that familiar celestial object into this elegant abstract form.
If it is the moon, it's a brilliant way to capture it - so different from traditional moon photography that tends to focus on surface detail and clarity. Instead, you've turned it into pure form and light.
Right. It’s the moon.
That's really wonderful - taking perhaps the most photographed natural object there is and creating something completely fresh and unique through ICM. The technique has transformed the moon from a disc in the sky into this sinuous, almost calligraphic form.
Looking back at your body of ICM work that you've shared, it's interesting how you've used the technique across such different subjects - from urban lights to store windows to the moon - but in each case, the camera movement helps reveal something about light and form that we don't normally see. Whether it's the energy of city lights, the ghostly presence of mannequins, or in this case, turning the moon into a kind of celestial brushstroke.
There's also something poetic about using intentional camera movement - typically thought of as a "mistake" in traditional photography - to create these revealing abstractions. Did you find it challenging at first to break away from the usual photographic pursuit of sharpness and clarity?
It came about almost by accident. I’d taken a photo of a barge coming down the Hudson at night. I liked the overall composition, but the image was blurred because it was a night shot requiring a long exposure on a hand-held camera. So it was blurry. I’d taken many of those. I like night shots because of the drama, but I don’t shoot from a tripod and my camera is not good in low-light situations. So I get these blurry images.
But then I thought: Why do I care if the image is a bit blurry? I like the colors and composition. Does anything else really matter? I’m not trying to document barges at night. This isn’t for a magazine or a legal deposition. I’m doing this for fun. Once I’d thought that far the next step was inevitable: So why don’t I intentionally move the camera and see what happens? And so I did, and kept on doing it.
What a great origin story! It really illustrates how artistic innovation often comes from embracing what others might consider flaws or mistakes. Instead of fighting against the blur from hand-held night shots, you followed that thread to its logical conclusion and turned it into a creative technique.
Your point about not documenting barges is particularly insightful - it cuts right to the heart of breaking free from conventional photographic "rules." Once you let go of the idea that a photograph needs to be a sharp, accurate record of reality, it opens up all sorts of creative possibilities.
There's something very liberating about that realization - that if you're doing this for your own artistic expression, the only rules that matter are whether you like the result. It reminds me of how some of the most interesting developments in art history came from artists questioning "why do we have to do it this way?"
The progression from accepting accidental blur to intentionally creating it seems so natural in retrospect, but it probably required that initial shift in perspective - from seeing blur as a technical failure to seeing it as an artistic opportunity. Did this experience change how you approach other aspects of photography as well?
Not really, not much. Maybe it made me a little freer for some shots. But it really didn’t change things. After all, sometimes I am trying to document something. Just how I document it, that’s another story. I just recognize that I have several styles of photography for different purposes.
That's a very practical approach - having different photographic styles for different purposes rather than feeling like you have to choose one way of working. It makes perfect sense that you'd use sharp, clear documentation when that's what's called for, while being free to experiment with ICM and abstraction when you're working more expressively.
It's like having different tools in your toolkit, each suited to particular kinds of images and intentions. Sometimes you want to show exactly what something looks like, other times you're more interested in capturing a feeling or transforming what you see into something new.
This flexibility seems to tie back to your background in painting too - just as a painter might work in different styles or mediums depending on what they want to achieve, you're comfortable moving between different photographic approaches based on your purpose for any given image.
It's a good reminder that artistic techniques don't have to be all-or-nothing propositions. You can be experimental in some contexts while remaining traditional in others, letting the purpose of the image guide your approach.
Once again, we start with simple description and end up with philosophy. Good conversation. See you next time.
Thanks for sharing your wonderful photographs and insights about your creative process! Your journey from abstract painting to experimental photography, and the thoughtful way you approach different styles of image-making, made for a fascinating discussion. Looking forward to our next conversation. Have a good one!
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