A photograph, like a poem, is never finished. Only abandoned.


















Sometimes you only think an image is complete. You put it away, confident that you’ve done everything possible to give it life. This is a small example from a family trip to Paris. I haven’t thought about this image in several years, but today a nagging thought hit me that it wasn’t only incomplete, it was bad. Approaching it without my original thoughts let me see it fresh. The crop, the levels, everything fell more naturally in to place.

Time, space—these are great tools. In writing I was always told to write hot and edit cold. By allowing a little time to pass after the initial work, you can be more ruthless in your decisions. Your preconceived ideas about what works are more easily discarded and what is actually good is easier to see.

And its then you realize how embarrassingly bad your initial approach was. Sheesh.




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