In this episode of the podcast, I dig into an idea that feels increasingly important in a culture built around constant sharing. Not every good photograph needs to be shared. That may sound counterintuitive, especially when so much of contemporary photography is tied to visibility, platforms, and audience response. But making a photograph and sharing a photograph are two very different acts.For many photographers today, the question of where an image will be posted arrives almost immediately after the shutter is pressed. Sometimes it even arrives before. That subtle shift can quietly change our relationship to photography. The act of sharing begins to define the act of seeing. Over time, photographs can start to feel less like a process of exploration and more like a product designed for approval.Some photographs are meant to function as visual notes. They help us understand light, place, or emotion. They clarify what we are drawn to and what we are still wrestling with.These images might be strong, but their purpose is internal rather than public.They move our work forward even if no one else ever sees them.There are also photographs that are emotionally close. We might make images that are more closely related to memory, vulnerability, or personal experience which often carry a different weight. We can opt to keep those images close to home so to speak as a way of honoring the moment of seeing.
Not to completely rag on social media and photographs, but right now the algorithms reward familiarity. They favor images that resemble what has already succeeded. If every good photograph must be shared, then experimentation becomes a no go. We will slowly stop taking risk to make more interesting work. We stop taking risk in the editing of images, the selection of images and ultimately in the sharing of images.
Remember, editing is not just about selecting the strongest images. It is about shaping meaning. A body of work is defined as much by what is excluded as by what is included. Choosing not to share a photograph is still an editorial decision.
I love sharing work so I by no means am trying to say that sharing is unimportant. Sharing connects us. It builds conversation and community. But it works best when it is intentional rather than automatic. When sharing becomes a choice instead of a reflex, it regains its power.
I think it is worth redefining what success looks like in photography. A successful photograph is not always one that is widely seen or highly praised. Sometimes it is an image that teaches you something, shifts your attention, or reminds you why you enjoy making photographs in the first place.
Letting some images live only with you does not diminish them. In many cases, it strengthens your relationship to photography. It allows the act of seeing to exist without expectation. And in a world that constantly asks us to show everything, there is quiet value in choosing to hold some things back.

In this episode of The Perceptive Photographer, I talk about book ideas for the holiday season, especially for photographers and creative folks. Thanks to a listener, David, I once again share some of my favorite reads or books for giving ranging from creative practice and photography theory to memoirs and photo books. The goal of this week’s episode (561) is to hopefully help you find meaningful books for yourself or the photographers in your life. so without future adieu here is a list:

Creativity / General Art & Practice

1. 12 Notes on Life and Creativity — Quincy Jones
2. Bird by Bird — Anne Lamott
3. The Secret Lives of Color — Kassia St. Clair
4. The Meaning in the Making — Sean Tucker

Photography Conversations, Interviews, Thought

1. Interviews and Conversations, 1951–1998 — Henri Cartier-Bresson (Aperture)
2. Ping Pong Conversations — Alec Soth & Francesco Zanot
3. Memorable Fancies — Minor White
4. Photosoup Education — Steamway Foundation Trust
5. Photosoup Enterprise — Steamway Foundation Trust
6. Photosoup 2022 — Steamway Foundation Trust

Photography Theory / Essays

1. The Photographer’s Eye — John Szarkowski
2. Beauty in Photography — Robert Adams
3. Why People Photograph — Robert Adams
4. Why Photographs Work — George Barr

Photobooks / Monographs

1. Illuminance — Rinko Kawauchi
2. Songbook (called “Songbird” once in the transcript, but the correct title is Songbook) — Alec Soth
3. The Notion of Family — LaToya Ruby Frazier
4. House Hunting — Todd Hido
5. In Dialogue — Dawoud Bey & Carrie Mae Weems
6. The Ballad of Sexual Dependency (re-release) — Nan Goldin

Additional Mentions

• Galen Rowell
• Cindy Sherman
• Fred Herzog
• Sally Mann

If you are looking to buy a book you can ‘t go wrong with

PhotoEye.com

Bookshop.org

Abe’s Books

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.

As photographers, it is easy to get caught up in the technical parts of our craft: camera settings, lenses, editing workflows, and all the details that make up the process. Every once in a while, though, something reminds us that the real heart of photography lies beyond the gear and the techniques. In episode 557 of The Perceptive Photographer, I shared how a simple act of cleaning my studio turned into a moment of rediscovery. I came across my well-worn copy of Galen Rowell’s The Inner Game of Outdoor Photography, a book that has shaped not just my approach to images but the way I see the world. That encounter led me to reflect on how passion, intention, and empathy are what truly give photography its soul.

Passion is the energy that keeps us creating, but compassion, the ability to see and feel with the heart, is what gives our work depth. Rowell reminds us that a great photograph does not just record what is in front of us; it reveals how we feel about it. When we let empathy guide our lens, we move from simply taking pictures to making connections. Whether you are photographing a stranger, a landscape, or your own backyard, being present and emotionally honest allows your images to resonate on a universal level. The most memorable photographs often carry traces of the photographer’s own vulnerability and curiosity.

In the end, photography is as much about self-discovery as it is about expression. Developing a personal style is not about perfecting technique but about refining your intention and learning to trust your emotional instincts. When you photograph with honesty and awareness, your voice naturally begins to emerge. As you continue your creative journey, lead with empathy, stay grounded in your passion, and remember that your best work will always come from the heart.