Making, Not Taking, A Photograph

In the digital age, our smartphones have become vast archives of our lives. Thousands upon thousands of photos sit in neatly organized albums or scattered in endless scrolls, each one capturing a fleeting moment. Yet, despite their abundance, so many of these images feel hollow. We glance at them and struggle to remember the exact circumstance in which they were taken—the laughter behind the smile, the warmth of the sun in that park, the reason we felt compelled to press the shutter at all.

In contrast, printed photographs feel like treasures unearthed. A single picture, tucked away in a forgotten drawer or an old photo album, can summon a rush of memories: the smell of the room, the sound of a voice, the emotions of that very instant. Each print seems to carry not just the image, but the intent, the story, and the presence of the moment itself.

It is a quiet sadness to have a digital gallery overflowing with images that no longer speak to us. We have the evidence of our lives, yet the connection has grown faint. In chasing the convenience of the digital world, we risk losing the tangible intimacy that made photography a bridge to our own memories.

The important distinction—to make, not take a photograph—is crucial, and intent and visualization are really just the visible tips of a much deeper cognitive and emotional process. What follows is a breakdown of the internal components that lead to the decision to make an image, rather than merely record what happens to be in front of the lens.

Self-Portrait ©2025 Eric Wells Hatheway

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Recognition: Something Is Happening Here

Before intent, there is recognition.
This is the quiet click in the mind that says this moment has potential.

• It may be formal (light, geometry, gesture, color, shadow).
• It may be emotional (loneliness, tension, humor, nostalgia).
• It may be conceptual (an idea you’ve been carrying that suddenly finds a physical form).

Recognition is not yet about cameras or settings—it’s about awareness. Two people can stand in the same place; only one recognizes a photograph.

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Emotional Resonance: Why This Matters to Me

A photograph worth making almost always passes through an emotional filter.

• Does it remind you of something?
• Does it disturb you, calm you, amuse you, or unsettle you?
• Does it align with your ongoing questions about the world?

This is deeply personal and often subconscious.
Without emotional resonance, the image risks becoming descriptive instead of expressive.

This is where photography stops being about seeing and starts being about feeling.

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Intent: What Am I Trying to Say?

Intent is the moment when intuition becomes directional.

This is not necessarily verbalized, but it is present:

• Am I documenting or interpreting?
• Am I honoring or critiquing?
• Am I seeking beauty, truth, ambiguity, or discomfort?

Intent shapes every decision that follows. Two photographers with different intent will produce radically different images from the same scene.

Importantly, intent can be:

• Immediate (responding to the moment)
• Long-form (part of a larger body of work)
• Exploratory (I don’t know yet, but I need to follow this)

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Visualization: What Could This Become?

Visualization is not about predicting the final print—it’s about imagining possibility.

You begin to see:

• The image without distractions
• The frame without excess
• The subject isolated, emphasized, or abstracted

This includes imagining:

• Tonality (color vs monochrome, contrast, softness)
• Spatial relationships (foreground tension, negative space)
• Time (frozen, blurred, layered)

Visualization is where the photograph exists before the shutter is released.

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Exclusion: What Must Be Left Out

One of the most critical—and least discussed—steps.

Making a photograph is an act of removal.

You decide:

• What does not serve the intent
• What weakens the emotional core
• What explains too much

This may involve moving your feet, changing height, waiting, or abandoning the image altogether. Exclusion is often what separates a snapshot from a photograph.

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Commitment: This Is the Frame

At this point, hesitation gives way to commitment.

• You choose a vantage point.
• You accept the limitations of the moment.
• You stop searching and begin executing.

This is an act of confidence, even if quiet.
You are saying: this is how I will speak.

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Technical Decisions as Language, Not Mechanics

Now—and only now—do technical choices matter.

• Aperture becomes about isolation or context
• Shutter speed becomes about time or stillness
• Focus becomes about priority and hierarchy

The camera is no longer a recording device; it is a translator.

When intent is clear, technical decisions feel inevitable rather than calculated.

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Ethical and Aesthetic Accountability: Should I Make This?

Often overlooked, but essential.

• Does this image exploit or respect?
• Does it clarify or sensationalize?
• Does it align with who I am as a photographer?

Choosing not to make an image is as important as making one. Restraint is a form of authorship.

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The Act of Making: Now

The shutter release is not the beginning—it is the consequence.

By the time you press it, the photograph already exists in your mind, your body, and your intent. The camera simply confirms it.

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In Summary

To make a photograph is to move through a layered internal process:

1. Recognition
2. Emotional resonance
3. Intent
4. Visualization
5. Exclusion
6. Commitment
7. Technical translation
8. Ethical accountability

Only after these do you press the shutter.

This is why great photographs feel considered even when they appear effortless—and why the most important work in photography happens long before the camera ever comes to your eye.

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