Learning to Shoot With Intention
September always feels different than August.
August is still summer, even when you can feel it slipping away. September is when it actually lets go. The crowds thin out. The light gets lower and longer in the evenings. And this year, September became the month when I stopped just taking photographs and started thinking more about how I take them.
The Focus Cup
Early in the month, I made the trip up to New York for the Focus Cup.
I won't pretend I went in with any great expectations. Mostly, I wanted to be around people who take photography as seriously as I'm trying to.
That's what I found. A room full of people who care about the craft, talking about gear, light, photographs they almost got and the ones they missed.
It's easy to spend a year photographing the Shore on your own, developing your own habits without ever stepping back to see how you're doing. Spending a day around other photographers gave me a chance to recalibrate.
I came home with more questions than answers. I've learned that's usually a good thing.
Waiting, and What It Taught Me
The Focus Camera and Unique Photo Sony Challenge photo contests are still out there, and I also submitted to NJ Monthly. I did my best, took my time and selected what I thought were outstanding photos.
I've entered, I've submitted, and now I'm doing the part nobody talks about:
Waiting.
Waiting isn't really passive, though. At least I didn't let it be.
I can't help but compare my work to others to learn and grow. Instead of treating September as a holding pattern until I heard back, I used it as a reason to go out and shoot differently.
I found myself going back to the boardwalk and the marshlands, not just to take pictures, but to shoot with intention. I checked sunrise and sunset times so I could be there when the light was right instead of whenever I happened to have some free time. I framed the moon over the horizon and waited until it sat where I wanted it. I stood still with the swans, watching and waiting for the moment when they turned or settled into a position that made the photograph work.
The numbers tell the story better than I can.
Last year at The Focus Cup, I came home with around 300 photographs. Maybe 20 of them were what I'd call good on my own good-better-best scale.
This year I took fewer than 80. About 40 landed on the better end of that scale.
That's a pretty big change.
I was paying more attention to framing, the quality of the light and the moment itself. I also spent more time experimenting with my Godox flash, which is still very much a work in progress.
None of this is fast. I’m still trying to figure it all out and perform more consistently
Sometimes photography is simply standing somewhere with a camera and waiting for the scene to become what you know it can be.
That's the difference between shooting and shooting with intention. You're not just capturing what's in front of you. You're waiting for the photograph.
If August was about looking back at summer and thinking about what the photographs meant, September taught me something more active. It's not just about taking better pictures. It's about changing how you go looking for them.
The Focus Cup reminded me that I'm part of something bigger than my own routine. The contests, and the waiting that comes with them, pushed me toward purpose instead of volume.
I still don't know how any of it will turn out.
And that's almost beside the point now.
Asbury Park
I made time this month to walk around Asbury Park with a camera, drawn there specifically for the vintage cars at the Asbury Circuit.
There's something about that combination: classic cars against the boardwalk, the murals, the light bouncing off the Casino building in the late afternoon. There's almost too much to photograph.
And that's part of the problem.
It's easy to come home with a hundred pretty pictures of Asbury Park and not one photograph that actually says something about the place.
While I was there, I also had the chance to see the work of Danny Clinch, one of New Jersey's most respected photographers. His body of work, and the people he's photographed, is pretty remarkable.
Seeing that work up close reminded me of something I've been thinking about more lately: the photograph isn't just about what's in front of the camera. It's about the relationship between the photographer and the moment.
That's what I'm chasing on the boardwalk, just without the rock stars in front of my lens.
So I tried to slow down.
Instead of chasing every colorful wall or postcard view, I looked for what felt true to the place. The in-between moments. The cars themselves as much as the people looking at them. The things that weren't posed for the camera.
That's still documenting the soul of the Shore. It's just a little different when the Shore is louder, busier and more layered.
Looking Ahead
The real result of September is that I feel like a more intentional photographer than I was at the end of August. I took fewer photographs. I waited more. I paid more attention to light.
And I'm beginning to understand that getting the photograph I want isn't always about being in the right place. Sometimes it's about being willing to stay there until the right moment arrives.
October is coming. Locals' Summer is close. I'll have the camera with me. And I'll be looking a little harder for the photograph, not just the picture.
