How do I get the viewer to experience what I am experiencing when I take the photo?

<p>This question is dedicated to Fred Goldsmith, who has had so much to say about emotion, intimacy, and other subliminal things that make a photograph worth taking and viewing. (I would prefer to say "transcendent" rather than "subliminal," but Fred does not like the former term. I am not sure that he would like the latter term either, but I am casting about for a word here and not quite finding it, so "subliminal" will have to do for now. http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/transcendent )</p>

<p>Somewhere between discussions of photographic gear and abstruse reflections on the meaning of photography (or the photo) lies another class of philosophical questions unique to photography as either art or craft, or both: how does one achieve what one wants to achieve? How can I possibly create an image that conveys the mood, emotion, beauty, or whatever it is that I perceive or feel (or even intuit) at the time that I take the photo? (I am open to both specifics and generalities where suggestions are concerned--the more general the better where philosophical questions are concerned, but please give examples where appropriate and helpful.)</p>

<p>I have long said that I take/make photographs for myself alone, that I am willing to share them with those who might want to look at them, but that I will never pander to what is popular.</p>

<p>Well, there has certainly never been any particular problem with excessive popularity where my photos are concerned, and so I am relieved from the outset of any temptation or pressure to become obsessed with getting great accolades or high ratings of any kind. That does not particularly disappoint me. <strong>What does disappoint me quite frequently is my inability to convey through the photo my own experience, especially whenever the light or the subject or something else hits me so powerfully that I simply stop and say, "I must get a picture of this!" Too many times the result is not at all what I thought that I saw, much less felt.</strong></p>

<p>Photographs, like lovers, can have a certain "<em>Je ne sais quoi.</em>" I do not know what it is, either, but I still would like to be able to capture it and put it in the photo. Too often, that special something that makes a photo worth conceptualizing and even taking is still not there when the photo has been processed and posted or printed.<strong><br /></strong></p>

<p>As usual, the question is meant to be merely suggestive, and I hope that others will refine it or go beyond it if so doing helps them to say what is on their minds.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Why do I ask this question? Well, I do so in part because the disappointment that I have described above in boldface is the source of a great deal of the existential <em>angst</em> that is associated with photography, at least in my case.</p>

<p>It is pretty clear that buying or using more or different gear is not the solution to this <em>angst</em>. (There might be a counterexample or two in my own experience to that statement, but I would be hard-pressed to say what it would be.)</p>

<p>In any case, there is both agony and ecstasy in both art and life, and the problem highlighted above points up a good bit of my own agony where photography is concerned. Even when I am doing simple documentary photography, there is usually something special about the place or the person that I am photographing. I often shoot and leave--but too often I also leave behind the magic that I found. It is not there in the picture when I finally view it later.</p>

<p><strong>Why? Why? Why?</strong></p>

<p>More to the point: what do I do about it? Why does this happen to me as a photographer? Questions of technique aside for the moment, why is it indicative of the primary challenge that I see inhering in photography?<strong><br /></strong></p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Read what Stieglitz said about <em>equivalents</em>. Or Minor White, for that matter. Then get out and shoot.</p>

<p>WEELL Landrum,</p>

<p>when I view my pics after a while, I have lost all idea of what I felt at the time and why I took some/many of the pics. On first viewing, however, I often feel that I did not catch the feeling at aLL AND ALL MY PICS FIRST DISAPPOINT ME. bUT AFTER WEEKS WHEN THE DIRECT ASSOCIATION VANISHES A BIT, i DO LIKE SOME FOR THeiR COMPOSITION, COLOR, LIGHT ...</p>

<p>aND NOW YOU WORRY ABOUT A THIRD PERSON GETTING WHAT YOU SAW IN THE FIRST, THE TAKING MOMENT. fORGET IT, PLEASE.</p>

<p>yOU ARE CREATING AN ARTIFACT, NOT A HOLOGRAPHIC, acoustic, OLFACTORY, ... REPLICA.</p>

<p>Who can hear the thunder of the waves of a seascape? Or the boom of the cannons in a war photo? Or smell the smell of rotting human flesh there ...</p>

<p>I think good pics take on a life of their own and a strength of their own that often was not what the author had in mind. Art exists independent by itself in nature, waves, sand drawings on the beach etc, does it not? In crowd movement, fallen leaves, ...</p>

<p> </p>

<blockquote>

<p>Read what Stieglitz said about <em>equivalents</em>. Or Minor White, for that matter. Then get out and shoot.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>It is funny that you should mention that concept, Dave, since I was going to refer to that in the original posting as one technique before it got too long.</p>

<p>http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equivalents</p>

<p>http://www.jnevins.com/whitereading.htm</p>

<p>http://www.photo.net/no-words-forum/00VGnP</p>

<p>The closest that I have come to this is in my shots of old houses, such as in this one that I photographed three times between February and April of 2002. When I returned later, it was completely gone:</p>

<p>http://www.photo.net/photodb/folder?folder_id=734876</p>

<p>Notwithstanding my technical deficiencies as a photographer, I was pleased to find that (for me at least) I seemed to have captured the "spirit" of the old, dying house.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<blockquote>

<p>when I view my pics after a while, I have lost all idea of what I felt at the time and why I took some/many of the pics. On first viewing, however, I often feel that I did not catch the feeling at aLL AND ALL MY PICS FIRST DISAPPOINT ME. bUT AFTER WEEKS WHEN THE DIRECT ASSOCIATION VANISHES A BIT, i DO LIKE SOME FOR THeiR COMPOSITION, COLOR, LIGHT ...<br /> NOW YOU WORRY ABOUT A THIRD PERSON GETTING WHAT YOU SAW IN THE FIRST, THE TAKING MOMENT. fORGET IT, PLEASE.<br /> yOU ARE CREATING AN ARTIFACT, NOT A HOLOGRAPHIC, acoustic, OLFACTORY, ... REPLICA.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Hmm. Well, Frank, I do think that the photos taken by others do speak to me sometimes, although I can never be sure that they say the same thing to me as viewer that they said to the photographer.</p>

<p>I actually find that my photographs often do vividly bring back the moment when I took the picture, although this is quite rare. Other photos do become mere artifacts. Perhaps I should bury them.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Landrum, that is a huge question to tackle, but you may be surprised that I have an opinion about some of it.<g></p>

<p><em>1. I don't capture what I see; I capture what I want my viewer/consumer to see.</em><br /> I have experienced things like how hot or cold it was, the sounds of crickets or bugs, the breeze--all these things play into your senses, but like putting a dark cloth over your head to compose the image, you have to pay attention to your subject. Then you have to think about how you want to handle the image later on. In this example: http://www.photo.net/photo/9302605, the scene was overwhelmingly beautiful, open and breezy. The problem is the image had an extremely wide range of exposure values, which would create an image that was too contrasy for the film, so I went with it, added a red filter and polarizer, and went the other direction to give just a portion of what I saw by using a longer lens, then decided to highlight the bright water and make the tree stark against it. In the end, I knew I couldn't capture what I saw, so I had to try to capture what I wanted the viewer to see.</p>

<p><em>2. Sometimes you can't capture everything you see, so you must capture a part of what you want to want the viewer to see.</em><br /> Long ago, I realized that putting a wide angle lens on a camera to capture what you see, does not work. In some cases, you don't have the equipment you need, as in this image: http://www.photo.net/photo/11316882. I decided to throw some equipment into a car and just travel light and get out and shoot. The widest lens I took with me was my 150mm lens. I really needed my 90mm for this scene. I was forced to compose the image with as much skill as I could muster. In the end, I'm not sure that capturing more ground would necessarily have made the image any better.</p>

<p><em>3. Occasionally I have to pass on a photo.</em><br /> Often I see something so beautiful that I can't capture it on film. Usually I know it is so beautiful that I don't want to share it with anybody else, or it speaks to me in a way that I do not think I can portray given limitations to my skill set. Often I know I can't capture what I want to capture, and pass. The older I get, the more I am tuned into this sensibility. Ultimately, it allows me to take more images.</p>

<p><em>4. I am not using a movie camera; I am using a still image camera.</em><br /> This is where you're driving along and enjoying a view, but there are too many trees and no place to turn off. It would film nicely as a motion picture, with the right equipment, but it won't translate to still.</p>

<p><em>5. Knowing what you want to portray, you will have work to do with the negative and the print.</em><br /> In this image: http://www.photo.net/photo/9302608, I was heavily into the zone system (which I still use with 4x5 film, mostly), I knew I wanted to capture this scene, but the scene was very was dark and flat, and the dense area too faint to give highlights under normal circumstances. The lighting was awful. So I had to expand the contrast range by using a combination of exposure and development. Still, the image takes some manipulation to print (I've tried to duplicate the print in PS). Sometimes you have to work your magic to get what you need.</p>

<p><em>6. Get out and shoot isn't bad advice. It also means being more selective about the images you take. </em><br /> I used to photograph with a colleague who would stop at lovely scenes that had too much brush, bad shadows, or bad angles. Rather than spending time setting up the camera and tripod, I often move on and find that I am able to shoot far more images in a day. The flip side is not getting out of your car, or stopping on the trail (or not even getting out of the house in the first place). I had another colleague who was too lazy to stop the car and take a look at a potential shot. So the question is not just capturing what you see, but getting to a place where you're at least trying.</p>

<p>So what does it boil down to? You have to pass on some images, but more so, You have to understand what you want the viewer/customer to see, and do the technical things you must do in order to capture your vision for the image. Adams got this so right when he likened the negative to the score, and the print to the performance of that score. But before you get to this, you have to have a tune in your head. Of course you can't even get to this point if you're not out working.</p>

<p>Lannie, I use and appreciate the word "transcendent" all the time.</p>

<p>I attempt to express things with photographs, not necessarily my emotions or moods at the time. I will use my emotions and moods to help me express visually. (I may be sad and in need of expressing hope even though I don't feel hope.)</p>

<p>Work at it. Check out how others do it. Though there is lots of magic in great photographs and works of art, it's not created only magically. It takes thought, perseverance, practice. Great musicians practice their scales. Amateur photographers don't think they have to stoop to the same kinds of methods and they are wrong. Point me (via email) to a photo you're disappointed in. Tell me what you'd like it to express. Maybe we can figure out how you could have gotten closer. I'm no expert either!</p>

<p>My current exploration/obsession is with gesture and pose. How do I get my subjects to read with some kind of visual meaning (not a meaning to be interpreted so much as felt or sensed)? What difference does it make to me as photographer/viewer to have someone looking back over their shoulder, looking at me with their head turned slightly away vs. looking at me with their head directly turned toward me? What can I say with a bit of a move of their hands one way or the other, the turn of a foot. What activity can a subject appear to be engaging in? What's the dynamic between two subjects in my photo? What's the dynamic between subject and background, the interplay, the chemistry? Choreography. (It's not just limited to humans.)</p>

<p>I use and often try to create drama. (Some prefer a lack of drama.) What perspectives and angles create drama?Is there drama to be found in other than the ubiquitous high contrast kinds of photos? What angles make you feel more restful? How do right angles compare to acute angles and how do they both compare to obtuse angles? How does a skewed perspective make you feel? Diagonals and straight lines?</p>

<p>Different kinds of bokeh and different uses of it feel differently. It's not just for "effect." It can speak. How does motion blur differ in quality from the blur that results from depth of field? How can they play with each other expressively?</p>

<p>I try to know my subject, use my subject, and also think past my subject. The concept of <em>Equivalents</em> is a good start. There was a thread on it a while back, probably worth reading.</p>

<p>I consider texture. For me, texture is to photographs as color is to the sound of an orchestra. How do the elements and the feel of each element work in harmony and counterpoint within a photo. It's the different kinds of looks things can have depending on the other factors influencing them. Is the sound of the violin "warm" as a Romantic composer might want it or "cold" as Schoenberg might prefer? What tones, what textures, what kinds of composition are warm and what kind are cold? What visual elements create mystery and what elements suggest revelation?</p>

<p>I was at a rehearsal recently for a production of <em>A Chorus Line</em> that a good friend is directing. He told the group he didn't want to catch anyone acting. He insisted that great theater and great art doesn't come from trying to make great art . . . it comes from doing what's in front of you and executing your craft really well. While there's obviously more than craft at play, there's truth in what he was saying.</p>

<p>I've had that disappointment . . . probably most photographers have . . . you describe. I may be in a bit of a different position, though. I rarely stumble across something and say to myself, "I must get a picture of this!" I take up my camera with the goal of making a picture. For me, it's an act I must make happen. I don't usually capture things I see. I make things I want to look at.</p>

<p>Rarely that my photos reflect the feelings I have at the time I take them. I may be more worried about not getting run over by a truck when taking a scenic shot from a busy highway. Instead, I am projecting something into my pictures that the viewer should experience. Or me, many months later when I have forgotten the busy traffic or the oppressive heat on this particular day. Sometimes, I feel a picture has to be good simply because I put so much effort into it. I am with Frank, usually it is only much later that I can see my pictures for what they really are.</p>

<p>Your original question could really apply to every art form. How would a writer, composer of music or cave painter transmit the breadth of their original sensory, and dare I say, even spiritual experiences? The work of art is probably never a direct equivalent for the rest of us. But we may add meaning to the symbolic presentations from our own sum of experiences, and there may be profound connections with your work - and with your experiences.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I attempt to express things with photographs, not necessarily my emotions or moods at the time. -Fred</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Yes. To which the original question might be refined to :<br>

<strong>How do I get the viewer to experience what I am <em>expressing</em> when I take the photo.</strong></p>

<p>The taking of the photo - as a possibility of an expression - I never limit to the moment of capture itself, allowing it to go well beyond the moment the picture was actually taken. Photographs being captured ( "made" ) in space, not necessarily in time.</p>

<p>Why would we expect (or want!) a viewer to experience what we experienced making the image? </p>

<p>What's so important about our individual experience that our own remembered/hypothetical experience is sought from a viewer, especially when one person has seen the subject and the other only sees a rendition? Isn't that pretty narcissistic? (nothing wrong with narcissism...think Proust)</p>

<p>Remember the armies of hobbiests who decend on ghosts towns, photographing doors and windows and peeled paint, falling structures. Why would even the "best" of such photos be expected to evoke the photographers' responses, even from the most perceptive and tuned-in viewer ? </p>

<p><a href="http://www.desertusa.com/bodie/bodie.html">http://www.desertusa.com/bodie/bodie.html</a></p>

<p>I think that if we want complex responses to non-human images we do better by adding add commentary to our photos. That's what photojournalists do, most of the time, whether or not we get to see what they've written. Our odds of shared experience are probably higher if there's a human in the image, acting the emotion we have identified (refer to Fred G again). Many of us resort to symbols and verbage in images as shortcuts...but then there may be little reason for making the photo.<br>

<a href="http://www.desertusa.com/bodie/bodie.html"></a></p>

<blockquote>

<p>Why would we expect (or want!) a viewer to experience what we experienced making the image?</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Exactly. I want people to experience the image. If I wanted them to experience what I experienced when I was making the image, I would have taken them with me. </p>

<p>And, conversely, why wouldn't we want a viewer to experience what we experienced . . . at times, even if not all the time? Communication is often about re-creating for the viewer or listener a set of events and some of my emotional responses to it. I don't tell people I cried at the funeral of my dear friend to get a laugh out of them. I don't communicate so that those I'm communicating with can react any way they want. There is intention behind my words and my pictures. </p>

<p>Lannie, I think there's a difference between expressing emotion and conveying emotion. For me, expressing comes from me as a kind of prime mover. The conveyance comes in later, perhaps more in post processing and/or presentation, where I do want to impact how the expression will be conveyed and even taken in. Some of the conveying part can be thought about in the planning or setup stage as well. When I'm shooting a subject, I often feel as if I am expressing a fair amount of emotion and I more often feel that my subject is. That's one thing. Conveying that in a photograph is another.</p>

<p>Lannie, one further thought: The viewer doesn't have to get <em>it</em> to get it. In other words, he doesn't have to get the specific emotion to get a feel for something aesthetically akin to that experienced emotion. I never thought of art or photographs as translating emotions directly. I think of them as able to <em>signify</em> emotions.</p>

<h1><strong>"How do I get the viewer to experience what I am experiencing when I take the photo?"</strong></h1>

<p>I think it that this is a very good, if largely unresolvable, question, and whether or not it is "am experiencing" or is rather part of the feelings we have and the approach we may wish to bring to the photo at that time. When I make a photo, I sometimes wish that the reasons (aesthetic, fantasy, curiosity) I made it, or my feelings at the time, be perceived by the viewer. In some cases, what I have experienced in making the work is not fully known to me until later, or until further input has been made in the darkroom or lightroom. Of course, those are, a priori, indistinguishable events from what Lannie is questioning at the time of exposure. In other cases, however, I do not feel that need at all, but simply wish for the viewer to look at something he has not seen, something which I have discovered and/or created, <strong>and to simply experience it in his or her own personal way</strong>.</p>

<p>A reaction is always better than inaction. I think we can sometimes try too hard to communicate something, which can make the images too contrived or too predictable in content. This can be seen in some portraits, in scenic images and in some arrangements of composite or combined elements in abstract or expressionistic scenes, or collages, as conceived by the photographer. In undertaking my series that sought to hypothesise or imagine the feelings of the discoverer of our city (at its 400th anniversary), I tried too hard to communicate what I perceived to be his feelings in discovering the new land. Rather than letting the viewer extract from simpler images what he wished, and hopefully something akin to the special feeling on contacting a new land and indigenous peoples for the first time, I invoked those elements but in a too well planned way (the discoverer's prose, elements of his maps, indian artifacts, unspoiled land and water), which robbed the images of the mystery I wished to imbue them with in the first place. I should have let myself go more with the flow, in a less deterministic way.</p>

<p>I think we can conceptualise our undertaking, and try to undestand to some small extent how the viewer might react to what we are doing, but essentially our influence has ended once we have signed off our result. The rest is up to the viewer.</p>

<p>I have taken more joy from the unexpected reaction of the viewer, his or her personal interpretation of the work and his or her great acceptance of it, than I have ever felt have when someone has simply understood my approach or desire, without it impacting them more than that. We cannot own the reaction of the viewer.</p>

<p>I was waiting for Fred to respond since this question was directed to him and I always like Fred's insight. I don't think still photography is as much about the photographer as it is about the subject photographed. And as somebody already mentioned, a still camera is much different in conveying "the experience" that a motion picture camera can convey. I say that knowing that most still-artists are the least understood people in society .. and their life's work is seldom analyzed until after his/her death, whereas a documentary photographer with motion pictures and editorial commentary elicits almost an immediate response, and even there, exits the ability for the unintended distortion of events, reality and emotion.</p>

<p>I have been greatly disappointed in my own still photographs which I believe lack the tactile feeling and emotion of the environment in which I sometimes take them. Every still photo Ive taken has been an abstraction of that reality. If you want people to feel what you feel in your photographs .. be prepared for great disappointment, but continue trying and a body of work will emerge that collectively speaks of your own experience. The funny thing about this is that when you reflect on those old photographs buried in shoe boxes or discs .. your experience will be remembered differently even by you yourself. It is that very property of a still photograph that lends itself to so many interpretations. Some photographers find this frustrating and restrictive of their efforts; others are liberated emotionally by such limitations.</p>

<p>Few things in life lends itself to accurate depiction of the event/emotion of that time and place when the shutter clicked ... for still photographers the emotion of the event can only be captured in the brief notes and journals that accompany the photograph. Case in point: look for an old photograph in grandmother's photo album, flip over each photograph to see what grandma wrote .. look for words which describe the event with a commentary .. such as "1940 gunnar's arrived in Panama ... finished radar training and enroute to Hawaii" .. or other similar notes and commentary .. which when reflected upon in light of later experience convey a very different tone and note of reality for not only the photographer, but the viewer. A bit of an oblique example, perhaps, but we all experience this. Perhaps all that can be hoped for is a photograph which comes close to conveying the experience intended .. and the only way of shaping perceptions of our work is to provide the photographer's own interpretation for the viewer explaining that experience. I seldom recommend such a thing.</p>

<p><em>"...conversely, why wouldn't we <strong>want</strong> a viewer to experience what we experienced"</em> ...Fred G</p>

<p><strong>Wanting</strong> is question of generosity and priorities. To each his own of course, but the more a photo remains one's own the less it's generous (perhaps).</p>

<p>The best attempt I've seen to characterise art in this post-art era (IMO) was by a Stanford philosopher/poet whose name I don't recall: it springs from the personal aspiration and/or quality of <strong>generosity</strong>. Generosity has to do with freely giving ... in this photo framework, without <strong>wanting</strong> something from the viewer. Generosity is inconsistent with narcissism (which has both popular and a clinical definitions)...which may relate to <strong>wanting</strong> to occupy or control someone else's thoughts and emotions.</p>

<p>Some of the best at whatever do seem often to be narcissists...others simply do the work for its own sake. I'd contrast Proust with Joyce, Michael Jackson with John Coltrane, if those names ring bells.</p>

<p>I hope it's the very opposite of narcissism. It's about a desire to share, to establish a relationship, first to subject, then to viewer. Generosity isn't always about giving. It's about doing, and often about doing <em>with</em>. My father's live-in aide is generous to the point she freely gives her good cheer, even while being paid for her hard work. Part of her generosity of spriti seems to be her overt desire to have a relationship with my father. Not just to give to him, but to get from him. To be with him. "With" is the operative word for me.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>Why would we expect (or want!) a viewer to experience what we experienced making the image?</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>John, I would say that we do not in every instance, but there does come a time in all of our photographic lives when we are almost like children saying to our parents or siblings, "Come look at <em>this</em>!"</p>

<p>That is, there are times when we really want to show something to someone else. The inspiration for this thread comes from looking at some old houses across the street from the college where I teach. In late June, less than an hour before sunset, I drove by and had some magic light from some cirrus tops giving a very special effect to those old houses. I have not seen it since. I had no camera with me and thus cannot show it to anyone now, but, if I could, I would want to share it.</p>

<p>So, the subset of all possible photographs that I am talking about is the "Hey, you gotta see this!" category.</p>

<p>Stated another way, it is about using photography as a medium of communication, not simply expression. Unfortunately, one cannot communicate it unless one first captures it. Whether it would have the same emotional or esthetic or spiritual impact is always problematic, of course. Sometimes other persons simply nod their heads and say, "Uh-huh,"' if they say anything at all.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Thank you, Fred. The cavalry showed up just in time.</p>

<p>I wrote first and read later. You already said it, and said it better.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>I think to answer the question, it helps to look at the difference between casual snapshot picture-taker and an artist/photographer behind a camera. An artist/photographer sees something of interest and uses his/her tools to communicate to a viewer the many levels of the experience at the time the photo was taken. An artist-photographer can use his camera, image capturing media, post processing techniques to convey exactly what was experienced at that time. I think every artist struggles with the difference between the actual experience and the final capture of that experience. I think the closer an artist-photographer can come to present that experience to a viewer as he or she experienced it shows the degree of talent that artist-photographer has. That just takes time and work. I am still struggling as well. There is an amazing number of tools to help you, but they are only tools. The best tool is your mind and creativity. I guess you have to decide if you need to develop expertise with your external tools or internal tools. <br /><br />I can give you an example of what I am talking about: A photo I took of the Los Angeles river.<br>

The first photo is the image, the second is the experience:<br /><br /><img src="http://www.charleseagan.com/photography/temp/lariver_orig.jpg" alt="" width="900" height="599" /></p>

<p><img src="http://www.charleseagan.com/photography/temp/lariver_final.jpg" alt="" /></p>

<p>Thanks, Charles. That is a great example of the sort of thing that I am trying to convey.</p>

<p>Here is one that I think has a chance of conveying the kind of mood that I was in when I saw the sky. There is a more dramatic shot of a sunset in the same folder, but it does not convey the same "feel" to me. Of course, I have no idea what kind of feeling it evokes in the potential viewer:</p>

<p>http://www.photo.net/photo/6069717&size=lg</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>What I would love to have people do on this thread is to upload different photos of various genres and tell what emotion(s) they felt at the time they took it. I can imagine that the disparity between what they felt upon taking it and what I feel upon viewing it is likely to be very substantial.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

<p>Lannie, I honestly don't see how that would help answer your question. It's too abstract an exercise . . . here's what I intended . . . here's what someone sees when they look. It will establish that there is often a disconnect, which you seem to already know. But how will such an exercise proactively help you express what you want in particular photos. That would need a more nuts and bolts kind of exercise. Not sure if the moderators would even want this, because it seems to border on critique, but I would think the more helpful thing to do would be to discuss specific photographic ways to express specific things (emotions, ideas, feelings, energies, etc.). It might be more helpful to post one specific photo that doesn't express what you were feeling, tell us what you were feeling and then, together, look at ways those feelings might have been photographically expressed.</p>