When I line up a camera to an old oak, I’m looking for the same soft edges the painter used to hint at light. The bark’s faint lichen becomes a subtle texture, and the sun’s dappling through leaves turns into those small bright patches on the trunk. I try to keep the horizon low, just like the artist, so the tree dominates the frame. The painter might exaggerate the shadow on one side to make the light feel dramatic, while I lean on the camera’s exposure to keep the shadow natural but still deep. So yes, the details I pick out—texture, light spill, the angle of the branches—often echo what the painter rendered, but they’re filtered through my own eye and the lens’ response. It’s a quiet conversation between brush and shutter.