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.

I’m glad you see that. It’s the quiet moments that really matter, whether with a brush or a lens. If you ever want to talk about how to catch that extra shadow in a shoot, just let me know.

That’s the spirit. Remember to let the light breathe—give your camera time to find that sweet spot in the middle of the exposure triangle, and you’ll get a shot that feels as alive as the painted one. Happy hunting.