Visual Exercises for Photographers

“Photograph Not Only What You See But Also What You Feel” — Minor White

Over the years, I’ve picked up a few lessons that have quietly shaped my perspective. They’re not rules, more like habits that have stuck with me—simple ways to keep my eye sharp and my vision clear. I believe these insights might be helpful to others, so I share them as personal tools that guide my journey.

Early in my career, my first Picture Editor, Nick, offered me invaluable advice that I still apply today. He insisted that I return from every assignment with six very different photographs. Not four or five—SIX (back when we were shooting rolls of 36 frames). On one occasion, I returned with only five, and I was sent straight back out to find that last image. It was the first and last time I returned to the paper without the required number.

Sketchbook images— all taken on iPhone.

It wasn’t just about the number, of course. This exercise forced me to think more deeply. I learned to approach the same subject in six distinct ways. It helped me avoid repetition and work harder at seeing rather than just looking. This simple yet powerful method trained my eye, and I still use it today. Often, I’ll do this with my phone, which I consider my sketchbook. I always have it with me, and although those images rarely become finished work, they help me stay visually aware and curious.

The Familiar as a Challenge

Most mornings, I walk my dogs through the same stretch of woodland behind my home. It’s a place I know well, which makes it both comforting and challenging. The more familiar a place becomes, the harder it is to find something new in it. That’s precisely why I keep photographing it. Each time, I try to see it differently: a shift in light, a change in lens, or a new perspective. Sometimes I climb higher or crouch low to the ground. Other days, I experiment with slow shutter speeds, deliberate blur, or shooting into the light. These quiet exercises keep my seeing instinct alive. I rarely use the pictures for anything; they exist purely as practice.

A Visual Language

Photography, to me, is like learning a language—a visual one, separate from the written word. Like any language, it needs regular practice to stay fluent. These small daily exercises are how I maintain that fluency. They’re not about creating something to show; they’re about staying engaged with the act of seeing.

Daily Exercises

While none of these are rules, they are habits that have worked for me over the years:

The Six Picture Habit: Choose any one subject and make six distinctly different photographs. Change your angle, distance, framing, or light.

Close–Mid–Wide: Take one close-up, one mid-range, and one wide shot. Then repeat each in both portrait and landscape orientation.

Change Your View: Don’t always photograph from eye level—get higher or lower and see what changes.

Revisit the Familiar: Photograph a familiar subject repeatedly. The challenge is to find new ways of seeing it.

Work Within Limits: Use only one lens or one focal length for a day. Restrictions often spark creativity.

The Five-Minute Subject: Stop where you are and make photographs for five minutes without moving. It’s surprising how much more you begin to notice.

Looking Harder

I often think the real difference between looking and seeing lies in intent. Looking is passive; it’s what we all do as we move through the world. Seeing, though, is something else entirely. It’s active, deliberate, and questioning. It means slowing down, deciding what your subject actually is—which isn’t always obvious—and then exploring how best to express it.

For me, this begins with the frame. I spend as much time thinking about where the edges sit as I do about what fills the centre. The act of seeing involves paying close attention to everything within those boundaries—not just the subject itself but how light, line, and form interact across the frame.

Really seeing can also mean anticipating. It’s both imaginative and observational—visualising what might happen next based on experience or intuition. It’s noticing how a cloud might move into the right position, how a figure might step into a pool of light, and how the balance of the scene might shift in a few seconds’ time.

This kind of seeing isn’t mechanical; it’s mindful. It asks us to stay open, to look longer, to think ahead, and to understand that the photograph begins long before we press the shutter. So when I talk about 'looking harder,' I refer to that quiet process of awareness. It’s a decision to engage fully with what’s in front of you, to pay attention to the edges, the light, and the small changes that turn observation into understanding.

These small routines and ways of seeing help me stay connected to that. They remind me that photography isn’t only about recording what’s there but about noticing what might otherwise go unseen and working hard to discover new ways to represent the familiar.

Embracing the Journey

Photography is a journey, not a destination. Each click of the shutter is a step along the path. I encourage you to embrace this journey. Allow yourself the freedom to explore, to fail, and to learn. The more you engage with your surroundings, the more you’ll uncover layers of meaning and beauty.

As I continue to document critical environmental changes, I find inspiration in the remote regions I explore. This journey is not just about capturing images; it’s about fostering appreciation for these extraordinary places. By sharing my experiences, I hope to inspire others to see the world through a different lens.

In conclusion, remember that the act of seeing is a practice. It requires patience and dedication. So, take your time, explore your surroundings, and let your curiosity guide you. You may find that the most profound images come from the simplest of moments.