THE VALUE OF SPACE: SEEING BEYOND THE FRAME
“Space is not emptiness. It is the foundation on which emotion, mood, and connection are painted. In the same way that silence can make music more powerful, space in a photograph invites the viewer to pause, breathe, and engage with the image on a deeper level. It draws attention to what remains and allows the mind to wander into the quiet.”
MEET ME BY THE SEA Oregon Coast
Recently, a new friend and fellow artist, Eva Chupikova—whom I’m interviewing for an upcoming feature—turned the tables on me with a question: “How do you perceive negative space in your photographs? You often use long exposures, which give static objects an almost surreal appearance. From a photographic standpoint, long exposure is a remarkable technique that allows us to capture an extended period in a single image—almost like a miracle. What fascinates you about long exposure, and what does it contribute to your visual expression?”
Her question made me pause. It tapped into something fundamental about my process.
I say “new friend” because Eva and I recently connected through our shared passion for photography and visual storytelling. We immediately found common ground in the way we both value space as an integral part of composition, and I’m excited to share more about her work soon.
In photography, what we leave out is just as important as what we include. The open skies, the vast stretches of water, the simplicity of a single tree against an empty horizon—these spaces, more than the subjects themselves, hold the emotional weight of an image. For me, it’s not “negative” space; it’s simply space. And often, that space is more valuable than form.
Long-exposure photography plays directly into this relationship with space. The slower process invites me to settle into a scene, quiet my mind, and become fully present. As the shutter remains open for minutes at a time, the noise of the world falls away. Waves blur into smooth expanses, clouds stretch across the sky like whispered brushstrokes, and the scene transforms into a meditation on stillness. The spaciousness I feel while making the image is mirrored in the final photograph—a full-circle expression of presence.
Space is not emptiness. It is the foundation on which emotion, mood, and connection are painted. In the same way that silence can make music more powerful, space in a photograph invites the viewer to pause, breathe, and engage with the image on a deeper level. It draws attention to what remains and allows the mind to wander into the quiet.
Music, in fact, shares a similar relationship with silence. The most moving compositions don’t overwhelm with sound—they emerge from silence, play within it, and ultimately return to it. Silence becomes the foundation that gives each note its power. In photography, space functions the same way: it allows the subject to breathe, to resonate, and to be felt more deeply.
This understanding of space influences not only my photography but also my life. Through years of observing and honoring space in my work, I’ve learned to appreciate it elsewhere—in conversations, in the rhythm of daily life, in the natural world. Space creates room for clarity, and clarity allows us to connect more deeply with ourselves and our surroundings.
In a world that often celebrates more, I find solace in less. Not in scarcity, but in simplicity. The simplest compositions, with their expansive skies and quiet waters, are often the ones that evoke the deepest feelings of peace and wonder.
So the next time you stand before a landscape or peer through a camera’s viewfinder, I encourage you to notice the space. Don’t see it as empty or negative—see it as essential. Let it speak, let it breathe, and, perhaps, let it teach you something about the beauty of presence.
And stay tuned—Eva's feature is coming soon to The Curated Landscape, where we'll explore her perspective on space, creativity, and the art of visual storytelling.
