The power of nothing...

I love negative space in my photography. I love how it can add mystery, emotion, and story — without anything actually being there. It’s like an oxymoron: the nothingness that somehow gives everything its weight.

And I use it. A LOT. Probably too much, if you ask certain unnamed friends.

So, speaking of friends — I was chatting all things art with a great one (Hi, Cindy!) — an artist, teacher, and mentor who’s put up with my endless “but why?” questions for years. We got onto the subject of negative space. And somewhere in our tennis-match-style back-and-forth, I realized she was describing something that didn’t quite match what I knew negative space to be. And she thought the same about me.

Turns out… we were both right.

Weird, right?

Apparently, negative space in photography and in painting are two very different creatures.

Curiouser and curiouser, eh?!

According to the ever-reliable interwebs (no credit given, because who even wrote this first?):

“Negative space is the unoccupied area around the main subject of a photograph. It serves as a visual buffer that allows the subject to stand out, drawing the viewer’s attention. This space can be anything from an empty sky, a blank wall, or a stretch of sand, and it often lacks detail to prevent distraction from the focal point of the image.”

I use this technique as a minimalist approach. I like the calm. The quiet. The zen of it all. Not to brag… ahem… but my work has been described as “still but alive” and “quiet elegance.” (Two different people said that, by the way. I know. I was shocked too.)

But I digress.

In art, we often follow the rule of thirds — and this image is no exception. You can see the guide lines showing how I’ve positioned the gull so it sits neatly within that framework. True to my love of negative space, I’ve left most of the right side open, letting the bird “hover” across the middle two-thirds while keeping the balance calm and deliberate.

Now here’s where things get fun. Negative space in painting doesn’t behave like it does in photography. In painting, it’s not just “the background” — it’s the shape of what isn’t there that helps define what is. It’s how painters build balance and rhythm, guide the eye, and sneak meaning into the spaces between things. It’s not always blank or minimal — sometimes it’s downright bossy.

So while in photography, negative space gives breathing room and simplicity, in painting it’s more structural — it’s what holds everything together. Photographers use it to let the subject shine; painters use it to make the whole piece sing.

And that’s when the lightbulb went off — or maybe just flickered weakly (it was a 40-watt kind-a day). Once I realized photographers leave space while painters use space, it all clicked. No wonder Cindy and I were looping around each other — we were both right, just speaking different dialects of art-ese.

Since that chat, I’ve started noticing how the two overlap. When I’m painting, I think like a photographer — leaving room for the viewer to breathe and imagine. When I’m shooting, I think like a painter — shaping emptiness so it looks intentional instead of accidental (which, let’s be honest, it sometimes is). Once you see the difference, you can’t unsee it.

It’s made me appreciate how each medium sneaks lessons into the other — painting reminds me to find the structure in the stillness, and photography reminds me to let silence do some of the talking. Turns out, negative space isn’t negative at all. It’s the pause between notes that makes the music worth listening to.

So next time you’re looking at one of my pieces and thinking, “Why all the empty space?”, just know it’s not empty.

It’s where the calm lives.

It’s where the emotion breathes.

It’s the art of nothing doing something.

And now, after all this talk about finding space and calm, it feels like a good time to step outside and do just that — on the trail with Buddy, where the air is quiet, the paws are muddy, and all is right with the world.

Until next time — may your week have just the right amount of negative space.