I edited another batch of them this morning. Twenty photos. Maybe more. I’ll probably post a handful to Facebook later today—just color studies. Graphic. Minimal. Clean. Mostly 1–3 dominant colors in each frame. No people. No stories. No captions. Just shape, rhythm, and hue.
Honestly, I don’t know why I shoot these kinds of images. I just do.
They’ve become part of my daily rhythm. My photographic DNA. My weird little obsession. I’ll be driving, walking, biking—and bam—something stops me in my tracks. A painted wall, a weathered sign, two tones meeting at a perfect 45-degree angle, a doorway framed in rust and teal. Most people wouldn’t even notice. I can’t not notice.
What’s even weirder? These aren’t the kind of images most photographers chase. You won’t find many tutorials on YouTube called “How to Master the Art of Abstract Color Geometry.” And yet, here I am. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of these tucked away in my camera roll. I shoot them instinctively. Reflexively. Like scratching an itch I don’t fully understand.
And I’ve given up trying to justify it. I just keep shooting them.
They Don’t “Say” Much—And That’s the Point
These photos don’t scream meaning. They don’t tug at the heartstrings. They aren’t “content,” whatever the hell that word even means anymore. They’re not selling anything. Not pushing a cause. Not part of a series or a project or a pitch.
They just… are.
They’re small acts of visual expression. Creative doodles with my iPhone. Little moments of graphic joy. And while they may not carry narrative weight, they’re full of design and energy and quiet satisfaction. I love them. And that, apparently, is enough.
The Math Part of My Brain?
Growing up, my Dad was a math teacher. He was sharp, no-nonsense, precise. Said I was good at math too. I’m not so sure I agree—I spent most of my time doodling or daydreaming—but maybe he saw something I didn’t.
And now, all these years later, I wonder if the math part of my brain never really disappeared. Maybe it just morphed. Instead of crunching numbers or balancing equations, I started chasing patterns, symmetry, and spatial order through photography.
There’s a geometry to these color studies. A balance. An unspoken formula. These images feel like my way of organizing a messy world into clean lines and bold forms. A way to bring order to chaos. To frame the unframeable. And to do it with nothing more than my eye, my phone, and a tiny dose of compulsive curiosity.
They’re Not for Everyone—And That’s Fine
I know most people scroll right past these images. They’re not flashy. They’re not sentimental. They don’t feature anyone’s grandbaby or dog. They don’t look like something you’d frame above your couch.
But every once in a while, someone gets it. They’ll message me and say, “Jack, I don’t know why, but that yellow rectangle next to the blue door really hit me.” Or, “That rusted sign against that faded green wall—something about it just felt right.”
And that’s enough.
These photos may not be universal, but they’re honest. And they come from a real place. That’s all I’ve ever cared about.
Structure in the Chaos
The older I get, the more I realize how much I crave structure. Not just in life—but in my images. And I’m not talking about being rigid or boring. I’m talking about intentional. Controlled. Composed.
These color studies give me that. They calm the noise. They make the world feel manageable for a few seconds. I can take a messy, complicated, unpredictable scene and extract one clean frame—balanced, bold, and mine.
In some weird way, it’s like meditation. Like breathing. Like clearing the clutter in my brain by creating order with my eyes.
Maybe It’s Just Fun?
And maybe—just maybe—it’s also about fun. About play. About not taking this all so damn seriously.
Not every photo has to move mountains. Not every shot needs a message. Sometimes, it’s okay to make something just because it pleases you. Because it feels good. Because it scratches that creative itch.
That’s what these color studies are for me. They’re play. They’re joy. They’re creative freedom.
Hell, maybe they’re even a little bit of rebellion.
While the rest of the photography world is chasing epic landscapes or trendy portrait edits, I’m out here shooting stop signs against stucco walls like it’s my job. And I couldn’t be happier about it.
I Don’t Plan on Stopping
If I’m being honest, I think I’ll be shooting these kinds of images till the day I die. Maybe longer. They’ve become part of how I see the world. And more importantly, they’ve become part of how I see myself.
They’re visual fingerprints. Little affirmations that I’m still curious. Still looking. Still framing. Still finding beauty in odd corners and forgotten spaces.
And I don’t care if they ever go viral. I don’t care if they confuse people. I don’t care if no one understands why I post twenty of them at a time with no explanation.
I understand.
And for now, that’s enough.
You Do You
We’re all so wonderfully, weirdly unique in the way we see this world. Some of us are drawn to faces. Others to light. Some to drama. Others to stillness.
Me? I’m drawn to color. To shape. To balance. To the beauty of a single clean line cutting through a sea of nothing.
If that’s not your thing, that’s okay. But it’s mine. And I’m not letting go of it anytime soon.
So here’s to the color-blocked, off-center, geometry-loving weirdos out there. Here’s to creating what calls to you, even if it doesn’t make sense. Here’s to sharing images that don’t say much, but somehow still feel like everything.
And here’s to another twenty color studies hitting your feed today. No apologies. No explanations. Just one guy with an iPhone and a need to make order out of visual chaos.
Click.
Again.
Still.
Jack.
