Updated November 2025: This post has been revised and expanded with new insights.

For months, I’ve been thinking about a solo exhibition. Not just thinking—imagining it. My black and white photographs on gallery walls, each one framed and lit, creating a space where visitors can pause and breathe. It’s exciting. It’s also a little intimidating.

After participating in a group exhibition, I learned a lot about what goes into presenting work in a gallery setting. This post is about how I’d approach planning my next solo show, drawing on those experiences and the vision I have for it.

Choosing the Images

The process would begin by going through my entire archive. Every image would get a critical look and a star rating. But rating individual photos is only the first step. The real work is figuring out how they talk to each other.

Do these images belong together? Is there a thread that connects them—not just visually, but emotionally? For a future exhibition, I’d want to create a sense of stillness and contemplation. Minimalist landscapes that invite viewers to slow down and notice the quiet details.

But I’d also need variety. If every image whispers the same thing, the exhibition becomes monotonous. Some photographs should feel expansive and open, others more intimate and introspective. The rhythm matters.

First Impressions and Last Words

I’ve been thinking a lot about the first and last images visitors would see. The opening photograph needs to be welcoming—something that draws people in without demanding too much. It sets the tone for everything that follows.

The closing image is just as important. It should be memorable, something that stays with visitors as they leave. Not necessarily dramatic, but resonant. The kind of photograph that makes you pause one more time before stepping back into the world.

How to Present the Work

Presentation has always been part of the work for me. The photograph itself is only the beginning—how you print it, mat it, and frame it shapes the entire experience. The same image can feel completely different depending on these choices.

For a solo exhibition, I’d print on fine art matte paper with a subtle texture. It enhances the depth of blacks and preserves the delicate transitions between tones. Each print would have a white mat with a slight bevel—simple, clean, giving the image room to breathe. The frames would be black with a narrow profile. Nothing that competes with the photographs themselves.

These choices aren’t arbitrary. They’re about creating consistency across the exhibition while letting each image stand on its own.

The Space Itself

A gallery isn’t just a container for photographs. It’s part of the experience. Working with a floor plan would help figure out the flow—how visitors move through the space, where they pause, how the images relate to each other across the room.

Some photographs could be grouped by theme or location. Others might create visual echoes—similar compositions or contrasting moods placed in dialogue. The goal would be to create a rhythm that feels natural, not forced.

The walls would be neutral—white or light gray—so the photographs can hold focus without distraction. Spacing matters too. Give images too little room and the exhibition feels cramped. Too much, and they feel isolated.

Promoting the Exhibition

When the time comes, promotion would be essential. Instagram would be ideal for sharing the process—behind-the-scenes preparation, selected images, exhibition details. An email newsletter would reach people who’ve followed my work for a while.

Press releases to local newspapers, art blogs, and radio stations could increase visibility. And an opening reception—refreshments, music, a chance for people to connect with the work and with each other—would help create momentum.

Opening Night

The opening reception deserves careful thought too. I’d want to say a few welcoming words—not a formal speech, but something genuine. A thank you to the people who made the exhibition possible: the gallery, anyone who helped with preparation, and of course, the visitors for coming. I’d briefly share what the work is about—the themes of stillness and minimalism that run through the images—without over-explaining. Keep it short so people can enjoy the space.

And practically: make sure everyone knows there are drinks and refreshments to enjoy, and that all photographs are available for purchase. I’d also make myself available throughout the evening to chat with visitors—to hear their thoughts, answer questions, or simply connect over the work. These conversations often become the most memorable part of the night.

Looking Ahead

Planning a solo exhibition involves countless decisions, from image selection to installation. It’s demanding work, but after experiencing a group show, I feel more prepared for what it takes.

These are the lessons I’m carrying forward. When the next opportunity comes, I’ll have a clear vision of how to approach it—and hopefully, this reflection is useful for anyone else thinking about their first solo exhibition.

For about three years, I played with the idea of making a photo book. I was struggling with the realization of this idea. Should I find a publisher or publish it myself? What are the advantages of each option? Are there pitfalls? Would anyone buy a copy?

Inspired by an online course of Musuk Nolte, I got to work and collected print-worthy images.

The Creative Part

The first hurdle was to choose the images. Therefore, I selected all four and five star rated images of my catalog and colour marked them. Green for “Definetly!” and blue for “We’ll see…”. Even then there were a lot of images, but for reasons of quality and costs, and because I’m my hardest critic, I choose to go with (just) 48 pages. Less is more, at least. The screenshot below shows the first result.

I arranged them in a way to get a nice flow when flipping through the pages. And because the book has no story line, I arranged the images in a way that it won’t get boring. Below you can see the third or fourth iteration of the arrangement.

The Science of Printing

Printing itself is a science! There are so many variables you have to count in, and every decision can affect the whole outcome. For the sake of keeping this post interessting, I just listed some of the pitfalls I had to deal with:

• terminology in printing and book binding (there are a lot!)
• steap learning curve of the topic
• choosing the wrong tools (Lightroom for desktop publishing)
• format decisions
• understanding a print template

Quality & Options vs. Costs

I always wanted a thick nice photo book, bound in fabric, with an embeded image on the cover, nice heavy paper and offset printed. The reality is I can’t afford to print an edition of 1,000 copies and take the risk, of not getting them sold afterwards. So unfortunately, that’s not an option.

Prototyping

Finding a print shop where the print quality AND the price is good is a real challenge. Without mentioning any names, I requested offers of three different print shops. Two of which were recommended to me by people with different backgrounds in self-publishing. So I went for the easiest (and cheapest) option first. I choose a softcover and cheap paper for the first prototype to get a feeling of the dimensions and the design of the layout. I was excited and realised I had too much negative space on some pages, i.e. my images were too small. I re-arranged some images, changed their size and ordered a second prototype. This time with a hardcover and 200gsm paper, because this came closest to the final product I had in mind. After a long period of waiting (it must have been days) I got the new book, and… disillusionment spreaded. The print quality was not that good. There were vertical lines across the images and the dynamic of the grayscale was poor. So I called the customer support. They looked at the PDFs I submitted, said that everything looks fine and it could be a technical issue.

Meanwhile, I contacted the second company for a proof. Their output had no signs of any strange lines (which was good news), but the black was not really black. I contacted them asking about the print data I delivered… they said it’s fine and that there is one last option on the press that they can try. After a week I got the 2nd proof and the black hasn’t much improved. I contacted them again, they said that there’s nothing more that they can do and that they’re sorry that they couldn’t help me with my project.

I try one more thing before I craft every book myself. I tried printing in CMYK with the given ICC profile of the print service. Maybe I should have down this in the first place. But when everyone assures you that the PDFs are okay, then you don’t think that this is an option.

Marketing

My only experience in marketing is with word-of-mouth and instagram. I heard a lot from artists that they sell less original artwork online, but more from person to person, e.g. at an art fair or a vernisage. With more affordable alternatives like books, I think this shouldn’t be the case.

Conclusion

Here I am. Stuck in a situation, where I have to decide to go with the “cheap”, “low-quality” print option or to print and bind it myself, like my print collection (just a lot cheaper). For now, I sell the copies I already have for the purchase price and hope the enlightenment strikes me someday.

So it’s been a while since my last post. Actually over a year now. But I have some good excuses for it. The first would be raising a second child. I just realised that my son was born only a few days after the last blog post. Since than I was busy keeping him safe and he assured that I get not too much sleep.

In 2019 we (now four people) bought a house. It is an 250 year old half-timbered house and it needs a lot of attention. Basically it is a total refurbishment. Anything has to be worked on, except for the roof and the cellar. So this is keeping me busy, too.

The current restrictions due to the Coronavirus doesn’t make things easier. But we will overcome this crisis. Until then stay safe!

Recent news from the world of photography awards are not that good. There are numerous photo contests around, and today I read that five of them relate to just one person. This sounds, at least, a little bit odd. I mean a photo contest is probably a business like any other business. And sure the business owner doesn’t run it for the sake of running it. There is some profit involved, and that’s fine for me. But why is there just a plain contact page on those websites and no address or phone number? Is there something I should not know? It smells.

Nothing to judge about

Two weeks ago Petapixel reported that judges of a photo contest didn’t judge anything. If that aligns with the awards from the other article, and especially with the Monochrome Awards, I want my money back! It is one thing to get rich with such a business concept, but when there are details provided that aren’t true, then it’s fraud. The reason I entered an image, was not to get international recognition but to be judged by experienced people, so that I get valuable feedback. And that would simply not be the case.

I was confident enough when I bought a Manfrotto 190 aluminium tripod, that this would be the best choice between price and performance. But I was wrong. I did some research on carbon fibre tripods and stumbled upon the brand Benro. When I mean stumbled upon, I mean I read it at Fstoppers. So I bought the Benro TMA38CL. But the Benro GoPlus Travel FGP28C is 400 grams lighter and it should be sufficient in height.

If you’re having similar problems than me I recommend you the following video:

My photographic journey started in 2004 with my first digital camera, an Olympus C725UZ, the UZ stands for Ultra Zoom, and yes, with its eight times optical zoom it zoomed ultraly (if that’s a real word). Until 2010 this was my go-to camera, and my only camera. It took quiet a lot of travel photos, family celebrations and yes, cat images. But things were changing. My demands increased and articles on the internet promoted specifications of cameras that my six-year-old one couldn’t dream of. So I thought about buying a new camera.

After a lot of research and carefully calculating my budget I bought a Nikon Coolpix P7000 in 2010. The images I took with that camera were the same kind of images I took with my old one, not surprisingly. This means travel photos, family celebrations and even wedding photos. And, wait for it… photos of cats.

The next level

I watched some interesting YouTube channels about the technical side of photography. Someone said that you can adapt old lenses to modern mirrorless cameras. And that was some kind of a gateway drug for me. So I bought a Sony A7 in 2014 and decided to go with Canon FD lenses, because of their good reputation. Since that I owned a lot of prime lenses, because that’s what you think you need the most urgent, when your starting “real” photography. Thankfully they keep their value in the market, so that I was able to sell them for a minimum loss.

Today I have three zoom lenses for my A7 and that’s it — besides the Canon FD 1.2/55mm S.S.C. ASPHERICAL — I love the bokeh of that lens. Oh, and a Ricoh GR, a Fujifilm X100T and a Leica M9 with a Summilux-M 1.4/35mm. But that’s it, at least for the camera and lens department. I will be writing about tripods, filters and other equipment in another article.

And now to the important stuff… more cat photos.