We Need to Talk About Photography Shorthand

By shorthand, I mean the easy photos. The familiar angles. The safe compositions we all know will perform. Every city has them. In Cleveland, it’s the sign. You know the one (actually six). Angle it just right, catch a glowing sky or Lake Erie behind it, and you’ve got yourself a photo that’s guaranteed to do numbers on Instagram.

I call that photography shorthand.

And while shorthand isn’t inherently bad, we’ve all done it, myself included, it raises a bigger question: what happens if shorthand is all we ever create?

What is Photography Shorthand?

Photography shorthand is the shortcut. The formula. The go-to move that requires little risk or imagination because you already know what the result will be.

It’s the photo equivalent of comfort food: familiar, reliable, and easy to digest.

And sometimes shorthand has its place. It’s where many of us start. It’s accessible, it feels good, and it can build confidence. But shorthand can’t be the whole story. Because if it is, our work eventually stalls.

Think of it like shooting film. You can follow the guide, develop your roll the same way every time, and get decent images, but you won’t grow unless you experiment, adjust, and learn from what happens when things don’t go according to plan.

Why photography shorthand dominates media

Let’s back up. It’s worth pausing to understand why shorthand photos dominate media. Outlets like Cleveland.com, Cleveland Magazine, and Scene often highlight the skyline at sunset, Terminal Tower glowing, or murals everyone recognizes. These images are instantly readable, visually appealing, and give readers a sense of “pretty Cleveland” that’s safe and shareable. From their perspective, it makes sense: shorthand works for clicks, engagement, and audience familiarity.

But here’s the catch: these images don’t tell the whole story. Cleveland is more than its postcard angles, more than the surfaces that are easy to frame. When shorthand dominates, the city feels flattened into a cliché, and its complexity, grit, and hidden beauty get overlooked.

That’s where photographers, and communities like Forest City Collective, come in. We can explore the overlooked corners, capture the fleeting moments, and show Cleveland in ways that aren’t already expected. We can challenge shorthand, celebrate nuance, and inspire both each other and the city itself to see more than just the familiar.

Yes, I’ve emailed the editors asking how Forest City Collective can help contribute to a more inclusive visual narrative.

No, they have not responded.

The Cost of Staying in Shorthand

The more we rely on shorthand, the more joy slips away. We stop chasing “what if” moments and settle for predictable ones. The likes keep rolling in, but the spark, the thing that made us want to pick up a camera in the first place, dims.

And here’s the danger: shorthand may sustain you for a little while, but it leaves you asking, what’s the point? You’ve taken the photo, it’s safe, it’s recognizable. But is it meaningful? Is it pushing your creativity forward? Or are you just going through the motions and checking a box? If it’s the latter that’s the real cost of staying in shorthand.

Gatekeeping Makes It Worse

Sometimes shorthand is coupled with gatekeeping, and that’s even more damaging.

It can be as simple as refusing to share where a photo was taken. But let’s be honest, if someone really wants to figure it out, they can. And even if they take the same shot, who cares? You’ve already made yours. They’ll frame it differently, edit it differently, and see it through their own lens.

Think of it like buying a LUT. We’ve all done it). You see a sample image and expect your photo to instantly look identical. But when you apply it, it doesn’t quite match. Why? Because a LUT, like shorthand, is just a starting point. It has to be fine-tuned for your scene. The lighting. The subject. The same principle applies to photos, locations, or compositions. Someone else taking the “same” shot doesn’t diminish yours. They’re just adding their own perspective. Creativity isn’t about copying, it’s about making it yours.

Gatekeeping usually comes from fear. Fear of being copied. Fear of losing uniqueness. But here’s the truth: a location isn’t what makes a photo. You do.

fast alone, far together

The lone wolf approach has its appeal. It’s fast. It feels independent. And it can rack up some early wins. But in the long run, it’s limiting.

Real growth happens when we push each other past shorthand. When we share knowledge instead of hoarding it. When we collaborate instead of compete.

Even in street photography, two photographers can shoot the same corner at the same time. One might catch a passerby in a silhouette (that’s clearly me). The other a reflection in a puddle (are these both me?). Neither shot is less valuable. They just show different ways of seeing the same city.

Building Something Bigger

That’s why I started Forest City Collective, to create a space where Cleveland photographers can move past shorthand together. Not by tearing down those who take easy shots, but by inspiring each other to go deeper, to take risks, and to reimagine what this city can look like through our lenses.

Because Cleveland doesn’t need more recycled landmark photos. It doesn’t need more gatekeeping. It needs a community of photographers willing to explore the harder, braver, more meaningful work, together.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Photography shorthand will always exist. And that’s fine. But it can’t be the endgame.

If we want to grow, we need to:

• Use shorthand as a starting point, not a destination.

• Share locations, ideas, and techniques freely.

• Encourage each other to take risks on shots that might not perform, but will push us forward.

Because shorthand might get you a like, but it won’t leave a legacy.

So let’s talk about it.

What does photography shorthand look like in your world?

And more importantly, how do we move past it?