A Sense Of Trust: Aaron Schuman On The Possibilities Of Photography

The American photographer, writer, curator and educator offers a porous view on the medium – one rooted in subjectivity, reflection, and a spontaneous engagement with the world.

An obsession with photographs – making them, as well as making meaning out of them – traverses Schuman’s artistic perspective. His multifaceted professional activities are united within this guiding tension, erasing all disciplinary boundaries: after all, one’s “whole life is research”, as he quotes from Jason Fulford.

Talking to Schuman, we experience that same fluidity. From his analysis of the word ‘documentary’ to photography’s relationship to truth, from subjectivity as a key for trust to the camera as a connecting bridge, his understanding of the medium seems to constantly expand. Kept together by curiosity, it functions as a collective, open conversation constantly nourished by friends and predecessors, texts and exhibitions, images and the outside world – whose existence is what photography ultimately depends on.

This thoughtful, lively approach anchors CRITICAE – PhMuseum’s Online Masterclass On Documentary Photography where, starting October 2026, Schuman will lead a selected group of practitioners developing their projects for 8 months. We sat down with him to get a grasp on this nurturing, flexible space of reflection, meant for the growth of one’s visual practice. 

Ciao Aaron, we are glad you are joining our Masterclasses Program this year. Your career is a fascinating blend of roles, spanning photography, writing, curation, and education. How do these various perspectives shape your approach to teaching? 

I began my career solely as a photographer, and gradually over time found myself becoming interested and involved in writing, curating, and teaching as well. At first, I tried to separate these roles from one another in my mind to avoid confusion, but soon discovered that they often overlapped, inspired and intersected with each other, and were all feeding my own practice in a very positive and rewarding way. I often like to quote my friend Jason Fulford in this regard. In 2014, I was invited to curate Krakow Photomonth, and I centered the thet-me of the festival around the broad notion of “Re:Search”. I invited Jason to participate in the exhibition programme, and at one point when we were having a conversation about the relationship between photography and research he said, “Well really, your whole life is research.” At that moment, something immediately clicked in my mind, and on a fully conscious level I realized that all the various activities, roles and experiences I was engaging in were in fact holistically one creative practice.

Once I understood that, I became much more aware of the complexities and possibilities that were available to me if I considered and approached all my work – photographic, written, curatorial, educational, or otherwise – as one cohesive and organic artistic practice. I also realized that many photographers throughout the history of photography (and particularly “documentary” photography) had done the same. Walker Evans, Robert Adams, Stephen Shore, Luigi Ghirri, Wolfgang Tillmans, etc. – they all wrote, taught, curated and more.

That said, ultimately, whenever I have the opportunity to engage in any of these roles, I always approach it from the perspective of a practitioner who is both familiar with and obsessed by the process of making photographs, and making meaning out of photographs. When it comes to teaching: as a photographer I am very familiar with the challenges of trying to express oneself visually; as a curator I am aware of the importance of editing, sequencing, presentation, and creating coherent and meaningful relationships between images; as a writer I am mindful of the possibilities offered by contextualizing photographic work within wider conceptual, historical, theoretical and cultural frameworks; and as an educator I am conscious of how valuable a culture and community of creative people can be for everyone involved.

What is the role of critical thinking for a contemporary documentary photographer? Is it more about questioning the subject, the medium, or oneself?

In this question, you’ve already cleverly identified what I think are three of the most vital components of a thoughtful and meaningful documentary practice today. 

Firstly, it’s important to recognize and embrace the personal and subjective nature of photography, and how valuable one’s own unique perspective on the world is, informed by one’s own experiences, interests, passions, knowledge, journey, voice, and so on. All these elements help to establish a sense of connection, sincerity and trustworthiness in one’s work, which is vital, particularly within the documentary realm.

Secondly, photography as a medium – and particularly “documentary” photography – is tethered to and dependent upon the reality that surrounds us. Photography, as the name implies, is literally made from the light that bounces off our physical world, and therefore is not solely an internal, personal, intellectual, psychological or emotional pursuit, but one that is firmly dependent upon our own relationship with that which exists externally outside of ourselves. So, the choices we make in terms of what we aim our cameras at – the subject – and how we form questions, connections and meanings by building bridges between our internal and external worlds is also vital, especially when it comes to expressing and communicating one’s own thoughts, experiences, feelings and perspectives to others. 

And thirdly, although on its surface it seems that our medium offers the photographer a somewhat limited range of creative control – in the sense that the camera itself basically has three variable functions: aperture, shutter-speed, and focus – the possibilities when it comes to utilizing these alongside those associated with producing and presenting an image, and representing the world and our experience of it, are limitless. Distance, vantage-point, framing, color or black-and-white, high or low contrast, underexposed or overexposed, tone, saturation, hue, camera-type, scale, the physicality of the print (or lack thereof), accompanying materials (text, sound, framing, environment, etc.), the interwoven influence of many images upon one another within a body of work, and so on – all of these subtle yet infinitely variable creative choices that we make as photographers determine the meaning and understanding of our work.

So ultimately, it’s vital that as invested practitioners we are always questioning, critically thinking about, experimenting with, pushing the boundaries of, and striking a balance between all three of these elements – oneself, one’s subject, and the medium at large. They sit at the heart of, and essentially define, what it is that we do.

We are flooded with visual information, and we increasingly struggle drawing a line between what is real and what is not. Where do you stand in the conversation on the documentary value of images, and their relationship to ‘truth’?

In a sense, this goes back to something I mentioned earlier, which is about establishing a sense of “trust” more than “truth” within one’s work. As the photographer Lewis Hine – who also taught Paul Strand and many others at the Ethical Culture Society of New York – stated in a his lecture “Social Photography: How the Camera May Help in the Social Uplift”, from 1909: “While photographs may not lie, liars may photograph.” 

As we all know, since its invention photography has always had a complicated and problematic relationship with the notion of ‘truth” – something that has eternally frustrated photographers, particularly those that have aspired to have their work recognized not simply as the straightforward recording of fact, but also as a valid form of personal commentary and artistic expression. Even Walker Evans, who is considered one of the founders of the “documentary” tradition, once said, “Documentary? That’s a very sophisticated and misleading word. And not really clear. You have to have a sophisticated ear to receive that word. The term should be documentary style.” 

Of course, in the century or so that’s passed since Hine, Strand, Evans and others were making their seminal “documentary” works, this “style” has expanded, adapted, diversified and evolved in a myriad of ways. And in a world where the assumed connection/correlation between photography and reality is becoming ever more tenuous and questionable, it will continue to do so. In a sense, what this flood of visual information you mention is really eroding is our collective faith or trust in photographic images, and their relevance in relationship to the real. Our audience is now an ever more skeptical and wary one.

Yet, given that photography has always had a problematic relationship with “truth”, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. What it does mean though is that we as photographers need to continually develop innovative ways that help us establish a trusting relationship with our viewers, so that our work is accurately read, and understood as being a genuine, thoughtful and sincere reflection on (rather than of) reality, because of (rather than despite of) its deeply subjective nature. It’s important for both we as photographers and our audience to understand that through our work we are posing questions rather than providing answers, and inviting others to encounter, explore and reflect upon reality through our own unique and carefully considered perspective - one that is independent of, yet still relevant to, their own – so that they may gain further curiosity and insight into reality and the experience of it.

In your recent work, there is a distinct shift toward a more lyrical and introspective language. How has your research and photographic process evolved, and what are the topics and issues you are currently interested in?

Looking back, I think that throughout my work – even in my earliest experiments with photography as a teenager – I’ve always been interested in the medium’s lyrical possibilities. This was almost certainly an unconscious motivation at that stage, but in retrospect I think that’s what attracted me to photography in the first place. 

I don’t mean to harp on about him, but Walker Evans was a big influence on me, especially in my twenties when I was trying to figure out my own photographic directions and voice. When I was living in New York, I spent a lot of rainy days exploring his vast archive, which is kept at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I’m pretty sure that he was the first person to apply the term “lyrical” to documentary photography. In a meandering yet beautiful lecture he gave in 1964, entitled “Lyric Documentary”, he said, "My thought is that the term ‘documentary’ is inexact, vague, and even grammatically weak as used to describe a style of photography that happens to be my style...[W]hat I believe is really good in the so-called documentary approach in photography is the addition of lyricism." He then goes on to reference and discuss a wide range of artists, writers and images – Leonardo, Vesalius, Palladio, Piranesi, Audubon, Goya, Edward Hopper, James Joyce, Nabokov, Matthew Brady, Eugène Atget, “penny picture postcards” from the early twentieth century, and much more. It’s a very loose narrative in terms of a lecture, but what all of Evans’s references share is that they attempt to accurately visualize and portray reality, or the “real world”, but do so with an underlying sense of curiosity about the potential meaning, poetry, beauty and introspective or emotional insight that lies buried deep within it. 

As someone who likes to go out and experience the world around me, and thrives on its infinite unpredictability and spontaneity, there’s a visual, literal, intellectual and experiential curiosity implied in the notion of “documentary” that I find extremely exciting and engaging. But the “lyrical” aspect that Evans identifies implies that there is also the potential for emotional curiosity to be embedded with these kinds of photographs – that for both the maker and the viewer they contain the potential of simultaneously being outward-looking and introspective, and can lead to insights into oneself as well as the world at large. 

I think that as my own work has evolved, and continues to do so, I remain fundamentally curious, motivated and inspired by external realities more than my own imagination. As Mark Twain wrote, “Truth is stranger than fiction… because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; truth isn’t.” But I have gradually become increasingly interested in also exploring ways in which I can place further emphasis on the “lyrical” or emotional possibilities within my work, in order to further excavate the introspective insight and meaning that encounters with our external reality may ultimately reveal.

What is the one thing you look for in a prospective student? 

A genuine passion for and curiosity about photography and its possibilities; and an innate sense of wonder and openness to the world at large. 

Having taught in various contexts worldwide, why are you drawn to online education, and what do you think this program can bring to the table? 

In my experience, because of its “remote” nature, online education offers a flexible, accessible and approachable opportunity for people from all over the world to form an invested and constructive creative community, which ultimately offers a fascinatingly diverse range of knowledge, experiences, insights and perspectives. In a sense, it brings people together from many different “remote” locations, but creates an environment and community that feels anything but remote. It invites participants to engage and share their work with artists, communities and cultures far beyond the limitations of their own localized network. Furthermore, it brings a collective sense of structure, direction and ambition to one’s work, while simultaneously encouraging everyone to individually nourish their own self-confidence, and develop further strategies for maintaining self-motivation and purpose within their individual creative practice. Ultimately, it allows for everyone involved to pursue their work, practice and creative journey independently within their own time and environment – in a sense, avoiding the dangers of “institutionalization” and the distractions and dependencies that can often develop within it – while at the same time provides a nurturing, invested and supportive network for all.

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CRITICAE Online Masterclass On Documentary Photography is part of PhMuseum's educational program, comprising five different masterclasses that will all share a single intake period running until 28 May, with classes beginning in October 2026 and ending in May 2027. Alternating collective tutoring, seminars, individual sessions, and studio visits, each masterclass exists in a community-driven environment, while providing concrete opportunities to exhibit, publish and distribute your work.

You can take part in one or more programs. Check them out phmuseum.com/m26

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Scholarships and participation fee

Before 30 April – If you apply by this date, you are eligible for the full scholarship. In your motivational letter, explain why you’d be a strong candidate, and how you would benefit from this support.

Before 30 April – If you apply by this date, you can save €350. All applications will be automatically eligible for the Early Bird Fee of €1,850.

Before 28 May – If you apply by this date, you can join the program by paying the Regular Fee of €2,200. Since applications will be reviewed on a continuous basis, early submissions receive priority for seat allocation.

If you are offered a place, PhMuseum is happy to write you a supporting letter when you try to secure any external funding opportunities. In previous editions of our masterclasses program, the candidates' fees were covered thanks to the generous contribution of the IWMF Howard G. Buffett Fund for Women Journalists, Mondriaan Fonds, Arts Council Malta, and other programs. Read our guide to 2026 Education Funding for Visual Artists to discover opportunities.