Creative: Outside Influence

I was taking a shower when something dawned on me.(Other than I really needed a shower.) Curator, Los Angeles gallery owner, commercial art buyer, commercial agent, documentary agency head, magazine editor, newspaper photo editor, commercial art buyer, graphic designer, art director, book publisher, book editor, hedge fund manager. Some of the best, most strategic, most spot on advice and feedback I ever received about photography came from the folks who held these titles, but not a single one ever worked as a photographer.

I’ve never been accused of fitting in, and I’ve never been accused of being cool, hip, or fashionable. I’ve never been accused of much of anything, until YouTube, which brought with it both favorable and unfavorable accusations. Regardless of the numbers and perceived reach, most of what I see on YouTube is very narrow in scope. Some would say targeted, which makes sense. Take motorcycles for instance. I ride a slow, strange, heavy, inexpensive dual sport called a Royal Enfield Himalayan. This bike fits into both the dual sport world and the adventure bike world, but neither of these worlds represents the greater motorcycle community which is comprised of street bikes, racing bikes, touring bikes, motocross bikes, farm bikes, choppers, trikes and even those weird things with two wheels in front and one in the back. (Would love to try one of those.) The motorcycling world is broad and diverse.

Let’s say I was looking at selling the Himalayan and moving on to something like a Kove 450, Honda 300L Rally or a Husky 701. I have options. I can turn inward, toward the dual sport world, the adventure world, and most likely receive valid information. Sure, you have your diehards who can’t think outside of their lane, but they too often have decent albeit partisan information. I will encounter those who would suggest never going below 400cc’s and those who will suggest never going above 400cc’s. I will encounter those who suggest the only options is the BMW touring bike, and I will find an active discussion about whether the Kove is Chinese junk or the steal of the year.

But what happens when I ask for advice outside of the dual sport, adventure world?

You would be surprised just how important this can be. I once had a conversation with a motorcycle dealer who, believe it not, wasn’t much of a rider. His thrill came from buying and selling, and motorcycles just happened to be the drug of choice. I was attempting to buy a bike that belonged to him even after he told me for the tenth time the bike was not for sale. The motorcycle was over twenty five years old but only had 2,500 miles on it, proof of his lightweight mileage.

The owner finally looked at me and asked, “Do you know what that bike means?” For a minute I was slightly taken aback and really had no idea how to respond. “It means fun,” I finally replied. His face never softened. What I didn’t realize at the time was how easily this guy could see through me. He could see my lack of knowledge, my inexperience, that I was hiding under enthusiasm. He knew how dangerous this was. And he knew I had zero knowledge of context.

If your goal is to improve your photography, seriously improve, then you need to think about branching out.

If photography is your hobby and you like it but it’s not that serious and you are happy to bang out a snap or two, well, good on ya. Keep doing just that. But if you are dwelling here because photography feels like more than just a hobby, or an obsession perhaps, then keep reading, and just know, you need to put your work in front of a wide range of people that goes far beyond photography.

“Never introduce yourself as a photographer,” the hedge fund manager said as we fought traffic to get to a financial summit. “Every single one of these investors has a Canon 5D Mark III, and they all think they known what they are doing.” “They don’t respect photography,” he said. This was my first encounter with the changing perception of professional photography in an age when anyone could buy a digital camera and claim an understanding. This was the first moment I realized there was little relevance left in identifying with the skill I had spent the prior twenty years attempting to master. And this poignant piece of advice came from someone who didn’t own a camera. This piece of advice changed my entire career and changed how I positioned myself in the world. (Still using this idealogy today.)

The commercial and advertising agent looked at my work spread out over the six foot lightbox. “Let me have a look at this,” she said. Slowly she began pulling images, but not in the way I expected. My initial thought was that she would cull each story, cutting out all but the most critical images, but instead she viewed the entire lightbox as a whole. All of my carefully arranged lines and boxes and themes and ideas were no more. A half hour later she was finished. “There,” she said pointing to a tiny number of what I considered to be random frames. “There is now way that is the best work,” I said. “You don’t know what you are talking about,” she said. “And you certainty don’t know what art buyers are looking for.” I stood trying to formulate an appropriate response but before I could answer she threw me a bone. “You see yourself as a documentary photographer, and consequently you edit your work as a documentary photographer.” “But I edit for advertising, and this is a different game entirely.” She then proceeded to walk me through what she pulled and why. She also tied each image to a different style of client, while also tying each image to another photographer who operated in this part of the industry. (Most were photographers making more in one shoot that I was making in an entire year.) She didn’t own a camera, and had never worked as a photographer. (Her advice landed me the largest advertising opportunity I ever received.)

The book publisher looked at my layouts and said “This should be a book, but not the book are thinking about.” “Your ego is telling you that this needs to be one thing, but I’m telling you it needs to be something else.” “And you are wrong about the audience, both size and location.” “And this story is bigger than you, so your introduction needs to add something significant or this has no chance of selling,” she added. “And stop thinking about photography and start thinking about what a book actually means, we have enough photography books.” Less than a half hour had transpired and my official, book expedition map had been blown out of the water. “Are you a photographer?” I asked trying to stall. “God no,” she said making a face. (I still use this advice when helping other photographers on their publishing path.)

Several months ago I was making pictures with another photographer here in New Mexico. Well, we both happened to be making pictures of the same scene. I noticed that he would shoot, transfer images to his phone, post the images, and then stand watching while his audience reacted. He missed a lot, at least when it comes to what was happening in front of us, but I also noticed how animated he was when looking at his phone. He would talk out loud to himself, and his face morphed from expression to expression. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m posting to a street photography group,” he said. “Here in New Mexico?” I asked. “No, it’s global,” he said.

After the scene had evaporated, I asked if I could see what he was posting to. I’m pretty sure it was an Instagram based “something” that was a street photography group either tied to a hashtag or some other mechanism that allows you to do this. (I’m not hip on IG.) Looking at the screen as a whole, all the images looked the same, but what I was after was the comment section. Bootlicking. That’s it. Just one or two word comments that offered nothing of real substance. A heart here and there. A “sick,” compliment. But for this person it was pure juice and was clearly the reason he was making the images.

I asked about his photography goal, and he explained he wanted recognition. I asked if he had sought out those who could give recognition if the work was deserving. Industry types that could offer shows, collections, books, etc. Things will real resonance. Things that make careers. His answer was “No.” In fact, he didn’t seem to know any of these people. “Why show your work this way?” I asked about the phone. “By the looks of it, that’s not real feedback.” “It kinda feels like the entire thing is built to preach to the choir.” (Again, this is fine for many people. Nothing wrong with it, unless you are one of those people searching for something more.)

But here is where this post takes a wonderful turn.

You could look at this in one of two ways. First, the photography world isn’t what it used to be. I don’t think you would get many arguments about this, but the flip side is “So what?” Because whatever photography is now, it’s still there. Second, imagine how much more opportunity is out there beyond the edges of the photography world. Utilizing the skills of photography but adding them to a much larger conversation.

And here is where I find myself. I only want to have the larger conversation. Want to talk gear? No, thanks. Want to talk software? No, thanks. Want to talk about anything that doesn’t relate to projects, goals, intentions, connections, system dynamics, the actual imagery, editing, sequencing, books, etc. No, thanks. When I see photographers struggling to survive while engaging with all the traditional channels, channels that have been broken for decades, it truly pains me, and people this is something I deal with on a weekly basis. Nearly all of my friends are connected to photography. This sucks. Well, not that my friends are connected to photography, only that photography is in transition and we can’t look at the business like we once did. (The way it should be.)

Recently, a friend reached out asking for advice. I said “Go straight to the people with all the money, the people who have decision making power, and I don’t mean people related to photography.” “Going to photography people is OWT.” “What is OWT?” he asked. “Old world thinking,” I responded. If you consider the major systems of how society works, photography does not factor. Again, so what? Where photography becomes interesting is when imagery is used as a small part of a much larger story with far wider implications.

Think about focusing on a single grain of sand. Take your time and put your best effort into it. And then think about the beach as a whole. That’s what I’m talking about. My mind was first opened to this idealogy over a decade ago when I ventured to the Society of Photographic Education’s annual conference. I was there doing my Blurb thing. I’d spent my entire career around the commercial side of photography. I’d taught classes at places like Art Center College of Design in Pasadena and Academy of Art in San Francisco, but those were brief interludes. Even my time at Kodak Professional was based around professional commercial, not the portrait/wedding side or education.

So, when I walked into SPE I wasn’t expecting much. My bad. I innocently wandered into a lecture by an unknown faculty member who was from an unknown school. The project was about the Berlin Wall. The project tracked every single person who had died going over the wall, a number smaller than I would have imagined. The artist worked with Berlin PD and a range of other organizations, tracking the history of these people and their families. She also obtained vintage police reports and aerial imagery. In addition, she photographed all the scenes with a 4×5 camera. The overall project was a stunner and kinda made me feel like I’d been pretending my entire career. This was a big girl project. Was it a “photo project?” Kinda, but that description would be selling it far short of what it actually was. A fu&^&^% statement.

So, imagine this artist heading to a dinner party.

“So, so-and-so, what do you do?”

The OWT response is “I’m a photographer.”

“Oh, so you make movies?”

“No, I’m a still photographer.”

“Oh.”

“What kind of pictures do you take” “I have a camera too, and I know I have a great eye, but I hate carrying it so I just use my phone.” “You should see the images I made of my dog, let me see if I can find them.” (Then this person takes fifteen minutes to scroll through the phone while turning the phone around to show random images making every around immediately detest them.)

Okay, now imagine this artist going to the same dinner party but this time with a broader understanding of the world.

“So, so-and-so, what do you do?”

“I’m a visual anthropologist.”

“What?”

“A visual anthropologist.” (Now, this can have one of two responses. One, no response and the person bails, which a good thing because it means they are slightly confused, disinterested or shallow and probably not worth hanging with anyway. Two, they are confused but intrigued and ask the follow up.)

“What is a visual anthropologist?”

“I use a camera and other visual means to better understand the connection between history, past events and current geopolitical and socioeconomic factors that might facilitate a better understanding of future events.”

Again, two possible responses.

First, “Wow, okay, have you seen the spread, I’m going to the bar for another quadruple boilermaker.”

Or, “You should talk to my wife, she in the risk management department of an ESG fund out of New York but they have offices in Singapore and Berlin.” “She is all about predicting future events.”

Now, you are in the big girl conversation. This a fictional story but the idea behind this is entirely valid, and is the exact kind of thing I’m talking about. Take it from me, I hate dinner parties, so when I have to endure I attend solely to run testing operations for all of you. I know what happens when I respond, “I work for a printing company,” compared to “I work for a company that allows humans to tell their story.”

If your goal is to make money from an amateur following you can do just about anything and get away with it, but if you want to do this, really do this and make an interesting living of it, well, then you have decisions to make. Do you want to be part of the real conversation? Do you want clients to look at you and say “Just send me the bill?” because this is what it means to be more than the hired help. You must be interested and you must be interesting. You must be curious. You must be intelligent. You must be well rounded. And you must be okay with having control. You must be okay with them coming to you.

But it means putting the work in. A quick fix isn’t a career. It might feel good in the short term but it won’t provide calories in the long term. Show you work to people who don’t think about photography. I used to place prints on the floor of my living room and then wait for the UPS delivery guy. “Hey, what do you think of these images and what order makes sense to you.” This will crush your ego. It will, but the broader conversation isn’t being held by photographers. The broader conversation is being held by civilians. The sooner you can tap into the greater world the better off you will be, and my guess is that photographer will become even richer. It has for me.