There is something about being on the cusp. When I think back, I can feel it. Freedom, innocence, exploration, curiosity. Before the professional game came to town. Many of you are there now. I’ve returned after a long absence, and I can tell you with complete honesty, it feels right, good even. Being on the cusp of being a professional creative is a good place to be. That place comes with unbridled passion, few restrictions, and a lack of external pressure. Once you cross over the divide, your idea of what you are often gets left behind.
You become the product of the other.
Talk to any professional creative long enough, get to know their truthful side, and you will inevitably encounter a story of the day things shifted. The day the polish wore off. The day love became a job. In today’s climate, these stories come easier than they did before. Often, in the “Old Days,” we were gifted years, decades even, but today’s professional market is a cruel place, mostly. Shortened timelines and budgets, the lunacy of multitasking, and the obliteration of the world’s attention span combine to form a supercell of ridiculousness. Major brands foregoing thoughtfulness for the slimy residue of the influencer. Spoken about with embarrassment, last-ditch, no other plan, caving to conformity and lack of original thought. Then having to apologize for the behavior and lack of ROI down the line. (I’ve seen and heard this happen again and again, and yet brands still do this.)
I’m back from the brink. I remember the precise moments when things went too far. A corporate shoot for an international fixture company. Good money, Los Angeles, and serious self-doubt, remorse even. “What the fuck am I doing here?” I remember asking myself, over and over. Something in me broke that day. Another unforgettable moment was leaving a wedding at one in the morning. Epic money, a cool planner, but I’d forgotten to photograph the cupcakes, insanely overpriced concoctions by a famous LA baker, used as a prop to show how connected to the cool the couple really was. Having to unpack my kit to make pictures of the little cakes, knowing they would never be consumed because no one in those circles would ever allow sugar or carbs to cross their oral threshold. Something in me broke that day, too. I distinctly remember feeling a hollowness. That was the last wedding I ever did. I remembered what it was like to work on something with meaning.
There is a reason why so many online photographers pretend to be pros. Maybe they know. Maybe they have sampled the goods. Like a dog near a rattlesnake, or a horse near a bear, they want no part of that end of the business. I get it. I don’t either. I love to fish, but I don’t want to be a professional. Souped-up bass boat, shirt covered in sponsor patches, wrenching largemouth behemoths from beneath the dock under intense pressure, while a film crew captures it all in 8k. Sounds fucking horrible. I love to cycle, but do I want to starve myself, join a team, and watch as my love of pushing pedals becomes a cog in a corporate wheel? (One cyclist put it to me like this: “First comes social media, then brands, then corporate money, and then it gets ruined.”)
So, returning to where I am now feels really good. My work gets used, most of it, anyway, but most of what I make starts with me. My ideas, my way of shooting, my presentation. I have this recurring dream of light travel. My future project (still under wraps) as my tailwind, roaming the world with a backpack, notebook, and one small camera. Looking for stories I can publish through my future platform. Yesterday, before heading out, I was asked: “You want your big camera and lens?” I thought for a moment, then said, “Nope, I’m going with the baby.” (X100VI)
You’ve heard me say this numerous times. Photography is better as a small part of a larger conversation. It’s better, more powerful this way. Those who make photography the main topic of conversation seem to be a geekish group, forgetting the story, the real audience, and meaning. Apparently, Sony has a new camera because my feed is flooded by gear review geeks talking about buttons and menus and settings, and I find myself saying, “Not again.” I purge my feed by searching for Step Brothers outtakes and scenes from The 40-Year Old Virgin.
I like being on the outside because I no longer see it as the outside. I see it as a better place, a benefit, a strategic advantage. I can go directly to you, without needing anyone else. I can circumvent the bureaucracy. What about the revenue? There are ways around this, too. I’ve seen it happening. The long play, kryptonite for so many, is the best way, but it’s long damnit, it takes time. As I step away from one thing, I step right smack into the middle of another. This new place looks interesting. I’ll take my time, have a look around, and let you know what I see.
PS: These are spreads from a 30-Minute Book created from imagery made on my current New York swing.
Comments 14
Great summary of the siren call of a “title”. I pursued a 45+ year career in IT, and toyed with the idea of doing professional photography, one of my great loves, when I retired. Heard others say (in the same way you have) that crossing that line is when “fun” transitions to “work”. I find title (“Professional”) alluring, but the fulfillment of using my skills and knowledge with the (primary) goal of benefiting others much more rewarding (I do pro bono event photography for non-profit orgs).
Author
I know folks who have come to photography from truly horrible jobs. They are happy as a clam, but more due to the fact they got out of their old profession. I also know some who are problem solver photographers. There was never any joy, just solutions. They are okay, too.
I’m glad that you fond your MOJO or happy place again. Welcome back.
Author
Me too! And thanks.
10 years ago, I had an offer to work professionally as a photographer, and was urged by all around me to take the offer, but thanks to having worked in design previously, I knew how hard it is to be in an industry that sells creativity, not to mention running my own business again. I also knew I wasn’t ready, and turned down the offer, which has resulted in me still enjoying photography at my own pace and direction. No regrets! When I came across your youtube videos, yours was the only voice that validated my decision to not “take the next step”.
Author
You dodged a bullet!
As I said in a previous text, I was excited and nervous about taking on only the X100VI on a 2 week European tour.
Once on the road I initially felt I missed a few shots but in a couple of days something clicked: I realized I wasn’t missing shots – I was “just” seeing them differently. It’s kind of ironic. When I used my “big” camera I would hope I caught what I saw. With the X100 I knew I did.
The X100VI is a fine camera but the mental shift was not because I was using that particular camera. It was because I had a camera with a fixed length lens in my hands. I believe that’s the real reason for my “cusp”. There was no time lost fiddling with the focal length. Fast and clean. I wasn’t zooming in and out to capture what I saw WITHIN the scene. I was capturing the ENTIRE scene.
I’m not putting my H2 up for sale. I will use it when I need to like the behind-the-scenes shoot for a band’s recording session that is coming up. But when I don’t need the ability to zoom the X100VI will be only camera I will need.
Author
That’s how I feel. You make a certain type of image with this camera. I still have all my other cameras, and use them for what I need, but the X100 always seems to be with me. And I like the type of image I make.
Yeah that wedding part you mentioned… I can relate to that. It wasn’t cupcakes, but it was after midnight and the night I decided would be the last wedding I would ever shoot professionally. I just did not want to be a part of that anymore. Mostly because it was the third of similar weddings and I was just kind of over it. I used to be able to shoot weddings based on the story I would create using the people, place, and how I pieced it all together with the camera. The couples back then actually hire me for my look – vision.
But that was long time ago and the last few I did, they dictated almost every shot, every hour of so many hours they wanted of coverage, I guess I felt they should just shoot it themselves. Add the fact that there would be a videographer and a drone person –yeah I was done… Anyway I only do them for free for my nieces and nephews now, and I am much happier because I can tell them shhhhh I am doing this my way.
Author
Oh man, the teams in black with headsets and drones. That was a sign for me too, get the Hell out.
I worked as an assistant to an architectural photographer for a while. She told me I was a people photographer, so I went and worked part-time as a wedding photographer for an agency. The weddings didn’t move me emotionally, and I felt I was doing a disservice to the bride and groom, so I quit that and started my own studio (again part-time) photographing pets in the back of a fancy dog boutique in Nagoya.
One day I thought to myself, WTF am I doing FFS?! A few days later, I sold all my gear, bought an M6, went to India and Cambodia, etc., because that’s what I really wanted to do. Travel with a camera and observe. That was about 12-13 years ago. I still don’t regret it.
Author
Yes, the “WTF am I doing” moment. So critical to survival.
Yeah, the osprey is seriously badass! Wait. Wasn’t that what you were talking about? Did I get that wrong? Ha. The osprey is seriously badass. Be an osprey.
Author
It is a total badass.