Creative: The Edit

If you were fortunate enough to come of photographic age in the industry side of the equation, then you will know all too well the importance of critical, merciless editing. If you came of age in the online photography world, based on my experience, you may or may not understand the importance of the edit. I find I must tread on eggshells when I’m around online folks because many have not had a single instance of being told, “This isn’t good enough.” Many have not had a single instance of seeing someone cull their fifty-image take to ten or twelve, and when confronted with situations like this, many retreat into the “Kill the messenger” mentality of the online world. You can’t say anything critical of anyone lest you be labeled as “angry old man” or “old guy shouting from the rooftops.”

In the early nineties, I made my first trip to New York.

Still to this day, I’ve never been to New York for vacation. Never, ever. It’s always been work. This first trip, looking back on it, was hilarious. I had long hair and a tie with cameras on it. (True story.) I had appointments with art directors, editors, and agency heads. Other photographers had made these appointments for me. Photographers I had assisted who thought enough of me to do me a solid. I would have never gotten inside the door were it not for these other photographers. I had a vision of what I thought would happen, but that vision was shattered during the first meeting. The person I met with wasn’t mean; they were busy, and they were a professional with no time to waste on someone who wasn’t prepared. Me.

My entire portfolio consisted of one page of 35mm transparencies. That’s it. I flew to New York with twenty pictures. This number of images is far more than a professional needs to judge talent. My twenty pictures were just okay, so when I met with the first person there was a casual dismissal of my work. They knew; I didn’t. My pictures weren’t great nor was my edit. As I made my way through the rounds, the same thing kept happening. My edit was confusing and forced these folks to ask questions about what they were looking at. Not good.

My singles were random and my singles transitioned into a story which only occurred to the viewer as they neared the end of the page of slides. “Is this a story?” they asked. Ugh. Dagger. Pain. Embarrassment. Find a hole, climb in, drop a bomb. Want to know the worst part? This was after a degree in photojournalism, after a year and a half of full-time daily newspaper assignments, and after a year and a half of assisting. I still couldn’t edit.

Learning to edit was physically painful. I worked with more accomplished photographers who cut to the bone. Again, no time to pamper or coddle someone’s insecurity. This was about being a professional and learning how to handle adversity. You didn’t get it? That sucks but go back and try it again. The more lessons I learned, the easier it became. Not the editing, the dealing with failure.

I completed my best project to date. A long-term story that had received praise and several publications. I began selling prints. I started to think I had everything figured out. Then I showed the work to a legendary photographer, a hero, someone I never thought I would meet, let alone someone who would look at my photography. “This isn’t one story,” he said. “You have two stories that don’t belong together. Can’t you see how these images are from two different perspectives?” He then edited my fifty picture take to FIVE IMAGES. One for each year I had worked on the project.

I was pissed, and then I was hurt and then I was confused, but the moment I looked at the work through his words I saw immediately he was right. Pain. Dagger. Embarrassment. Find a hole, climb in, drop a bomb. I had a choice to make. Go find someone to make me feel good about myself. Find someone to coddle me, tell me he was an “angry old man,” or I could take stock, be honest with myself, and go make better pictures.

Here’s what online folks don’t understand.

When you coddle, promote subpar work, and tell everyone that everything they do is good, you are undermining your entire industry, and more importantly, you are undermining photography itself. The reason these pros were curt with me is that they had dedicated their entire existence to photography. They were all in. This wasn’t for YouTube or social following, this was for their survival. Had they said, “Gee kid, you are a fantastic photographer, and your editing skills are top-notch,” it would have undermined the world they had dedicated their lives to.

I recently reviewed a body of work. I looked at a full book and a selection of spreads. The cover was well done. The book was huge. Something like 150 pages. Way too many pages and way too much repetitive imagery. I wrote to the photographer and said, “There are thirty images worth keeping that will tell a much better story than the 150+ images you included.” I also gave design advice to clean up several of the spreads. I didn’t think anything of it. I do reviews like this quite often. Later that day, I thought back to my email and wondered, “Wait, this might be the first time this person ever had a real critique.” “If this person came of age on YouTube, they might be formulating a scathing response.” I still don’t know because the person has not written back, but the intelligent photographer will see the diamond in the rough. Did you see it?

This person has THIRTY IMAGES that work. I had FIVE from FIVE YEARS. Now, will this person see this, or will they be led astray by my to-the-point edit? Time will tell, but the point is that editing is an art form and something that is not always pain-free. The online world is NOT built for real editing. Too many people who need to win a trophy. That’s fine for amateurs, but if photography is your passion and you want to improve, you need honesty, and you need it from someone who knows what they are doing.

I’m a huge fan of in-person portfolio reviews. You pay to show your work to industry pros. In a half day, you can show your work to a magazine editor, museum curator, art buyer, agent, agency head, etc. You will get SO many different takes. Posting to social and waiting for likes means ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Social has nothing to do with the quality of the work. Social is about metrics and following. Showing your work in person will also force you to learn how to speak about your work, how to ask pertinent questions, how to take constructive feedback, and how to behave around these people. They are looking at far more than your images. (That was your free point of the day.) Talk about what camera you used and you are done.

If you have seven good images, that is your edit. It doesn’t matter if you set out to make a book of ten or twenty. If you have seven and you print eight, you will pay the price, especially when you show that work to someone who knows because they will see that eighth image and say to themselves, “Nope. too sloppy.” There are plenty of chances to wander creatively. Your edit is not one of those chances. The good news? Eventually, the pain of seeing what little you have becomes the pleasure of the challenge. Instead of being offended, you become driven, fired up, and creatively agitated. And when you learn how to edit you begin to see when you have something of value. You add it to the final take, and you begin to see your story emerge. No fat. No frills. No nonsense. The reader deserves your very best.

To end on a positive note. We are talking about photography, not finding shelter, food, and clean water. This isn’t life or death. We are privileged because most folks don’t have the time or ability to do what we are doing. So, never lose perspective. Enjoy the highs and lows and battles won and lost. There will be more.