Brooks Jensen on LensWork Podcast ep. 948:
The minute people starting thinking about money—about selling their art work and marketing, etc.—the art of photography was diminished.
Jensen says his wife enjoys gardening, but doesn’t expect to be paid for planting something in her own yard.
So maybe the switch between “I make photos for art/fun/etc.” to “I make photos for money” is what makes so many people take the same kinds of photos.
It’s marketing, not photography.
We are, each of us, dripping wet with photographs. Culturally speaking, we are drowning in them.
So why buy photographs?
“Value is not held within the [physical] object,” Travis Shaffer writes. “Rather, it is the opportunity to stand before the work which we desire.”
Which is exactly why I’m a small-time collector of the photographs I enjoy. The idea of (a) supporting emerging artists and (b) collecting appealing work is reason enough to spend a little money of not-so-limited prints.
I don’t do it because it’s a potential investment. And I surely don’t do it to be Mr. Art Collector Guy.
I do it because I want it hanging on my wall.
Most people give up early. Projects and creativity are hard work.
That’s why you should keep going, and keep at it. There will be dips in enthusiasm, or stuck spots, but you’ll survive.
And, you’ll outlast 80% of those other people, the ones who gave up long ago.
Craft inhabits whatever medium or tool you work with, if you let it.
I revisit Craig Mod’s articles every once in a while, just to feel what he’s feeling at these times of digital/analog transition.
The above, from 2014, recall Mod’s thoughts about how mobile phone photography – always connected, quality digital files, the idea of a singular photograph changing – was growing into its own.
With everything set to automatic, where was the craft in an iPhone photo?
Mod’s point: It’s all in the restrictions you put on yourself.
It’s one reason why I love using a 10 year old digital camera to make most of my images. Almost nothing is automatic, there’s no video setting, and only 12 megapixels. Every day is a limitation.
But even with cameras with auto HDR and leveling and intervalometers and all that, you can make using your camera feel like driving a manual transmission car if you still want that experience.
Turn the display off. Turn auto everything off. Set your aperture, shutter speed, and ISO on manual. Don’t use built-in filters (or do, and treat it like film stock). Etc.
Cameras these days have few limitations. So make up some, and start a new project.
People don’t take the time to read, says Steven Pressfield, via Dave Trott:
Nor does anybody care about your one-act play, your Facebook page or your new sesame chicken joint at Canal and Tchoupitoulas. It isn’t that people are mean or cruel.They’re just busy. When you understand that nobody wants to read your shit, your mind becomes powerfully concentrated.
Think about that. All the hard work we put into creative projects, or blog entries, or advertising campaigns – nobody really cares. They have better things to do.
Until they do start to care. But that’s only a fraction.
I try to bring this viewpoint to my job. We fret over the little things, and we polish the text to a buffed shine. Luckily, Ann Arbor (a true college town) is more literate than most cities. Still, at the root, nobody cares.
So give them a reason to.
Or: set your expectations accordingly. If no one cares what you do, doesn’t that give you some freedom to do what you want to do?
Photography itself is its own reward…The art life is a privilege we should be willing to pay for.
In other words, don’t do it for the money, says Brooks Jensen, or for fame. There are plenty of other reasons to do your thing.
In Jensen’s list, most of the reasons are internal, as it should be.
For me, it’s good enough to be a hobby. Like many hobbies—car repair, painting, collecting shot glasses, playing flamenco guitar, film history—it’s not cheap. And that’s okay.
I play guitar because I love music, and because it’s relaxing, not because I’ll be in the Rolling Stones.
I play with a camera for the exact same reasons.
[via CJ Chilvers]
There’s something noble about being the “ornery artist.” The one who switches it up when he or she shouldn’t. The one who you can’t pin down. The one who avoids fame and publicity.
As I walked around the Ann Arbor Art Fair on Thursday, especially looking at the photography booths, I couldn’t help but notice how similar they all were: landscapes, sunsets, flowers, bodies of water, animals, HDR (blah!).
Art fair artists are there to sell things, I get it. It’s hard to be ornery and sell in mass quantities.
For me, it’s more fun to root for the curmudgeon.
Doesn’t get much more simple than this:
Wanna be a better photographer? The simple answer is: shoot every single day, study the work of other photographers, and try your darndest to find something new to say in your work.
Bingo.
I struggle with that first bit the most. It’s so hard to get out and shoot on a regular basis.
And “study the work,” not “mindlessly consume and copy.” Get the difference?
That advice appeals to the academic in me. Seeing the world as the “great” photographers saw it is a quick to realize how much farther I have to go, and what I do and don’t enjoy.
The part that surprised me was the question about clichés. Most of the photography editors said there’s no such thing.
So much good stuff throughout this roundup.
Eric Kim: “To find your style in photography is to find who you are as a human being. What interests you in life?”
Laura Austin: “Style is about authenticity.”
Eric Anderson: “Finding your style comes with a lot of practice and being true to yourself.”
Every year, during the hottest week of the summer, Ann Arbor puts on a giant art fair, shutting down streets downtown and welcoming thousands of people over four days.
I’ve been to Art Fair several times, but this is my first time working on campus during the event. As the artists set up their booths, I walked around town grabbing some of the behind-the-scenes shots.
It’s fun, seeing the event before the event starts. A lot of the art was already on display, but many artists didn’t have their tent up yet, and their wares were sprawled out on the University of Michigan lawn, waiting for hanging.
There were these weird juxtapositions, like fake cactus and palm trees baking in the Midwestern sun, or giant metal sculptures just hanging out on University Ave. And hot. Everything was hot.
Should be a fun couple of days, trying to get into work.
For a few minutes yesterday, though, the setup gave me a great chance to wander around and see what I could see.
A suggestion: If you find an artist you like at one of these art fairs, a good way to support them is to buy a small print or notecard, especially if you can’t afford one of their bigger prints. I found one from photographer Amber Tyrrell that I really liked, so I bought a notecard from her. Three bucks and some change is an easy vote of confidence.
Any little bit of support helps the artists, helps the arts economy, and makes the whole humid thing seem worth it.
With an impending sale of Yahoo!, there’s a lot of hand-wringing about what’s going to happen to Flickr.
I’m worried about Flickr, too, for the same reasons Jim Nix is worried – namely, that if someone buys Flickr and messes it up, where can we photographers go? Especially those of us that have dumped most (in my case) or all (in other photographers’ cases) of our photos onto the site.
I, like Nix, enjoy Flickr’s organization tools, the Groups, the social aspects, and the ease of use. Flickr can be used in all kind of ways, whether you’re a hobbyist or a professional, and a lot of us pay the annual fee to keep the premium features. To me, it’s always been worth the $25 a year.
In recent years, Flickr has tried to Instagram itself by becoming more mobile and more in-the-moment. But what if it just stuck to being a photography enthusiast’s site?
“Growth” and “scaling” make you money, over time, but don’t memberships and providing value make money too?
I’d pay $5 more every year to make Flickr stay healthy, stick to what it does best, and listen to its customers. It’s an important tool in my photography tool belt.
I can’t worry too much, because I don’t have any control over who buys Flickr and what happens to it in the long haul. But I do have a wish list, and at the top of that is that Flickr sticks around and keeps chugging along, even if it’s not in the Who’s Who of social media/photography platforms.
After starting my new job in March, I did what I always do: got out and explored.
I’ve been to Ann Arbor, Michigan, many times, and done a lot of shooting here. Now that it’s my jobby-job town, there are a lot more opportunities to get out and see the city. Lunch hours, in between meetings, after work – all good excuses to get out and make photos.
This is, at its most basic, the best reason to make photography a hobby. You get to really learn about and know a place through the viewfinder.
A new place also provides that little spark of freshness you might need to practice your craft.
Do your everyday surroundings get stale? Go somewhere new, and – bam – instant inspiration.
You know that new thing where a band goes out on tour and plays an entire classic album of theirs live?
For the fans, it’s great, especially if it’s a truly beloved and well-known album. It’s a well-worn reminder of why you love the band and their music.
What if we could go back and try our hands at an old project, and reinterpret it years later?
William Christenberry made a career out of it, coming back to the same location year after year, watching it fall apart.
I often wonder what i would do if I took my life-changing Route 66 roadtrip and did it all over again, but with the photo skills I have now. It would probably be a longer trip out of necessity.
Pulling over, after all, takes time.
A greatest hits in photos, knowing what I know now? Let’s hit the road.
Here’s the thing about failed projects:
It’s fine to start something, and give up after you begin – midway, almost done, whatever. Sometimes things don’t work out.
I’ve done that quite a few times. A new project will pop into my head, and I’ll start on it, but then I give up. Lack of interest, lack of time, whatever.
The trouble starts when you share a project you haven’t thought through to completion. You make a big announcement, “Hey! I’m doing a thing!” You share the thing. Everyone’s excited.
And then? Crickets.
People that follow your work are left in the lurch. Nothing more comes of your big project after that first big thing, or the announcement. Do that a few times, and people start to question your credibility.
Maybe it’s better to fail in private. Then you’re only disappointing yourself.
If you have critics, maybe you’re on to something. Adam Smith, in You and Your Work Aren’t For Everyone, says that the Wright brothers had their share of naysayers, but they kept experimenting, until…liftoff.
“Nothing shuts critics up faster than producing results,” Smith says.
But just because you have critics doesn’t mean what you’re doing is great. You just have to outlast them, and keep producing the kind of work that’s right for you.
(via Jon Wilkening)
Sometimes, when I just need to unwind at work, or kill some time in the grocery line, I’ll look at the For Sale board on Fred Miranda.
I don’t need anything, and I’m sure as heck not going to buy anything. But it’s fun to read the equipment listings, especially when I don’t recognize something. That’s always a good research opportunity, and I love few things more than doing research.
Granted, I have picked up a few good finds on Fred Miranda. My go-to Canon 5D is from that listing board, as was my Fuji X-E1 and my 20mm lens.
I look at Fred Miranda like a car person reads a hot rod mag. No harm in that.
This weekend I’m shooting my once-per-year wedding gig.
I have two rules for photographing someone’s wedding:
Those stipulations help me to be super picky about the gigs I agree to take.
I don’t need the income. I don’t need the images for my portfolio. I see it as a way to use my skills for someone I know and like.
It’s also fun as hell.
There’s so much ugliness on display in the world lately.
Our oceans are dying. Our neighbors and protectors are dying. Political compromise is dying. Common sense seems to be dying.
It’s enough to make you think about building that bunker out in the backyard and waiting the whole thing out.
Artists, musicians, religious leaders, and poets will help us try to make sense of it all, over time. In the meantime, there are photographers on the front lines of these terrible events, witnessing first-hand the terrible things that humans do to each other.
As they’re doing that, try to get out and capture something beautiful, while there’s still time. While it’s still there.
If you’re a photographer, do you only check out other photographers’ work? Is there value in digging into architecture, say, or sculpture?
I follow lots of photographers whose work I enjoy. Usually, their work is so different from mine. Lately, I’m trying to follow other artists, too, just to get a broad view of the creative world. Photography is great, but so is music, dance, painting, film.
Artists have a lot to learn from each other.
Don’t be afraid to stretch beyond your own artistic corner of the world.
A year or two ago, I thought about doing a book called “So You Bought a Fancy Camera.” It would be for friends who had just bought a DSLR or mirrorless camera and needed to get started with the basics.
Instead, I spent my time making another book (and another after that), covering something other than how-to material, and I feel like that was time better spent.
Who needs another asshole talking about focal length?
Here’s what I used to do with my free time:
I’d take an old Macintosh, either from eBay or an e-waste drive, plug it in, fire it up, and fix whatever was wrong.
I’d add RAM, or install a new PRAM battery. I’d clean out the vents and get the gunk off the keyboard. Make sure the mouse worked. Install the latest version of the operating system. Try out a different hard drive.
This went on for three or four years. Take a random Friday night, put on The Verve Pipe’s Villains, grab a six pack, and tinker. And then I’d write about it.
I loved it.
And then I walked away.
In its place, I picked up a new hobby, and slowly let the former one slip into the past, like Saturday morning cartoons or homecoming dances.
This happens to lots of us. Often, several times during our lives. Maybe we outgrow our hobbies after a while, or situations change in life. We get married, start families, switch jobs. Our priorities change.
I used to feel bad about leaving my Mac hobby behind. I still love tinkering, and I still play with my old PowerMac and Newtons.
But just like I left behind playing Magic: The Gathering, and staying up late trying to beat Super Mario Bros. 3, I switched gears.
It’s okay to try on new things, and leave old things behind. Maybe photography won’t be “my thing” forever, and that’s fine, too.
There are plenty of hobbies out there.
For a long time, I used disposable cameras and point and shoots to do my photography. It wasn’t quite a hobby yet, but I used those two tools to do a lot of shooting – particularly on cross-country road trips.
But then something flipped, and I wanted to take photography seriously. I had the drive, and the intent, so I saved up money and bought my first DSLR in 2010. I saw it as an investment in a new hobby.
I get the sense that many people buying entry-level DSLRs are buying the “fancy” camera to take “better” photos.
Don’t buy a fancy camera unless you have the patience and time to do it right.
For most people, a smartphone camera is all they ever need. Point and shoots are great, and affordable.
Buying a DSLR or mirrorless camera is like buying a pet: it needs feeding, care, to be taken for a walk, etc.
Jon Wilkening is taking a much-needed break from his work, and from social media, this month.
Good for him. And it’s such a Today thing to do. I’ve seen so many blog posts lately where the authors are taking the month of July and turning off all social media.
I do that from time to time, usually on vacation or around the holidays. I find that I usually don’t miss much, and what I do miss, I don’t know any better.
Taking breaks from your hobby can be helpful, too. Last winter, after I finished my portrait project, I needed to step away from photography and recharge. The same thing happened this spring when I got my new job: my brain needed to work out other things than exposures and apertures.
So take a breather. And don’t feel guilty about it.
[Photography] is not a popularity contest; it’s creating something that means something.
Ted Forbes says that no one cares about your photographs. The world doesn’t need more photos, or paintings, or songs – we have plenty, thanks.
What does matter? Projects. Difference-making, not-easy work.
Take pretty shots, sure. Just understand no one cares about them. Nor should they.
But when you tackle projects that say something, or take on a big issue, you’re doing the work that a good journalist can do. Humanity needs stuff that matters.
Take on City Hall, whatever that means to you.
