New Site: Oh Ya, I’m a Photographer Again.

It has been three years since I actually had a photography website. During this period, when people would ask about where they could see my images online, I would say “I don’t have any images online.” The looks I received were PRICELESS. “How can you be a photographer and not have images online?” they would ask. “I don’t work as a photographer, so I really don’t need a website,” I would reply. Then came the process of my friends and family saying “Wait, no he IS a photographer,” then defending my cult status as “photographer,” “not a photographer,” etc. Personally, I think this is entertaining and because it speaks to the IDEA of being a photographer, not the realities. For me it was simple. If I made my living with photography, I’m a photographer. If I don’t, I’m not.

When people ask me what I do I respond,“I work for Blurb.” Normally, the response is “Oh we love Blurb, I made a book about….” This is what is so great about this company. We provide an outlet for stories, and that is one damn cool thing. However, that is not what this post is about. This post is about my new site, and the new reality that, once again, I AM a photographer.
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It was official. A phone call. “Does this sound appealing to you?” Ten seconds ticked by…..“YES, this sounds incredible actually, like a dream scenario.” So here we are people. I’m in the game once again. Please alert the media. I know for some of you this idea of being or not being a photographer is puzzling or maddening, but for me it’s very real, and it has a significant impact on things like behavior, ethics, quality standards not to mention the idea of building an archive, which for me has always been a critical driving force behind me picking up a camera in the first place.

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I am now photographing for one client, Blurb. The idea is simple. I photograph people living creative, artistic lives. We’ve noticed some threads, some consistencies with these folks, and we are fascinated by their workspaces, their lives, their habits and their process. My goal is to shoot classic reportage essays with the idea being the work could be used in a variety of forms, from print to web and anything in between. This is a celebratory mission. The creative life is under siege, whether you be in music, art or photography, but there is something urgent about those who choose this path. It’s like your blood type. You can’t change it. You were born with this need and your life is about expanding upon it.

I can’t share any of the new work yet. It’s under wraps in private galleries, and will be until it runs in it’s native form. There will be new outlets designed and created to showcase this work, and other work that features similar missives. The site you see here is simply a public face.

I realized very quickly that I needed a new site, but not just a site to showcase images. I’m not really going to be showcasing them myself anyway. I needed a TOOL more than just a website. Photoshelter baby. I had used their services before, and literally within minutes I was up and running once again. I quickly found myself having to make a decision I hadn’t thought about in years. Because the new work will be private my homepage was entirely blank. I thought “I should put up some public work so at least it looks like a real site.” My mind raced back to the old me, “Well, I’ll put up a bunch of stories.” And then the idea of culling and editing began to sink in and knew I didn’t have it in me.

But more importantly I realized something else. A LOT has changed in three years. I studied my own online habits and thought back to a recent visit to photographer sites. These were really solid shooters and I didn’t give them much time. Three, four, five clicks maybe. So instead of uploading hundreds of images I made a decision to load just twenty-five total. My mindset is “If you can’t figure out who I am in these twenty-five then either I suck or you aren’t paying attention.” I also uploaded images I would have never uploaded before because they weren’t of a certain ilk. Images like this and this.
Remember, behind each image on this site is an in depth essay of twenty to fifty images.

Many photographers today are at the mercy of industry bottlenecks who need or want to quickly pigeonhole someone so they can mentally categorize them for current or future work. “That is the guy who shoots square urban landscapes.” “That is the woman who shoots lit portraits of animals,” or “That is the person who shoots protests.” I don’t have to deal with any of this anymore and I can now upload pretty much anything I want to upload. Am I a landscape photographer? No. Do I normally find intense satisfaction in stalking wildlife? No, but I like these images, and now I can put them up without risking an unwelcomed categorization. Who knows, in the future if I get bored with this, I might add more, but for now I thought, “Keep it clean and simple.”

For those of you wondering about the “photographer, not a photographer” thing just remember this is MY way of dealing with this. There is a HUGE difference between doing work on your work and doing work for a client. Secondarily, there is a significant dialogue that needs to take place regarding how the work will get done, get delivered, get archived, etc. With these conversations and arrangements comes a situation that constantly hangs in the balance of work vs. client. I won’t go into the details but these conversations are still ongoing and are actually laying the foundation for the future of the campaign. The balance is how I feel I need to work compared to what the client, in this case Blurb, needs or wants.

These “Creative Dispatches” will occupy a significant portion of my life, and I feel extremely fortunate to be able to do these. In many ways this is the dream scenario, it really is. I have been encouraged to make the work I want to make in any way I see fit. I have both professional and personal goals with these shoots, but I frankly need to brush the dust off and get my head around thinking like a photographer once again. The adventure begins.

A Sense of Place

My aunt and I share the same birthday, so I always try to call her on the day.

She recently had a book of poetry published. The poems came to her in a “moment of clarity” and suddenly began to flow through her. She wrote them down, thought of self-publishing, but decided to try one mainstream publisher who quickly gobbled her up. I am thrilled for her.

But something from our conversation really hit home. It was that “moment of clarity.”

You see her moment happened when she was holding her granddaughter, and watching her grandson as he roamed and ran. It wasn’t as if she was sitting alone in a darkened room, meditating with flute music. She was in the midst of things, which is what made me stop and think.

They say we all have a “powerspot,” or a place that we subconsciously relate to. “They” being educated people like the college professor that explained the “powerspot” to me.

I agree with this. I have several. One happens to be the drivers seat of my car. Another is the seat of my bicycle. And my other “powerspots,” they vary, move around.

But when I land on one, my best work emerges. Always.

It is during those moments of pristine clarity when, I think, our true creative being emerges. We find the focus we need, we find the second layer of the project, or the third, fourth or fifth. And suddenly, your vision becomes as clear as your moment.

Currently, one of my “powerspots” is where my mom lives. I only get there once, maybe twice a year, but each time I’m there I always manage to find a moment of clarity. And when I do, I make pictures. I make these pictures for no reason other than to make them. I have to.

And what these particular pictures seem to do is give me a sense of place, of being, without really showing where I am. They are like fingerprints, inspired by nature, perhaps a return to my youth. I make them each and every time I go, and I’ve found them more and more interesting over time.

I feel an energy in these images, a respect. I’m not sure anyone else would feel it, or should feel it, but I’m curious about that.

I actually printed one of these, large, roughly 30×30 and it sits framed on my mom’s mantle, above the fireplace. It’s odd to see it, then look out the window and see the real object. There had to be something that alerted me to photographing this object, and then print and frame this object, and then have my mother hang it. There had to be an unknown force. At least it feels that way.

I think the key to these moments is not necessarily the work that is made directly from the experience, but rather the realization of what happened, that you had this moment, you could feel it, and in some ways experienced a creative breakthrough.

At first I thought these images were not really “mine,”, but now I think, perhaps they are “my” work. Maybe they are leaving tracks for me to follow. A warning? A suggestion?

And Then There Was One

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A classic on a Palm Springs street. Edited down to one frame. 2007

I had an interesting conversation the other day. I was away from home, ran into a photographer who found out I make a lot of books. He expressed interest in what I was doing, how I was doing it, and I was happy to share what I knew.

But then something interesting happened. He asked about editing. I gave him my lowdown on how I edit, but also said that each book is a unique experience, so there was no “secret number” of images that a book must have and no “secret order” of things. The book would be his creation, and his edit would pave the way forward.

The old cliche, “You’re only as good as your worst image,” in my mind, is very true, and I have personally seen a table full of editors tear apart a portfolio because of one weak picture, forgetting anything redeeming the portfolio offered before they descended on the weak photo.

My friend developed a concerned look on his face and began to look around the room, appearing as if he was trying to solve a tricky math problem.

“Well, if I shoot 4000 images in a day, for my client, I normally just edit those down to about a 1000,” he said. “What do I do, just put all those in a book?” he asked.

And there we were. This situation had been brewing around in my mind for quite some time and I thought this a perfect time to investigate this specific situation.

“No, I would give yourself a number, say 50 images, and then edit that again to make sure you don’t have any weak spots, or images that are not helping to tell the story,” I answered. “One of my best books has twenty-pages and about ten images total,” I added.

My friend grew more concerned.

“I don’t know how to edit like that,” he said, with a look of desperation.

This photographer had been working as a pro for many years, but I THINK had really come to age in the digital world, so shooting that image total for a day was a “normal” occurrence, something that for me is way outside what I would typically be doing. I would do an entire long-term project and not shoot that many images. A few short years ago, making this many images in a day was rare, but today it seems to be the norm. I see story after story about photographers shooting tens of thousands of images for a piece, project, story, etc, and my first thought is always, “Oh man, who has to edit all that?”

Editing is something you have to learn, and to study, but it isn’t anything that should be feared. Editing is about decision making, being able to select your best images and being able to explain why you selected them. No biggie, you just gotta practice.

“Hey, not a big deal, you can learn to edit,” I explained. My friend didn’t look convinced, but I know when he sits down to make the book, he will quickly realize that it’s far more enjoyable to work with say 50 images than 1000.

Let’s go back in time for a moment.

When I was in school, actually trying to learn this thing called photography, a HUGE part of what we did was edit. We dreamed something up, or we were handed an assignment, we trudged into the field, box camera in tow, twisted knobs, slide things around, draped our heads in cloth, and managed to snap off a frame or two. Sometimes, if were lucky, we’d grab a 35mm, and snap off a roll or two. A roll or two. A frame or two.

And then, we would EDIT. Yes, you heard that correctly, edit.

What you chose, and why you chose it, was a critical part of being a photographer. It was, in some ways, as important as the actual take. Make a great take, choose the wrong images, and your great take ended up not so great.

You chose your images, printed your images, then stood in front of the class and explained the decisions you made. In essence, there is no right and wrong, but editing is what begins to shape you and your work, and is what helps you develop a style.

Practicing this ethic taught us many things, but first and foremost, it taught you that excessive shooting in the field wasn’t a good thing. Photographers watched, waited and then made their move, shooting only the moments or details that contributed to the story. You might shoot two or three frames of something, but rarely ever more. I think today we have lost this idea to a certain degree, and the idea of shooting thousands of images in the field has become an accepted method. Personally, I think this damages the impact of what we are doing, and will continue to do so. I can’t tell you how many edits I’ve done where the photographer shot twenty, thirty, forty or more images of the exact same thing, and for no particular reason other than they could.

And coupled with this excessive shooting, what I’m finding today is a near total lack of knowledge in regards to editing, and more so, an almost total lack of teaching in regards to editing.

When I asked students about editing classes, they just reply with blank stares, and I think this has had a profound effect on our industry.

I’ll give you a typical scenario.

Student: “Ah ya, I’ve only done a loose edit, and was hoping you could take a look.”
Translation: “I shot 1000’s of images, they are on my laptop, I haven’t made a single print, and I haven’t even thought of editing.”

Student: “I was hoping you could tell me your favorites.”
Translation: “Geez, can you edit this mess for me?”

People, everything is interconnected. You give a young photographer,or old for that matter, the ability to shoot endless images, and it’s no different than handing a teenager the keys to a Ferrari and asking them to keep it under 55. Unrealistic.

Couple this with the fact that editing today typically requires a computer, often times on a small screen, and suddenly things are coming apart. If you are given the task of editing 4000 images on a laptop, in a hurry, well no wonder editing has been lost. It isn’t fun. It’s all about blowing through it and moving on, because perhaps you have to do it again tomorrow. Editing from a contact sheet is a far easier way of editing, but that ship has sailed.

I’ve done shoots where I’ve shot too much, then been saddled with having to quickly turn the images around. In my mind there is nothing worse in photography. Not only do the results typically really suck, but the process isn’t fun, and for me it, it really isn’t even photography. I can totally understand this for news, PJ, etc, but this style of work has taken over nearly every genre of photography. Why does it seem that everyone, regardless of what the shoot is about, is on deadline, and needs images at a record pace? It’s this way because we photographers bought into this, simple as that. In most cases, if people do their jobs, there is no reason to have to work this way, but we have accepted it, and now must live with being under pressure and being rushed nearly all the time.

I do know photographers who don’t work this way, but their numbers seem to be dwindling. However, I think their work is consistently better than those of us who are always rushed. No big surprise there.

Robert Frank, the legendary photographer who completed the project “The Americans,” is a great person to think about when it comes to editing. I was recently able to see the exhibition of his work, in both San Francisco and London, and if there is ONE THING I would take from this show, outside the actual photographs, it is in regard to the edit.

Now I can’t remember the exact numbers, but over the months and months that Frank was in the field, he shot either 27,000 images or 72,000 images. I could probably look this up, but I’m too lazy.

He edited 58 images. Or 53.

Let’s just take a second to think about that.

Let’s take the lower number, 27,000, just to safe. He edited 58.

Okay portrait shooters……how many frames did you shoot on your last voyage? 200? 500? 750? 1500? What was your “edit?” 500? 200? 100? Is that really editing?

Wedding snappers? Don’t even get me started. I hear it from the wedding planners I work with, of photographers selling quantity, then dumping 5000 images online for a client to wade through. That ain’t editing, or even photography in my book.

I don’t think anyone is immune at this point. Photojournalists shoot too much, send too much, file to much, cram too much into multimedia presentations that are ten minutes long that would have far more impact at two minutes.

And yes, I’m guilty too. Look, you put a box of Coco Puffs in front of me, I’ll eat the entire box. I can’t stop myself.

Sitting here thinking about this feeble post, I’m reminded of something else. This image at the top. There are more, other angles, other directions, other points of view, but this was the one, in my mind, that was most powerful. It took me about five minutes to make that decision………………….FIVE MINUTES.

You can do a lot today, in five minutes. How many Twitter posts can you do? How many pages of Facebook can you read? Could probably send a lot of text messages in five minutes. Wink, wink.

This image at the top was shot two years ago, but I never saw it the first time. In fact, there was A LOT from this shoot I didn’t see. And then I found the contact sheets. And I sat with the contact sheets. And there they were, all these images that prompted me to say to myself, “I don’t even remember shooting that.”

The point is, in many cases, we have to live with the work, for at least a little while, before we can truly appreciate it, or even understand how it works together. But in today’s photo world of hyper-rushed nonsense, there just isn’t time, or at least that is what we tell ourselves.

After having been at our industry’s most significant trade show, for three days last week, I’m left with far more questions than answers. You can now get a camera that shoots massive, high resolution digital files, and also high-definition video at the same time. You can get a printer with 12 inks that has an alleged lifespan of 200 years and you can have a book made quickly and easily.

But none of this makes any difference at all if photographers have completely lost touch with the basics of photography.

Do you know about light?

Do you know about timing?

Do you know about composition?

Can you edit your images?

If the answer is “No,” then it won’t make a bit of difference what you put in your hand.

I’ve beat this drum many times, but I’ll do it again. We have to learn to slow down, and we have to learn to think once again. Our brains are running the hundred meters, but our pursuit requires us to be marathon runners.

Next time you shoot, do yourself a favor. Put the work away for a few days, let it stew. Then return to it and look at it with fresh eyes. Then edit down to one image. Pick the best one, and when someone asks, “Why is that the best? have an answer for them. THAT is called editing.