Kathmandu, Nepal

It seems that barely a week or two can pass before I once again read (often from photographers I respect) about the evils of photographers working for free. It’s as if doing so were the equivalent of stealing somebody’s dinner and kicking their dog. The arguments against working for free are many and varied. There’s “they’re paying everybody except for you, the photographer”, which can be true but can also be mostly irrelevant. There’s “you’ll steal business from a professional who needs to pay his mortgage”, which is mostly bollocks. A lot of reasons are given, but I don’t really believe them. Let me explain why (and for free I might add!).

Photography has the apparent misfortune of being both craft (also art, which I will freely intermix here—despite their differences) and vocation (for some). As a result there is a blurry dividing line between what one will do solely for the sake of art and what one will do solely for the sake of compensated vocation, which in addition to money might also include fame, prestige, influence, etc. Some are content to work on their craft solely for the art of it, and we don’t hear much from these people. They’re toiling away in near obscurity, cranking out masterpieces in their basements. At the other end of the spectrum there are those who excel at marketing themselves but really aren’t very good photographers—nor even productive members of this wonderful photography community (something which is entirely subjective but useful for this point; so let’s just agree this category exists without pointing fingers). The vast majority are somewhere between these two extremes. There are the amateurs and hobbyists looking for knowledge, feedback and sometimes praise but not money (despite their talents), and there are the professionals dedicated to their work and to their clients. Apparently, free is supposed to be bad for all of them and everybody in-between. Free is just bad; it undermines everything. It causes sharp images to blur and changes apertures and shutter speeds when you’re not looking! It probably even warps time.

Now if you’re in the unenviable position of not being able to pay your mortgage or put food on the table, then dedicating all your time to your love of photography without any monetary compensation is probably an unwise act. Some might call it irresponsible. I would. However, if, at the other extreme, you’re fabulously wealthy and desperately want to photograph for a certain client, holding out for a day rate they won’t pay seems absolutely pointless. You’re going to give up a dream because you can’t add a couple grand to your mountain of money? Glad I’m not you! No, really; I’m glad that I’m not you.

The point here is that where one allows the spheres of photographic art and photographic vocation to overlap is entirely personal. It’s not my job to tell you how much you have to charge. And it’s nobody else’s business to tell me! And let me be perfectly clear. I WILL work for free. Now if that bothers you, I suggest that you ask yourself why you’re bothered by what I do. No, I’m not going to call Monsanto and offer to shoot their annual report for free. I wouldn’t work with them for ten times my day rate; so I’m certainly not going to do it for free. But if I want to work with a client who can’t afford me, then I’ll try to find a way of making it happen. And free might be that way. It also might not be.

How do I decide? Its a combination of desire and gut feeling. It’s how much I want the job factored with the client’s ability to pay. The ideal scenario is when my desire is high and their bank account overflowing. But if my desire is stratospheric and they’re counting pennies, I’m not taking their pennies. You can do that if you like. And if you’re just starting out and want to offer yourself for free, go for it. I see nothing at all wrong with that (as long as you’re actually adding value and not just taking up time). In fact, I’m going to go ahead and potentially piss off a lot of people and even encourage it (although assisting somebody might be a better option). You have to build your experience somehow. If you can afford to do it for free, then why would I wish to stop you? For fear of competition? I don’t think so. I photograph for projects and clients in which I believe. If you can offer them the same (or more) value for less, then I’ll even recommend you! It’s my job to make sure that I’m worth whatever I ask. It’s not your job to match me.

There’s absolutely nothing—NOTHING—wrong with pursuing your craft without monetary reimbursement—that includes for clients if you so desire. Don’t go out there and start charging just because others who are afraid of a saturated market tell you that in order for the playing field to be level that you have to charge, that you’re an idiot if you don’t. Life’s not like that. Let’s see, they have 20 years of experience and a long list of clients. You’ve got a camera, hope and a dream. Yet you’re supposed to charge top dollar so that they can compete against you? Bollocks! Do what you want. Charge what you want. Make up your own rules. One of mine is to never blindly obey people who want to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do!

I think that accusing amateur, semi-professional and even professional photographers (categories that are thankfully blurring) of being idiots, or worse, for willingly working for free, a byline, a $30 cover, etc. is like accusing me of hurting the restaurant industry by inviting friends over for dinner! I don’t buy it. And you’re all welcome to dinner! (Just not all at once.)

Lighting Butter Candles — Boudha, Nepal

The other day a reader of David duChemin’s blog left a comment in which he stated that David’s “angst is exhausting”. David had blogged about how difficult it can sometimes be to wrestle with and search for one’s vision. The commenter’s implication, particularly when he mentioned “exotic locations”, suggested to me that he believes that simply because David is fortunate enough to be in exotic locations that he has no right to struggle with his vision—that an exotic location alone were a sort of magic elixir for compelling photography. It’s as if an airline could transport one directly to a land of photographic nirvana. It just doesn’t work like that.

It is no easier to create compelling photographs in Kathmandu than in Kansas City. Sure, one can point a camera at something exotic and wow friends and family back home with the exoticism, but exoticism does not make a photograph compelling. It is at best a crutch for a lack of something truly compelling. It’s a smoke screen, snake oil, sleight of hand…call it what you will, but it’s not compelling. It’s just exotic; more precisely, such images are striking simply because they capture the unfamiliar. Is that, however, all we wish of our photography, a record of the unfamiliar?

Photography isn’t easy. I’ve been here in Kathmandu for nearly a week, and I too am not pleased with the abandonment of my muse. I see exotic structures, objects and people everywhere. I love this place for that, but I know that that is not enough. I need more for my photography. I need this place to get under my skin so that I can truly understand it…so that I can, hopefully, then convey in my photography how Kathmandu feels in my soul. It’s a struggle. I’m not going to beat myself up about it as I’ve known since I began that photography is often a struggle. I don’t expect it to be easy. Sometimes one manages to be in a sort of photographic, or vision, groove, and things just seem to work. At other times, one just struggles and struggles and then struggles some more. That’s a good time for a glass of chai. I’ve had many.

David isn’t a harbor of angst. He’s simply honest about the very real struggles of creating compelling images that match our vision. For anybody who thinks that’s easy—always easy—well, kudos to you. I certainly don’t.

Nonetheless, I love Kathmandu. The Nepali are gracious, kind and truly wonderful. I knew that already from those I’ve encountered back home, but here they are at home, in their environment. I haven’t figured out how to capture what I feel about Kathmandu yet, but I am also not yet certain what I actually feel about Kathmandu. It’s not as if I can photograph “I heart Kathmandu” and leave it at that. I wish it were so easy. Well, actually, no I don’t. The struggle is part of the growth.

Well, OK, that’s my little rant. I feel better already.

Ansel Adams - The Tetons and the Snake River

Ten years ago, Rick Norsigian bought a collection of several dozen glass plates created by photographic icon Ansel Adams for $45 at a garage sale. Or maybe he didn’t.

Matthew Adams, Ansel Adams’ grandson who runs the Ansel Adams Gallery, doesn’t believe that they’re authentic.

Are they or aren’t they? Obviously, I don’t know, but it is apparently a $200 million question. This means, of course, that if you look at these images and don’t attribute them to Ansel Adams, then they’re worth approximately $45. However, if you look at the exact same images and attribute them to Ansel Adams, then they’re apparently worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

The difference, of course, is the name. I think that I have a problem with that. The photographs, regardless of who created them, should stand on their own merits. They are either great photographs (which is very subjective) and worthy of a collector’s riches. Or they are not.

Is a photograph automatically great just because Ansel Adams created it? I hope not. I suspect (perhaps presumptuously) that Ansel Adams would agree with me. In fact, if they are his photographs, and he chose not to distribute them publicly, then there might be a reason. Maybe he didn’t consider them good enough. Perhaps he even hated them.

I think that it’s important for us to ask ourselves if a photograph truly is great or whether we’re just caught up in a cult of personality.  All work from a great photographer will not be great. Likewise great photographs can be created by unknown photographers. Adams himself said, “Twelve significant photographs in any one year is a good crop.”

Perhaps these are not Ansel Adams’ glass plates. Or perhaps they are but were not considered to be part of “a good crop”. What we should do, in my humble opinion, is look at photographs for what they are and not for who created them. We can use Adam’s own words as our guide…

“A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed.”

Perhaps we need to look at the photographs, judge them on our reactions and debate less about who might have created them. We may never know the answer to “who?”, but we can still explore “why?” and “how?”, and aren’t those more interesting questions?

Golden Temple Complex - Amritsar, India

Yesterday the New York Times published an article (http://tinyurl.com/yz4bssd) on the “Shrinking Path” for photographers. In the 24 hours or so since then photographers have reposted this article on facebook and twitter and with it, usually, a comment about how amateurs are ruining business for professionals by undercharging or, gasp, giving away their photographs. Bollocks!

It is definitely true that professional photography is changing. What worked in 1990 probably doesn’t work in 2010. But is that really a shocker? Did we just wake up this morning and discover that while we slept the world had changed? I don’t think so.

Last year the uproar was over a Time cover for which an amateur photographer was giddy to receive $30. Professional photographers cried foul. Amateurs were stealing business. As I recall that was a shot of a glass jar full of coins. I don’t know. I’ve never shot a glass jar full of coins. Sounds boring. Had I done so, I’m not sure that I’d have valued it at much more than $30. I say kudos to Time for getting what they wanted for just $30. It’s a boring shot, but it’s a boring magazine. (I’m probably not supposed to say that, am I? To be 100% honest, I don’t know that it’s boring. I don’t think I’ve seen Time in a decade. I probably hadn’t even heard of it in years until this uproar. Other than putting cheap stock photos on their cover, I have no idea what they’re currently doing.)

Anyhow, back to yesterday’s article. One of the highlights is that the amateur used “a $99…digital camera”. Oh, well, in that case the images clearly stink, right? Just like that Judge Brown who belittled a photographer for not having “professional gear”. (I think that’s the judges name.)

Let’s just stop all the whining. We’re not losing business to amateurs. If we’re losing business it’s because of a lack of insight, flexibility and willingness to abandon a model that worked well in 1990. If we were professional only because our cameras cost a lot and film took time, well, we were really just amateurs ourselves.