livebooks blog

Rose Wood ©Dietmar Busse

Q: What was it like working entirely on your own?

A: It was both very exciting and very scary. Exciting because I felt free to create and explore whatever I wanted. There was no one in the room other than me. No one with any expectations or agenda. I played around with flowers and painted all night long, and it was really very exhilarating at times. Many nights I didn’t even want to go to sleep and just worked and worked.

At the same time it was very frightening. No client, no editor, no agent for feedback or guidance. And then, though I lived in a small, cheap place in Brooklyn, I still had to pay the rent. This was not the ’60s and my savings were running out fast, since I was spending lots of money on flowers and photo supplies. But somehow I always managed to get by and I saw my work evolving.

Even though I was working on my own, I did stay in touch with a few people in the commercial world who liked my work. One art director had my flower photographs all over his office, and one day this lady who was a book publisher saw them and within a matter of days I was working on my first book.

Robert Kitchen ©Dietmar Busse

Q: What was the book publishing process like for you?

A: It was exhilarating to think that the work I was doing would end up in a book. The difficulty was that when I was approached by the publisher, they wanted all the material immediately in order to make the deadline for the spring market. One moment I was just minding my business figuring out what images I wanted to make, and the next I was on a rushing to deliver my first book. That was quite stressful, especially since I tried to make more new photos while the creative director was already working on the layout.

Everything was being rushed and finally sent off to the printer for the first proof — then suddenly everything was put on ice. Why? Because it was early 2003 and it was evident that George Bush was going to start a war. Consequently the companies involved with the book project were suddenly not sure if it was the right time. This went on for awhile and then, again suddenly, the publisher decided to just go ahead, which was great. Unfortunately there was absolutely no time for any corrections and the raw layout became the book.

It was not the ideal scenario, and I was quite unhappy about that. It took me some time to be able to appreciate all the good things that came from the book. I think the experience will serve me very well for my second book, which is in the making. After the first book was published, I also got some nice write ups, and, through that exposure, I was contacted by a gallery, and offered a group show, which later turned into a 2-person show.

When blogs swipe your images, you might get more than traffic coming back to you. ©Lou Lesko

For the last year and a half I’ve been enthusiastically pushing photographers to let their images get swiped for non-advertising online use as long as there is an attribution link back to their site. I anticipate blogs rapidly becoming the main sources for news online, so the more exposure blogs swiping your images get, the more exposure your work will get via attribution. What I didn’t consider initially is the potential guilt-by-association factor if your image is used with a bogus or inflammatory blog post.

There has been a rise in criticism of high profile blogs posting stories that violate expected ethical considerations in the past few months. Popular blogs that have risen to the top through marketing and hiring good writers who are assumed to adhere to a journalistic code of ethics. However, unless stated specifically, there may be no ethics involved at all. And to be fair, even blogs that do subscribe to an ethics code can get it wrong. Blogging is still a young medium — these issues will eventually be resolved but right now they’re still being worked out.

My concern is that a swipe of one of my images could result in my name being associated with a blog post with which I have moral or ethical conflict. I know I can’t have have it both ways. I can’t pray for link exposure and then get pissy when I get it because I don’t like the blog that gave it to me. That’s like lobbying National Geographic for a foreign photo assignment in Russia, then pouting because they send you in the dead of winter.

What are your thoughts? If a blog whose content you disagree with ran an image of yours with a highly contentious story, but you got a lot of exposure, would you be upset, maybe even contact them to have your image removed? Or would you be thrilled to have your online presence elevated because of the huge click-through rate to your site?

One of Garth's images that appeared in a book about clearcuts, of Yaky Kop Cone on Vancouver Island. ©Garth Lenz

In my last post, I talked about how a photographer can identify and approach NGOs (or, my specialty, an environmental NGO). As I said in that post, even after you form a relationship, getting an assignment to produce images can take a while. For larger NGOs, commissioning a photographer, covering expenses, and paying a day rate is a pretty rare occurrence. For the smaller NGOs, it’s even rarer. If your primary motivation for working with NGOs is to find a new market for your work, then you’re bound to be disappointed. That is not to say that NGOs can’t be a market but, to put it bluntly, if making money is your goal, there are a lot more effective places to put your energy.

A better way to assess if a relationship with an NGO is successful, is to consider whether you share some of the same long term goals and will be able to help each other accomplish those. In my own case, my long-term photographic and conservation interest in old-growth forests, the impacts of environmental degradation on indigenous peoples, and other issues align with a number of NGOs. These NGOs have helped me achieve my long-term goals as much as I have helped them, but the fact of the matter is, I would have found a way to work on these issues regardless of whether any NGO shared these same concerns.

So assuming you have an issue that you are compelled to document and you’ve identified one or several NGOs that share your interests, how can you build a relationship with them? Perhaps a few examples from my early experience will be instructive. With a couple of assignments under my belt and getting a little recognition for my work, I was asked to be a major contributor to a large-format coffee book on clearcut logging. A number of more established photographers, like Galen Rowell and Robert Glenn Ketchum were also involved, and, to the best of my knowledge, we all donated our time to the cause. It was a great experience for me — I had my expenses covered for a prolonged period of time in the field, was able to begin my work in the Canadian boreal region, met other committed photographers and activists, and received more recognition for my work.

After completing work on the clearcut book and witnessing so much devastation as a result of industrial logging, I felt compelled to share my experiences with a larger audience. In particular I was disturbed by plans to clearcut much of coastal Vancouver Island and the biologically rich, largely intact area of Clayoquot Sound. I was also deeply unsettled by the impact that logging and the associated pollution from pulp mills was having on the boreal and the local indigenous population. So, in the winter of 1993, I decided to go to Europe and give a series of presentations to build international awareness of what was going on in Canada.

One of the images Garth presented overseas to garner support for logging protections in Canada's Clayquot Sound. ©Garth Lenz

With the moral support of two NGOs, The Friends of Clayoquot Sound and the Valhalla Wilderness Society, and some logistical support from Greenpeace and others, a colleague and I made plans, raised money, and set off for six weeks to give about 60 presentations in England, Scotland, Germany, and to the European Parliament in Brussels. We passed the hat, slept on activist’s couches, and had a wonderful experience. Although no one paid us, and we did all our own fundraising to cover our basic costs. And at the end of the day, including donations at our events, we were able to pay ourselves a modest honorarium and to donate some money back to the cause. More importantly, I was able to promote issues important to me to prominent NGOs and publications. They in turn came to me for images when these issues grew and took on international significance.

All of these activities can be considered “growing the relationship.” They helped me become a better photographer and better known for my work, while putting me in contact with people and organizations that would later purchase images, fund my work, and occasionally offer me assignments. And because at that time I was also involved in campaign strategy, creating markets campaigns, being a spokesperson, and other non-photographic activities, I learned a lot about how photography can advance conservation campaigns.

With this intimate knowledge of the needs and operations of NGOs, I was in a better position to work with them to create joint projects and self-funded projects that would meet their needs. Given how closely I was working with NGO’s, I was able to fundraise through groups with a charitable status, enabling me to receive money from foundations or individuals, which they, in turn, could write off for tax purposes. For me, working this way — doing much of the initial work of creating a project, fundraising, and working with groups from inception to completion — is far more common simply being handed an assignment, and often a more rewarding way to work with an NGO.

An image from Ed's "Curse of the Black Gold" project, which leverages years worth of multimedia content to raise awareness about the tragic effects of the oil companies in the area. ©Ed Kashi

1/7/09

Photojournalism and the documentary tradition is alive and well, but like Frank Zappa once said about jazz, “Jazz is not dead, it just smells funny.” The question I constantly confront is, how do we move this medium forward into the new millennium, keeping it fresh, alive, relevant and growing? We cannot let the digital revolution destroy the magical powers of still photography. I firmly believe we are in a period of transcendent growth and opportunity. How do we reinvent still photography in the digital age and prove the naysayers wrong?

Having the patience and time to produce in-depth, meaningful work is of utmost importance — but now without the support of magazines, how do we continue? We cannot allow the economic and political shifts in media to destroy our ability to get out into the world to tell stories people want to hear and see. We’ve never been at a more challenging crossroads for photojournalism, and finding alternative sources of funding and dissemination are essential. What will those look like and who will they come from? My guess is from a variety of places: NGOs and other foundations with specific interest in the issues our work deals with, the editorial world both in print and online (with online providing the bulk of new opportunities over time), grants from both the arts and photography, but also direct partnerships with non-media sources such as universities.

In the face of all this uncertainty, it’s especially important to keep it real for yourself and true to your passions, causes, joys, and inquisitions. What drives me is the compulsion to seek a kind of truth, to find out what certain realities feel and look like as they relate to issues and themes that matter to me personally. Now when I translate those situations into stories, they are no longer only visual — instead they include all the elements of storytelling. Still images are the basis for these stories and the structure for my explorations. But utilizing more of the senses, with sound that incorporates the voices of my subjects, the ambient sounds of the situations my images are made in, moving imagery to give more visual dimension to the subjects and place, and finally music…that most universal of languages. Today we inhabit a playland of creative opportunities unrivaled from the past. Yet for me still photographs form the emotional core, visual feel, and personal approach to my work as firmly as ever.