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©SAS Becker

4. What are some ideas for what a photographer’s initial marketing push might look like, considering things such as re-branding, making new contacts, and re-energizing old ones.

I think (and many others would probably agree) that a photographer’s most important tool is their website, so start there. Look at a bunch of websites. (Here’s mine.) What do you like — or hate for that matter. Check out ProPhotoResource.com. They have a lot of valuable information on do’s and don’t for websites. What is your look? How do you describe your work?

Once your site is completed, decide what the best way is to get as much traffic to it as possible. Online advertising and print ads are favorites. What about your local markets? Can you do a joint advertising project with local vendors? Maybe some cross-marketing with the local florist and bakery? Provide free pictures for a photo credit at places such as schools, churches, doctors offices, even the YMCA; anything might lead to work. I volunteered to shoot my daughter’s Girl Scout dance held at her elementary school. It may not have been the most glamorous event, but those girl scouts sure love pictures of themselves. It drove a ton of potential clients to my site, and I looked like a super mom at the same time. Unlike commercial photography, portrait and wedding work touches everyone. Everyone has a family and will at some point know or be a bride. So carry lots of cards in your pocket, and get out there!

"Hay Bales" © Brian Kosoff

At the end of my last post I had decided to close my studio. I open this post with the admission that I’m glad I did! I still keep in touch with many of my old clients and studio-mates, but talking to them about work is not a cheery walk down memory lane — it’s a bummer. Fewer and fewer photographers have their own studios. The majority share, but in cramped conditions. Now you’ll find five photographers sharing 2,000 square feet: a ratio likely to create stress and conflict. Some photographers I know shoot family portraits for the general public, something that would have been embarrassing for them to pursue ten years ago.

My work is much more solitary now and I miss the camaraderie of other photographers, assistants, and stylists (and the catered lunches!) that I had in the studio. Sometimes I don’t speak with anyone in person, except a motel clerk, for months. I joke that when I get back home from one of my trips, I hand my wife a credit card and ask for a non-smoking room. Still, I consider myself very fortunate. On an almost daily basis I get to see some truly magnificent sights and I get to drink some of the best and worst road coffee out there. (Best: ANY Scandinavian country. Worst: the U.S.).

"Dune Silhouette" © Brian Kosoff

As for my landscape photography, it’s still a work in progress. I‘m relatively new to it, and while it didn’t take too long to master the technical aspects, I’m still trying to figure out why I’m drawn to certain subjects. It took me a while to realize that my fondness for a minimal style, often having a center oriented composition and a high-key or white background, was a direct result of having spent more than 20 years shooting minimal, center oriented, often white background product photographs. I guess that even when you change directions, you still carry some of the momentum from your earlier motion.

Change is inevitable and it’s often feared, but I consider my change from advertising to landscape photography an opportunity. For me now, my work is more satisfying than ever, and life is simpler. That’s a change for the better.

A wedding image by SAS Becker. © SAS Becker

Q: What are the biggest up-front costs a photographer will need to budget for to make the transition to shooting weddings full time?

A: The obvious one is gear. As a professional you need at least two of everything and a wide selection of lenses. You wouldn’t really show up to a wedding with just one camera, would you? One thing that surprised me was the wear and tear on my gear. My previous years as a stock and editorial shooter didn’t require the shutter activations I am seeing in my wedding work. My first year, with more than 40 weddings, I sent in three speedlights and one body for repair. Your website, identity, and branding are also going to be a big expense starting out. Don’t forget promotional pieces and print costs for your studio or portfolio.

There is a lot of trial and error that goes into deciding how best to spend your hard-earned dollars. My first several weddings I promised my brides the world, then I had to deliver expensive albums that ate into my profit. Now I prefer to get most of my profit up front in the form of a creative fee instead of marking my albums way up — especially because not every client is interested in a traditional album.

Workshops and conferences are a great way to brush up your skills and learn from other photographers’ experiences. Some provide great information while others are pointless. I think their real value comes in networking. All in all it is helpful to speak to as many pros as possible to see what worked and didn’t work for them and to adapt their advice to your current situation.

"Refinery" © Brian Kosoff

Over the course of my advertising career I followed a pattern of continually trading up to larger studios and adding more subtenant photographers to lower the overall cost per foot of the studio. My first NYC studio, in 1980, was about 2,000 square feet. All mine. My next studio, which I built in 1985, was 5,000 square feet. With this one I decided I would rent space to other photographers. My thought was that this would keep my costs more reasonable, and if I were busy there’d be more than enough space to produce the work.  Ultimately I had two other photographers in that space with me. This worked well for 15 years, until the dot-com bubble (the internet!) caused rents in the Photo District, where my studio was located, to go skyward. I had to move.

For my last studio, built in 2000, I partnered with another photographer and we shared responsibility for the space. This space was 7,500 square feet and we built facilities to accommodate us and three other photographers. Around this time the dot-com bubble burst (the internet!). The economy and the ad industry slowed down. I still had a large client list, but they were producing fewer ads, also in part because print media was less effective in a media environment diluted by the Internet. And what they were paying for each assignment was lower. The assignments themselves became less photographically challenging and less satisfying, due to a switch from still life photography (my specialty) which required the creation of sets that illustrated mini environments, to more silhouette-type photographs that could be photo composed into digital environments or stock photos. All the signs said it was time to move on.

Fortunately for me, a few years earlier I had started to shoot landscape photos again. I got married in 1999 and moved to a cute Hudson River town just north of Manhattan that had several galleries, including a few co-op ones. My wife encouraged me to join one, and I thought it would be a good excuse for me to actually print up a few of my landscapes, so I signed on. In April of 2001 I had the first solo show of my work since 1976. It did extremely well and was very profitable –- enough to make me think that I might have found an alternative to advertising photography and the high overhead of a Manhattan studio. Within a week of the show I had representation offers from several galleries in Manhattan. I ended up at Edward Carter Gallery and my new career shooting landscape really began.

"Snowy Ridge" © Brian Kosoff

A few months later were the September 11 attacks, and the aftermath devastated the NYC economy. A large chunk of lower Manhattan was closed off. For the galleries in Soho, it could not have been worse. Many businesses came to a screeching halt. Ad agencies had massive layoffs. The amount of work now available to advertising photographers was dramatically reduced. It didn’t seem like there was a real future in that field anymore. For the first time I thought that I might close my studio and leave Manhattan.

It’s not easy to walk away from something that you built over the course of two decades. My business was still viable, I still had a large client base and they would start to produce advertisements again, but there was a larger change. Even if it was still profitable, the kind of work that client’s wanted was more about cost than content or quality. That’s just not where I wanted to be. So at the end of 2002 I made it official and closed my studio.