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I came upon this story and this one the week the plane crashed into the Hudson River. The pictures are solid. As a professional photographer, I might have done a bit better, but I wasn’t there. Which got me thinking about what I would have done if I was. Typically, I would have used my upscale point-and-shoot camera, and then contacted whomever I could get a hold of at the whatever paper or magazine to transmit the image and get a quick sale. A sale that would probably yield anywhere in the range of a $100 to $1,000 — if I got the sale at all.
The competition would be a phalanx of mobile phone shooters all calling the tip lines of all the same publications as me. The photo editor would choose the first “solid” image to come across his or her computer screen in mad dash to scoop all the other publications and blogs.
Now think about a different set of priorities applied to the same scenario. I shoot a quality image, better than the mobile phone shooters, and upload it up to my photography branded twitter stream or blog. The fact that I call myself a photographer in these two internet mediums will already give me a splash of credibility. The subject matter of the photos will guarantee swift dissemination and trackbacks to my site. The trade off for the exposure to my web site is worth more than the money.
Lastly, think long and hard about being a gear snob. A photographer is defined by his or her ability, not by the gear he or she owns. Ultimately I think I would shoot my first few images with my iPhone and send them to the email account that automatically publishes posts to my blog, or I would send them to my Twitter account. Then I would shoot other images with my point and shoot. I’d start calling editors and point them to my blog or Twitter account.
The resolution required for a reasonable reproduction on the internet requires little more than an iPhone camera. It’s not ideal, and it certainly goes against the quality instinct of every shooter out there, but that’s not the point anymore. The world has changed and in these journalistic situations expediency is king. As skilled photographers that might find ourselves in the right place at the right time, understanding and adapting to the new world rather than complaining about it is the best way to get more notoriety.
Finding the right time to approach a rep is a delicate thing. If you go before you have work that will impress them, then you stand the chance of making a bad first impression and not getting a second chance. But if you wait until you think you have the perfect book, you might miss a valuable opportunity for feedback that can improve your work. It is always great if you can make a first strong impression, but it’s not necessary. What you do need is work that catches the eye of the rep so they keep you in mind. That way they let you stay in touch and give you a chance to come back and see them when you have new work.
I think for photographers with personal projects or feature stories they are working on, it’s fine to contact a rep early on to show them the project and get feedback. Be up front when you initially contact a rep; let them know that you have a story that might interest them, and that you are looking for feedback. At Redux we are always looking for interesting stories to consider syndicating, so we get something out of these meetings too.
In 2004 I was turned on to a new photographer, Christopher LaMarca, who had recently completed the documentary program at ICP. He was working on a story about young environmental activists in Oregon, and he had been arrested on one of his first trips. He came to Redux to show us the work he had and to get feedback. The story was strong, he was shooting it in an interesting way, and we wanted to help him continue the project. We ended up covering half of his expenses to go back to Oregon to shoot more, one thing led to another, we started showing his work for assignments, and now we represent him.
If you have a portfolio instead of a specific story (say you’re a food or interiors photographer), be sure that what is in the book is high quality and that you are proud of each picture before showing it. If that means that you have to take out half the images and are left with only 20 pictures, then so be it. It’s better that you show 20 solid images than 50 mediocre ones.
No matter when you see a rep, try to get them to give you constructive criticism. Don’t leave with a vague “thanks for sharing your work, stay in touch.” Find out what specifically they liked, what images they would take out, and how they prefer to stay in touch.
When I started at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI) nearly ten years ago, I was an avid photographer but had no idea that I would someday be paid to photograph researchers on the Greenland Ice Sheet and Antarctica. My first oceanography cruise for Woods Hole, in the summer of 2001, was a month aboard the 177-foot long research vessel Oceanus studying the turbulent waters west of Iceland. My job was to stand a science watch. That entails helping wrangle unwieldy instruments over the side of the ship and making sure that all of the equipment is recording data properly.
When I wasn’t on watch, I indulged my passion for photography. But it wasn’t the photographs of pilot whales and icebergs that caught the chief scientist’s eye — it was the photographs of people working aboard the ship. As a member of the science party, it was easy for me to capture candid moments of people working on deck, analyzing water samples, and playing cards. At the time I had no idea of the value of what I was doing. But when I returned home from the expedition, the photographs were used in calendars, annual reports, and presentations.
The following year, that same scientist hired me to document his 3-year project working in the Arctic Ocean’s Chukchi and Beaufort Seas. In addition to documenting the work with my camera, I also wrote daily first-person essays describing the experience and facilitated direct communication between the scientists and school kids. It was a tremendously rewarding experience, and for the first time I discovered the power of photography as an educational tool. It was also the start of a new niche for me at Woods Hole—that of a field photographer and outreach specialist. Now, although I still help with analyzing data and publishing papers, science photography and other education projects make up the bulk of my work.
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