livebooks blog

An image from Lou's time in Russia. ©Lou Lesko

During my career I have been accused of being cocky, self assured, and overly confident.  To which I respond; yes I am, I’m a photographer.

This is a question I get a lot from readers. Do I need to move to LA or New York or other big fashion market to have a successful fashion photography career?

In the past I have offered a diplomatic answer because I know the question is coming from a place of apprehension, and I hate to be one of those arrogant asses who throw out an answer that will potentially change someone’s life without being sensitive to their context. But the question came up again in reverse form this week via email: Do I need to stay in Los Angeles to start my career, because I’m really over this city. So it’s time to address the question definitively. The short answer is, yes.

If your goal is put out a shingle and make a nice living as a local fashion photographer, then there are alternatives to moving to a big market. But if you’re looking for myriad opportunities to turn your talent and training into a career, you must immerse yourself in an epicenter of the industry. I say this with conviction because, had I moved back home instead of staying in Los Angeles after I graduated from school, my career would be a shadow of what it became.

Big city big opportunities for you and thousands of your peers
Aside from the obvious factors of logistics, knowing no one, and not knowing the terrain, moving to a city where there is an advertising or fashion/celebrity market is intimidating because you’re not the only one trying to make it. In fact there are a lot of you trying to make it, and you’re all probably pretty good at making pictures. These are your comrades and your competition.

Despite what you’re probably thinking, jumping into a pool with so much good talent is one of the healthiest things you can do for your career. Not only will you be exposed to styles and methods that you’ve never imagined, you will lose sleep trying to sort out how to compete. And that is where the magic lies: in the Darwinian epiphanies where you conjure an idea that’s better than the next guy’s. That’s one kind of creative motivation that can only come from the pressure of friendly competition.

More entry-level job opportunities in your field
Big markets, especially L.A. and New York, have a lot of of entry-level job positions in your field. This is valuable for making a buck, staying abreast of the industry gossip, getting exposed to the names of the industry players, and generally understanding the vibe of the career you’ve chosen. These jobs also carry little expectation of a long-term commitment. As soon as anyone who works for me starts exhibiting flawless performance, I know they’re about to depart for the next level of their life. You should go into these jobs with the same attitude: expecting to leave as soon as you’ve learned all you can, or you’ve saved enough money, or you’ve built your portfolio enough to start showing — whatever the reason, have an exit strategy. But, like I say in my book, never forget where you come from either. If you move past the people you work with, never lord your success over them. Remember you would be nothing without them.

More opportunities to shoot for money
I am forever grateful for the vast headshot market in Los Angeles. During lean times when I was seriously questioning how I was going to pay my bills, I was saved by the actor community. Headshots are not the most glamorous of shooting jobs, but it is a market you can break into fairly quickly and cheaply. All you need is a nice location with good natural light and a camera. Do a good job with one actor and they will recommend you to their friends. Clients usually pay in cash on the day of the shoot and the gig is a short term commitment. Best of all, it doesn’t adversely affect your reputation like shooting an ad campaign for an Alpaca porn DVD. (I’m not admitting anything here.)

Masters and heroes live in the big markets
Large markets tend to attract the heavy weights of the industry. Not only will you probably get to meet one of your heroes, you will interact with all kinds of editors, art directors, and writers who are masters of what they do. You can’t beat this type of exposure. Not only for your career, but for your sensibility as well. I can write volumes of what it’s like on the other side of magazine and agency doors, but you’ll never really feel it until you experience it for yourself.

If you can, transition slowly
When I first moved to L.A. from San Francisco, I was visiting model agencies trying to expand my model testing career on the side while going to school. It certainly made it easier to get my ass kicked in the real world when I could always return to the safety of school. I highly recommend this path, it lessens the shock of the transition. If you are out of school or not going to attend school, the transition to a new city can be tough. But once you get through the first year of emotional tumult, you’ll be acclimated and focused. That’s when the fun begins. Be smart, always keep in mind why you moved, and keep your eyes open — golden opportunities rarely present themselves the way you expect them to.

©Dietmar Busse

Q: What do you see as your greatest success from your eight years of personal work?

Dietmar Busse: The most important thing that came out of that time was that I found my own language as a photographer. There was so much I had to learn about who I am as an artist and as a human being. For example, I don’t like to be in a crowded place with a lot of people I don’t know — and I like it even less if I have to take pictures there. It makes me completely nervous and I just want to leave. On the other hand, I really enjoy being with just one person in the room and taking their picture. I learned how to create the right atmosphere for my shoots, and consequently my work has become much more focused.

MJ: What has your experience been now that you are moving back into fashion and commercial photography?

DB: In many ways it’s much easier now. Getting some distance has helped a lot. I think I am much humbler now, and I appreciate every opportunity to do my work.

The most difficult thing has been to get access to the “right” people. So much of this business is social networking, and it’s a real challenge to rebuild a support system. But once I sit down with an art director or editor, I feel really comfortable. I think my work has a definite point of view, and people either like it or they don’t — it’s pretty straightforward. I am almost a bit embarrassed to say it, but I absolutely love showing my work now, and I am sure clients notice that.

MJ: Do you have advice for young photographers who are in a similar situation to you when you started out?

DB: I think it is very important to know what you want. Be honest with yourself. Why do you want to be a photographer? Why do you take pictures? Are you interested in the money, the models, self-expression?

At least for me it took quite some time to figure this out in my head, and later to build a body of work that corresponded to that. But I believe it was totally worth it. As we know, so much of our culture is about being richer, more beautiful, more famous, and all of that. People are divided into winners and losers. It’s important not buy into that. I think building a strong sense of self helps you to be immune to that and will hopefully lead you to create something unique and photographs that are meaningful to you.

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.