Its Only 365 Days
115/365: I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL...
25 APR 13
I am not a professional...
I could feel the blistering heat of a long festering rage coming from the annals of an email I received a few years back. “How dare you…” it read in flaming letters. The email address was quite vague, but I imagined its author to be a man, maybe white, older, with ever increasing lines around his mouth and eyes. There were a lot of exclamation points in his email, and big bold letters. He wanted me, and others like me, to cease and desist from posting ads in the local paper for people who wanted their portraits taken by someone who was not him. I finished digesting the email over hot tea and half of a waffle with bits of butter now completely saturating its bottom layers with buttery goodness. I switched the screen over to my webpage which I’d been working to finish. I had chosen the light box option which made all the pictures in my portfolio I’d taken over the past few years look radiant against the black background. I delighted in being able to pick out individual prices for my packages and my images, and in finally finding a competent use for my watermark. The last step was connecting my bank account to the pay feature. I clicked back over to the email and deleted it
I read a lot of books about what it really takes to be a professional photographer. Much like actors, most starry eyed photographers with or without degrees or training in hand, soon find themselves under a pile of bills, selling off equipment to make ends meet, or taking any old job outside of their genre regardless of whether they are competent to do it just to make a buck. I thought back to the email. Is that what this person wanted for me? For me to end up broke and unhappy just as he was professing to be so that I may have the distinct pleasure of calling myself, “professional?” I glanced at my newspaper ad. The word “professional,” did not appear anywhere in it. This man did not know me and perhaps his goal was to make me feel bad or give it all up so that he may get one more job, but his plight, wasn’t my problem.
I had my own problems. I was working 60 hour weeks, often times with only one day off at a job I no longer found any joy in. I’d also begun to get really sick for reasons I was unsure of at the time. It was soul crushing, but the only thing that kept me going in the darkest of moments, was on that one day off, being able to pick up my cameras and really express who I was to the world and to be able to connect with people on an intimate level. I was able to sit at that editing chair and really create a secondary world that didn’t exist on any plane but my imagination. That email wanted me to give up and to turn that light off for good and to go back to the darkness that was all around me. I narrowed my eyes at the thought. “How dare me…how dare YOU!” I have never ever claimed to be a professional photographer. Unlike perhaps those unscrupulous sort, I make it clear up front, before any talk of payment is made, that what defines a true professional photographer, is not what defines me. I show them my work. I show them who I am, but I pull no wool over their eyes. I do what I do because I am extremely passionate about it. The way my life has worked out, I have a degree, but it is not in photography. I have a job, but it is not “professional” photography. I feel no guilt in this department. I feel no shame. When it comes to how we choose to live and survive in this world, these two things intersecting have literally kept me alive in every sense of the word. When they call, and I thank the world that they do, I explain what I do and I make no bones about the fact that every day is a learning experience. I advise them that they know the risks, I often connect them with those that do call themselves professional, I give advice on pros and cons. I am truthful as I would want anyone to be with me. Some have walked away without even saying goodbye, others have had more questions. I am lucky that a lot give me the green light. I work twice as hard. I show up twice as prepared. I have to prove myself every time. Earn their respect. Earn the money I have asked of them. I will not work for free simply because that person thinks I should. I am doing a job, I am giving my time and effort, I am doing what I need to do to work as hard as I can to make my dreams come true. Just because I have no title, doesn’t mean my work is shit. There are famous artists whose names and works have littered the best museums and cathedrals and halls of the world, but if no one knows your name, and no one has “discovered” you, are you any less talented of an artist?
The professional photographer is not the gate keeper of all that is holy and grand about photography. Truth be told, there is only one thing that separates them from all the rest, and that is they claim it on their taxes. There are crap doctors, those that have gone through eight plus years of training, who show up and bungle the whole thing, so it is not the title of doctor which makes you a good doctor, it is what you do with that title, and how you treat people, and how you maintain an air of professionalism that extends beyond the ink in a degree. A professional photographer is hopefully one with a fair amount of experience who knows their craft, could teach it to others, who has the ability to see something there in frame, that others do not, and bring that to the surface. They charge what they do because they are both worth it and because it is needed to survive in this business. They aren’t “in the wind;” you can find them, their website, or their telephone number which has stayed the same, any day of the week. Perhaps they’ve had training, perhaps not. They have established a client base who return year after year. They try their best to stay current with trends, but aren’t consumed by them.
I would like to someday officially call myself professional, but the realities of making this a full time commitment are not kind to most. In life, sometimes, one must choose food on the table and roof over their head. Photography is no different. We’d all like to believe that if you love something enough, and you are passionate enough about it, you’ll be able to do it and nothing and no one can stop you, and that’s absolutely right. A 60 hour work week didn’t stop me, an angry email didn’t stop me, a major health issue didn’t detour me, and whoever you are whose possibly reading this and shaking their head in disgust, let’s get one thing straight, you..will..not...stop...me, because by God, I love photography and will work as hard and as long as I can to learn all that I can. Instead of sending snide emails and shaking your head, you should encourage this act because I am not trying to pretend. I’m trying to learn and grow. Yes, how dare you, tell someone that they should stop trying, stop learning, stop growing because you have been in the business twenty years or you have a photography degree, or you call yourself professional. What right have you to prevent me from trying to become one?
Every day I wake up, I am thankful for what my cameras have brought to my life. When I was at my lowest, when I was struck down by illness and wondering if tomorrow would come, those cameras helped me to keep moving. I am thankful that I am able to be a part of so many wonderful memories for others. I am on the mantles, in the wallets, in the invitations, in the albums, and in the hearts and minds of so many people that I have personally impacted with my work. I have several repeat clients which I believe is a testament to how hard I have worked to get where I am. We often wonder, why am I here? What is my purpose? Perhaps this is it. Perhaps I am here to provide a record of where we were all were at this particular time and space. Perhaps I am here to connect the infinite strings of humanity. Perhaps I am here to learn to stand up to all the people who have nothing better to do then tare each other down. Or perhaps like a lot of photographers, I am here to show you who I am through my lens, and you come to your own conclusions.
*This is for my beloved J who long ago saw me tearing up at the seams and struggling to breath, and turned on a light. There are some people that exist, that you will never be able to repay in this lifetime, and that is J. Two feet down, head up, moving forward.
115/365: I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL...
25 APR 13
I am not a professional...
I could feel the blistering heat of a long festering rage coming from the annals of an email I received a few years back. “How dare you…” it read in flaming letters. The email address was quite vague, but I imagined its author to be a man, maybe white, older, with ever increasing lines around his mouth and eyes. There were a lot of exclamation points in his email, and big bold letters. He wanted me, and others like me, to cease and desist from posting ads in the local paper for people who wanted their portraits taken by someone who was not him. I finished digesting the email over hot tea and half of a waffle with bits of butter now completely saturating its bottom layers with buttery goodness. I switched the screen over to my webpage which I’d been working to finish. I had chosen the light box option which made all the pictures in my portfolio I’d taken over the past few years look radiant against the black background. I delighted in being able to pick out individual prices for my packages and my images, and in finally finding a competent use for my watermark. The last step was connecting my bank account to the pay feature. I clicked back over to the email and deleted it
I read a lot of books about what it really takes to be a professional photographer. Much like actors, most starry eyed photographers with or without degrees or training in hand, soon find themselves under a pile of bills, selling off equipment to make ends meet, or taking any old job outside of their genre regardless of whether they are competent to do it just to make a buck. I thought back to the email. Is that what this person wanted for me? For me to end up broke and unhappy just as he was professing to be so that I may have the distinct pleasure of calling myself, “professional?” I glanced at my newspaper ad. The word “professional,” did not appear anywhere in it. This man did not know me and perhaps his goal was to make me feel bad or give it all up so that he may get one more job, but his plight, wasn’t my problem.
I had my own problems. I was working 60 hour weeks, often times with only one day off at a job I no longer found any joy in. I’d also begun to get really sick for reasons I was unsure of at the time. It was soul crushing, but the only thing that kept me going in the darkest of moments, was on that one day off, being able to pick up my cameras and really express who I was to the world and to be able to connect with people on an intimate level. I was able to sit at that editing chair and really create a secondary world that didn’t exist on any plane but my imagination. That email wanted me to give up and to turn that light off for good and to go back to the darkness that was all around me. I narrowed my eyes at the thought. “How dare me…how dare YOU!” I have never ever claimed to be a professional photographer. Unlike perhaps those unscrupulous sort, I make it clear up front, before any talk of payment is made, that what defines a true professional photographer, is not what defines me. I show them my work. I show them who I am, but I pull no wool over their eyes. I do what I do because I am extremely passionate about it. The way my life has worked out, I have a degree, but it is not in photography. I have a job, but it is not “professional” photography. I feel no guilt in this department. I feel no shame. When it comes to how we choose to live and survive in this world, these two things intersecting have literally kept me alive in every sense of the word. When they call, and I thank the world that they do, I explain what I do and I make no bones about the fact that every day is a learning experience. I advise them that they know the risks, I often connect them with those that do call themselves professional, I give advice on pros and cons. I am truthful as I would want anyone to be with me. Some have walked away without even saying goodbye, others have had more questions. I am lucky that a lot give me the green light. I work twice as hard. I show up twice as prepared. I have to prove myself every time. Earn their respect. Earn the money I have asked of them. I will not work for free simply because that person thinks I should. I am doing a job, I am giving my time and effort, I am doing what I need to do to work as hard as I can to make my dreams come true. Just because I have no title, doesn’t mean my work is shit. There are famous artists whose names and works have littered the best museums and cathedrals and halls of the world, but if no one knows your name, and no one has “discovered” you, are you any less talented of an artist?
The professional photographer is not the gate keeper of all that is holy and grand about photography. Truth be told, there is only one thing that separates them from all the rest, and that is they claim it on their taxes. There are crap doctors, those that have gone through eight plus years of training, who show up and bungle the whole thing, so it is not the title of doctor which makes you a good doctor, it is what you do with that title, and how you treat people, and how you maintain an air of professionalism that extends beyond the ink in a degree. A professional photographer is hopefully one with a fair amount of experience who knows their craft, could teach it to others, who has the ability to see something there in frame, that others do not, and bring that to the surface. They charge what they do because they are both worth it and because it is needed to survive in this business. They aren’t “in the wind;” you can find them, their website, or their telephone number which has stayed the same, any day of the week. Perhaps they’ve had training, perhaps not. They have established a client base who return year after year. They try their best to stay current with trends, but aren’t consumed by them.
I would like to someday officially call myself professional, but the realities of making this a full time commitment are not kind to most. In life, sometimes, one must choose food on the table and roof over their head. Photography is no different. We’d all like to believe that if you love something enough, and you are passionate enough about it, you’ll be able to do it and nothing and no one can stop you, and that’s absolutely right. A 60 hour work week didn’t stop me, an angry email didn’t stop me, a major health issue didn’t detour me, and whoever you are whose possibly reading this and shaking their head in disgust, let’s get one thing straight, you..will..not...stop...me, because by God, I love photography and will work as hard and as long as I can to learn all that I can. Instead of sending snide emails and shaking your head, you should encourage this act because I am not trying to pretend. I’m trying to learn and grow. Yes, how dare you, tell someone that they should stop trying, stop learning, stop growing because you have been in the business twenty years or you have a photography degree, or you call yourself professional. What right have you to prevent me from trying to become one?
Every day I wake up, I am thankful for what my cameras have brought to my life. When I was at my lowest, when I was struck down by illness and wondering if tomorrow would come, those cameras helped me to keep moving. I am thankful that I am able to be a part of so many wonderful memories for others. I am on the mantles, in the wallets, in the invitations, in the albums, and in the hearts and minds of so many people that I have personally impacted with my work. I have several repeat clients which I believe is a testament to how hard I have worked to get where I am. We often wonder, why am I here? What is my purpose? Perhaps this is it. Perhaps I am here to provide a record of where we were all were at this particular time and space. Perhaps I am here to connect the infinite strings of humanity. Perhaps I am here to learn to stand up to all the people who have nothing better to do then tare each other down. Or perhaps like a lot of photographers, I am here to show you who I am through my lens, and you come to your own conclusions.
*This is for my beloved J who long ago saw me tearing up at the seams and struggling to breath, and turned on a light. There are some people that exist, that you will never be able to repay in this lifetime, and that is J. Two feet down, head up, moving forward.