Funny how I hate reading unless I am sitting in a lobby and am looking at magazines and even then I tend to look at the pictures more instead. But then again… do you consider that reading? There are few things I look forward to reading. However, Joshua Longbrake is a great blogger and photographer. I LOVE reading his blog. Here is one of his most recent blogs:
http://www.thelongbrake.com
Non-Sequential Thoughts About Doing What You Want To Do, Being Misunderstood, Silent Telephones & Video Rental Stores
September 19th, 2010
Up the stairs and to the right is the Literature Room at Scarecrow Video on Roosevelt & 52nd NE in Seattle. In the Literature Room there are three shelves dedicated to photography, from how-tos to documentaries to biographies. I’ve watched all of the greats and now I’m picking out ones that I’m not familiar with, which is a gamble.
Last time I was at Scarecrow I picked up Naked States, a documentary about Spencer Tunick and his project of photographing large groups of nudes in each state of the United States. I chose it because I’d never heard of Spencer Tunick and also because I want to learn to photograph the human body honorably and respectfully, something I’ve seen done well but not often. What I didn’t know is that Spencer Tunick was going to inspire me to create an online portfolio of my photography.
Context.
I’ve been taking photographs almost every day for the past 4 years. It all started with a 3 month trip across Europe by myself. The day before I left I figured it’d be a good idea to take a camera with me, so I bought a Canon Powershot digital camera. I spent most of those 3 months by myself and I found a quick companion in my camera. When I got back I obtained a Canon AE-1 and took a Fundamentals of Photography class at a local college (I highly recommend taking individual classes outside of full time enrollment.) I was immediately addicted to film.
During that class someone asked me to take their portrait, and they said they’d pay me.
“What do you charge?”
“Pardon?”
“What do you charge?”
“Yes, I heard you. Nevermind.”
“?”
“I don’t know. Dinner?”
“How about $200?”
“Pardon?”
I kept shooting. Someone else offered me a job. Then another. Another, and so on. People were giving me money to do something that I loved.
I left home and went to graduate school in Seattle to study theology, and all the while I kept shooting everything that I found interesting or provocative. Theology and photography are endlessly intertwined, and the graduate school I attended not only believed that as well but also reinforced it by letting me do many projects and eventually my final thesis using photography as a medium of communication. That was a gift. I made enough money during the last 3 years of school almost solely by taking photographs. I did almost all of the branding imagery for my graduate school. I shot weddings. I did a few magazine ads. I sold prints. I got commissioned to do a series to hang at my school.
All of this without any online portfolio.
When people would ask to see my work online I’d self-rightesouly tout, “I don’t have a website.” Insecurity is often guised as self-righteousness. The truth was I was afraid to put all of my photographs in place where anyone could view them without me having any control over the circumstance. If I brought someone a portfolio of prints then I thought I looked professional and I could add in some commentary about my work. “I took that one in Prague.” (Subtitle: “I’m slightlypretentious.”) I do love print and I love a printed portfolio, but it was more out of fear and desire for control than anything else.
Artists are a weird bunch in as much as we so deeply desire to be seen and noticed and are so deeply afraid of being seen and noticed.
I watched Naked States and I was enthralled at Spencer Tunick’s drive and bold spirit. You should really watch it. (It’s on Netflix Instant Stream. My housemate Shannon calls Netflix Instant Stream “the cement of romance.”)
“Self, it’s time to get over yourself and put together a website.”
Tangent.
Here are some practical steps for artists (I’ll use photographers as an example) on how to get over yourself and make a proper portfolio of your work:
1. Submerse yourself in other photographer’s portfolios. Take notes on what you like, what you don’t like, what you hate, and what you’d want to see that you hardly ever see. (e.g. I love a mix of commissioned work and personal work. I don’t like Flash. I hate it when websites start playing music without my permission. Most portfolios are comfortable and easy and I want to have to do some work to understand them.)
2. Don’t look at other photographer’s portfolios. It’ll keep you from making your own because the voices from the dark will tell you you’re not good enough or it’s already been done or you don’t have the time/money/energy or no one will care. When you hear those voices from the dark, write down what they say. Write the words in big letters somewhere where you will see them regularly. You’ll become familiar with those voices and it will become easier to name them as lies. I began hearing those voices and then saying out loud, “Oh. Hello. Welcome back, voice of evil. I know you. Go away, now. I have work to do.” Some people might find a category for that in the DSM-IV, but that’s ok. We all fit in there somewhere.
3. Read books. I found Stephen Pressfield and Annie Dillard very helpful. Read biographies on other artists (this is great). Reading is a great way to not create on your own and satisfy that desire to procrastinate but all the while inspire you to get off your bum and make something.
4. Set deadlines for yourself. You will inevitably miss your deadlines, but who cares? They’re your deadlines. Again, you’re doing work. That’s the point.
5. Listen to the advice of your friends. If they’re saying, “You should really do x or y,” then try it. They’re likely right and their voices help combat the voices of evil.
6. Write everything down. Everything. By writing things down you’re teaching yourself to pay attention. My housemate Shannon tells me that the people who make great things are those who are paying attention. “Ben Gibbard was probably that kid in school who no one ever paid any attention to, but you know he was paying attention. He was paying attention to everything.”
7. What you have to show the world is good because it is from you. Write that down.
9. Stop reading blogs that give you practical steps to anything. It’s all subjective. Do what you need to do.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••
I knew how I wanted my portfolio to look and feel, but I didn’t have the skill set to make it happen on my own. My friend Jonathan gave me a lot of his time and helped me set up my site, after which all that was left to do was add content and tweak a few details. This was harder than I anticipated. The voices of evil came roaring back as I scanned negative after negative, telling me that I wasn’t editing the images very well or that no one would want to see a photograph of a mountain. “Every mountain has already been photographed. Who are you kidding?”
“I’m not kidding anyone, silly voice. I’m not telling jokes here. But that’s a great idea. I should put some hidden jokes in my website. Maybe I should put all of those telephone photographs that I’ve taken of myself in security cameras. Yes, that’s a great idea. Thanks, evil!”
Another lesson I learned: there is good in everything, even in the voices of evil. Those voices are telling me exactly what I need to do. When I write down what evil is saying I have a great to-do list.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••
And then, in the early hours of September the 8th, I published my very first portfolio on my very own tiny corner of the internet.
I had no idea what to expect. I had my hopes of how it would be received, that it would be received, that it would get passed around the internet endlessly like a teenager on Tumblr posting another dramatic photo of rain with text over the photo in Helvetica (and that happened to an extent, but mostly stuff like this). A few friends called and wrote, saying very kind and encouraging words. The day that I published it was a good day.
After that not much happened, my worst fears realized. Suddenly I had a ton of my work all in one place, and people were looking at it and not saying anything (at least, anything that I could hear).
Then, gold.
My dad called me about a week later to talk to me about how I was feeling after I had published my site. We talked about the highs and lows and he said some really kind things. He asked me why I hadn’t put any of my wedding photography or branding work on my website and I told him, “Well, I didn’t want to. That’s not the kind of photography that I really want to do.”
“Good. That’s great. You’re too young to do what you don’t want to do.”
I almost wept. There is absolutely nothing wrong with wedding or commercial photography, but it’s not what I want to do. I want to do themed work. I want to have an entire show in a gallery. I want to get hired by companies and churches and cities to show them who they are and where they live. I want to do portraits. I want to make prints for people to hang in their homes. I want to poke and prod. I want to stir the pot. I want to help people have moments of epiphany, where they see something new in themselves or in culture. I want to be a prophet.
Yes, I’ll do work that I don’t want to do in order to make enough money to do the work that I want to do, and that is fine, but I didn’t want to make a website that would showcase the work that I don’t want to do. I know that I could put more accessible images on there and maybe get a few more job offers from them, but I’d rather risk being misunderstood by most and then maybe, hopefully, get understood by a few who are willing to take a chance on me.
My portfolio doesn’t define me. It’s Version I. It’s not complete because I’m not complete nor done making photographs and telling stories. I know that there will be a Version II and Version III and so on, but for that to happen there had to be a Version I. Putting out a portfolio of your work isn’t the last word about you as a person; hopefully it’s the first word to a lot of people.
Here’s the last thing: The telephone isn’t going to ring on its own; you have to give it a reason to ring. I believe that if I am diligent about putting out new photographs, about doing the work to become a great photographer and printer, then my work will get better and better and someone will call. If I don’t do the work then no one will call. It’s as simple as that. I want the phone to ring.
2063990645.
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