You Get What You Give

Every time you photograph someone, you tell them, “You’re important enough to remember.” Make the most of it.

What if we, as portrait photographers, approached every session this way? How would it effect our interactions with our subjects, and therefore our work?

There is so much emphasis these days on getting “cool” shots, on trendy post-processing, on getting shots that sell. For the professionals and aspiring professionals, it’s easy to focus on building portfolios and bodies of work that will further our careers. While I’m not suggesting those things are bad, I sometimes feel like we’re missing the point most of the time. It’s good to step back and ask, “What is the subject getting out of this session?”

When you point your lens toward another person, you are telling them that they noteworthy; that of all the people in the world, they alone have your attention at this moment in time. You have the golden and rare opportunity to transform the simple act of photographing a person, into the forming of a human connection that didn’t exist before. If you’re photographing an experienced model, perhaps that doesn’t sound very important, however when you’re photographing someone like Bill, the experience can be profound.

Bill, the tavern regular

Bill is the sort of guy who nobody really notices, except maybe to feel sorry for. He’s the guy who sits quietly on his bar stool, and probably has a lot of great stories to share, but nobody asks. Bill was the reason I began photographing the regulars at this bar. When I asked to photograph him, I expected to have to talk him into it. Much to my surprise, Bill lit up like a Christmas tree and was very happy to sit for several frames. He told me all about himself, and we became friends instantly. It wasn’t photographer / subject, it was human / human. Although I love the resulting image, Bill never even asked to see it. The photograph was completely unimportant to him; the act of giving him my full attention was everything.

Challenge yourself to make all of your subjects feel as important as Bill. Be generous with yourself. Slow down. Learn something significant about each of your subjects, whether they’re two years old, or eighty-two years old. Make a connection. Remember always that you get what you give.

Photo Tips o’ the Day, Part 2

The second part of the PTOD archives. Again, this is not meant to be a cohesive essay. They’re simply random thoughts that have occurred to me over coffee, in the course of conversations, etc. A few of my favorites are in bold.

Incidentally, I’m planning to write a few entries in the future elaborating on some of the points from PTOD and Advice for Aspiring Photographers. If there’s a particular point or two you’d like to see explained in more depth, please let me know.

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The surest way to become a photographic trend setter is to completely disregard all photographic trends.

Do ONLY what you want to do. People who don’t understand are not your target clientele / audience. So what?

In your quest to create the best images you can, don’t forget that sometimes it’s the snapshots that mean the most.

The only photos we can ever really regret are the ones we never make. Stop thinking about shooting, and shoot!

Your photographic style should not be determined by fear of trying new things. “Scared” is not a style.

Never apologize or make excuses for your work. We are rarely as good or bad as we think we are.

Work with your personality, not against it. It’s OK to be shy in your sessions. Learn to make it work for you.

Shoot what intimidates you. Seek out the subjects/sessions that are hardest for you. That’s how we grow.

When in doubt, simplify.

There is only photographic rule that should never be broken: respect your subjects.

You can either build your business by having a unique style – or by being the cheapest. Which sounds more fun?

Don’t worry that you aren’t creative enough. Express yourself deeply and allow your work to be what it is.

Perfectionism and high standards are not the same thing. Perfectionism is ego with a dash of self-doubt.

Nobody but you can make your photographs. If you don’t do it, no one will, and those moments will be lost.

A portrait session is a beautiful dance between photographer and subject; if either doesn’t participate, it’s just a recital.

Photograph according to your own artistic compass, and gain the clients who value it. Never apologize for your style.

If at first you don’t succeed, you probably need a light meter.

You do not need the latest and greatest gear. It’s an expensive distraction. Learn to effectively use what you have.

Know your technique so you can forget about it. Luck is nice, but a terrifying thing to rely on.

A successful portrait is a side effect of a strong human connection. What are you giving for your subjects to respond to?

Sharpness is overrated. There’s a place for a gentle, subtle print. Eyelashes do not have to look like weapons.

Every time you photograph someone, you tell them, “You’re important enough to remember.” Make the most of it.

There is perfection in imperfection. Don’t be afraid to show character and experience in your subject’s faces.

Your technique should never upstage your subject. It should enhance the image, not take over.

Photographers need to be photographed. It teaches us empathy for our subjects. It isn’t easy to be in front of the lens.

There is no such thing as bad light. There is only light that is used badly.

It matters little how great your portraits are if your clients don’t have fun. The session should be its own reward.

A great portrait is a side effect of a strong human connection. Be a person first, a photographer second.

It does not matter how good your post processing is if you start with a badly lit image! Good lighting is KEY.

Everything you need to know about lighting can be learned from your catchlights and shadows. You must know how to read them!

Soph and Grandma B

Location, location, location

Some people worry a little when they read that I work entirely on location. There seems to be a perception that I only photograph in photogenic mansions. Not so. Working on location allows very important context for portraiture. It’s the difference between a portrait session and a magazine shoot, between reality and a “reality show”. The following are examples of images that simply couldn’t have happened anywhere else.

the wild ones

This is one of those slice-of-life scenes that I love so much. This only happens at the kitchen table.

kid in shed

Some might find the junk in this shed a distraction; I find it interesting. Some images tell a story, while others raise the questions. This is one that is very open to interpretation by the viewer.

the twins

The twins in their friend’s very, very small kitchen. It’s not grand, but it feels like home to the girls, who were much happier in their undies than the dresses they were wearing previously.

Sophia

Still not convinced? This image was shot in the entryway to a Macaroni Grill restaurant. The light was great, the kid was in a good mood, and the location just worked.

No mansions in sight, and I prefer it that way. Character and context are much more meaningful than grand surroundings. Life happens where it happens, and the best photographs remind us of what it felt like in that moment. So don’t worry that your house isn’t featured in next month’s Home and Garden. It’s home, and that’s good enough for me.

Photo Tips O’ the Day

It’s been some time since I added to my blog. Life has a way of getting in the way of life. I thought I’d re-kick my blog with some of the “photo tips o’ the day” I’ve written, for those who haven’t seen them. They’re meant to be short reminders, sometimes motivational and sometimes mini-rants; they’re by no means a complete essay.

So please enjoy them, apply what applies to you, and share as you see fit (with proper credit, of course. Y’all know how I feel about that.)

– CJ

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PHOTO TIP O’ THE DAY ARCHIVE, PART 1

Disregard those who say you “must” do this or “can’t” do that. Art is not about limitations and restrictions.

If you are frustrated with your work, focus on one area at a time. You can’t climb three mountains at once.

Ruts are things we fall into when we work habitually rather than consistently. Switch off your auto-pilot.

Perfectionists: consider printing and signing your work. It forces you to take ownership and eliminates excuses.

Allow your sessions to breathe. Pauses help you to steer the session organically, and to keep your head clear.

Walk all the way around your subject and watch how the light changes the scene and mood. Light is a creative tool.

The common denominator in all your sessions is you. Shoot for you first and your clients will always know what to expect.

Don’t be so quick to delete and discard failed photos. Study them to learn what to do differently next time.

Personal space is mental, emotional, and physical. The key to a great portrait is to know how to be invited in.

Know your technique so that you can forget it. Focusing on the technical robs your subjects of your full attention.

Overshooting out of fear of missing “the shot” often means “the shot” never happens. Shoot less, engage more.

Portraits are like short stories; the elements that don’t add to your story will detract. Choose details carefully.

In portraits, mood/expression is key. Light, comp, backgrounds, post-processing, and contrast must work together to support it.

Each time you pick up the camera, you hold the raw materials to create a masterpiece. Shoot like you mean it.

Improving your work requires practice. Musicians don’t play only when they’re on stage.

Don’t allow yourself to fixate solely on your perceived weaknesses. Own your strengths and be proud of them.

If the most eye-catching part of your image is the action you ran, it may be time to reassess your work.

four generation portrait

National Velveteen

There is no such thing as “bad light”. There is only light used badly. Sometimes you gotta use what you have — in this case, it was overhead florescent lights in an arena, with a tiny little bit of fill from a distant doorway. Many times photographers assume that it’s not possible to achieve good lighting when the light source is directly overhead; not true, Petunia. You simply have to have your subjects look up toward the light, or in the case of a candid like this one, wait for the subject to do so on their own, and be ready.

This one has a sort of National Velvet-y feel to it that really appeals to me. Fortunately, these horses have gotten used to the massive ka-chunk of my medium format shutter. I prefer to first do no harm. People look better on horses than in a crumpled heap under them.

La Dolce Vita

I sometimes find myself too buried in serious, dark, heavy things. While I’m actually quite silly in person, I tend to focus (no pun intended) on depth and seriousness a lot in my work, particularly lately.

So I thought I’d share something light and fun, two words not frequently associated with either my work or with teenage boys. This is from last week’s vacation to the island cottage, my three offspring mangling each other. At the cottage, there are no such thing as stress, e-mail, groundings, and deadlines.

Enjoy an uncharacteristic light moment with me.

mangled children

Serendipity

(The following was written long-hand a few days ago.)

I have always believed in the power of coincidence. Serendipity. Whatever you choose to call it. I love chance. I love taking chances. Maybe I take too many, but I believe in leaving room for happy accidents, for the “meant to be.” I believe that sometimes we get what we need in ways we could never plan.

I’m on the island. I’m sitting by the sea wall in front of the cottage on a cool, cloudy day, waiting for another ship to pass. It will come in its own time, as yesterday came when I needed it, not before. Inspiration comes, not necessarily when it is needed, but when we’re ready to receive it.

I have not been inspired at the island this week. That’s not to say I haven’t enjoyed my time here; I have, tremendously. It just hasn’t been one of those visits where I’m pulled, pushed, and almost desperate to take camera in hand. Life has been that way for me lately. I have been so in the moment, every moment, that to document in gelatin has seemed irrelevant, maybe even irreverent. It’s natural. It’s part of the normal cycle of an artist’s life. Still, it’s not my favorite part.

Yesterday we had some unexpected visitors, which is part of cottage life. All are welcome, no appointment required. Most are family members, some immediate and some connected via the thinnest of threads, but family still. (Once you’ve been to the cottage, you simply become family, anyway.) Yesterday’s serendipity brought Sandy to the island, a distant cousin by marriage. I liked her instantly. Somehow during the course of the day, between sips of wine and dips in the river, she mentioned that she had previously been married to a jazz musician, and that they had had a loft in New York City in the 60′s. And I knew before she said it: she had been a friend and hostess to Eugene Smith, as well as Thelonious Monk, Alice Coltrane, and several other legends-in-progress. I know the story well; as a photographer and a musician, how could I not? The jam sessions, the genius unbalanced photographer, the photographs I have committed to memory. I’m afraid I didn’t hide my shock-and-awe very well. Perhaps just as surprising was her surprise that I should know the story. (I don’t just “know” the story. I’ve savored the story, envied the characters in it, probably romanticized it, and built myself into it. If you don’t know it, you can read about it here: