Joe,
I used to put a lot of effort into marketing my work and (truth be told) I’ve sold lots and lots of prints. When I was growing up in photography, that was the defined path — do the work, exhibit the work, sell the work, publish the work. What I discovered through years of experience was that marketing and selling work is a full-time job. I was spending 90% of my creative time running a small business whose product was my prints. That left 10% of my time for the part of photograph I loved — making the artwork, including being out photographing, printing, etc. Almost everyone I know who sells enough artwork to pay the bills tell me they, too, experience this 90/10 ratio of efforts.
Then there is Oliver Gagliani. I loved him. Such a fantastic photographer! When he died, he left 4,000 finished, spotted, and matted original prints in his vault. I can only assume that he thought it was important to have “inventory” on hand should anyone want to purchase a print. Instead, they became a burden to his heirs.
I’ve developed a paradigm for distribution my work that works for me. I sell chapbooks that are printed on demand and are a physical companion to my other primary output, the Kokoro PDF publications that I make available for free download at Brooks Jensen Arts. Distributing and sharing my work is far more important to me than selling it. I price the chapbooks so I can cover my cost of material and packaging, not to pay the bills or put food on the table. It works for me, but I know others have different needs and marketing and selling is important.
Stephen Bender once said, “Artmaking is a privilege you should be willing to pay for.”
I’ve often joked that if photographers want to make money with their art, they should become poets — that’s where the big bucks are.
I’m not against selling individual prints, I just don’t pursue selling prints. Since you’ve asked, let’s talk. What size Cosmic Jackrabbit do you want and how much are you offering for it? I’ve never sold one, so you’d have a unique print. Well, until someone else wants it, too! LOL!!! To me, the important thing about Cosmic Jackrabbit was making it, not selling it. Beyond making it, everything else is frosting.
Hear that, John! We found your fan!!! 
Rightly so!!
A friend of mine (and a fine photographer, David Grant Best) moved from Seattle to Anacortes many years ago. When I asked him about it, he explained that rather than wake up every day in a place he didn’t love and go to the place he did love on weekends and vacation, he turned that around 180 degrees. Hard to argue with the logic if you can swing it.
When I told David about my plans to sell everything and move from a 4,000 square foot house to travel for few years in a 300 square foot trailer, he said, “You are not reducing your life from 4,000 to 300 square feet; you are expanding your life to the landscape you will be living in every day.” He was right.
Hi, Brooks! Now that you have been on the road for two years, have you noticed any change in your approach to photography? Is there an end in sight for your trailer life?
As long as my health holds out (feeling fine and no current worries, but I am 69), I intend to keep traveling and photographing. Fingers crossed. After these last two years, I think it would be difficult to put down roots and let go of being a “silver nomad.”
One of the great advantages of this lifestyle is that I am far less dependent on luck when it comes to exciting weather. As we all know, “bad weather makes for great photography.” In fact, today and tomorrow are supposed to be 30-35 foot waves here on the southern Oregon coast. Yay!
Thanks for sharing these key takeaways Brooks ! I appreciate it.
Hi Brooks. There is a saying, often wrongly attribute to Banksy, which goes something like “We all die twice, once when we take our last breath, and again when someone speaks our name for the last time.” Or, in the case of photographers, when someone sees our images for the last time.
I believe you did a presentation on this before, so what can we do to keep our respective photographic legacies alive beyond our last breath? I mean, is anybody going to care about the 8TB hard drives we leave behind?
Chuck, a difficult question that prompts several thoughts.
First, there is no one alive or in the future who will care as much as you do about getting your work “out there.” Reliance upon someone while we are alive or posthumously promoting our work and keeping it alive is not very likely. We’d all love to have our own Berenice Abbot or John Szarkowski, but not very practical. I believe we have a responsibility to our work to be our own distributors and promoters. Find your audience now, while you can.
Second, every archivist will tell you that the most important factor in preserving work for the future is to have multiple copies of it. A unique copy is almost doomed from the start. And how many copies of any given print do we sell? I so often see “1/250” on a print when we all know that there are probably only a few at most. Probably just 1. Of course, there are exceptions, but they are rare.
Third, fashions change. Our work —like it or not — is a reflection of the world and times we live in. Who knows if our aesthetic or even our medium will be a popular one in the future? Better to make our work for ourselves and our contemporary viewers and not worry too much about the long term.
These three ideas combined in my thinking and pointed me in the direction of the PDFs I produce in my Kokoro series. I can produce and promote them myself; I can distribute them in massive quantities with little to no cost to myself or my viewers; I can do all of this now, immediately, in days, within my lifetime.
Yes, but . . . the PDF format and even today’s storage media might disappear! True, but the same could be said of Billie Holiday’s recording on wax cylinders. Because her music was widely distributed in her lifetime and valued by a lot of people, it still lives today on media and means of distribution she could never have imagined. If I produce work that is worthy of being remembered by generations in the future, someone will figure out a way to translate my PDFs into the formats and media of the future. Right now, I’m reading Charles Dickens on my Kindle.
As to prints and other physical media like folios, chapbooks, or commercially printed books, they, too, can be preserved if people really want to. Most of them aren’t and will fall apart or turn to mold as the years pass. We see this in the used bookstore and junk shop every day. I continue to think that the best way we can preserve our work is to do the very best we can, get it into the hands of people who value it, and not worry too much about the long-term consequences. Besides, we’ll be residing in the ink maintenance tank anyway and won’t care what has happened to our artwork. I imagine DaVinci would be shocked at the fuss that has been made of his painting of the neighbor woman who lived down the street.
As to the 8TB hard drives, that’s sort of like asking if anyone has preserved for posterity the paint brushes and mixing bowls used by Jackson Pollock.
Bottom line is that the best thing you can do to extend your work into the future is to do your best, finish as much as you can, and distribute it as far and wide as you can while you can. That’s my answer to this thorny question. I’ve had over half a million PDFs e-Publications downloaded by people who wanted them, compared to maybe a couple thousand prints I’ve either sold or given away. Which do you think has had the larger impact today and will likely have a larger impact in the future, after I’m gone?
Hi Brooks - thanks so much for your willingness to do this AMA and for sharing all your wisdom. I will be starting on a self-published book project this year. Given all your experience with printing publications like LensWork, Trilogies, etc, what advice do you have for getting the printing part of the process right for someone who has never done this before?
PS - Regarding your comment above about working at more than 800mm… My husband bought Canon’s new affordable 800mm lens last year and I have been pairing it with a 1.4x teleconverter. It has been a great tool for landscape photography and I’d love an even loooooonger lens sometimes.
Sarah, nice to hear from you. There are two possible answers depending on what you want to do with b/w images. I mostly know your color work. That will likely be printed using standard CMYK commercial printing, I’d guess. Anything beyond CMYK is enormously expensive and technically challenging. So, I’ll assume CMYK — but even so, there is a lot to be aware of.
First, not all commercial printers are the same. Choose a good one with a reputation for doing art books.
Second, the standard for decades has been half-tone printing. I would avoid that, if possible. Today’s better printers use stochastic printing, and it is visibly superior. That’s one of the reasons we use Hemlock Printers in Vancouver, BC. Certainly, there are others, but that’s the first question I would ask them. Be sure you can see sample of their work before committing to them.
In the world of stochastic printing, there are two primary options: 20-micron dots and 10-micron dots. The 10-micron is better, but a lot fussier and way more expensive. Unless you have better-than-eagle eyes, 20-micron will be sufficient. For examples, that’s what we use.
Paper for a commercial press is more crucial than most photographers are aware. Just like in photographic original prints, the paper base and surface can make or break a print. When we did Huntington Witherill’s two books, we insisted on doing on-press paper tests with his images and the inks we were going to use. As I recall, we ran 11 different papers. Nine of them were awful, one of them was pretty good, and the one we selected was stunningly good. You can’t guess how the ink will look on your paper (and with a particular brand of printing plates) until you try it and see for yourself. It adds expense to the project, but you will be amazed how much better the right paper can improve the project.
Don’t assume the printers have an eye trained for color subtleties like a photographer’s eye. Some press operators do, but in my experience most don’t. It is easy to assume that they will have a sophisticated and eye as you do — after all, it’s their business. Don’t assume. We photographers live, eat, and breathe photography as our passion. To the average press operator, it’s a job. Use your trained skills and don’t accept mediocracy just because they are “professionals.” Be a partner in the process, which means be there for the press checks with every form. This gets a lot more complicated if you print overseas and don’t speak their language. Another reason we print LensWork in Vancouver, BC.
B/W is another whole story and is much more complicated than color. If you want, I can offer a short answer about b/w, too. Just let me know.
Hey Brooks! I’m excited to see this AMA, you’ve got a big fan in me. You are a very thought-provoking person and a smart dude! =)
I know we’ve exchanged a few notes on this topic but it probably bears some exposure here publicly as I think folks might find value in how you clarify your position on it.
Above you already eluded to the idea but I want to go deeper.
You say that a lot of contemporary landscape photographers are merely documenting a pretty scene, and you went into quite a lot of detail in your recent magazine where you referred to them as orgasmographs. I shared your thoughts with some photographers on a very well-travelled discord channel full of landscape photographers and honestly most of them were taken aback by your position… where I found myself trying to “sort of” defend it.
To my question:
How can we, as photographers, differentiate our own work as going beyond “orgasmographs” and into the realm of what you would consider more thought-provoking and interesting work. I’m personally trying to do more of that with my own work, but often find myself going back to the orgasmographs because they just appeal to me when I’m out making images… nothing wrong with either approach of course, but I think we tread in dangerous water when we demean other people’s work in these ways and it can feel defeating to them… hence my question… and perhaps an opportunity for you to clarify your position in a way that doesn’t leave readers feeling personally attacked… I hope that makes sense and isn’t too mean of me to say - just sharing the general sentiment that I heard from people who read that column you wrote (which I personally loved).
To clarify further, it would be nice to have some form of benchmark for images that go beyond orgasmorgraphs.
Cheers!
Matt, without rehashing that whole article, perhaps I can sum it up this way . . .
As photographers, we are presented with a choice about whether we want to be an objective observer or a subjective one. The objective photographer uses a camera to capture the scene without commentary. Well, as neutrally as possible. In this case, the camera tries to copy the scene in photographic detail and without the interpretation of the photographer. In theory anyway, the photographer is an invisible participant. Nothing “wrong” with this at all and we all make these pictures. But objectivity is not the only possibility.
The subjective photographer has a different goal. They want to use the camera and the scene to make a subjective statement. As such, it nudges closer to artmaking and can be pushed a long way from an objective photograph.
When Ansel Adams photographed Yosemite and made all those beautiful landscapes, was that objective or subjective? In my way of thinking, it’s subjective because he was trying to communicate something about pristine nature that was more than just a pretty picture. He was making a statement about its value to humanity. He wasn’t just showing us what was, but rather showing us why we should preserve it. That’s a valuative statement and as such is a subjective one. Compare his Yosemite to George Fiske’s images of Yosemite, for example. Both use photography, but for different purposes.
My observation about “orgasmographs” is that there is simply a difference between an objective image which is pushed to an exaggerated peak and a subjective photograph that is personally expressive artwork. Perhaps I’m straining a bit to make a point, but I think it’s an important one. Showing us “what is” can be a valuable use of photography, but is it art? Showing us an exaggerated view of what is can also be a valuable use of photography, but the exaggeration of what is doesn’t make it more artistic. I think artmaking is associated with meaning, understanding, questioning, wondering, feeling, etc. Art photography is not a document, it is a response. My concern about the orgasmograph is that I see a lot of photographers these days who seem to think that cranking up the vibrance or capturing the instant of peak action or jiggling the camera (I could go on here) makes a photograph art. I’m not sure about that.
I’m not against anything. I make orgasmographs, too. I love them as much as the next photographer. I just think it can be helpful to think clearly about all of this so we can know what we are doing as we do it. Sometimes the world does not need us to add anything to its beauty. We just take the shot and rejoice in the opportunity to do so. On other occasions, we use the world and our camera to say something more personal. I think of Minor White’s great abstract from Capitol Reef. That’s not a “copy of nature” but it is a wonderful example of photographic artwork.
When a tourist makes a snapshot of a sunset in Hawaii, is that art or is it a memory of what was? When Edward Weston makes a picture of the setting sun from Point Lobos, was that a memory or an example of photographic art? Some may think this is all just a bunch of semantic squabbling, but I’ve found it useful in my creative life to be clear about what I’m doing and what my intentions are.
At long last, let me try to answer your question. I’ll paraphrase Minor White: Don’t photograph what it is, photograph your response to what it is. We are all, obviously, unique individuals. Our photographic artwork is our reaction, our questions, our understanding, our ideas, our emotions, our response to the world. That is how you differentiate your work. If ten photographers standing next to each other photograph that beautiful sunset, I think it becomes easily evident to see in their photographs which ones are recording the scene and which ones are responding to the scene. At least that’s been my experience. There is no value judgment here, but there is a difference.
BTW, you can do both — at the same time! Nothing says you can capture the scene objectively and then in the next shot try to make something more personally expressive. These are not mutually exclusive, but they are different approaches to the photographic process. Enjoy those orgasmographs! They’re great! But try to dig deeper to make something that is perhaps more meaningful to you.
Hi Brooks, while we can learn a lot from the successes of the people we admire, I always like to ask: What do you feel has been the biggest mistake/failure you’ve made along your photography journey? What did you learn from it (if anything)?
Brooks, I owe you a big Mexican dinner!
Hi Brooks,
Thanks for taking the time for an AMA.
I have been invited to host a monthly 2-hour event for photographers called Photographers’ Night at a local gallery. Since I never attended any previous Photographers’ Night events in the past, I don’t know exactly what goes on but the gallery owner tells me each event is themed or programmed with time for discussion or photo viewing or just socializing.
I get the impression from the invitation that I can make it what I want but I don’t want it to be a vanity project. However, I would like it to be something photographers look forward to and find educational. The first one is in February.
Do you have any suggestions for how I structure and program it?
I see that you have a lot of Information and content around fine art photography. I wonder how much of the content, information and other relevant conversations which are present in Lens Work/Podcasts etc are relevant for Bird Photographers ?
Hi Brooks thank you for this AMA. I have been learning a lot from reading your responses.
I was wondering if you had some practical advice regarding curating our work. I feel curation is a skill that many of us struggle with. I definitely do. The output could be a number of things (Lightroom collection, website, an ebook, etc). Thank you.
Eric, LOL!!! In other words: Confess your biggest embarrassment, you scoundral! OK, well here goes.
In my youth, Ansel Adams was King. He was more than King, he was the closest thing to a photo God we had. Like thousands of others, I wanted to be the next Ansel Adams. (Like the world needed another one.) I spent the first 10 years of my photographic life trying to emulate him — including the subjects I chose to photograph and the style of presentation and processing. Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to be pulled away from that by the things I really wanted to photograph — things that were internally motivated. In my case, that was garages and machine shops and the guys who worked there. It didn’t take long to learn that no one wanted a 16x20 print of greasy tools hanging above the fireplace. I began to realize that I’d spent 10 years pursuing the wrong goal. I was grateful for the technical lessons I’d learned along the way, but I lost those early years because I wasn’t clear on what motivated me to want to be a photographer.
There was also those six months or so that I played around with black mat boards, but that’s just too ridiculous to admit in public.
Addendum: One other story that illustrates an important point. I heard this first in an Alan Watts lecture. A famous haiku poet was speaking to a group of American students. He was explaining certain Japanese terms used in describing poetry. He said, “The term yugen is like when geese fly overhead and you can hear their calls disappearing in the distance, but you do not see them.” Frustrated by this definition, one of the students asked, “Can you give a more precise definition of this term?” The poet slammed his hand down on the desk and said, “What’s a matter with you Americans, can’t you feel?”
Photography is not about film grain or f/stops, not about pixels or Photoshop tricks, not about cameras or memory cards. Photography is about feeling, questioning, revelation and wonder, and most of all a means of connecting with our fellow human beings. It is a bridge; it is, as Wynn Bullock called it, “a way of life.” It took me years to learn this lesson and only then did I really become a photographer.
Krishna, thanks for asking. LensWork is not oriented toward any particular genres of photography. More importantly, it’s not based on technical or instructional aspects of photography. The goals of LensWork is not to assist photographers learn how to make a picture, but rather it is a platform for the presentation of pictures as the end of the creative process. It is anthology in nature. In LensWork you will find bird pictures, but you will also find lots of other types of photography. If you are only interested in bird photography, there will be other magazines that only feature bird photography and they might be better suited to your needs.