As photographers, we all have strengths and weaknesses. But there is one downside that almost every photographer has in common.
I am both a still life photographer and a motion director/cinematographer. Because of this, my articles are sometimes split between the two fields. But an analogy that I find myself enjoying using later this year is to refer to filmmaking as a team sport. Despite the fact that the general public knows the names of the stars of a film and often memorizes the more prominent directors, films are very much the result of collaboration. So although you can totally make a movie yourself. I’m done. It’s also no secret that the more resources (i.e. people) you have to attract, the better the end result tends to be.
As a commercial photographer, I also work in a team environment. Yes, I’m leading the movie. But there are also plenty of talented assistants, stylists, makeup artists and the like, all of which together contribute to the final image. However, of course, not all shots require those big teams. In many cases, photography is a single activity. Even if you regularly assemble a team, the sporadic freelance nature of the profession often means that the faces of that group’s members can be fleeting, with yourself the only constant. In short, working as a photographer can be a lonely profession.
Not that I’m complaining. I am a born introvert and there is absolutely no doubt that one of the things that attracted me to still photography is that it is an art form that I can do all by myself. I love working with my film crew. But there is something to be said about an operation that can be performed without having to rely on anyone else. You can literally walk outside right now and create art in 1/8000th of a second. No need to ask permission. No need to organize full production. Just pick up the camera and go. It suits me well as well as my pausing for larger scale work where planning and production are essential.
But, of course, since much of my work, still and in motion, requires multi-stakeholder engagement, it is in my best interest to maintain an ever-growing list of collaborators I would like to work with and people I would like to bring to future projects. After doing this for years, that list has grown exponentially. However, there is one creative category that always seems to be missing from my depth chart.
Obviously, if you do photography as a profession, you would expect the majority of incoming emails you receive to be related to the work you yourself will be performing. But every once in a while, potential clients will reach out looking for the type of photography you simply wouldn’t do (or in an impractical location for you to travel). You can decide to do it anyway. Or, like me, you will often find yourself turning down such jobs simply because it’s not the product you’re offering. Not feel hard. No harm, no foul. You can’t be expected to do everything, so you wish the client a great shoot and come back for the rest of your day.
In doing so, you often encounter return questions. “Well, are there any photographers you recommend?” That’s the question I’ve always found the most difficult to answer.
Of course I know a lot of the work of other photographers. I might even know someone in that particular specialty or position that could be great. But, since I more often than not have actually met the photographer in person, it is impossible to know what they were like on set. Are they professional? Does their personality resonate with the specific person looking for a referral? What is their process? These can all be important questions. And I have no way of knowing the answer.
I can recommend the makeup artist. I can recommend the stylists. I can recommend the assistant. I have worked with them personally. However, when recommending other photographers, it can be a bigger challenge. It’s not because I don’t want to give up the business. But, because, as photographers, we very rarely have direct experience working with other photographers on set.
A set can have multiple assistants, multiple set builders, multiple wardrobe assistants. However, in most photography genres, a set will not have many photographers. While this makes 100% practical sense as in most cases it is not necessary to have multiple photographers on the same scene, it means that we, as photographers, do not often have a chance to see each other in action. Well connected in the photo community, I can’t even count the number of photographers I consider friends or colleagues. But I almost never interacted with them on set.
This is somewhat sad. Not just because it makes it harder to recommend other artists. But because we, as photographers, often lose sight of the benefits of shared information. If you are an accountant at an accounting firm and you work on a team of other accountants, when one of you learns a new skill, they can pass it on to the others. In contrast, most artistic development occurs on our individual islands. Most business learning takes place on our personal computers. So to speak, there is no “water cooler” where we can see each other in action. Sure, we can watch each other’s curated behind-the-scenes videos on YouTube or exchange information on forums. But being directly and directly in the front row to someone else’s process is a difficult ticket to pass.
What got me thinking about this was a recent shoot I did as a cinematographer. Much of my work is with me as both photographer and director/DP or with me as a solo photographer or solo director/DP on a non-integrated campaign. In the case of this particular shoot, through a series of random situations, I essentially found myself filming a video alongside another photographer’s photo session. As that day unfolded, it dawned on me that it had been a long time since I’d been on another photographer’s set. It’s been over a decade since I last supported, so suddenly finding myself in the position of watching another photographer perform feels like a strange experience.
But it was also a valuable experience. I won’t go into any specifics about this particular shot because what happens on set, still happens on set. Especially when we are talking about someone else’s set. But I found this experience a teachable moment for several reasons. First, it gives me the opportunity to see how the photographer runs his set. Significantly different from how I run my aggregation. Not good or bad. Only different. I have a chance to see him interact with clients. I had the opportunity to watch him interact with talent. Again, different from how I set up the tone on my sets. No better, no worse.
What’s valuable about meeting another active photographer is that you can get tips on how you can get better at certain things, while also strengthening your faith in other areas. . Without taking any responsibility for creating the stills myself, it gave me the opportunity to observe his process from a more objective point of view to see what worked and what didn’t. This knowledge can then be used to double-check my own process to see where there is room for improvement.
Like I said, there are very few situations where I’m not entirely responsible. But I appreciate the opportunity to take a break and watch others work. It reminds me of the benefits of supporting early in one’s career. As an assistant, you may not have your name on the panel, but you do get a front-row seat to see how many photographers approach their craft. These are the lessons you can learn in your own career from being the person behind the camera. It also reminds me of the value of my involvement with groups like American photographer, is a commercial organization built to support the commercial photography community. And others like it, which brings artists together to connect and share knowledge.
It’s a shame that we didn’t get to see each other at work once we were on the bill. But one thing is for sure. As photographers, the more opportunities we have to learn from each other and grow together, the better we can all become.
