Cards Sell

I’ve heard a comment from other photographers that creating photo-cards to sell was not worth their time. They have a point. Though the markup percentage may look  good on paper really we are only talking 2 or 3 dollars per sale. Factor in the time to order stock, create the card in Illustrator (or wherever you do that kind of work) and print it out and are you really making that much? Probably not. So why do I still do it?

 

Basically three reasons. The first is pretty obvious: there are days when cards are THE primary salable products. It’s not what you want, but it is what it is. There are other days when I may unload a card or three but matted prints are what’s hot. Go figure, because I can’t. So, cards are the fall-back.

 

They are also very easy to make, once you have a template. I do mine in Illustrator. Replenishing stock is as simple as just opening the file and print. I’m doing it while writing this post. Creating new cards is also pretty simple. With Photoshop, I just create a border effect on the image I want to place in the Illustrator template, drop it in and re-number the card. Done.

 

Finally, cards are a marketing tool. Assuming you have your company and contact info on the back, there are at least two people who will receive the message that you are a talented photographer: the person who buys the card and the person who receives it in the mail. For a buck or two outlay, that’s not bad.

Tips from Tom II

Day two of our workshop with Tom Till and Jon Fuller found us heading out early on the Potash Road. The Gooseneck was our sunrise destination, but that didn’t mean much to me. The last time I had been on that bouncy dirt road was some 27 years before in a beat-up late-70’s model Datsun. But that’s another story for another time. As it was, our little convoy arrived yet again in the nick of time to capture the effects of the rising sun. (I have since affectionately taken to calling just in time arrivals, “Tom Till Time.”) Our location was off of a little spur road directly below the massive Dead Horse Point lookout, some 1600 feet above us. I’m sure that anyone up there had a nice view, but we were IN it. The reddish-orange glow of the huge gooseneck butte loomed before us, the Colorado River turning to flame as sunrise began to claim the day. We only had fifteen minutes or so of shooting before the canyon walls turned hotter and the magical glow left the river.

Tom and Jon quickly gathered us up (me lingering as usual) for a short drive back along the Potash Road to a location which Jon dubbed Crinoid Corners, because of the large amount of fossilized Jurassic-era sea plants found here and there. Interesting, but not being paleontologists we were more motivated to see and shoot the pillow rock formations below us, the blazing red cliff walls receding westward towards the Shafer Trail, the silhouetted La Sal Mountains to the East, and southward a series of ramparts – the Canyon Rim area – partially framing Lockhart Basin. Tom and Jon brought us here to shoot every direction including into the sun. Doing the latter – especially with a long telephoto lens – will give you that nice layered look and I thought the B&W conversions worked particularly well. (Shooting at an acute angle to the sun will often yield those nasty lens flares. Using a hat is helpful to block them but I also usualy carry my trusty Flare Buster.)

Back in Moab we went our separate ways for lunch. Not wanting to waste time in a restaurant, I drove south with my sandwich to photograph some early Fall colors in dry washes and Wilson Arch, alongside Hwy 191. Post lunch, Tom had put aside a couple of hours to critique images we had selected from our respective portfolios. This time was incredibly valuable from a number of perspectives. There is of course the ego factor if he happens to say something nice about one of your pieces, but let’s put that aside and discuss constructive points. Looking through a pro’s eyes while he dissects images opens your eyes to what can be seen. As untrained critics (I submit that we are ALL critics, trained or not, knowledgeable or nay) we may well miss composition details for the whole, or not understand what exactly it is about an image that does not work. Whilst reviewing your work, what we want to hear is that you are on track, or if not, what it would take to put you on back on track. Look for the common threads, the “too much empty space” or “too centered” “need to get closer” or in my case the “interesting compositions…I have never seen this shot like that...that gives me ideas!” For me, this was validation that I am on the right path and that I am developing a unique vision.

Our sunset location was a Zeus mallet of a hoodoo called Elvis’ Hammer. Also called Olympic Torch, this rock structure is located east of Moab with no obvious trail leading to it. We took the “scenic route” and hiked past some other smaller hoodoos. There are many sandstone shelves around the Hammer so we were able to creatively set ourselves up in plenty of time for dusk. I positioned myself on a lower remnant of what must have once been Elvis’ Fin and proceeded to document the waning light. I frankly didn’t think the sunset was going to be all that dramatic, but Tom kept saying that it was going to be “nice.” As the sun dipped below the horizon, it was more than nice…high, wispy clouds slowly ignited into a Duraflame kaleidoscope that stretched across the sky. As the light continued to descend – and we packed up our gear – a soft magenta glow around the Hammer became our swan song. I wisely choose not to put away my camera and tripod and shot well past the others, even while exiting in the growing dark. My motto became: never pack it away, or something to that effect.

Sound business advice, exposure to quasi-unknown locations, technical tips with the voice of experience, encouraging and helpful critiquing stirred in with two days of shooting … what is not to like about taking a workshop from a pro? Thanks Tom and Jon and see you next time!

Tips from Tom, Part I

If you haven’t taken a photo workshop from a pro, consider it. Yes, you can learn a lot on your own, from books, the copious Internet resources available, and your friends and peers. All those arrows should be in your quiver, but there is something special about learning from a pro. Actually there are many things special it.

I took a 2 day workshop from Tom Till and Jon Fuller last October and several advantages became immediately apparent. There are the technical tips and instruction; the professional and business related advice; the revelation of special, if not just plain secret, places; and, if you are fortunate enough, time well-spent having your work critiqued.

The 12 or so Wasatch Camera Club members met that first morning, an hour before dawn, and we drove to a location between Dead Horse Point and Island-in-the-Sky. Called (informally) Marlboro Point – for a cigarette commercial that was once shot there – we arrived just before sunrise and quickly captured the shadows departing as the wall of sunlight fell upon the buttes and cliffs. The view itself was worth the price of admission for the workshop. We’ve all seen images from Dead Horse Point, but though that park was relatively close, and Island-in-the-Sky seemingly a stone’s throw away, Marlboro Point offered up a unique view and opportunity. Tom and Jon knew the way…certainly none of the rest of us did, and probably not many others do as well!

While shooting that first morning, they both helped where needed, made suggestions, and would scout tripod locations. All, pretty much as expected, but it was clear that some folks really benefited from the technical guidance. (Key concept of the morning: hyperfocal distance.)

Prior to lunch we toured Tom’s gallery which afforded us a good Q&A opportunity. Questions about printing, paper, what sells, what doesn’t, books and more, were asked. I’m less interested in paper details but a few business-related nuggets have stuck with me: “local sells local” “the website is for non-buyer’s remorse” “one image really turned the corner for my business” “you have to open a gallery.” These are paraphrased, but you get the drift.

During lunch we talked more business: how things have changed, how stock has dried up, how microstock is killing the golden goose, how tough it really is. I was pretty discouraged and asked Tom straight out: should we just pack it in and not kid ourselves about making a career of this? He emphatically shook his head ‘no’ and I thank him for that.

We ended the day at Faux Falls south of Moab. Though not far off the main highway, having the pros show us the general location at the right time of day was invaluable. The rest was up to us.

Next Post: Day Two with Tom and Jon….    

That's Not Your Style!?

I have a booth in the Arts & Crafts section of Salt Lake City’s weekly Farmer’s Market. In the booth I there are hanging perhaps 40 framed images. They vary from iconic redrock images to West Desert landscapes, vivid color shots of sunsets on the Great Salt Lake to black & white renderings of abandoned shacks. I also have four bins filled with matted prints of varying sizes. The matted prints are more diverse in offering a number of travel images from Japan, Iceland, Italy and other destinations.

This past Saturday a young woman – an illustrator by trade – was very complementary of my framed landscapes. We chatted and while flipping through one of my bins she exclaimed, ”This isn’t your style, is it!?” It really was more of statement than a question. The image in question was one I had taken in Corsica, a large retriever lazily laying in the doorway of a restaurant. One of those serendipity travel shots that you just happen upon, I’ve sold both prints and photocards of the image and have it hanging in our home.

I was surprised by the statement, though perhaps I shouldn’t have been. We certainly seem to readily pigeon-hole people, whether in the Arts or in the Professional world. I would like to resist that. Travel Photography is one of my favorite genres to explore. But in my mind it can rest easily beside my landscape work and my developing architectural work. I am a generalist by proclivity and my photographic naturally and organically tends to mirror that. Having said that, there are clearly subjects that have little photographic appeal to me, so while my interests are diverse, they are also fairly well-defined. This is good because,  the real trick is to bring a certain excellence to whatever you do, not necessarily become a stylist. Not to name names, but we all know some of those stylists and some are making Big Bucks. More power to them and their success.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to explore what is of interest to me even if they may seem far afield from Utah landscapes. I’ll look to past masters such as Edward Weston and Bill Brandt whose interests and pursuits varied from decade to decade, but who always strived to define excellence in their own unique fashion. I like that.

   

An Interesting Tree Does Not a Successful Image Necessarily Make

A few weeks back I was in the far-flung southwest region of Utah’s West Desert taking photos for The Wilderness Society. They wanted a pictorial documentation of a rather unassuming line of mountains along the Nevada border called the Mountain Home Range. They are not the most picturesque of Basin and Range peaks, but really beauty can be found just about anywhere in nature, if one has a mind to look.

Sometime late in the afternoon, long after gassing up for the last time in Baker, Nevada and driving umpteen miles on dirt roads, I found myself a very nice campsite on a spur of the Mountain Home Range, near a minor peak called The Toad. I had a prime view over the Pine Valley to the Wah Wah Mountains, and after setting up camp I clambered up a ridge for some photo ops. In addition to a grand Pine Valley/Wah Wah Mtns. panorama there were some interesting trees. Trees with what I call ‘personality.’

One pinyon pine in particular was striking: not overly large, it made two 90 degree turns before ending in a tuft of bushy pine needles. Protruding from the top was one lone arm of a branch, reaching to the sky. This guy needed his photo taken. I set up my tripod first for a horizontal shot and bracketed several exposures. Nice, but I decided to focus more on the tree and the dramatic sky (snow was threatening). With the tripod low, I took several vertical exposures, merely trying to keep the thatch of pine needles separate from the hilly background. (As an FYI, I usually bracket with the idea that I may utilize exposure fusion or HDR, or some other methodology to expand the dynamic range of the final image.) I then finished with several hand-held vertical exposures with my infrared-converted DSLR.

Once home I posted the horizontal and a B&W conversion of my favorite vertical HDR image (below) on Flickr. The B&W image in particular received a number of complimentary comments. I then posted what I am calling the “Initial Version” on a Photo Critique forum a site called Photography Review.  This is a great site where people actually take the time to review and critique your images in intelligent and thoughtful ways (unlike the usual “awesome shot, dude!” you get on Flickr).

The main criticism of my images was that there was not enough separation between the tree trunk and the busy background. I didn’t disagree because as I shot the series of images at f/32, pretty much from the pebble in front of me to the distant peak a mile or so away was in focus. I do a lot of shooting in this mode: extremely long DOF (depth of field). I like it that way, usually. In this case, the background does compete a bit with the foreground (tree trunk), though it didn’t bother me that much. Nonetheless, using curves and local tonal/contrast adjustments, I attempted to separate the tree even more from the background and that yielded the “Mid Version.” The critiques were still not singing the praises, so in the “Final Version” I actually cloned-out some of the background details that were competing with the edges of the tree trunk. That version was to me, the most successful of the vertical shots (though I must admit being partial to the Infrared Version as well).

Is the moral “You can’t please everyone.” No, though that is of course true. In the end it is not about pleasing anyone (though one should be pleased with one’s own images now and then). Rather, it should be about creating better compositions that work. Perhaps that tree would be much more of a successful image if I had shot it at f/5.6 instead. I should have thought of that and bracketed at that f-stop as well as at f/32. Will I make a trip back out to that particular spot to re-shoot? Unlikely. But, I guarantee you that I will think about this process the next time I have a foreground landscape object of interest against a potentially competing background. And though post-processing can work wonders, getting it as close to right as one can in the field, is the best plan.

Learning to SEE

“I am teaching you how to see as opposed to merely looking.” – Carlos Castaneda

Whether one buys the premise that Carlos Castaneda was a powerful acolyte on the Yaqui Warrior’s Path of the Nagual or was instead a New Age hoax that bewitched a generation of dreamy-eyed, latter-day hippies, there are some interesting philosophical concepts bandied about in his ten books. One that has always stuck with me and seems apropos to the world of photography is the Art of Seeing.

In the Castaneda books seeing is the ability to look beyond our current, facile reality into the realm of magical entities and pure energy. This, as opposed to merely looking, as in “to look at something” which implies a superficial glance. Fine-art photographers don’t have to wax metaphysical to understand the requirement to see things differently than others. Bill Brandt – the preeminent British photographer of the 20^th century – said it best when he wrote: “It is part of the photographer’s job to see more intensely than most people do. He must have and keep in him something of the receptiveness of the child who looks at the world for the first time or of the traveler who enters a strange country.”  

As photographers, our visual antennae must be all-aquiver, attentive, and receptive to see the artistic possibilities that abound around us. Often that also means getting out of our comfort zone. Comfort zones are just that and we hang out in them quite a bit because they are, well, comfortable (read: non-challenging). But they are also constricting us to what we allow ourselves to know and see. That, I believe, is why photowalking outings can be so interesting. It forces you to deal with (see) subject matter you normally might merely glance at and saunter past with little thought or appreciation. I was at a recent club-organized photowalk in an old train station. It was fascinating to watch how the many photographers would approach differently the subject matter of four walls, tiled floor, and high windows and ceiling. It was also interesting to see how the passers-by would stop and look – perhaps even SEE – the station details because people with cameras were doing the same.

Go on your own photowalking jaunt, or pick themed projects to occasionally work on. Venture from your comfort zone on occasion and look for challenges that do just that. My personal goal is not to stop looking around, but to start seeing more.

Burgers as a Metaphor

I admit it: I’m biased...but so are you. Don’t deny it, it’s just one of those human failings we must struggle against.

I see a photo of a subject I’m not in the remotest interested in — let’s say (in my case) rodeo or perhaps snowmobiles doing barrel rolls to the squeals of a thousand fist-pumping fans — and my GSU (Gut Sensory Unit) begins sending warning signals to my brain: “BORing, not for you, wander ye eyes somewhere else,” etc. But, if the photo is good, I mean really good, something different happens: the brain kicks in and the GSU is quieted by a simple: “huh!...interesting...that is well done!” Our (well, perhaps only MY, but I seriously doubt it) initial Gut reaction is often to the subject matter. Not always, mind you, but often enough the bias gets in the way and says “yuck...wha?...stoopid!” before we let the composition and intrinsic beauty settle in. Is it Gut versus Brain? Not really, I just think we are hard-wired to react before analyzing. That we can eventually analyze (I’m speaking again for myself here) is a VGT (Very Good Thing). We can — if we permit/push ourselves — move beyond first glance, our gut feel, to an analytical level that can be equally valid as the intuitive. Are those tensions in competition or collaboration? There is visceral and there is intellectual and then there is the vast greyness in betwixt. We choose where to hang out.

With that in mind, can a vegetarian appreciate a good burger? Can she or he look at a well-crafted photo of a hunk of cooked animal and say: “well done!” (No pun intended.) Can they go beyond the utterly visceral (and repugnant) impact of that image to applaud the skill and aplomb of the photographer? It may never be appealing on a gut-level but can the brain give it a passing score?

I’ll ask my wife...