Always stay true to your vision
A lesson I learned on staying true to my work and never compromising how I see the world, no matter what it cost me.
How much money would it take for you to compromise your photography?
This is a question I had to ask myself. Last summer, I was approached by a woman who told me she was interested in collaborating and putting together a solo show of my street work in Charleston. She wanted to bring more contemporary and progressive art to Charleston, and specifically more photography work. Over the past few years, that has been something I have been working on. The problem is that no galleries in town showcase much photography, let alone street photography. The idea of being at the forefront of something new and exciting was precisely what I had been looking for, and here it is. It fell right into my lap. What could go wrong?
Now, this initial offer was highly tempting because all I wanted to do was make the work; I had no interest in trying to market myself or figure out the logistics of putting together a show, but I have to do that; it's just part of it, but if I could have a lot of help with that aspect of it, why wouldn't I take that offer? It seemed like a perfect deal. She had the experience, and her goals lined up with mine.
So I met with her and brought a small portfolio of stuff I wanted to hang in a solo show. So, one day, we met, and the conversation started with her telling me about her background and her career in art up to that point. Ten years ago, she worked at Sotheby's in NYC and would do pop-up style galleries similar to the one she mentioned she wanted to do with my work and how she is now a lawyer here in town. Then the conversation pivoted, and it turned into her pitching me how she wanted to "represent me." She would still do pop-up shows with my work (I think), but most of what she wanted to do now was sell my prints to her audience while taking a 50% commission on all sales. I would exclusively sell my work through her. While in this conversation, it started to feel weirder and weirder the longer she talked to me. I didn't even say much. I was listening to her try to convince me to do this deal with her. When I brought up the photographs I had brought to show her, she hesitantly looked at maybe 6-8 of them relatively quickly and wanted to see more of my work "in black and white." And when I say "see more of my work," I mean she wanted to see the work I had brought, but she mainly wanted to see black and white versions of my entire street portfolio, even if it was shot on color film. It didn't matter; she likes black and white and wanted to see "what all my work looked like in black and white." She told me to send her that folder with all the images, and she would look at them over the weekend. She said she would be building a website for her new company (that would represent me). I said, cool, feel free to share it with me to look it over before it launches; send me the artist agreement paperwork/contract, and I'll look it over. We agreed on all that, and I left the conversation not really getting to show my work or talk about a potential solo show.
I stayed optimistic about the meeting because I would still hopefully get to sell some prints, and the solo show would still happen. So, I sent her small jpegs of my work over the weekend in two folders. One folder was my work, how I originally edited/shot it, and in another, I converted all of my photos to black and white for her to "see." At no point did I agree that that's how I wanted my work presented, but I thought it was more or less a visual exercise for her to see my work differently. Again, this should have been a much bigger flag than I thought it was at the time, but I was trying to stay optimistic, and I wanted this whole situation to work out, so I didn't overthink it. Then, on Monday afternoon, I got a notification on Instagram for her newly created art page showcasing my work and how she exclusively represents me. She also used only the black and white photos I sent her. I saw on Instagram that the site was live, so I clicked on the link and saw my work, edited in B&W, displayed on the website. Another important aspect of this website is that I'm the only artist on the site. At that point, I still had not seen any contract/agreement or even the website before it launched. Also, my favorite nugget of information is that she is currently a lawyer in town, but didn't think to send a contract before publicly saying she represents me exclusively.
At this point, I knew deep down that this was a bad deal and I should get far away from this situation and this person. So I said I'd love to see that contract soon. After nearly a week, I received a "contract." There were about as many red flags in this "contract" as every time we spoke. It was unbelievable, and there was no way I was signing it.
After I read this contract, we ended up on a call where I went through section by section and asked as many questions as possible. She didn't help her case at all, and the more she explained each point, the worse it made it. So, as I was trying to be polite, I was trying to get off the phone and said, "Yeah, give me a day or so to look everything over again and think about everything." That did not go over well, and she said, "What do you need to think about? Like if you want to work with me or not?" I wasn't going to, but I figured it was now or never, and put it bluntly, I didn't think this was the right fit for me and wanted to go our separate ways. The main contributing factor to this decision was that she wanted to present my work only in black and white.
Now, I am fully aware that I not only shoot black and white films occasionally but a percentage of my portfolio is shot digitally and converted to black and white. I will be the first to admit that, and I certainly never denied that fact in any conversation. But the problem I have is that I am mainly a color photographer, and if you're claiming you love my work and want to sell it, shouldn't you believe in my work and how I presented it to you? And shouldn't it be evident that I am a color photographer when I shoot 95% color film and convert only a handful of photos to black and white if I shoot it digitally? It should be evident after taking a 10-second glance at my portfolio. I mean, clearly, I'm not a black and white photographer, right?
At the end of the call, and after I had explained that I wanted to present my work how I wanted to present the work, it could be black and white or color; it doesn't matter. But what I tried to communicate to her was that all artists should have the right to how their work is presented online or physically; that's my humble opinion on the situation. I didn't think that was a radical thought, but it was. In her mind, I was the person out of line in this situation, and I was "ruining" the newly launched art business she had created over one weekend without my approval. I was the sole artist in her portfolio, so if I was out, she was left empty-handed. How a lawyer let a situation like this play out the way it did is beyond me, but regardless, she was very annoyed at the end of this conversation.
You're probably wondering what on earth this story has to do with anything, but I wanted to tell it because it taught me some essential things and reinforced some beliefs I had about being an artist in the first place. This woman wanted to take 50% of all the profits I made. But I still had to do the work and get everything printed, framed, edited, and developed; all she had to do was sell it. In her opinion, color photography couldn't be sold in a fine art setting because it was "too commercial." That was her argument against presenting my work in color. She didn't think she could sell it that way. To me, the biggest red flag in that statement isn't that she wanted to change my photography and my photographic vision but that she doesn't understand the history of the medium itself.
I could sit here and type all day about the dozens of photographers throughout the 20th century who were instrumental in having color photography taken seriously and presented in a way that competed with the traditional black and white photographers at the time. They bridged that gap for us 50+ years ago. There is no need to fight that fight anymore. Color photography is here, and it's been here for decades. People have been using it on the street for decades and decades. It's simply a silly argument to make, proving that you don't understand the history of photography, let alone the medium itself.
The point of this story is not just to tell you about something crazy and hilarious that happened to me but to reinforce the idea that our vision is all we have as artists when it's all said and done. The one thing we must not allow ourselves to give up is our artistic vision.
The small decisions you make as an artist when you create and how you present the things you create are the most powerful tools in your arsenal. It's why people pay you to make work for them or it's why people purchase your art or prints. How you see the world and what you create is uniquely you. It's true when they say, "Everyone is a photographer nowadays." That's a fact because we all have a camera in our pocket. But the critical difference here is that what makes you "you" is how you uniquely see the world.
As a professional photographer, I don't get paid to just press buttons; I get hired to make photographs because of how I make those photographs. People want to hire you to do what you do best, not to show up and press a button with no heart, soul, or intention behind it.
So when I say we have to hold onto our artist vision with everything we have, we have to hold onto it no matter the cost. It's literally all we have when it's all said and done.
