Bruno Begins

When our little Chihuahua died we were devastated.  He’d brought us so much happiness and laughter over the years, without him the house just wasn’t the same.  During the grieving process we agreed we’d get another dog, but not for a while, we needed some time.

Surprisingly we both came to the same conclusion independently.  At lunch one day Bernadette turned to me and said: “You know, if another dog came along, I think I’m ready.”  I agreed; I felt the same.  We hadn’t discussed it previously but here we were, four months without a dog and now we were both ready for another.  We already knew we wanted another Chihuahua but we also hoped to rescue a dog, and we wanted a puppy so we could train him.  But it’s almost impossible to find a small rescue dog, much less a purebred pup.  We also knew we had to get the ‘right’ dog.  We weren’t exactly sure who the ‘right’ dog would be, but knew we’d know him when we met him.

So we didn’t search for a dog.  We merely acknowledged our ‘openness’ and allowed events to direct us to the right dog.  One day when I was out I stopped in the local pet shop and inquired about Chihuahua breeders.  They didn’t know anyone except the breeder I’d found online, with pups for sale starting at one-thousand dollars.  On another day, out running errands again, I stopped at our old veterinarian’s.  They didn’t know of any Chihuahua breeders either but if they learned of any adoptable Chihuahuas, they’d let us know.

This was fine.  We’d ‘put the word out’ and we knew, in-time, we’d meet the right dog.  Again, we weren’t searching but, rather, leaving ourselves open to finding ‘the right dog.’

One night I dreamt the ‘right dog’ was a white Chihuahua.

The very same day I’d stopped to talk to the vet, Bernadette saw a post on Facebook from the Yavapai Humane Society.  It said, we have an unusually large number of small dogs ---we don’t get a lot of little dogs--- so come by and adopt one!  “Maybe we should go to the Humane Society tomorrow?” I asked her.

The next day was a blizzard!  Cold and nasty and snowing like crazy with the ugly weather we all avoid if we don’t have to go out.  Over lunch I remembered the Facebook post from the day before.  “Hey, why don’t we go to the Humane Society after lunch?” I asked.  Bernadette didn’t want to go.  Cold feet.  She wasn’t sure.  “It’s really nasty out, let’s skip it.”  She said.

“I’ll tell you what, “I said, “I’ll drive over there, check out what dogs they have and just find out what the costs and procedures are.”

“Oh no, it’s too nasty and you’ll get your car all wet and muddy in their parking lot.”  Bernadette offered, as if to let me off the hook.

The car already needed washing and besides, Yavapai Humane Society is only about two miles away so I went anyway, something was compelling me to go right then.

In the lobby there was a group of helpful volunteers that steered me to the kennels.  I started down the first of four long, concrete hallways lined with cages and what did I find?  In the very first kennel were two little brown Chihuahuas!  There was one scared little boy and a friendlier female.  The female’s teats hung low so I figured she’d had a litter, probably after her very first heat, neither dog looked to be over a year old.  I’d ask about the female after I saw the rest of the dogs.  And I saw them all and it was typically depressing at the ‘dog pound.’  Some dogs were friendly, some were mean and some were just plain scared shitless.  Three hallways later I spied another Chihuahua but he was wearing a cone on his neck and didn’t seem healthy.

I reentered the lobby via the kennel door.

“How many dogs would you like to adopt?” asked the friendly woman behind the desk.

“I dunno, but I think I’d like to meet the little female Chihuahua on the other side of that door.”  I answered, pointing.

“What about that Chihuahua right there?” she asked, pointing to a cage in the lobby.

The little white Chihuahua at the Humane Society

Apparently I’d walked right past that cage when I came in the building, how the heck did I miss that?  I looked in the cage, and what did I find?

A Chihuahua.

A puppy.

And he was WHITE!

“Can I pet him?” I asked.

One of the volunteers took the dog out of the cage.  She wasn’t going to let me hold him but I saw the Purell hand-cleaner on the counter, washed my hands and then she handed the dog to me.

He flattened his little body against my chest and licked my face.

This is the dog!   What the heck?  A  WHITE Chihuahua-puppy-rescue dog!!!  Incredible!

“What’s his story?” I asked

They told me that he’d been a stray, picked up on the street by Animal Control and dropped off at the Humane Society.  He’d served seven-days in ‘doggie jail’ but no one claimed him.  (Here in Arizona people just don’t look for little dogs and cats that run off because they’re usually eaten by coyotes or other predators.  I’d of looked anyway if it were my missing dog, obviously this dog escaped harm.)  When he was not claimed by anyone he went into the Humane Society ‘system’ and began getting his shots, he got a tracking chip and just the day before, he got neutered.  He was ‘not available for adoption.’

Not available for adoption!?  Why?

Bureaucracy, that was all.  The veterinarian had not yet signed off declaring him healthy after his neutering.

“When will the Doc sign off?”  I asked, anxious.

“Later today or tomorrow, or maybe Sunday,” was the answer.

 “OK,” I told them, “I’m going home to get my wife then we’ll be right back.  I want to bring her here to meet this dog.”

Driving home in the continuing low-visibility blizzard, I called Bernadette.  She answered with, “You found a dog.”  It was not a question.

“Yes, I met a little white dog I want you to meet.  I’ll pick you up and bring you here.”  Bernadette was crying.  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“As soon as you left I knew you were going to find a dog.  I just brought the dog-crate up from the basement and cleaned it up.” 

Whoa!

I picked her up and we drove back to the Humane Society.  As soon as she held the dog, he did the flat-dog thing against her and that was it.  This was going to be our dog….somehow.

I told the people at the Humane Society, “We want to adopt this dog.  I’ll put down a deposit, or pay for him in full in advance, whatever it takes, I want this dog the moment the veterinarian declares him fit for adoption.”

They wouldn’t take my money.  I gave them my name and number and they said they’d call me first when he was available, I’d get an hour to come claim him or they’d call the next person if the list got longer.  OK, fine.  I’d already decided if I didn’t get a call that afternoon, I’d call first thing the next morning.  We went home.

Fifteen minutes after we got home, Yavapai Humane Society called, that little white Chihuahua was available for adoption!  Mere minutes later we were back at the Humane Society and we adopted him!

Bruno when he first came home. 

We’d gotten rid of all our ‘dog stuff’ when our other dog died.  All we’d kept was the crate and a leash; I figured a new dog would need new stuff.  Besides, if I were a dog, I wouldn’t want some dead dog’s things, I’d want my own.  So, in the midst of a continuing blizzard, I was off to the grocery store for Puppy Chow, treats and some kind of toy.

The next day, after spending over one-hundred dollars, he was fully accessorized with new bowls, his own collar, two new sweaters, and organic dog food (the Humane Society’s coupons didn’t go far!)  We made an appointment for him to get checked out by our vet on Monday.

House-breaking training began about 18 hours after he came home and I’d forgotten how exhausting training a new puppy can be!  We’d kicked around a lot of names and had narrowed in down to either ‘Rocky’ or ‘Bruno.’  He responded to Bruno and that became his name.

And he is wonderful!  He’s a happy dog and he seems genuinely grateful to be with us.  (I think part of our old dog’s soul resides within Bruno.)  I have not laughed so much in months!

Extensive photography has begun; they don’t stay pups for very long!

“Dogs aren’t our whole lives, but they make our lives whole.”

I’d say our lives are now whole, again.

A happy Bruno in his new home with a new toy

 

An Expensive Camera for Your Ego Gratification

“It’s a 400-D.”  I answered.

“A 400-D is a Rebel XTi, that’s an amateur camera, you’re not a professional!” and that abruptly ended the conversation with the rep at the Canon booth as he walked away and wouldn’t talk to me anymore.

“What the hell was that?” my wife asked.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.  These assholes don’t judge a photographer by his photographs they judge photographers by what kind of cameras they use.”  I (again) explained.  “It’s like I’ve been telling you; he doesn’t know who I am, he’s never seen one of my pictures, and the work, the actual photographs, doesn’t matter to him or all the other people like him.  In their view you can’t possibly take a professional photograph with an amateur camera.”

“That’s bullshit.”  She replied.

“Yes it is,” I agreed, “it’s all consumerist marketing crap but that’s how these dumbasses judge you.”

“I guess you need a new camera.”

“No, not really, but they need me to use a camera they think takes better pictures; I have to deal with their screwed-up psychology.  And it serves to justify my day-rate.”

And that’s why I upgraded my DSLR.  Not because I really need 22 megapixels, but my clients think they do ---and these are the same dipshits that insisted, back in the film days, I shoot with a 4x5 view camera for a postage-stamp reproduction size.  Dipshits!  They know nothing!  Yet I’m compelled to kowtow to their stupid, equipment-based idea of what ‘professional’ is.

And how does one determine if someone is a ‘professional?’

                By the kind of camera you use and by the size of your studio.

                And this is wrong.  It is ego and marketing-based bullshit that shallow, low-information people use to judge others. 

The dictionary definition of the word professional says: …engaged in a specific activity as a source of livelihood.  Notice the word ‘livelihood’ and not ‘income.’  You are a ‘professional photographer’ if your source of livelihood, not just a few extra bucks, comes from the production of photographs.

The dictionary definition does not mention anything about the kind of tools (camera) you use.  So in other words, if you earn your entire income from making pictures with a home-made pinhole camera, you are a professional, despite what the asshole in the Canon booth thinks.

I believe there is a second component that defines what a ‘professional’ is, and that is acting professionally.  If you don’t have a clue what you’re doing, you’re late, miss deadlines or do dumb stuff you’re just not professional.  ‘Professional’ is a combination of livelihood-earning and attitude.

Let’s carry this to an absurd level just to help the stupid people understand.  If you act with confidence and competence and earn your living from the production of photographs then you are a professional photographer ---your camera equipment is irrelevant.  If you’re a moronic asshole who takes pictures with a six-thousand dollar camera with the word ‘professional’ embossed on it that you purchased with the paycheck from your job in the cubicle you are not a professional, you are instead a moronic asshole  who takes pictures with a six-thousand dollar camera with the word ‘professional’ embossed on it.

Do you understand the difference?

Photographers are judged by their cameras because it’s easy.  It’s because of our consumerist society.  People know prices, they know famous names and they know ‘labels.’  And they have expectations.  They expect a professional photographer to a more expensive, name-brand camera that’s bigger than theirs.  They figure if you’re using the same camera they’ve got, then they can take just as good a picture as you can, after all, they’ve got the same equipment, so why not?  Of course this is stupid and shallow thinking and does not take into consideration things like photography school, or experience or even talent.

But nowadays everybody’s a photographer, so everyone’s a photography ‘expert.’  Few other professions are like this.

                Most everyone uses the same word-processing programs, Word or WordPerfect, but no one assumes them to be Stephen King or J.K. Rowling.

                A lot of people own guitars but that makes them neither a rock star nor musician.

                Suzuki sells a lot of GSXR1000s but no one riding one with a license plate mistakes themselves for a WSB champion.

Continuing the motorcycle metaphor, I can tell you from experience that it’s a lot more fun to ride a slow bike fast than to ride a fast bike slow.  Similarly, making a great photo with a less than great camera is more fulfilling than making mediocre photos with a ‘professional’ camera.

It’s not about cameras or any kind of equipment, you know this.  I’ve never seen any photographs (if there are any) made by the guy in the Canon booth but I can infer that he’s using top of the line Canon cameras because he works for Canon.  Since he works for Canon he’s not a professional photographer but rather, a camera sales rep who takes pictures with a ‘professional’ camera.  I won’t judge him by his camera (the way he judged me) but based on his attitude I feel confident that I can make better photos than him with my eyes tied behind my back all the while using a shitty ‘amateur’ 10 megapixel camera!

A thoughtful person would only find it logical to judge a photographer by his photographs.  They understand that anyone can buy a certain kind of camera… anybody!  And they also understand that only you make your photographs, so it only makes sense to judge a photographer by his resultant photographs and not the camera.

But most folks are not thoughtful so they’ll judge you by your camera.

                So that’s why I bought a ‘professional’ camera.

                                I bought it for them.

And it’s a very nice camera, but I’m still the same photographer who shot the same great photos with an ‘amateur’ camera.   So what’s the difference?

Now they like my photos and they like my camera too.

Limited Editions: Let's do the math

After the 2012 Houston Fine Arts Fair I received this criticism from the gallery:

Your work generated a lot of interest. One feedback we wanted to share with you was related to the size of the addition. Several collectors indicated that they would like to own unique/more exclusive pieces.

So I emailed the gallery with this question:

Can you tell me what an 'exclusive' edition size is?

And I got this reply:

As far as the size of the edition is concerned, some collectors thought that 250 was too large and that the piece they are getting was not unique.

I expected a reply with a number, so I asked again (which I should not have had to) and got this answer:

I have seen artists doing it in one of two ways: either limiting the edition to 10 prints or mounting prints on panels -- whether aluminium (sic) or wood and positioning them as originals.

                                               

Well, that’s not helpful.  The most useless, and false information, is …mounting prints on panels -- whether aluminium (sic) or wood and positioning them as originals.  Printing on panels or aluminum (correctly spelled) is not an ‘original,’ it’s another print made on a different medium.  Presenting a print on a different medium and calling it ‘original’ is a lie and is unethical.

My Certificate of Authenticity states: Other limited editions are available in other sizes and media.  That means ‘other sizes and media’ are not originals but are prints on another media.  I include this information so the buyer will know exactly just how exclusive an image they’re getting.  In my view this is called ‘doing business honestly.’  So, …mounting prints on panels -- whether aluminum or wood and positioning them as originals… is dishonest and I won’t do that.  I’m a little surprised that a gallery would suggest that; after all they’re supposed to be ‘experts.’

The real issue here is ‘exclusivity,’ or the perception of exclusivity; this is not a new issue and I’ve been hearing this same old thing for decades.  Quite frankly it is nonsense and I’m tired of it.

This ‘exclusivity’ business goes back to painting, which is a one-of-a-kind genre.  Painters make one painting and sell it (if they’re well-known and represented by a good gallery) for a large sum of money.  Sometimes the painter will scan or photograph their painting and sell reproductions for a vastly smaller sum than the original.  This is a very old business model and it works for artists who produce one-of-a-kind, singular works.  Unfortunately the ‘painting model’ has been forced upon photographers, and now digital artists, and it’s not a good fit.  In photography the idea that the negative can be printed again and again limits exclusivity and it also limits price.  Anything that’s not a one-of-a-kind cannot be sold for one-of-a-kind prices and photographs are much cheaper to buy than most paintings.  The ‘photography model’ also holds true for digital art; just replace the term negative with digital file and we’re singing the same song.

So if one painting can sell for $10,000 a lucky photographer might get $1,000 for a single photograph.  This is why many art collectors begin collecting by buying less expensive photographs before they spend tens of thousands on paintings.  This is also the reason photographers must sell multiple copies in order to making a living commensurate with their painter counterparts. 

Photographers, and now, digital artists, have created limited editions to provide some ‘artificial rarity’ or ‘exclusivity.’  The market doesn’t seem to recognize that each print from a negative or each print from a digital file is, in fact, an original.

My edition size for the particular body of work I showed at The Houston Fine Art Fair is two-hundred-and-fifty prints, 250.  I arrived at this number after analyzing artworks that were editioned between 10 and 1000.  I made my decision on the knowledge of the realistic prices I could ask, my need to earn a living and on being able to offer some form of ‘exclusivity’ based on the size of the edition.  I also have another motivation that most artists I know don’t share; I want people to own my works, so I make more than one copy available.

Let’s do the ‘limited edition’ math and find out what ‘exclusive’ really means:

250 = size of edition.

7,000,000,000 (7 Billion) population of Earth

Now let’s figure out what percentage of 7 billion 250 is:

250 x 100 =25,000

25,000 divided by 7,000,000,000 = .00000357

This shows that 250 is .00000357 of one percent of 7 billion.  That’s pretty darned exclusive!

The standard argument against this formula is that 7 billion people do not collect art.  This is true.  In fact over 2 billion people on planet Earth live in abject poverty, so no, they don’t collect art.  Let’s choose a smaller number of ‘global art collectors’ and take a guess of 500,000, a half million people planet-wide who do collect art.

Let’s do the math again, with different numbers:

250 = size of edition.

500,000 = estimated number of ‘global art collectors’

250 x 100 = 25,000

25,000 divided by 500,000 = .05

This shows that 250 is .05 (five one-hundredths) of one percent of 500,000.  That’s still very exclusive!

I think the arithmetic shows that even a ‘large’ edition of 250 is very, very exclusive.  And that still puts 250 of my originals in the homes of collectors. 

The mathematics shown above proves that an edition of 250 is in fact very exclusive.  Now let’s continue the math and figure out the income potential for the artist:

My price for this particular edition is $600.00 per print (unframed, print-only).  If I were to sell out the whole edition of 250 I’d earn $150,000.00 ---but that number isn’t entirely correct.  The gallery keeps a 50% commission so my real earnings for selling out the edition is $75,000.00.  And let’s figure $5000.00 in expenses to produce and ship the artworks leaving a net $70k for selling out an entire edition.

Is this not as much money as you’d thought?  Art may be subjective but math is objective and doesn’t lie.  This is where the numbers fall.

Forget that crap about ‘prints on panels and aluminum’ and let’s now do the math for a ‘gallery acceptable exclusive’ edition:

10 = size of edition.

$600.00 each = price of artwork.

$6000.00 = total income from selling out an edition of ten.

-$3000.00 = less 50% gallery commission.

-$300.00 = production cost

$2700.00 = net profit to artist for selling out an edition of ten.

So an ‘exclusive’ sold-out edition of ten nets the artist about $2700.00 and that is not ‘earning a living.’  You can’t afford to continue making art at these rates and edition sizes – despite what your gallery thinks.

Once you’ve sold out your ‘exclusive’ edition of ten you’re done.  You’ll never earn another dime from that image.  And guess what?  The gallery is done with you too!  They’ve earned as much as they can from your ‘exclusive’ edition and if you don’t have something equally popular that they’re willing to exhibit you’re all done but the gallery will just find someone else’s ‘exclusive’ art to sell.

The gallery cares about ‘exclusivity’ but it’s at your expense and they don’t care about your ability to earn a living.

A gallery might argue that for an edition size of ten, to raise prices.  Every artist would like to sell their art at the highest possible price but that isn’t feasible for everyone.  ‘Unknown’ artists can’t command as high prices as ‘known’ artists.  Galleries that are perceived as ‘high end’ can justify higher prices than other galleries.  And photography and digital art does not command as high a price as painting and other ‘one of a kind’ works do.  One must be realistic and understand their position in the ‘art food chain’ when setting prices.

I think this notion of ‘exclusivity’ is snobbish and elitist.  And I also believe, based on arithmetic, an edition of 250 is ‘exclusive.’  Again, two-hundred-and-fifty pieces measured against a collector-base of five-hundred-thousand people means the buyers of my edition are among only five one-hundredths of one percent of the total number of art collectors.

Really, isn’t 0.05% exclusive enough?

I’d like to know what YOU think.  You can’t argue with my numbers, there is no ‘wiggle room’ with math.  If you’ve got an opinion I’d like to know what it is.  Leave a comment below, or on Facebook.  If you disagree with what I’ve written, please justify your position with cogent facts.

Dale O’Dell

October 2012

HOW TO DRESS & BEHAVE AT YOUR OWN GALLERY OPENING

Don’t be a dick.

That’s pretty straightforward.  One does not need to belabor the point.  It’s either your show or your artwork is part of a larger show, so be nice, be friendly, talk to people and don’t be a dick.  It’s simple!

Recently I was sent an ‘Artist Agreement’ (contract) to participate in the 2012 Houston Fine Arts Fair.  It contained standard boilerplate language that ensures the signer of the contract (me) will cover the ass of the Big Corporation that wrote the contract.  It was fairly typical except for this:

 If Artist elects to attend Exhibition, Artist shall contact [redacted] at least 15 (fifteen) days before Exhibition. A representative shall be in communication with the Artist. If you elect to attend, you agree that you shall dress and conduct yourself in a manner which is within the norms of a conservative art exhibition. You agree to abide by the code of conduct to be sent to you by [redacted]. You agree that if you violate any provision of this paragraph and/or the referenced code of conduct to immediately leave the premises of the Exhibition upon request. You acknowledge that failure to honor the request to leave may result in your being involuntarily removed from the premises. You agree to hold [redacted] and the Exhibition harmless from any liability resulting from such action arising out of Artist’s conduct violating this paragraph.

Seriously?  How to dress and behave is written into a contract?  You’ve got to be kidding me.  I emailed the contract-writers with this question:

I've never seen anything like this in a contract before.  Do you have a lot of problems with poorly dressed & misbehaving artists?  I assure you as a mature adult over the age of fifty, I do know how to comport myself & dress properly for any occasion.  Could you please send me the 'code of conduct' and the 'dress code' for this event?  Go ahead & have your representative contact me.  I had considered traveling to Houston for this but should I?  Is there any benefit to my presence there?  Does the gallery even want the artist present?  Please let me know if my presence in Houston would be beneficial or even wanted.

And this was the reply I received:

This is a standard clause included based on what we witnessed at some of the openings we        attended - both galleries and exhibitions, especially the ones which had open bars. It is business, not personal.

Artists are welcome to attend. It is up to you if you would like to. If it were a solo show, I would definitely encourage you to attend. Since this is a group show, it is different -- we have to be respectful to all 5 participating artists and cannot have one artist promoting his/her work at the  expense of the others. I hope you can appreciate it and can relate to it.

There’s a whole lot wrong with both the contractual obligation and the answer to my question about it.  First of all, as a mature man of fifty-three years of age I really do know how to comport myself at an art show.  Secondly I am insulted; the last time I was lectured on what to wear and how to behave was when my Mommy was sending me off to Sunday school, and that was a very long time ago!  Thirdly, there are no ‘standards’ in the art business, so don’t try to sell me that ‘industry standards’ bullshit, this industry has no standards.  I’ve been in this business for over thirty years, believe me, if there were any standards, I’d of found them.  Fourth, it is personal!  Sure it’s ‘business’ but it’s ‘personal’ too.  You can’t tell someone how to dress and act without it being personal.  And no, I don’t appreciate it.  Sure, I can relate to the fact that you are afraid I might embarrass you but your contract has no clause preventing you from embarrassing me.  What if you act like a dick?  Can I have the ‘art-bouncer’ throw you out?  Ah, but here’s the tell:

                …cannot have one artist promoting his/her work at the expense of the others…

That’s the real reason!  No, I won’t ‘step on the toes’ of the salespeople.  You don’t want me there.  I’m not attending.  Thanks for helping with the decision.

I had wanted to go to Houston and attend the Art Fair but now I’m afraid I might inadvertently piss someone off.  I was looking for an excuse to go to Houston for some positive reason and this Art Fair was a positive reason but ‘behavior rider’ of the contract kind of pissed on my parade.  Not that I’d planned on misbehaving, I just don’t need a lecture in the contract about how to behave.  The gallery really does not want me there.  This isn’t all that unusual.  They seem to be enthusiastic about my work, but not so enthusiastic about me.  And again, this is not unusual.  They are afraid that I might somehow screw up their ability to make money off my artworks that I paid them to exhibit. 

I guess I’ll save the expenses of a third trip to Houston in one year.  I’d gone to Houston to attend my Mother’s funeral last month, and my Father’s six months ago; hence the ‘positive reason’ for a trip to Houston.  But they want the art sans artist.

I ought to just go on my own.  Pose as a buyer.  I should show up at their booth and get all excited about Dale O’Dell’s art.  I should act like I’m going to buy.  I should ask them, ‘is the artist present?’ and then get all bummed out and walk away when they say ‘no.’  That could be fun! 

Or maybe I’ll call up an old friend in Houston and ask him to attend ---just to check out my gallery and make sure they’re behaving themselves. 

I suppose if I were a Big Sports Star with a twenty million dollar a year contract, then a ‘morals clause’ would be appropriate.  But this ain’t no multimillion dollar sports contract; in fact I paid them a fee just to look at my artworks, and I’ll pay a percentage back to them if anything sells.  They really have no right to tell me how to act.  They should trust that I won’t embarrass them or, more importantly, myself.

Oh well, like I wrote, I have been in this business for over thirty years, so I’ve seen a lot of stupid contracts; I won’t even get into the one that began, ‘…agrees to be your exclusive representative throughout the universe…’

How about I write into the contract that the gallery has to behave ‘properly’ just the same as me?  What’s good for one is good for the other, right?  No?  Really?  Why is that?  Oh right, you wrote the contract.

How ‘bout you people just sell my artwork?  And behave yourselves even if it’s not contractually mandated.  Meanwhile I’ll be in my studio behaving myself.

I participated in the Houston Fine Arts Fair as a part of “New Emerging Artists” and the Art-Variant Gallery in Chicago.  It didn’t work out for me & I won’t work with these folks again  ---I’ll tell you more in my next blog!

THE MEDIUM FESTIVAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY PORTFOLIO REVIEWS

On Saturday September 8^th I finally did a photography ‘portfolio review’ at the MEDIUM photography festival in San Diego.  MEDIUM is a new festival and this was their first year.  The festival was well-organized and efficiently run and although I only participated in the portfolio review, the overall experience was positive.

Perhaps I’d been a little too cynical about this but having low-to-no expectations meant my expectations were easily exceeded.  Everyone was friendly and cordial and no one was overtly negative.

I met with two museum curators, one gallerist and one graphic designer.  The graphic designer was someone who was not on my list and I don’t know why they assigned me the guy.  I even told him when I sat down that I “didn’t have anything relevant to show, and if he wanted, we could just blow off the meeting” but he was interested in my works and we ended up having a very nice conversation.  When he said, “I need to find a client so I can use you” that was an honest compliment and I’m glad I kept the meeting.

I’d been assigned the graphic designer instead the gallerist I’d wanted to see.  The gallerist I didn’t meet was one of the people doing reviews at the MOPLA festival earlier in the year.   I’d sent a digital press kit to this gallerist after being rejected by MOPLA.  I don’t know if this person was avoiding me or if there was an actual scheduling conflict.  One seldom finds out just how these decisions are made.  But, as it turned out, the meeting with the graphic designer was positive.

One of the museum curators did fit my expectation of not knowing just how to relate to my work and not being able to explain exactly why.  She was nice, but not especially enthusiastic about my artworks.  I suspect my works were just too outside her ‘comfort zone.’  She didn’t really have much information to offer.

The other curator was a person I’d been trying to meet for over a year.  I’m glad I finally got to meet her.  Again, like the other curator, she was more interested in ‘traditional, straight photography’ but she was engaged with the work.  She noticed the subtle humor that infuses my work and appreciated it.  She also provided some ‘outside the box’ information.  She told me that the museums and high-end galleries don’t really have an appreciation for humor and tend to reject it.  That was new and interesting news for me and is very useful.  She also provided good contact information for other alternative exhibition venues.  All in all it was a good meeting.

The gallerist I met was also positive and, although my work wasn’t right for her gallery (which is typical) she also provided a lot of good alternatives.  She responded especially positively to my new works-in-progress, Quantum Realism, and wants to see more in the future.  This is good!

So, all in all, it was a good experience.  Here are some of the things I learned:

·         It occurs to me that there are some times in one’s career that are better than others to have your work reviewed.  I probably waited too long to do this.  At this point in my career (35 years, so far) I know who I am and am comfortable with my own works.  I’m not ‘seeking’ and I’m not going to change what I do at this point in my life.  My work reflects who I am and I cannot be someone other than me.  I also think that having your work reviewed too early in one’s career isn’t especially beneficial as the ‘experts’ information might be confusing to a young artist.  It seems to me that the best time for a review is early/mid career.  Too soon and you risk being overwhelmed, too late and the information you receive has diminishing returns.  Work for a decade, get yourself somewhat established and then go for a portfolio review.

·         I asked all four reviewers if my work ‘is photography.’  The graphic designer said he didn’t care; the work was cool, which is how I like people to respond!  The other three declared my work as ‘definitely photography.’  I still disagree but it looks like ‘the system’ wants to put me in the ‘photography-box’ anyway.  I suspect there are a couple of reasons for this.  One is this was a photography review so all the reviewers are naturally inclined to view things in photographic terms.  When I mentioned influences from outside the photography medium they were out of their element.  This speaks to the insular and self-referencing nature of photography that I’ve written about before.  The other reason I’m lumped-in with photography is because ‘digital’ is closely tied to photography and it’s such a new medium that doesn’t have its own history and therefore is more easily considered to be ‘photography.’  I mentioned to one curator that I felt that ‘photography’ is a term that is descriptive and the viewer has a certain expectation.  My works violate one’s expectation of what a photograph is supposed to look like and my use of the term ‘photo-digital’ is more honest.  She seemed to ‘get’ where I was coming from, but still said my works were ‘photographs.’  I’d like to discuss this in a more in-depth context with other ‘experts’ because it’s them and not me that will determine future definitions of what’s a photograph and what’s ‘digital art.’  I still think ‘digital’ will eventually be declared a separate medium and I still don’t consider myself a ‘photographer’ any more.

·         I told the gallerist:  “I want to work with galleries that are as enthusiastic about selling art as I am creating it.”  She got that.  I suspect the gallerists that do these portfolio reviews are more serious than the ones who don’t.  That means these are the folks you want to exhibit your works.

·         Having a lot of shows is good.  Having shows in prestigious galleries are even better.  Apparently I’m at a point where it’s more important where I show than if I show.  The cliché it’s who you know remains true.  I guess now I’ve got to figure out who’s important and convince them to exhibit my works.

·         One portfolio review session is probably enough, unless you want to meet someone specific.

OK, now I’ve done it and got it out of my system.  I don’t think I need to do another one.  These things are supposed to be good for ‘networking,’ something that never seems to work for me.  I intend to follow-up with all four reviewers but I don’t expect anything beyond.  Maybe it’ll be different this time (like I said last time).

The only “Wow” I got came from another photographer.

September 10, 2012

Photoshop World & the Medium Festival of Photography

I’m off to the annual PhotoShop World expo in Las Vegas later this week.  I attend this expo every year to see the new hardware & software.  Last year’s show wasn’t so good; fewer vendors & everyone there seemed rather surly.  I hope there are more vendors this year & everyone’s in a good mood.  I hope the manufacturer representatives have some product knowledge this year.

I’ll post a report here in two weeks.

Immediately after PhotoShop World I’ll be heading to San Diego for one day at the Medium Festival of Photography.  On Saturday September 8 I’ll be participating in four portfolio reviews (see the blog that precedes this one for more info.).  This will be my first (and perhaps only) ‘portfolio review.’

I have mixed feelings about the portfolio reviews but feel I must do this since I’ve never done one, even after being in business for 30+ years.  I’m not sure if ‘photography’ curators are the right people to be reviewing my works.

I’ll make a prediction now; I’ll follow up in two weeks & see if my prediction comes true.  I predict:

·         Only one of four reviewers will respond positively.

·         The other three reviewers won’t care for my work, but won’t be able to articulate exactly why.

·         They say these reviews are good places to ‘network’ and ‘make connections’ but based on the past, I doubt anything of much use will come from it.

I’ve earned my cynicism; I’ll let you know how it goes.

Dale

September 3, 2012

MEDIUM FESTIVAL OF PHOTOGRAPHY PORTFOLIO REVIEW, SEPTEMBER 8, 2012 SAN DIEGO

I’ve finally done it.  It’s been 33 years since my first exhibition, 30 years since I graduated college, 28 years since I opened my studio and 2 months since being rejected by MOPLA, I’m finally going to have my very first portfolio review.  Woo-hoo!  Fifty bucks per twenty minutes time with an ‘industry professional’ to get their learned opinions.

I don’t really know if I want this, but I suppose I need it.  My work has never been ‘judged’ by those whose opinions actually count.  Although I have an extensive sales history and a long exhibition history, positive critical reviews in the press, and I have been in this business my entire life so my ‘market review’ is positive, but, like Thomas Kinkade, I too seek approval from my ‘peers’ in the arts.  So here I go…..

I genuinely hope the four reviewers I will meet with respond enthusiastically and positively about my work and I also hope I can make some important connections.  These are my hopes; my expectations are much lower --- I actually have no expectations.

Some history:

Back in the 1980’s the FotoFest photography festival was getting going in Houston, Texas.  Since I lived in Houston at the time it would have been very convenient for me to pay for a review at FotoFest.  But I never did.  Back then, most of the ‘reviewers’ were photographers, and I didn’t (and still don’t) give a damn about what other photographers think of my work.  Most photographers are jealous creatures and even if your portfolio is great, they’re not going to tell you so because of professional jealousy.  Besides, if some photographer likes your work that’s nice but I’m looking for a reviewer who can do something if they like my work ---like give me a show in their gallery.  So I never bothered with a FotoFest review when I lived in Houston. 

Years passed and I didn’t think about portfolio reviews.

More recently I got to thinking that ‘important eyes’ have never really seen my work; although my photo and digital artwork is disseminated, published, exhibited and collected, to those big-time gallerists and curators, I’m unknown.  So, since I now live in Arizona, I contacted the curator at the Center for Creative Photography in Tucson and asked her to review my work.  Surprisingly, she actually replied to my email and, unsurprisingly, she informed me that she doesn’t review photographer’s work.  Now, how the heck a ‘curator of photographs’ at a large, well-known ‘center for photography’ can even find new works without looking is something I do not understand.  Anyway (since I’d written such a syrupy, kiss-ass email) she told me to contact the curator of photographs at the Phoenix Museum and that she’d even contacted her about me.  OK, that’s nice.  She won’t do it but she knows someone who will review my works and she even semi- set it up for me.

But, after a half-dozen emails to the curator photographs at the Phoenix Museum went unanswered I was left to conclude that I’d again been blown-off.  No reply, no review.

I did get an email notification about the portfolio reviews offered by the Palm Springs Photo Festival this year but the sign-up procedure was so arcane I couldn’t even figure out how to register so I blew that off. 

Then MOPLA (The Month Of Photography Los Angeles) came along in April with their portfolio reviews and I signed up.  But they rejected my work as not good enough to even be reviewed!

So now I’m going to San Diego in September and, after three decades, I’ll finally have a conversation about my work with someone.  And there will be four of those ‘someone’s,’ including:

o   The curator at the Center for Creative Photography who doesn’t review photographer’s works.

o   And another museum curator I sent a press kit to after being rejected from MOPLA.  She never responded to my letter & press kit….. but I think she will now!

o   Another curator, and the fourth person is a gallerist.

I’ve already got my materials together because I’d done the work expecting to go to the MOPLA reviews back in April.  Unfortunately I did my homework but never got to ‘take the test’ because they pre-rejected me.  So now I’ve been reading up on procedures and expectations and I am getting things in order.

I plan on showing my work and will shut up and listen.  Again, I genuinely hope the four reviewers I will meet respond enthusiastically and positively to my work but that’s not my expectation.  I expect they won’t like my artwork.  But, if they can at least clearly articulate why my work is inferior, that’ll be good information.

I am happy to at last ‘have the conversation.’  Even if it’s only for twenty minutes per person and I have to pay them.

I’ll report back, hopefully with positive notes, in September.

Dale

June 27, 2012