It is clear that the language used in the proposed legislation is too loose and that, if implemented, the new laws could harm the internet. This video below gives a quick overview of how opponents to PIPA see things.

Legislative moves to protect the copyright of creatives, including photographers, should be welcomed. However, it shouldn’t be to the detriment of the potential of photographers to earn money from their works. Were SOPA and PIPA to be voted into law, and were governments worldwide to follow the USA’s lead, it would severely harm the ability of photographers to monetize their work.

The internet is a fabulous marketing and delivery mechanism for photographers, giving them access to a global marketplace. In a bid to shield creatives from copyright abuse, the US government could set a process in motion that destroys income rather than protects it. What’s the point of preserving copyright in your work, if in the process you close a vital means to monetize that copyright?

As photographers, we should thank our legislators for endeavouring to protect our rights in the work we create. But we should also speak out if their well-intentioned attempts cause more harm than good.

And just for good measure, our favourite online spoof dictator doesn’t like it either.

A still from the first episode of the new Circle of Confusion Ltd video series © The Circle of Confusion Ltd 2011

Editing a video is a very time-consuming process. That much I’ve learned over the past two weeks.

It wasn’t a surprise. I knew from the short films I’ve produced on my own that the editing process is very involved. On a project as ambitious as the first hour-long episode of a new photography series I’m working on with Peter Cox and Neil McShane, the post-production becomes exponentially more complex.

So far, we have spent around 96 man hours working on the edit, or 12  eight-hour days. And the end still isn’t in sight.

Late last Saturday evening, we thought we were there. We were wrong. Watching the episode back, we realized it was unbalanced. More tweaking was needed. Another day’s work for two of us later this week.

That doesn’t include the time our sound engineer will spend ironing out the audio track when we’re done.

The strain you put on others

This is all of our choosing, so there are no complaints. The mental and physical drain are part of the deal.

That’s fine for us. What about our families? The project has kept all of us away from our wives and children more than we intended.

I can only speak for myself, but I couldn’t contribute to the project (or undertake any endeavour, for that matter) without the unwavering support of my wife. She shoulders the burden of keeping the home front straight on her own – a mammoth undertaking at the moment for reasons I won’t go into here.

She does this because she cares about me and has faith in me. Peter and Neil’s wives feel the same about their husbands, I’m sure.

Priceless and unpaid

Take a second to think about that. That is wonderful trust to have. It is priceless support, based on nothing more than a hunch Peter, Neil and I have that we can produce a great product that will be successful. We can’t prove that to our wives. Nevertheless, they have met the disruption that the production of the first episode has brought to our households with incredible understanding and grace. They look for nothing in return.

If the project is a success, it will be as much theirs as ours.

We all need the support of other people when pursuing our dreams. Largely, they go unnoticed and unremarked. They are our silent support.

Who is yours?

Such an affliction makes early starts something I don’t look forward to and enjoy even less.

In the past five days, I’ve had three 4.30am alarm calls and one at 5.30am. In return, I’ve seen some stunning sunrises in spectacular locations. You can read about that over on the Circle of Confusion blog.

Lapland

Today’s 04.30 start was necessary to catch a flight. I’m flying to Lapland to photograph a wedding for a couple from the Netherlands.

I’ve never been to Lapland, though when I was a little boy, very little, I am sure I caught its most famous resident sneaking into my room one Christmas Eve to deliver a stocking of presents. I can see it in my mind’s eye as clear as if it were happening right now. If I meet him on my trip, I really must say thanks.

What would you suggest?

This assignment is a peculiar one, and I would like to throw it open to my regular readers. The arrangement I have with the bride and groom is that I will waive my usual photography fee in return for all my expenses and full commercial rights in the photographs. Some photographers will raise an eyebrow at the latter. After all, shouldn’t photographers own full commercial rights in their images? Of course. But I wouldn’t normally feel comfortable gifting or selling photographs from a wedding to a third party for their commercial use – a hotel, for instance. In this case, it was the couple’s suggestion. In fact, they were positively eager.

I’ve had my thinking cap on for a while, and the obvious ways in which to monetize the trip have presented themselves. That is, the ones that are obvious to me. I have a couple of nibbles from the professional photography magazines, for instance. Bridal magazines would be another obvious one, though there are challenges there.

This is where you can help me. How would you monetize a trip to Lapland to photograph a wedding? More brains are likely to come up with more ideas than mine is capable of on its own. All suggestions welcome.

Social media

I’ll be blogging and tweeting my way through this trip. Look out for the hashtag #laplandwedding on Twitter if you’d like to follow.

***UPDATE*** Reports have reached me that no snow has fallen in Ivalo. Normally, some would have fallen by now, leaving a permanent covering until spring. This is bad news from a photography and marketing point of view.

A picture may well be worth a thousand words, but it doesn't pay as well. (From Hyperallergic)

People tell me that I write well. Maybe I should switch professions?

Aodan recently asked me to write a post for his blog about the business book that has influenced me most. You can read about my choice on his blog.

   “If you’re available would you please provide a quote for the following?

• Pre-wedding meeting at Venue (Ceremony & Reception at same location)
• Approx 4 hours on the day
• Photos provided on USB key or DVD in RAW format, edited and unedited and in black and white
• No album required

    Can you please advise if we will have full unrestricted access to our photographs with the ability to alter them as we see fit?”

The statement that no album is required is nothing new. Brides have been asking for disc-only wedding photography for years now. I’m not going to repeat my own views on this.

The really interesting bit is the fact that the couple are looking for RAW files. They specifically wish to have the ability to manipulate the digital files themselves. A photographer’s post-production style is as much part of their photographic vision as the image they capture with their camera. Capture and post-production combine to produce a photographer’s signature – that which makes their work recognisably theirs. It’s a bit like asking a builder to build you a house, but to only deliver the bricks – you’ll do the rest, including the design.

I don’t want to dwell on this aspect too much because there is a more captivating one.

A few months ago, I attended a meeting of wedding photographers where the state of the industry was under debate. The majority of people in the room were advocates of disc-only packages. A few said: “We should give the market what it wants.” Only a handful protested at this; most were in full agreement, happy to bow to the market. They advocated that the market should drive a photographer’s business. The customer is always right.

To these photographers, I have a challenge. Now that the market is asking for RAW files on a USB fob, are you going to stand by your words? For you, it’s time to hand over the penultimate control that you have over how your work looks and feels. Time to hand over the expression of your vision and voice as a photographer. The market seemingly doesn’t want you to express yourself in your editing and post-production anymore. You said you’d give the market what it wants. Now is the chance to step up and do it.

That option leaves photographers with one solitary function in life: to take the photograph. Yet how long will it be before the market starts telling them how to frame the shot and when to release the shutter? Where will that leave them? They certainly won’t be able to call themselves photographers any longer.

Sometimes, it is good to give the market what it wants. Sometimes it isn’t. This is one of those occasions.

It is called the Rock Star Principle. The gist of it is this: it is as unrealistic to think you can earn big bucks by becoming a photographer as it is to think you could do so by becoming a rock star.

Let’s expand on that.

If your teenage child came to you and said that they wanted to be a rock star, you’d likely be supportive, but not put a whole lot of money on them actually making it. The odds just aren’t that great. The vast majority of teenagers with similar ambitions don’t get there. For the majority, the best they can hope for is to become a professional musician, playing at small corporate and private events. Some might make it into the national consciousness, perhaps reaching festival level. In reality, most will abandon the dream at some point in favour of more stable employment.

That said, a small percentage will indeed make it to the top. International acclaim and wealth await. But for how long? For every Madonna, U2 or Springsteen, there are hundreds of bands and musical acts who are global icons for a few years and then disappear. Guns ‘n’ Roses, anyone? Individual ensemble members might plug on in various guises, but generally speaking they fall into obscurity, certainly when compared with their towering profile at the height of their fame.

It begs the question, just how long is the career of a rock musician? More importantly, for how much of that career do they produce significant work? This rule holds true for the majority: sooner or later they and their output fade away.

The void they leave behind is quickly filled by others, most of whom will have an equally short career span.

You can guess how this model fits in with professional photography.

There is no question that astonishing careers are possible in photography. The very best and most persistent photographers rise very high indeed, earning fortunes, status and recognition. But that’s not where most of us end up. Most of us don’t get further than the musical equivalent of playing local events, with the financial rewards to match. Some of us might make a small national impact, or even a brief showing on the international scene, but little more.

And even if you do reach the summit, it’s hard to stay there. After a few years, you’re replaced by the next big thing. Your style becomes passé. You lose your significance. Most crucially, you lose your commercial potency. Your income declines as the big jobs go elsewhere. You supplement your income by giving workshops, masterclasses and seminars, trading on your name.

Is the Rock Star Principle viable in terms of its application to professional photography?

I have no doubt that some will ridicule the idea. Personally, I find it quite illuminating because it helps manage expectations. Whereas most parents wouldn’t reckon on their child making it as a rock musician, they would have no such doubts about the possibilities of a career in photography. Photography is relatively easy, wedding photography especially so. After all, how else do you account for the big influx of photographers to the wedding industry? If it were seen as something hard, the flow would be a mere trickle.

Just as wedding photography, or any form of commercial photography, isn’t easy, so its rewards aren’t always rich. At a seminar in May this year, I saw figures from a survey among professional portrait studio photographers in Texas. According to the results, 38% of respondents were turning over under $10,000 annually, 18.4% were in the $10K-25K bracket, 13.6% were in the $25K-50K range, the remaining 30% were earning revenues over $50,000. That’s revenue, not take-home pay. Put another way, 56.4% were turning over less than $25,000 a year.

While those figures were limited to portrait studios in a single US state, I’d be confident in saying that generally speaking photography isn’t a big money spinner, regardless of where you live and the type of photography you sell.

That goes for some of the big names as well. The two photographers I mentioned earlier spent part of their lunch in Arles analyzing the incomes of the big names present during the festival’s opening week. With a rare exception, they figured nobody was doing better than €80,000 annually. Were they right? There’s no way of knowing, other than to say that one of them is a financial expert and the other fairly well connected in the business.

Now, €80,000 in terms of take-home pay is very nice. Let’s be honest. Yet we’re talking about some of the household names of photography here; people who have molded the industry. They are the rock stars of our profession.

You also have to look at the hours that many professional photographers put in. My own working day is around 10-11 hours, sometimes more, Monday to Friday, Saturday too if I’m photographing a wedding. And Sundays, when I’m drowning in post-production. That’s not uncommon, certainly not among social photographers. That’s 60-70 hours. For that, professional photographers would hope to earn a reasonable income. Many aren’t.

Seen from that perspective, you could argue that the phrase professional photographer (to describe someone who makes a sensible financial income solely from taking and selling photographs) is a misnomer. According to the Rock Star Principle, professional photography as a stable earner really is dead.

Or is it? My thoughts in Part 4.

Pick a random professional photographer’s blog. Chances are it’ll be bristling with excitement, glamour, satisfaction, success and effortless financial reward.

The problem is, that’s not reality. Not for the majority, anyway. For some, a tiny group, life as a photographer really is all of those things. Bags of cash and incredible assignments. For many, it’s the opposite. Earning a living from photography is tough. It can be a hard, soul-destroying slog at times. It’s not often spoken about, certainly not on most professional photographers’ blogs.

You can’t blame them. I mean, unless you’re selling newspapers, gloom isn’t a great marketing device. Much better to sell yourself as breezily successful. Accentuate the positive – all that stuff.

Get a professional photographer alone over a beer or a coffee, however, and you’ll hear the other side. In the past few weeks, I’ve had lots of chats with colleagues. One high-end commercial photographer in the UK told me he hasn’t photographed a single job this year. Another said he has had only a single commission in 2011. Two established wedding photographers with international reputations told me that their bookings for this year are down by 40 per cent, maybe more – with no signs that next year will be any better. That’s on top of stories of photographers sleeping in their cars and studios. Locally, I know of at least three social photographers who have closed their commercial premises.

It isn’t all unrelentingly bad. I do know, or know of, photographers who are big commercial successes, even in these troubled times. They are in the minority, though. Let that be noted.

At the heart of the pain that many photographers are feeling is the remarkable way in which technology has unleashed a tidal wave of creative expression. It is now easier than ever before to produce technically and artistically proficient photographs. Even the cheapest DSLRs give you superb quality and the internet is loaded with first-rate advice about picture taking and post-production. The only barriers to people taking striking photographs and finding an audience are their work ethic and their talent – both of which can be nurtured.

Technology has also opened up revenue channels to the masses. A good example is Flickr, which calls itself “online photo management and sharing application”. Initially, it was just that: a place for photography enthusiasts to hang out, show work and have discussions. It still is. Except now Getty, the world’s biggest provider of stock photography, is selling work harvested from Flickr through a special programme that the site’s users can sign up for, such is the commercial quality of the work being uploaded.

This combination of a mass of commercially acceptable work and new distribution channels means that getting hold of suitable (or “suitable enough”) photography has driven down the value of stock photography. It can be had for cents now. The impact on the incomes of professional stock photographers has been profound.

The same is true of other areas of professional photography: weddings, editorial, corporate, advertising – you name it. The other day, I was asked by a national broadsheet here in Ireland for a photograph for a feature. When I asked about the reproduction fee, I was told there was no budget. I have no doubt that the feature appeared, suitably illustrated with work by a photographer happy to see their image in print in return only for a name check. Can you blame the paper? Not really. If people are willing to give their work for nothing, is that the publication’s problem?

So, here we are in a world in which professional photography isn’t providing the returns on investment it once did. Yes, there are still juicy assignments out there, along with photographers making big bucks. Thing is, how long will they stay at the top? In part 3 of this series, we’ll look at an intriguing theory offered up to me recently which we’ll call the “Rock Star Principle”.

NOTE: Sometimes people read into what I have written things that aren’t there. So, I have to state clearly for the record: I have no intention of giving up professional photography. This series of articles isn’t a precursor to my retirement.

It’s an interesting and inflammatory notion. The kind of thing that you could easily start an argument with. It is a great icebreaker at awards dinners, mind you.

In the weeks since Arles, I’ve had time to reflect on this idea and the thinking that underpins it. I’m clear in my mind now where I stand in relation to it. I say ‘in my own mind’ because that is an important distinction. How you view professional photography and the satisfaction you draw from it as a photographer are personal perspectives that will colour your vision.

So before we embark on this series of articles, I should explain the view through my own goggles.

1. A sense of artistic achievement in my work is very important. That’s not the case for everyone. There are plenty of professional photographers for whom artistic merit is second to financial return – either because they have decided that they are business people first, photographers second, or because they can’t take an original photograph to begin with. I’m going to argue in this series of articles that neither is healthy in the long term.

2. I also put a lot of stock in working with people who understand the value of good photography and respect what I do. Respect for photographers and photography is at an all-time low at the moment. Professional photographers aren’t blameless in this. Their actions in some instances, and their inaction in others, have contributed to the current image of professional photography among the public in general and their target market specifically. There are also reasons which are beyond the control of photographers. Either way, I have noticed a sharp change in attitudes towards professional photographers, which is causing friction between them and their clients.

3. Point 2 is one half of a two-way street. While I enjoy working with people who want to work with me, it is important that I can fulfill my side of the bargain as well: I must want to work with them. Over the past few years, I’ve become better at identifying which clients and projects appeal to me and interest me. That leads to better work and an enjoyable experience all round. One of the benefits of age is that you realize life is too short to waste by doing things that don’t engage you.

4. I would like my work to be significant in some way. It doesn’t have to be big. I have no ambition for my photographs to change the world. But I would like them to have a lasting meaning for someone, somewhere.

5. My work, the long hours I put in, the sacrifices I make (and the much bigger ones made by my wife) and the emotional roller coaster ride of running a small business should result in a comfortable pay grade. I’m not looking for riches, merely a nice return on my skills and hard work.

Those are the five key things that I would ideally like to get out of professional photography. They combine to present a dilemma. For the most part, full-time professional photography doesn’t fit well with them.

In part 2, we’ll look at the reality for many professional photographers in Ireland today.

NOTE: Sometimes people read into what I have written things that aren’t there. So, I have to state clearly for the record: I have no intention of giving up professional photography. This series of articles isn’t a precursor to my retirement.

In one instance, that honesty got me a free cup of coffee when a friend took time away from a demanding tender process to sit me down to give me a piece of advice. “Stay in the game,” he said. He’d heard me speak among friends far more freely than I would dare to here, and he was concerned I was about to announce my retirement from photography altogether. That, he said, would deprive people of something good. Actually, he was more complimentary than that even, but you get the point. And you can imagine how moved I was that he took the trouble to talk to me face-to-face.

I have my bad days and my melodramatic moments, but it isn’t my intention to leave photography. Quite the opposite. I’ve been working on a plan that will indeed keep me in the game; though not, perhaps, on the same playing fields.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that my wedding photography assignments are down this year by a shade under 40%, and next year is looking bleak. I wrote about the reasons here. In short: more photographers looking to eat from the same decreasing pie is making photographers put price at the forefront of their marketing strategies. I recently attended a meeting of wedding photographers in Dublin. There was a split in the room between what I would call the Artists and the Pragmatists. The Artists, by far the minority, emphasized personal vision and voice. The Pragmatists argued that professional photographers need to do whatever it takes to get the business: lower prices, give couples hundreds upon hundreds of images, do disc only, give more for less, whatever the brides wanted. I hardly need to tell you in which camp I have pitched my tent.

By choosing the side I have, I face a tough decision. It has become apparent that the niche I inhabit in the wedding photography market is not a very big one, and it is getting smaller. I have to face up to the reality that as my wedding bookings decline, each wedding I do photograph has to carry an increased burden in terms of covering the costs of my business. That in turn means less profit from each wedding with which to support my family. Eventually, it becomes unsustainable.

I can offset that decline in wedding work by increasing my corporate work. That is true, and you won’t be surprised to hear that corporate documentary photography is one strand of my business plan going forward, both here in Ireland and overseas. However, weddings are time-consuming, not just in terms of the work that goes into each assignment, but also the work (and costs) that go into marketing yourself. If the volume of wedding assignments doesn’t match up to the effort and expense of acquiring them, you’re faced with an imbalance in your business. Much like I am now. I have to decide whether the juice is worth the squeeze. While I still get massive enjoyment from my wedding photography, I have to be honest with myself and admit that it is no longer a profitable business for me to be in.

What does that mean in practical terms?

Well, I shall no longer market myself as a wedding photographer, or at least not very actively. If a bride and groom approach me who are a good fit, then I will likely take the assignment. That said, I shall soon be marketing a pretty radical wedding service based on what I learned at Ann Monteith’s recent seminar here in Ireland. It will be grounded firmly in the power of quality over quantity, emphasizing the value of individual photographs. It won’t be to everyone’s taste, but it will certainly be different. And expensive. It’ll make my wedding niche even smaller. But that’s fine. After all, it has already shrunk to an unsustainable size.

In addition to concentrating more on corporate assignments, I’ll be developing two new business ventures.

The first is the resurrection of The Circle of Confusion. Such was the feedback from the pilot film that Peter Cox, Neil McShane and I produced that we have taken the plunge and established a limited company to produce and distribute further programmes. We’ve developed what we think is a great formula for a landscape series and our initial intention is to concentrate on that.

My second new business venture must stay under wraps for a while longer, I’m afraid. It is almost ready to be launched, but is still being tweaked. I had honestly hoped to reveal it to you today. What I will say is that it is a venture that will generate photography opportunities for me indirectly. It also draws on not only my own past professional experience, but on that of a partner who has extensive experience as an editor. Together we’re going to be offering something very new, very much of this time, and I’d like to think very much of unparallelled quality. I’d like to say that it is unique, but I can’t because I don’t know for certain that it is.

Give it two weeks and I’ll reveal all. Promise.

Both of these new business ventures fulfill an important criteria. They connect with me in a particular way. They tie in to my ‘Why’, which gives them both a good chance of sustaining me in a satisfying way. Importantly, they will, if successful, allow me to keep that other part of my professional life going: professional photography. Yes, I’ll be a part-time professional photographer, but a professional photographer nonetheless.