Are You Ready for Representation? Why?
An American alligator (Alligator mississippiensis) rests masterfully at the surface of the water, so still that a damselfly rests quietly where his head meets his mouth. Photo and text by: Annalise Kaylor
About seven or eight years ago, I met with an agency I hoped would represent me, helping me meet new editors and land more assignments. For weeks before, I thoughtfully prepared my galleries for their review and reworked my artist statement. I was really proud of the work I had done and how the entire project came together. Then, I was given feedback, rejected, and told to try again in the future.
It wasn’t that my photography was not up to snuff. They liked my style, and my technical aptitude was fine. I had a body of work that was decent in volume, but I hadn’t fully considered how that body of work could be edited down to best represent me and how I see the world with my camera.
This is why I was rejected.
The editors I met with gave me feedback about what I should focus on before seeking representation with them again. My eye for photojournalism was strong, and I had the right gut instincts about what are or are not good stories, but I wasn’t creating work that had a voice. I was holding back and being too objective and straightforward with my lens. They could “predict” what some of my images in a story would be because they’ve seen it all a million times over.
Essentially, I was cliché. Ouch.
For example, I put together a photo essay about the cost of our relentless reliance on plastic. The panel of photo editors agreed that the concept was on point and the images were “good,” but overall, my photos lacked the dimension necessary to make the story truly powerful. They lacked the depth and range needed to engage with my work. They were great photos to illustrate an article along the same lines, but it was clear it was one of my first big personal projects. It was surface-level and needed more.
After some self-examination, I realized that I was hyper-focused on technical execution as a photographer because it was easier than working on being a photographer who has something to say. I realized I was looking at my work as a photographer and not as a viewer, and I needed to challenge myself to look at my work in new ways, both in how I made my photos and how I critiqued them afterward.
Since that review, I’ve put considerable effort into virtually every aspect of my work. It hasn’t been easy; I’ve had some strong conversations with myself and others have had some strong conversations with me. But every ounce of it has made me a better, stronger, more focused photographer.
This week, I met with that agency and that same senior photo editor again about representation. I was told that my photography has a voice, it has depth, and it has focus. Just as importantly, my goals as a working photographer are clear. They were pleased to offer me a spot on their roster of photographers and looked forward to representing me and my work moving forward. I may or may not have jumped up and down and scared the dogs when the call was over.
It doesn’t matter if you have one year or twenty under your belt as a photographer - validation never gets old. I’ve wanted to be repped by this agency since the start of my career. I wasn’t ready when I first approached them, and I feel a sense of embarrassment now that I know how much better and more prepared my work is. I cringe (literally) when I think back to the galleries they saw all those years - not even one of those photos remains in my portfolio today. At the same time, had I not put myself through that cringe-worthy experience, I wouldn’t have had the feedback directly from the agency I wanted most to join.
Many of you have expressed interest in finding a gallery or agency to represent you, whether for fine art sales or landing assignments. One of the biggest components to that part of the business of wildlife photography is understanding if, where, and how your photography fits within the galleries, agencies, or clients you most wish to land. This is a BIG topic, though, and isn’t just as simple as “My photo is as good as the photo by that other photographer on their site.”
Since finding out my work was going to have a home, I’ve been tasked with now preparing every aspect of my photography to be reviewed, curated, sequenced, and readied for the actual representation part of this. While I’ve done the (never-ending) work of finding my visual voice and fine-tuning my process and focus, I still have an enormous amount of work to get ready for the actual representation part.
I thought it would be valuable to share the process as I go through it with my work and representation. I know having a clear picture of what it takes to get here could have shaved years off my own process. Thus, it’s my hope that this will help anyone looking for representation save some time off their process, too.
As the first part of the process, I need to present 800 images from my archive to my photo editor at the agency. But I can’t just pick any 800 images and call it a day. There needs to be the same level of dedication to this as I put into my actual making of the photo. Once I’ve done this part, my editor will go through the collection, select my best work, and start sequencing them. The order the photos appear on my website and in my portfolio is just as important as the photos themselves, so having a skilled editor’s eye for how they will be arranged adds impact.
My “best” work is subjective, because this part is tailored specifically to my goals as a photographer and the kind of clients and work I most want. Knowing I want to continue my work with non-profits and NGOs in the wildlife, conservation, and climate change space, I’m obviously not including photos from my days covering the 2016 presidential elections. That’s the easy part of the first pass for me. What is relevant to that one specific target market?
In choosing these images, I have to remove myself as the photographer (to an extent) and critique my work with rigidity. This is an area where most photographers struggle. We tend to show off the photos we are most connected with and love versus what is actually the better photo. The bias struggle is real.
I want to go over what that looks like as I evaluate my own photos with a more critical eye. The first part of that is understanding what photos in my archive communicate “my why.” Simon Sinek, in his now-famous TED talk says, “People don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it.” It’s the same for photography. People, whether collectors or editors or designers or clients, don’t buy our photography, they buy the way our photography communicates something with which there is connection. A fine art collector may buy a print because it adds a peaceful feeling to their home. A designer might buy a piece because it brings harmony to a room. A gallery owner may choose your work because it challenges the status quo and ignites conversation. An editor might see the potential to ignite conversations.
In the book, From Context and Narrative in Photography, Clemont Greenberg, one of the most influential art critics of the 20th century said, “The purely descriptive or informative is almost as great a threat to the art of photography as the purely formal or abstract.” That was written in 1964 and it holds up today. Knowing where you and your photography fit within the spectrum of the industry is the goal.
Most of us are genre-based photographers, choosing to specialize in one area - wildlife photography. Within that genre, we may specialize in mammals or birds or macro. It could be anything. But there is one thing that I think holds true across the board, regardless of specialty - when your heart is in that work and it’s a subject you truly love, it shows in your photography. There’s intention and understanding and depth.
Let’s use Christina Mittermeier (Mitty) as an example of this. She is an expert photographer, conservationist, and biologist and she is producing a body of work that only she could - it’s who she is and when you’re scrolling through Instagram or flipping through a magazine, you don’t even need to read the byline to say, “That’s a Mitty photo.” Her point of view, her voice, and her aesthetic is all there on full display.
At the beginning of my career, to be completely honest, my “why” was just to prove proficiency. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time, but I came to realize that I spent too much time trying to achieve a level of technical expertise that only other photographers might recognize.
Well, I’m not making my work to earn platitudes from other photographers.
Now I’ve had enough time and experience to realize why I do what I do. If you’ve been in the field with me or heard me speak about my approach to visual storytelling before, you’ve likely heard me say that my “why” with my photography and video work is “to guide the heart and move the mind.”
I like to work with organizations that invest in improving our world, especially so if they work on a small scale. I like to bring awareness to conservation issues in a way that isn’t overwhelming—I don’t need to take on all of the climate crisis, I just want Jane in Ohio to see in my work one thing she can do today that will improve her world tomorrow.
All of these things are behind my first curation of 800 images. Working through my archive, I am asking myself if each photo communicates my need to guide the heart and move the mind.
Is there depth?
Does it trigger a conversation in my head?
Is the point lost in the busy composition?
Is this a point of view I’ve not really projected before?
Does this provide a new take on the subject?
Are viewers introduced to something most people don’t know?
Who else has photographed this subject, and does this feel like copying their work?
Most importantly, perhaps, is asking if this photo ignites any connection or engagement. For example, a photograph of someone crying is technically a photo with emotion - but it might not elicit an emotional response from someone viewing the photograph. But how we choose to work with the light, the composition, the color - they all play a part in elevating that potential for an emotional response.
Though we use our eyes to guide our experience with photography, it’s been proven many times over that our other senses are triggered when our eyes transmit an image that connects powerfully with the brain. Some people report hearing sounds when they look at photographs, while others smell something from a memory that the photograph brought back to life.
If I remove how it felt to make this photo, does it still say the same thing or feel the same way? Or is it simply informational, communicating only the facts? Informational-only photos are dull. They’re like verbs and nouns - they’re only exciting if the subject is exciting.
I approach this sort of “connectivity audit” by looking at my photos and describing them out loud. After doing so, I ask, “Does this photo elicit anything that I didn’t describe?” And if the answer is “No,” then I know I have an informational, boring photo. The words of critic John Berger come to mind, “ You cannot take photographs with a dictionary.” (As an aside, if you haven’t seen his series “Way of Seeing” on the BBC, it’s worth watching despite being made many decades ago - I’ve seen the episodes on YouTube)
All of this isn’t to say that information-only photos aren’t worth making. We all still make them and they certainly have their uses. Almost all stock photography skews highly informational, for example. But strive to find ways of moving beyond simply informational with every subject. When you create a photo of a subject that is also engaging, provocative, or demonstrative of something bigger - the information is still in that photo, too.
Your “why” is your cynosure, especially for those looking to make a name in the fine art world, as many of you have communicated you are. In the course of seeking representation or a gallery home, you’ll be required many times over to explain your photography with words, and your visuals need to communicate those words when they are unspoken. Your “why” can change over time, but eventually, when someone asks about your work, it should roll off your tongue without hesitation. After all, if YOU can’t articulate your work, how do you expect a gallery owner to do so, let alone sell it? How will they explain how you’re different from their other photographers?
At the request of the agency, I’m not sharing their name or that of the editor at this point. But I can share my experience and I plan to. When the first curation and sequencing are wrapped, I’ll be sharing what was kept, what was scrapped, and why some images made the cut and others didn’t.
In the meantime, I’ve included a couple of exercises to help you discover your “why.” It can be simple. It can be complex. It can even be simply complex. But it needs to be yours.
START WITH WHY
This first exercise is to write down all of the reasons you are a photographer. All of the reasons you love going out with your camera. The reasons you photograph the subjects you do. What is your favorite part of sharing your work? What do people say about you when they describe your photography?
Make a list, then check for themes that come into play from a few of the answers. From there, try to create a 2-3 sentence response to the question, “Why are you a wildlife photographer?”
36 FRAMES
This is an exercise I give to virtually every workshop group that comes out with Jared and me. Every time you move to make a photo, ask yourself, “Would I make this photograph if I only had a roll of 36 frames of film in this camera?”
Take your camera off of high-speed continuous shooting and change it to single shot the next time you’re out photographing wildlife. Photograph with intention. Evaluate the light and the mood. Evaluate the color. Look around to see if there is a better, non-reactive composition. Challenge yourself to approach the photograph in a way completely opposite of your normal M.O.
We water down our vision as photographers when we are in the moment of it all. It’s easy to “just take the photo” because it’s only data and data can be easily disposed of. When you impose arbitrary limits on your work, you learn and grow.