Any port in a storm?

HMS The Still Image was a fine vessel in her day, safely conveying a select group of passengers to ports stocked with bountiful produce. To board her you had to be in the photographic elite but once you had a ticket, you’d be well looked after, your images respected, valued and capable of providing a healthy living. And then, one day, the omnipresent sun disappeared behind a cloud and a few stowaways sneaked onto The Still Image (I was one of them). And then a few more and a few more. The gallant vessel ploughed on but now more slowly, burdened as she was with extra passengers. As word got around, more and more piled on – a few with valid tickets but many simply lured by the tenuous promise of an easy passage to an easy career in a photographic Shangri-la. The storm clouds gathered and the once spacious, comfortable cabins were now packed full with hungry, ambitious and in some cases, unscrupulous, photographers. They all wanted a slice of the action and who could blame them? With limited space and dwindling supplies, passengers started to squabble like fractious children, like vultures fighting over a rotting carcass.

And so here am I today sitting astride the prow of The Still Image watching the water rise and pondering. The lifeboats have been launched and photographers everywhere are scrambling to save themselves as The Still Image slowly sinks under its own weight. The days of plenty are no more. The promise of a sun-kissed utopian life with a camera in hand is an empty one. The photographic elite have been consumed by a voracious swarm of ‘award-winning’ fresh talent and face a future of uncertainty that was unthinkable just a few years ago.

On the horizon is a distant land, unknown, unchartered. The lifeboat has one more space but even if I jump in, where will it take me? Back to port with all the others and the inevitability of more infighting? The distant island looks tempting, a risk yes but one worth taking? I know that I’m not alone on that prow. Many photographers I speak to today see uncertainty ahead of them. Who is the audience for my images? What do they want from me? How much are they willing to pay? I’ve not heard too many convincing answers to any of these questions. There’s no doubt that demand for visual imagery is still high but competition has seen prices plummet and petty one-upmanship become commonplace. It’s difficult to retain dignity faced with an empty dinner table.

So what of that distant island? Will the innovators, the pioneers, the storytellers, turn their backs on the lifeboat and strike out in a fresh direction; build a new life founded on a new product or service? I hope so. The seas might be infested with sharks but surely better run that gauntlet than face a slow, painful demise scrapping over that rotting carcass.

I love photographing polar bears but does the world really need another image like this? There are 22,000+ polar bear images in Alamy’s library alone.


The face of change.

A meeting with colleagues this last week proved to be a tad dispiriting with talk of rapid and widespread change within the business of nature photography. Stock sales are in massive decline, tours are more difficult to sell and print sales are almost non-existent – all traditional revenue streams. There is undoubtedly increased demand for nature imagery but this is countered by the massive upsurge in supply over recent years. Everyone it seems, wants to be a nature photographer (who can blame them) and the market is knocking at the door of saturation. The spectre of image fatigue also hangs in the air – it’s simply more challenging than ever to elicit a reaction from an audience perpetually bombarded with top-class material. Factor in economic uncertainty and I’d like to meet the photographer who disagrees that times are tough.

So what of the future? What of the keen young fellow I met recently who was desperate to give up his (well paid) day job to follow his dream of becoming a photographer? Two years ago I’d have had a good stab at answering these questions – I’m less sure now.

It’s not all doom and gloom though. Think Harry Potter. No, I tell you what, think Billy Elliott or Bridget Jones. All great films. All absorbing entertainment. The former perhaps relies on outrageous budgets but the latter two are just simple tales: stories. We love stories – as a species I mean. We’re hard-wired for stories. It doesn’t matter if they’re in book form or in 3D wraparound film format. A good story is always in demand – always will be (think Jackanory if you’re old enough).

And let’s face it, nature offers story-telling photographers untold material – we just have to package that material and importantly, make sure our stories are told. And therein lies the future I think. There are plenty of photographers who have something to say and then there are the few who know how to say it. In a volatile marketplace that’s perhaps the crux of it, and I for one, retain my optimism for a future that might look very different but will still welcome the modern-day yarn-spinner.