“This book isn’t about lighting or technique.  It’s about how you think about photography, how it intertwines with your life, how it excites your passion.” David Ziser – Digital Pro Talk

“Just got a gr8 new book frm @syl_arena called LIDLIPS. EZ read & full of pearls of wisdom 4 photogs. I luv this bk.” Kevin Kubota – Kubota Imaging Tools (via Twitter)

“Syl Arena has come out with his new book. LIDLIPS or Lessons I Didn’t Learn in Photo School is a an insightful and humorous book looking at what it is we do as photographers.” Moose Peterson – Wildlife Photographer

Buy your autographed LIDLIPS directly from PixSylated for $14.95, plus shipping.

Or you can buy LIDLIPS from Amazon or Barnes & Noble (unsigned, of course).

Buy LIDLIPS on Amazon.

Buy LIDLIPS on Barnes & Noble

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School opens up new territory for photographers. As our world becomes increasingly cluttered with cameras, there are fewer people who truly understand the nature of photography. Refreshingly, LIDLIPS presents thought-provoking insights on photography as art, philosophy, science, business, and lifestyle. This collection of 100 micro-essays discusses photography from angles you’ve likely never considered: relationships, persistence, creativity, leadership, confidence. In a unique voice, LIDLIPS proves that there is much more to crafting great photographs and being a photographer than knowing how to operate a camera.

Author Syl Arena spent many years in photo school-eventually earning a BFA in fine art photography. Yet, the most important lessons he learned about being a photographer, he learned by being a father, husband, business owner, mentor, and artist. Photography, it turns out, has more to do with who you are as a person than with the brand of gear you use. For both amateurs and pros, LIDLIPS will expand your understanding of photography and inspire you to create images in completely new ways.

Here’s a sampling of a few LIDLIPS titles:
#1 – If you can’t be remarkable, be memorable.
#17 – Learn to think of the viewfinder as optional.
#22 – There is nothing more interesting to us than photographs of other people.
#32 – Be open to your camera capturing realities you did not see. #46 – Creativity comes as a breeze before it comes as a gale.
#56 – Hollywood is waiting to teach you how to light.
#68 – Making yourself vulnerable is a sign of strength.
#77 – Play photography like a team sport.
#83 – Sometimes the best way to see something is to not look straight at it.
#92 – The exotic is easy. The common is hard.

If you’re curious about the results of the “votes” on the eight LIDLIPS cover candidates from last week’s post, read on.

About the new LIDLIPS Cover

Many thanks to the 100+ PixSylarians who added their comments to last week’s post that presented eight cover designs.

^ The clear winner was Minimalist #8–with almost 50% of the votes. This black cover was my favorite among the bunch too.

^ The second most popular was Red #1–which received 30% of the votes.

What impacted me the most were the five people who said that they did not like any of the options. My friend, John Paul Caponigro, was the first dissenter and stepped up to do what any friend should do during a critique–be passionately honest. JP wrote:

Syl!
None of the above.
They’re all way too generic for you and a new book concept.
They don’t leverage your sexy color photographs or your distinctive hairdoo.
This is a great opportunity to assert the image of your brand.
Don’t play it safe.
You with a thousand flashes going off over your head.
You in an interesting environment looking off into space camera on the ground.
You and something high concept 21st century.
Be bold. Be distinctive. You are. So this cover should be too.
That’s my vote.

Within minutes of reading JP’s comments, I headed back to the drawing board (literally). My take-away was the huge disconnect between the cover candidates and the tone of the LIDLIPS. I see my LIDLIPS as being modern, bold, brief, and willing to test the boundaries of  photography. [As for me with a thousand flashes going off over my head, that's the tone of my next book–Speedliter's Handbook–to be published next spring.]

For the cover photo, I choose one of my favorite photos from the past year. It’s a photo of nothing more than light. I whimsically fired off my camera while walking down a sidewalk. I don’t remember what I was responding to–but there was something there that inspired me. No focus. No composition. No exposure setting. I just fired. The machine responded and collected a load of photons. I think it’s one of the strongest images I’ve ever made. [Sneak peek: LIDLIPS #101, A photograph does not have to be about anything.]

The design elements were inspired by a number of readers. Anna hit the nail on the head when she wrote:

The first time I saw one of your photographs it took my breath away. It was an image used for a LIDLIPS blog entry, delivered into my inbox earlier this year. I think you should use one of your own unique and compelling photographs for the book cover with the acronym “LIDLIPS” reversed out, (large, if you prefer) across the top, and then in smaller type “Lessons I …” and the sub-head somewhere at the bottom. This will guarantee striking, clean layout that reflects what the book is about, and because of the image, a more effective way to sell the book.

My friend, Bob Ray, reminded me of my ultimate goal with these powerful words: While photography is art to be viewed, book covers are art to entice a sale. As much as my ego would like to believe that every photographer knows about my brand and my persona, I am reminded that the world is a much larger place than I think it is and that the vast majority of people who see this cover online or in a bookstore will never have heard of me before.

In the end, I’m very happy with this cover–and very grateful that I had so many “beta-testers” for the earlier versions. There’s nothing I want to add, nor anything I feel it could do without.  All encouragement about my crazy hair and flash madness aside, this cover is a reflection of who I am and the Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School.

This Week’s LIDLIPS

96. Don’t confuse distraction with creativity.

97. There are many ways to cross the chasms.

98. Mistakes happen. Get used to starting over.

99. Listen to the resonance inside.

100. Be prepared for your dreams to come true (at least a few of them).

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 96–100!

96. Don’t confuse distraction with creativity.
Creatives often think that they are working their craft when actually they are just really distracted. Saying to yourself “Because I’m a creative, it’s OK for me to [surf the web, hang out on Twitter, watch a movie, play a video game, your favorite distraction here].” Sure there are times when you need to take a break. Be honest about how you spend your time. Learn to tell the difference between procrastination and a creative recharge.

97. There are many ways to cross the chasms.
The more you define your life by your photography, the more you’ll encounter the chasms of self-doubt and lost-enthusiasm. These are common emotions for shooters to go through (again and again). Sometimes our chasms are wide, but shallow. Other times, they may be deep, but narrow. These are the easy chasms. The hard ones are both wide and deep. For the big ones, you have several options: back up and get a running start, build a bridge or take the long way around. The important point to remember is that if you want to get across, you’ll find a way.

98. Mistakes happen. Get used to starting over.
Mistakes happen and work disappears. In the film days, images were lost when the distraction of an engaging conversation in the darkroom lead to the bathing of film in fixer before the developer – resulting in a clear strip of acetate. Today, hard drives get corrupted or memory cards are reformatted before the files are copied off. Get used to the idea that work will be lost. Sometimes it will be your fault. Other times, it will be the oversight of another. Either way, get back to work. If you were creative enough to make a great image one time, you’re creative enough to make another equally compelling image. Sure, it won’t be the same image you made before. Sure, the scene or the moment may never happen again. You can quit. Or you can move forward. It’s your choice. Have a quick tantrum and get back to creating. You’ll likely find that what you create the second time around is more interesting than your first pass.

99. Listen to the resonance inside.
The most difficult lesson to learn about photography has nothing to do with cameras or light. Rather it has to do with embracing your inner voice. We live in a world that incessantly shouts and beams messages to us. Marketers mercilessly pitch solutions to problems that we do not have. Friends are happy to tell us what they think we should do when they have little clue as to what they should do. There is in each of us our own voice – unique from all the others. Listen and learn to trust that subtle voice. Pay attention to it. Discover what its resonance feels like when you encounter a lesson that you need to learn or a scene that you “must” photograph. You will find, without really understanding why, that you resonate with certain people, places and concepts. Let the resonance draw you in and show you what matters for you. Conversely, allow the lack of resonance to guide you away from situations and events that have little to offer you.

100. Be prepared for your dreams to come true (at least a few of them).
Living as a photographer is a tough journey. It is far easier for others to ignore you or put you down than to celebrate your work. Your persistence, passion and originality are a trident that you must carry – even when weary. If you hang on long enough, then your dreams (at least a few of them) will come true. Don’t let the delay in their arrival cause you to dismiss their worth. Your dreams, your hopes, your aspirations all have value – because they are yours. Celebrate the arrival of each and every dream. Then, use the celebration as a stepping stone to continue on with your journey as a photographer.

Previous Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School

The entire LIDLIPS Series

This Week’s LIDLIPS

91. Look along the edges to find the in-between.

92. The exotic is easy. The common is hard.

93. Allow yourself to be captured.

94. Ignorance is relative.

95. Creativity mixes with safety about as well as olive oil mixes with club soda.

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 91–95

91. Look along the edges to find the in-between.
Without serenity as its opposite, chaos is not chaotic – it’s normal. Likewise, light cannot be known in the absence of darkness. Nor can poverty be understood in the absence of wealth. Contrast adds power to images. For dramatic light, seek not the storm – rather race to where it collides with the calm. For social commentary, show not the child in squalor – rather show the child in squalor that washes against the shore of prosperity. To create powerful images, look for the spaces in-between. As you wander, you’ll not find contrast in the middle – rather you’ll find it along the edges.

92. The exotic is easy. The common is hard.
Many photographers travel great distances to better their craft. Upon returning home, their peers marvel at the spoils of the adventure: distinctive portraits, dramatic landscapes, and shots of intriguing food, flora and fauna. The moment you point your lens at an exotic subject, the journey to creating an interesting photograph is half-finished. The second-half is often completed by technology rather than intention. If you really want to hone yourself as a photographer, then point your lens at the people, places and things around you everyday. When you can routinely craft an image that captures a new way of seeing the common, then you are truly growing as a photographer.

93. Allow yourself to be captured.
I had an image in my head and went into the desert to create it. I worked diligently for hours – directing my action with my vision. When I was done, I stood there – still and silent – among the Joshuas. Day had given way to night. As the spreading darkness took away my sight, I came to see that I had failed. My vision had been an expression of my intellect and not of the emotion of the desert. Rather than think more, I listened. The vastness of the desert silence began to capture me. The more I listened, the more I saw the desert anew. Under a tightly woven blanket of stars, I started to work again. Eventually I created the image that I unknowingly had come to the desert to create. It was not an expression of me. It was an expression of how I had been captured by the desert.

94. Ignorance is relative.
‘Everyone already knows this’ is the knife that many photographers use to edit their work even before it’s created. Remember that our individual journeys give each of us unique insights. No one knows everything. Even to an educated man that which is unknown sounds insightful. Your journey has value. Share it.

95. Creativity mixes with safety about as well as olive oil mixes with club soda.
As a creative, your ideas will spawn efforts and your efforts will generate new ideas. When your creativity is really humming along, without warning you will eventually discover that you are completely alone in territory that you don’t recognize. You’ll think “this is garbage, no one will [like, understand, buy] this. Consider whether your self-doubt is driven by the newness of the idea and the unfamiliarity of the terrain. Set aside fear and intimidation. Let go of the side of the swimming pool. The frontier of creativity is untamed and largely unknown. Eventually the frontier becomes Main St. By then, if you remain a creative, you’ll be racing out to new horizons that are equally unknown.

Previous Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School

The entire LIDLIPS Series

This Week’s LIDLIPS

86. Embrace stress as the opposite of apathy.

87. The frames of history are meant to be broken.

88. A camera is not a license to be a jerk.

89. Kodachrome is dead. Long live Kodachrome.

90. If you don’t make a lot of photographs that you didn’t intend, then you’re not working hard enough or, maybe, you’re working too hard.

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 41–45

86. Embrace stress as the opposite of apathy.
A violinist once pointed out that tension is absolutely necessary for him to make beautiful music. If his bow is too tight, it will snap. If his bow is too loose, the strings will wail rather than sing. The key, he said, is to have the right amount of tension. Likewise, as a photographer, I’m always tense at the beginning of a shoot. Rather than get more stressed because I’m stressed, I’ve come to embrace the tension as a signal that I really care about what I’m doing. Consider your stress to be an indication that you are focused on the outcome of your efforts. If you start an important shoot and don’t feel some stress, then you really have something to worry about.

87. The frames of history are meant to be broken.
It’s curious that the 2×3 format of the modern DSLR sensor harkens back to a commercial effort over a century ago to make silent movies cheaper to produce. Given that DSLRs were largely derived from 35mm film cameras, it important to note that the 35mm format was originally intended in 1892 by its inventors (which included Thomas Edison and George Eastman) to be an affordable format for movie cameras – which ran the film vertically. (35mm is the actual width of the film.) Twenty-five years later, on the brink of World War I, the then industry-standard cine format was incorporated into experimental still cameras that ran the film horizontally – in a frame measuring 24mm x 36mm (giving us the 2×3 aspect ratio). Another common photo format, the 8×10, traces its roots back to an early era when large prints were made as contact prints from equally large negatives. In America the standard for letter paper is 8.5×11. Almost everywhere else in the world A4 is the standard for letters at 8.3×11.7. TVs have recently morphed from 4:3 to 16:9. So many numbers. In the jungle of all these formats, one can either chuckle or cry about the cacophony of aspect ratios that confront the photographer. I choose to reject the frames of history whenever I feel like it. My view is that decisions made by entrepreneurs and engineers should in no way limit or steer my vision. Even when peering through the 2×3 ratio of my Canon DSLR, I feel completely free to see the world in any ratio of height and width that I choose.

88. A camera is not a license to be a jerk.
Why is it that some photographers loose their sense of responsibility and compassion when they pick up a camera? How do bits of metal, plastic and glass empower some shooters to discard their humanity and turn into overlords? After all, it’s just a piece of machinery that they are holding. The opportunity to photograph others should stimulate a sense of service rather than an obsession to dominate. Now, don’t get me wrong. When I’m making images, I feel a strong obligation to shepherd my subjects while they are in front of my lens. I won’t hesitate to guide them and control the process. I’ll pick wardrobe, guide makeup and select props. I tell them my vision. I ask them to move this way or that. I direct where their eyes look. The difference is that I take charge for the benefit of the photos that will be produced and not out of a need to be authoritative. As the photographer, it’s my responsibility to make the best images I can and to not waste the time of my subjects. Being a director is different from being a dictator. What I don’t understand is why some guys (and they always seem to be guys) feel that holding a camera is a badge of authority and a license to be a jerk.

89. Kodachrome is dead. Long live Kodachrome.
Kodak recently announced that it was discontinuing the production of Kodachrome – the finely-grained slide film used by generations of National Geographic photographers (and legions of us who aspired to be Nat Geo photographers). Kodak’s announcement surprised me – not because I thought Kodachrome would be around forever – but because I thought it had died years ago. In my digital world, Kodachrome and all the other Chromes became anachronisms when I shelved my film gear in favor of an electronic workflow. Upon hearing the recent news, I felt no guilt or loss over Kodachrome’s demise. After all, I can get the look of Kodachrome in any number of Photoshop presets. It used to be that you’d buy a particular film for the way it handled color. Now, you just drive to that same end by moving a few sliders on the computer monitor. Surprisingly, many photographers truly lamented Kodachrome’s death as if part of their personas had passed on too. For me, it’s a sad day when photographers identify more with their gear and supplies than they do with the images they create. Ultimately we have to ask if the image or the process matters most.

90. If you don’t make a lot of photographs that you didn’t intend, then you’re not working hard enough or, maybe, you’re working too hard.
I’m not too proud to say that many of my best images are ones I didn’t intend to make. My hero shots are often images that I came upon as I ventured down a visual path during a shoot. It doesn’t matter if I’m in the studio, on location or just rambling around – I’m often surprised by the photos I find that weren’t there a moment before. When I’m in a good state of mind, I stumble over pictures again and again. One visual thought leads to another and another. Coming away with a lot of pix that I didn’t intend is a sign that I’m open to inspiration. Coming away with just a few pix is a sign that I’m either being lazy or much too wound up to allow myself to truly see.

Previous Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School

The entire LIDLIPS Series

This Week’s LIDLIPS

81. The boldest creatives dance on the tightrope when it has no safety net.

82. If you don’t believe in your self, then don’t expect others to believe in you.

83. Sometimes the best way to see something is to not look straight at it.

84. The enslavement of photography as a 2-D medium will one day be thought of as ancient history.

85. Get used to the idea of other people running forward with your ideas.

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 81–85

81. The boldest creatives dance on the tightrope when it has no safety net.
Creativity flows best when it’s unleashed without concern for outcome. Steering creativity away from potential failure simultaneously steers creativity away from potential success. Rather than be paralyzed by the fear of failure, the boldest creatives are energized by the opportunity to find a new way to succeed. A tightrope without a net could be an opportunity to fall. Likewise, a tightrope without a net could be seen as an opportunity to dance like one has never danced before. The only difference is one’s state of mind when stepping out onto the rope.

82. If you don’t believe in your self, then don’t expect others to believe in you.
Your journey as a photographer will be degrade periodically into a vat of self-doubt. Often there will be no warning before you find your emotions plunging into an abyss. As photographers, we wear our insides on the outside. Our best images show the world what we think and how we feel. Rejection can bash around our souls like a pinball at the arcade. One over-zealous comment from an editor, one job not given by a prospect, one errant comment from a spouse or dear friend and the emotional free-fall starts. Likewise, sometimes your sense of worth will come from these same people – like a buoy during stormy seas. Ultimately though, it is always your sense of self-worth that will serve as the barometer for others when it comes to how much faith they should put in you. Your journey back to the surface often begins with the simple mantra “I believe in my self” – saying it again and again even when you don’t. Eventually you will. And when you do, so will others.

83. Sometimes the best way to see something is to not look straight at it.
When we’re not thinking about it, our vision is driven by intuition. Our eyes dance and flit around without a specific purpose. As photographers we are captured again and again by sights – captured initially without understanding the source of the magnetism that drew us in. When we truly see, what we experience is not what’s in front of us, but rather our connection to what’s in front of us. Conversely, when we look too hard, we often cannot see.

84. The enslavement of photography as a 2-D medium will one day be thought of as ancient history.
For millennia, we made pictures without understanding the principles of perspective. We expressed ourselves on cave walls, animal skins, cloth and paper. Then the birth of the camera obscura during the Renaissance created an understanding of two-dimensional vision. Our ability to decode sets of converging lines and the size of one object relative to another has served us well for the past 600 years or so. For the most part, photography has followed this path. We may be in the midst of a digital revolution that is replacing drops of ink with pixels of light – but photography by and large remains a way of reducing our three-dimensional experiences into displays of tone and color spread across a flat surface. Even our brief forays into 3-D technology for the most part rely upon the visual merger of two images initially presented in 2-D. Looking forward, just as the Paleolithics who painted their enchanting pictures of horses and cows on cave walls had no concept that perspective and photography would ever be invented, I’ve no idea what the distant future of photography will look like. I am certain, however, that our never-ending search for more faithful and efficient ways of capturing and portraying the world around us will one day take us across a threshold that renders the era of 2-D photography as primitive as an aboriginal hand painting seems to us.

85. Get used to the idea of other people running forward with your ideas.
The thing I hate most about not getting a job that I’ve pitched hard is knowing that some other shooter will likely benefit from the ideas contained in my proposal. In hindsight, I often chide myself over ideas given away in good faith while pursuing a job that I really wanted to land. There’s a delicate balance – one that’s hard to see at the moment – between collaborating with a prospect during the pitch and not giving her enough insight into my creativity.  Every time a noteworthy project slips beyond my grasp, I put myself under cross-examination about what I did and didn’t do.  Through the years, I’ve decided that my creativity is meant to be shared. But, the bitterness still returns every time I have to swallow the pill of knowledge that someone else is running forward with a few of my ideas.

Previous Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School

The entire LIDLIPS Series

This Week’s LIDLIPS

76. Ignoring the manual is no longer manly.

77. Play photography as a team sport.

78. Your ‘Decisive Moment’ is still out there.

79. Spend more time shooting that you do reading web forums and blogs.

80. Photography from Tarzan’s perspective.

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 76–80

76. Ignoring the manual is no longer manly.
It used to be that an owner’s manual was discarded along with the box and styrofoam inserts that held a new camera. No longer. Today the manual should be read several times (as painful as that may be) and then put in your gear bag. Seriously. No matter how smart you are, no matter how much you use your gear, there will come a day when a mental hiccup blocks out that one technical step that gets you the shot you want. Today’s DSLRs and speedlights have so many features that it’s no longer manly (or smart) to ignore the manual.

77. Play photography as a team sport.
In many ways, photography is a team sport. Anytime you are shooting a subject that’s breathing, there’s an interplay through the lens. On more complicated shoots, there can be assistants, grips, gaffers, makeup artists, stylists for hair, wardrobe and props. You may have an art director and/or a client on set. It’s important to understand that even though you may be the one pushing the button, your photograph is the scorecard for how well any number of people are working together.

78. Your ‘Decisive Moment’ is still out there.
There’s a phenomenon that people who achieve intense fame or success go through when they realize that their career may have just crossed over its zenith. The thought that their best work has already come and gone pulls many creatives down quickly. No matter how successful or renowned or infamous you become, continue to remind yourself that your best photo has yet to be made. Doing so assures that it’s true.

79. Spend more time shooting than you do reading web forums and blogs.
It’s too easy to be in the world of photography without being a photographer these days. While the web has quickly made huge amounts of information and insight available, it’s important that you spend more time shooting than you do reading forums and blogs. When it comes to honing your craft and developing your vision, there is no substitute for a long trail of decisions and mistakes that you make on your own.

80. Photography from Tarzan’s perspective.
Many people romanticize the life of a photographer as if it was Tarzan swinging through the jungle from vine to vine. They see it as a glamorous and exciting life – full of momentum and confidence. Sure there may be moments when you want to agree. But then there’s a vine that’s just a bit too short or a tree that’s in the wrong place – and suddenly the momentum of your career or your enthusiasm for your hobby comes to a sudden halt. Every photographer goes through periods when he or she can’t make a decent photo. Every photographer has periods that seem to move backwards rather than forwards. I’m sure that when Tarzan loses his momentum, he just climbs back to the top of a tall tree and grabs a new vine. No matter how dismal your photography may seem at the moment, don’t give up on yourself. Jump off that safe limb and grab a vine. Sometimes saying “I can do this” is all it takes to get started again.

Previous Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School

The entire LIDLIPS Series

This Week’s LIDLIPS

71. When you’ve got nothing to lose, don’t be afraid to lose.

72. Choose your friends wisely.

73. Listen for answers to questions you didn’t ask.

74. “Thank” and “you” are two of the most powerful words in the universe.

75. If Columbus had been a photographer.

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 71–75

71. When you’ve got nothing to lose, don’t be afraid to lose.
It’s not failure that holds us back. It’s the fear of failing. More often than not, when we’re afraid of failing, we won’t even try. Or, if we try, we’ll try timidly rather than boldly. The ironic part about this is that when we’re starting out as photographers and have virtually nothing to lose is when we’re the most fearful. If you have nothing to lose, put your fear in a box and shoot like you’ve never shot before.

72. Choose your friends wisely.
In a world full of Flickr groups and Twitter, it’s too easy to make “friends” today. If you surround yourself with people who always praise your images (as is often the case on Flickr), then you’ll rise to a solid level of mediocrity. What a photographer really needs are friends who will give honest, qualified opinions about your work. So, if all the feedback you’re getting about your work is positive, find a different set of friends.

73. Listen for answers to questions you didn’t ask.
Recently I was interviewed by a college student majoring in photography. Her assignment for “Photo Business Practices” was to talk with a professional shooter about the development of his or her career. When asked “Which of your shoots was most instrumental in changing your career?”, I replied “There’s never been a shoot that changed my career as much as the relationships that I’ve developed along the way. This is a business of relationships, not shoots.”  I’d given her the most valuable bit of insight I have about the world of professional photography. She totally missed it because it was an answer to a question she didn’t ask.

74. “Thank” and “you” are two of the most powerful words in the universe.
Never underestimate the value of being respectful. When my boys were young, I convinced them that “Please is the magic word that gets grown-ups to do what you want them to do.” Likewise, a sincerely delivered “Thank you” can turn a disinterested laborer into a strategic partner. The return on just a bit of respect can be huge. As strange as it sounds (at least to me) being courteous these days can be a way to distinguish yourself in the market – with clients and vendors alike.

75.  If Columbus had been a photographer.
Photography is a process of visual exploration. Start with a concept or a bit of inspiration. Then make a photo based on your assumptions about what you see and how the camera will respond to it. Take what you learn from that photo and make another. And another. Continue to explore, evaluate and fine tune your efforts. The journey of a photographer often heads across distant horizons into uncharted territory. Don’t fret if your shoot veers off in a completely new direction and ends up someplace completely different than where you originally intended. I bet that Columbus would have made a fine photographer.

Previous Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School

The entire LIDLIPS Series

This Week’s LIDLIPS

66. If you follow someone else’s path too long, you’ll lose track of where you left yours.

67. Sometimes “good enough” is better than “the best”.

68. Making yourself vulnerable is a sign of strength.

69. Never hesitate to share your guacamole.

70. Starting is the hardest part. Knowing when you are done is the second hardest part.

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 66–70

66. If you follow someone else’s path too long, you’ll lose track of where you left yours.
One of the hardest parts of living as a photographer is to stay true to yourself. In a world that is awash in images, it’s all too easy to want to do what more successful photographers have done. Every photographer veers off into the territory of his peers, mentors and champions from time to time. Yet, each one of us has our own path – our own vision – that’s waiting to be explored. When you are starting out, it’s natural to make photographs that others have made. Eventually though, you’ll need to find your path and have the courage to stay on it. As you venture on, when you’re tempted to chase someone else’s success, remind yourself that if you follow their path too long, you’ll lose track of where you left yours.

67. Sometimes “good enough” is better than “the best”.
Having the best (aka: most expensive) gear or producing the best (aka: most technically complex) photo is not always the best (aka: most beneficial) way to go. Having or doing the best often means spending twice as much money or time just to get a little bit more. Sure, in the Olympics being .07% faster than your competitor can be the difference between gold and silver. In photography, avoiding that obsession can be the difference between becoming an expert shooter or an expert on gear specifications. It can be the difference between making money on a shoot or having to reach into your pocket to subsidize the job. “Good enough” does not always come in second behind “the best”.

68. Making yourself vulnerable is a sign of strength.
It takes guts to open yourself to the criticism of others. “I may be good, but I’m not as good as I can be” is a hard thing to say with confidence and enthusiasm. The more you are able to open yourself to commentary, the better you’ll become. Actors have directors. Writers have editors. Athletes have coaches. Pro and amateur alike – we all need to make ourselves vulnerable to the criticism of qualified observers. Doing so is a sign of strength. Not doing so allows fear to win.

69. Never hesitate to share your guacamole.
I was having dinner with a large group of photographers after a workshop when I noticed that the fellow next to me was eyeing the huge mound of guacamole that had arrived on my plate. “Do you like guacamole” I asked. The enthusiasm in his reply left no doubt. So, despite my lifelong love of southwestern cuisine, I gave him the whole pile. A few years later, I was attempting to contact an internationally-known photographer in Manhattan. Turns out that the fellow to whom I’d given my guacamole had moved to New York and become his studio manager. Rather than being tossed out, my letter was put before the photographer and I received a personal reply. Never hesitate to share your bounty with another photographer. A couple of smashed avocados might just be the ticket that gets you to the next level.

70. Starting is the hardest part. Knowing when you are done is the second hardest part.
Sir Isaac Newton, the 17th-century physicist, could have been a career counselor for creatives. He demonstrated that something at rest tends to stay at rest and that something in motion tends to stay in motion – until acted upon by an outside force.  For the creative, getting a project started is the hardest part. Coming up with the initial bit of inspiration seems easy. Taking the first few steps at converting the inspiration into action is the real challenge. Then, once you’re in the groove and the creative stream is turning into a river, you’ll hit the creative’s second-hardest challenge – figuring out when you should stop.

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61. Humor contributes to global warming.

62. Creativity and curiosity are fraternal twins.

63. The more I look at my work, the less I like it.

64. It used to be that photography was just another way to make a mark on a piece of paper.

65. Photography is proof that Darwin was right.

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 61–65

61. Humor contributes to global warming.
While we come in many shapes, sizes and colors, it’s evident that the smile is universal. As a photographer, use this knowledge with impunity. Pointing a lens at someone can be intimidating – on both ends. If you find a way to connect, the intimidation will evaporate. Crack a joke. Make fun of yourself. Do it knowing that we can’t laugh without smiling.

62. Creativity and curiosity are fraternal twins.
Creativity and curiosity were born of the same mother. They may look different – but at their core they are the same. You cannot be creative without having a strong curiosity. “If I do this, what will happen?” is at the core of the creative’s journey.  Add spontaneity as a playmate to the pair of twins and you have an explosive mix.

63. The more I look at my work, the less I like it.
When I’m shooting, the photos that I get most excited about are the ones that show me something new or take me to a level I’ve not climbed to before. Yet, the more I look at these images, the less new they become. The more I make these types of images, the less challenging they become. When the images become commonplace, I lose interest and my enthusiasm for them slides. It’s not the photo that’s changed. It’s me. Like a high school crush, when the infatuation is over, my interest moves on. I’ve stopped worrying about this. Time can be a great filter. I’ve come back to my images, sometimes days later and sometimes years later, and found a newly-kindled enthusiasm for what I see. Now, when I look at my work and don’t like what I see, I ask if I’m looking at it too much rather than too little.

64. It used to be that photography was just another way to make a mark on a piece of paper.
For the first 150 or so years of its history, photography was just another way to make a mark on a piece of paper. (Yes, yes – some of the early processes marked up plates of metal or put an image on a piece of glass – but the main medium of delivery was paper.) As novel as it was, for the first many decades of photography’s existence, it wasn’t even a “good” way to mark up a piece of paper. For accuracy, a piece of charcoal or a tray of water colors could deliver more tonal and color fidelity than early photographs. Of course, all that was sorted out. Photography has long been able to deliver images that vividly portray the world around us – still mainly on paper.

65. Photography is proof that Darwin was right.
Today, we are some 30 years short of the bicentennial of photography’s invention. The reign of paper as the delivery medium for photography is collapsing. The Internet has morphed from being the secret realm of academics and soldiers into being the world’s largest public library. Devices like the iPhone and Kindle are replacing books of all types. Now more images are delivered as photons than as droplets of ink. Today’s babies will grow up to remember paper as something they enthusiastically smeared paint on with their fingers in pre-school and little else. Photography is managing to keep pace. Many photographers aren’t.

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56. Hollywood is waiting to teach you how to light.

57. Sometimes it is more important to look like you know what you’re doing than to actually know what you’re doing.

58. Sincerity, humility and gentle persistence can open closed doors.

59. The future is moving.

60. Analysis Paralysis and the Right Pursuit

Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 56–60

56. Hollywood is waiting to teach you how to light.
If you really want to learn how to light, go to the movies and think about the light you see. As still shooters, we think in terms of lighting one spot for a fraction of a second. On the set of a motion picture, they have to light a broad area such that the actors can move through it without casting unwanted shadows or walking out of the light. Put another way, grips and gaffers do their jobs with intention – there is a look the director wants and their task is to deliver that vision through lighting. Virtually every lighting tool we still shooters think of as new or unique has been used in Hollywood for decades. Gels, scrims, shiny boards, flags, gobos – they all came to us from the movies. Even the newest lighting tools – like LED panels and banks of CFLs – were adopted by the movie guys first. Hollywood understands that film (or tape) records light and shadow differently than we see it. They don’t fight physics. Rather they’ve invented tools and techniques that change one reality into another. Learn what they do and how they do it. Your vision as a photographer will expand accordingly.

57. Sometimes it is more important to look like you know what you’re doing than to actually know what you’re doing.
Maintaining the confidence of your client is key – even when your shoot is crashing. Once I was on a wedding shoot with the bride and three attendants staring right into my lens when my camera mysteriously locked up. Rather than change the mood and say I had a problem, I went through the motions of taking a few more frames – even though nothing was happening. As the group moved to the next spot, I went to my gear bag and changed camera bodies. Stopping to figure out the problem (a bad CF card) would have appeared as if I didn’t know what was going on (which I didn’t at the time). Problems happen during shoots. How you respond is a measure of your professionalism. Maintaining an air of confidence and control in front of your clients is key. Have an SOS phrase in the back of your head. Something like “I see an new opportunity here. Let’s break for a few minutes so that we can set up for it.”

58. Sincerity, humility and gentle persistence can open closed doors.
Across the decades of my professional life, I have had a number of mentors. Not surprisingly, none walked up to me and said “I want to give you my time and my expertise and I don’t want to charge you anything for it.” I’ve long wanted to believe the old saying “when the student is ready the teacher will appear.” Sure, he may appear. But getting his attention is a completely different matter. My experience is that the three keys to opening up a relationship with a mentor are sincerity, humility and gentle persistence. If you are not sincere in your desire to be the best photographer you can be (if you still think it’s the gear that makes the photograph), then there’s no point in having a mentor. Being humble means you respect yourself and your mentor. It means being honest about what you don’t know and haven’t done. It means understanding the definition of “sycophant” and not going there. Even when your head and your heart are in the right place, you’ll still need to convert your hero into your mentor. Typically, this happens slowly over time. It comes through persistence – gentle persistence. Remember that you are not and never will be critical to the success of your mentor’s career. That he has taken you on is more a testament to the gifts he received from his mentors than it is of you. Still, if you are worthy, do not hesitate to knock and to come back and knock again. Eventually your persistence will open the right door.

59. The future is moving.
While I’m not ready to say that the death of still photography is at hand, it is apparent that the future of photography is in motion. Observe how the rapid growth of the Internet as an advertising channel has caused widespread devastation in the newspaper and magazine industries. As access to broadband continues to spread and as mobile tools like Apple’s iPhone and Amazon’s Kindle continue to evolve, there’s an ever-increasing opportunity to use motion over still photography. No too many years ago, the moving photographs on the walls, desks and newspapers of Harry Potter’s world seemed quaint. Now, I see them as an insightful glimpse into our future. If you are young, photographs that move and speak and sing are your future. If you are an old-school shooter, like me, now is not the time to put your head in the sand about how the world has once again changed it’s expectations of what photographers do.

60. Analysis Paralysis and the Right Pursuit.
An earnest dad came up to me a while back and asked my thoughts on which DSLR was best suited for photographing his children playing soccer. He had boiled his options down to one that shoots 3.6 frames-per-second and another that could shoot 6.2 FPS. Oh, and there was the possibility that one was coming out “soon” that would shoot close to 10 FPS. He’d been looking into cameras for the entirety of his kids’ soccer season. I offered two suggestions. The first was to get over his Analysis Paralysis. The second was to buy the best camera he could afford at the moment – regardless of specs like frames-per-second. I came away from the conversation wondering how many great shots he’d missed because the pursuit of the camera had overtaken the pursuit of the photo.

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