"You really should do something with your photography."

rbiemer

rbiemer

Unabashed Amateur
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"You really should do something with your photography."

I hear comments like this fairly often, sometimes more emphatic or profanely put. And, most often, I hear this from my family. Apparently, they haven't quite got over our Puritan heritage. The gist seems to be that I'm wasting my time by not making any money from my hobby. Which is not why I've ever picked up a camera.

My response varies a bit depending on who's asking and how the question is put. I answer in a few different ways; "You mean turn this into a job? But I have a career I'm happy and successful in and photography is my escape from the time clock and all the associated stress. No, thanks." OR, "It brings me joy and that's enough." OR (if I'm feeling a bit ornery), "You know, you have a point there....So, how much should you pay me for that photo of mine on your wall?":D

So, how do the rest of you amateurs handle this? Does it even come up with your circle of friends and family?

Rob
 
I just take it as a compliment and move on.
You can't expect people to understand a creative pursuit for its own sake if they don't already understand that concept.
 
Haven't heard that lately, but I think your responses are quite good. I would probably just say, "Thank you for the compliment, but I really don't need to. I'm happy the way things are." If they persisted and contradicted my stance, I might say "What do you have against happiness?" :D
 
I was asked that once. My friend said, "You're so talented. Why aren't you doing something with your photography?"


I told him that I had once imagined that path for myself.

Then I pointed out that there was little doubt that with my talent, I'd quickly become popular in town, and I'd have some small invitations to galleries, maybe sell a few prints, get invited to parties.

And since I'm a garrulous guy and tend to get along with people (in person), I'd no doubt make some friends amongst the local movers and shakers, and before too long I'd be doing work for the rich and powerful, and that would no doubt attract the attention of the art community in NYC, and with my wife's connections, I'd have no problem kicking open a few doors. I'd be shooting events in NYC and perhaps London and Nice and so on, and that would lead to coffee table books and high-end prints sold for nose-bleed prices. I'd be flying all over, using the best equipment, meeting all kinds of interesting people, making really top-notch money. Really living the life.

And I'd no doubt find a nice penthouse apartment in Manhattan, maybe one in Florida or California; maybe both. I'd be at the Emmies, I'd be there for the Academy Awards and sure, at some point I'd probably get to meet President Obama and maybe get invited to dinner at the White House and exchange ideas on global warming and feeding the poor and health insurance with people like Al Gore and Bono and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. We'd stand on the veranda at the White House and pass around a funny little cigarette and talk about affairs of state and how we could, if we really tried, move humanity a tiny bit closer to a universal love and understanding.

And then I'd probably end up getting a little too close to things that make you feel good, like booze and smoke and bad food and the wrong people and so on. My weight would balloon up, my diabetes would affect my eyes and I'd lose my edge and abilities as a photographer. And I'd start showing up late for gigs and blowing off clients. At first it would be cool, because hey, famous photographers get to be temperamental. But after awhile, it would just be boring and tedious and the calls would slowly stop coming. My prints would be sold at Walmart or come free with a frame, and I'd see a velvet print of one my best photos on a rug on La Cienega and my rip-off copyright iconic tee shirts would be sold to jaded tourists on Canal Street. Newer photographers would get quite a laugh at parties mocking my style with prints of their own that were ironic, witty, and just enough like my prints to make people realize how utterly childish and immature my work always was, now that they come to think about it.

And I'd drink and smoke and snort away all my money until I ended up pledging my catalog for a loan from some bank, and I'd end up losing control over my own work, then I'd be caught in some compromising position with a hooker and a well-publicized arrest, and from there it would be more-or-less straight down to working at some local company as the guy who takes photographs of company picnics, which is pretty much what I do now, only now it will be depressing and horrible and humiliating and no fun at all.

And there I'll be, fifteen years later, a drug addict and alcoholic, fat and bloated, no friends left, no family, and no money, humiliated and disgraced. I'd end up drunk in a closet with my .44 shoved in my mouth, crying over a career that spun out of control and who the hell needs that?

After that, he quit asking me stupid questions.
 
I generally take it as a compliment! I'm lucky that, for now, I have a good job (that is hard work) that affords me nice camera equipment. I also get the occasional photo-assignment and can choose whether or not to accept any payment (usually not - or expenses covered - usually by beer tokens :) ). If I was a jobbing photographer, my GAS problem would be more difficult to satiate...
 
If it's meant in a nice way I usually smile and say I'm with the way things are, thanks.
If they get pushy about it I say I DID do something with my photography but I gave it up for a job with higher pay and more security, and I now have the luxury of pursuing photography as a hobby.
 
bmattock said:
I was asked that once. My friend said, "You're so talented. Why aren't you doing something with your photography?"


I told him that I had once imagined that path for myself.

Then I pointed out that there was little doubt that with my talent, I'd quickly become popular in town, and I'd have some small invitations to galleries, maybe sell a few prints, get invited to parties.

And since I'm a garrulous guy and tend to get along with people (in person), I'd no doubt make some friends amongst the local movers and shakers, and before too long I'd be doing work for the rich and powerful, and that would no doubt attract the attention of the art community in NYC, and with my wife's connections, I'd have no problem kicking open a few doors. I'd be shooting events in NYC and perhaps London and Nice and so on, and that would lead to coffee table books and high-end prints sold for nose-bleed prices. I'd be flying all over, using the best equipment, meeting all kinds of interesting people, making really top-notch money. Really living the life.

And I'd no doubt find a nice penthouse apartment in Manhattan, maybe one in Florida or California; maybe both. I'd be at the Emmies, I'd be there for the Academy Awards and sure, at some point I'd probably get to meet President Obama and maybe get invited to dinner at the White House and exchange ideas on global warming and feeding the poor and health insurance with people like Al Gore and Bono and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. We'd stand on the veranda at the White House and pass around a funny little cigarette and talk about affairs of state and how we could, if we really tried, move humanity a tiny bit closer to a universal love and understanding.

And then I'd probably end up getting a little too close to things that make you feel good, like booze and smoke and bad food and the wrong people and so on. My weight would balloon up, my diabetes would affect my eyes and I'd lose my edge and abilities as a photographer. And I'd start showing up late for gigs and blowing off clients. At first it would be cool, because hey, famous photographers get to be temperamental. But after awhile, it would just be boring and tedious and the calls would slowly stop coming. My prints would be sold at Walmart or come free with a frame, and I'd see a velvet print of one my best photos on a rug on La Cienega and my rip-off copyright iconic tee shirts would be sold to jaded tourists on Canal Street. Newer photographers would get quite a laugh at parties mocking my style with prints of their own that were ironic, witty, and just enough like my prints to make people realize how utterly childish and immature my work always was, now that they come to think about it.

And I'd drink and smoke and snort away all my money until I ended up pledging my catalog for a loan from some bank, and I'd end up losing control over my own work, then I'd be caught in some compromising position with a hooker and a well-publicized arrest, and from there it would be more-or-less straight down to working at some local company as the guy who takes photographs of company picnics, which is pretty much what I do now, only now it will be depressing and horrible and humiliating and no fun at all.

And there I'll be, fifteen years later, a drug addict and alcoholic, fat and bloated, no friends left, no family, and no money, humiliated and disgraced. I'd end up drunk in a closet with my .44 shoved in my mouth, crying over a career that spun out of control and who the hell needs that?

After that, he quit asking me stupid questions.
Click to expand...

Damn, I hate it when that happens.

That was just too funny! LOL!
 
I usually go with "I couldn't afford to do it if I were a professional".

Pretty simple really, since I know a bunch of professional photographers (some journalists and many art). It seems to be worse than music as a profession to break into and make a good living. Especially if you don't do event work.
 
Thanks for the responses, folks!
and I'd see a velvet print of one my best photos on a rug
Click to expand...
That's a great idea, Bill! I wonder when Mpix will offer that "paper" option.
I do (mostly) take these comments as a compliment and try to ignore the others.
Some of my family use this putative talent of mine as another evidence of my wasted life and those 2 or 3 I do know how to deal with...absolutely civilly and ignore them altogether except when necessary for family functions--in other words, "F@#k 'em if they can't take a joke."
Rob
 
Weird, nobody says that to me...Everybody says wow, you are so talented to me :))

No no I am kidding of course :)

The first person who says that is my older brother who loves playing with his high tech DSLRs :)
 
Oh yeah, that was great! The idea, though, is to smoke their ganja, snort their powder, drink their single malt Scotch, and so on. Also, some people are impressed when they hear about the rock stars and presidents that you've met and photographed, but you have to put the right "spin" on your adventures, pointing out that none of this would have happened if it weren't for your superb photographic skills.

Today's internet research project will be to find out if up through the roof of your mouth, straight into the center of your forehead, or into the temple next to your ear, is the most effective utilization of a .44 Magnum round.

In my living room I have a Pepsi can which has a single bullet hole on the near side and two exit holes on the other. The can had shifted slightly on the branch after the first shot but I still managed to go through the same hole at fifty yards with the second shot. Those were the first and last times that I ever fired that gun. That was about 35 years ago.
 
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dazedgonebye said:
I just take it as a compliment and move on.
You can't expect people to understand a creative pursuit for its own sake if they don't already understand that concept.
Click to expand...

Yep. To most of the population, photography is either a family functionality or something that People magazine ought to do rather than yourself.

It's almost as if the word "photography" is an inkblot, revealing the darkest secrets of the speaker's mind.
 
The funny part of my experience is that they say that stuff while looking at photos I do not like anyway. The photos I really like are "just stuff in black and white" to them.
 
rbiemer said:
"You really should do something with your photography."

I hear comments like this fairly often, sometimes more emphatic or profanely put. And, most often, I hear this from my family. Apparently, they haven't quite got over our Puritan heritage. The gist seems to be that I'm wasting my time by not making any money from my hobby. Which is not why I've ever picked up a camera.

My response varies a bit depending on who's asking and how the question is put. I answer in a few different ways; "You mean turn this into a job? But I have a career I'm happy and successful in and photography is my escape from the time clock and all the associated stress. No, thanks." OR, "It brings me joy and that's enough." OR (if I'm feeling a bit ornery), "You know, you have a point there....So, how much should you pay me for that photo of mine on your wall?":D

So, how do the rest of you amateurs handle this? Does it even come up with your circle of friends and family?

Rob
Click to expand...

Well, I tell them I don't want to ruin another hobby.

Before I became an IT pro, computers were my hobby. Now, I basically use computers to cruise the web, send e-mail, and store my digital pictures.
 
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