One of my favorite forms of expression is photography. I am not the type who will join a photography group and hang out with like-minded photographers (because honestly, we are probably not like-minded), and I am not the type who will sell my photography at a craft show. It is the type of hobby that is mine, for me. I have noticed the first thing people say when they see my photos is “You should sell these!” and I am willing to bet that I can make more money off a gamble that those same people will never buy a print from me. Plus, why ruin something so fun by monetizing it? And why is it that in my country this is the first thought that crosses people’s minds? Why can’t they just enjoy the art without the thought of money crossing their minds?
Let’s rewind; my first creative job was at what was once Sears in their photo department. I was the photographer and salesperson, and I worked off commissions. This was back in the late 90s when getting a job was as easy as showing up, shaking the manager’s hand, and being hired on the spot. Yes, that really happened, and that was the norm for me. I was proud of this job; it paid $9.50 per hour plus commissions, and I did not have a high school diploma yet. The part that broke me, however, was the sales. I was rather decent at it. A key moment in that job was when I sold several packages to a young family who had no money and ended up maxing out 2 different credit cards just to pay the bill. That is when it hit me…. This is dirty. This young family had nothing, and I was convincing enough to drive them into debt for a few pieces of paper on a cheap pine frame. That month huge layoffs were made with the exception of the 2 best salespeople (one of whom was me). My manager was let go, and it became the wild, wild west. The other salesgirl that was left with me immediately wanted to assume the managerial role, while I wanted to wait until corporate gave us a notice. The following week I was left solo running in circles, camera to sales, while the other salesgirl spent her work shifts talking on the phone with her boyfriend (this was before cell phones, mind you; she was taking up the work lines). I turned around to ask her for help, and she said, “you are doing great; I will help out after lunch (it was 11 a.m.)”, I laid my badge down on the desk and said, “The studio is yours; I resign.” – I walked out on her and the studio and what was at one time my dream job.
The way I was introduced to the business of photography was gruesome and part of the reason I have such a strong reaction when people suggest I monetize my hobbies. It is ironic that the first introduction into the business of photography was an exercise in coercion. I was young, working my dream job at a studio, watching young families sacrifice their financial future and stability for a few prints of their children. It made me sick. The most terrifying part was that I had the power to convince people to buy things they did not need and couldn’t afford. When I walked out, I did not only walk out on my chatty co-worker or a retail job; I walked out on the absence of my own creative work. I did not touch a camera again for ten years… It took a long time to see my camera as a tool for creativity and self-expression rather than monetization. So when people see a product rather than an expression, I get thrown back into that very uncomfortable place in my life.
Once again my expression through the lens is being threatened, and things are changing. Not by choice this time, but because of my age. Every macro photo session is painful for my bone-on-bone arthritis knees and my joints in my hands. Everything fucking hurts after a session. The hours I spend crouched down in kinked positions to get to that perfect angle. The physical toll it takes on me makes me question if this is a hobby worth continuing. It feels like a “use it or lose it in reverse”: the more I try and keep it, the more my body breaks down in the process. Macro photography in particular is becoming closer to extinct for me, as it is the most demanding physically. I don’t know how many years I have left where I can physically tolerate this. Some days I feel like I am running at my physical cap, and I have to rest for a few days after. Maybe that is another reason why I refuse to monetize this. Why would anyone want to look back on these images and remember a transaction? I want to look back on these images and remember a beautiful yet painful moment where I was the only person in the world who saw a tiny alien-looking creature that lives there and for a moment, capture him as he is without needing to convince anyone of his value.
