There are photo workshops you should attend and then there are photo workshops you should avoid. That's just a fact of life.

I have been to a great many of them and in a future post, I'll list them all. I've always been careful about picking the ones I've wanted to go to. The instructors are all typically working professionals, not professional workshop instructors. Each had something to teach me that I could incorporate in my business or craft immediately. Every instructor promised me their full attention and delivered on it. I of course did my research. I asked my peers through forums, Facebook and Twitter. I checked their websites, blogs, forum posts and their public persona. I took mental notes on how they explained topics. Were they patient with people or did they cut people off? Did they invite discussion and conversation or was it all about them?

The ones I chose to attend seemed like they would be a good fit for me at that time. They taxed my premium resources – time and money – but I chose to spend it because I was convinced I would be a better photographer or better businessman.

But in the past few years, I have read a spate of bad press by frustrated photographers attending workshops, produced by those with little experience and clearly “rockstar” motivations. In one workshop review, I read how the instructors made more time for the video crew filming them than the workshop attendees who had paid top dollar to learn from them. That's plain appalling.

Photolovecat, a blog I respect a great deal, has occasional reviews of workshops and their presenters. These are unbiased and not anonymous, which I think gives the feedback some credibility. So that's one place you can go to see how a workshop you may be considering fared in terms of meeting or exceeding or failing expectations.

FishEye Connect, run by Kristy Dickerson, is also a great place to research workshops. So check that site out too.

Today, on Twitter, I saw Gary Fong Tweet this:

Before you sign up for anybody's seminar or workshop, protect yourself with this and please RT tinyurl.com/garyfonginstru…

— gary fong (@garyfong_REAL) July 5, 2012

Gary calls it a “Disclosure Declaration” and it's for workshop attendees to send to their workshop instructors. Will workshop instructors fill it out? Can they handle the truth? Will workshop attendees forward this form to their instructors to fill out prior to signing up for a workshop? Hard to say how far this will go, but I think Gary is on the right track.

I suspect that the PDF Gary has started to distribute is either a part of his third book – “So You Want To Be A Rockstar Photographer” or it is meant to lead up to it. At this time, I don't know what the book is about and I haven't read Snaps or Accidental Millionaire: How To Succeed In Life Without Really Trying, his first two books. If you have read them, post a comment below and let me know.

What we need to get back to is a promise or a commitment from the teacher to the student – to freely impart information without bias, malice or agenda that will in the end be of benefit to those who have come to learn from them. When workshops are covers for flimsy work or shady business practices, credibility and trust for all workshop instructors suffers. Do you agree? Sound off below.

Would you like to see a Tiffinbox branded photography workshop? If so, what would you want it to be about? Go on, humor me!

Emily Buchanan is a writer and blogger working for Howling Basset, a network of wedding photographers in Kent, UK. She'd cautiously call herself an amateur photographer and prefers to shoot with film (she, too, has a serious case of OCN and it is contagious). Follow Howling Basset on Twitter and Facebook.

By now, it’s a dated debate.Does the ease of a digital dark room hinder the legitimacy of an image or are we all just suffering from a strand of OCN (Obsessive Compulsive Nostalgia) bought on by digitalisation and social anxiety? Has the accessibility of photography served to dilute its artistry? Is this affected by the contemporary culture of cataloguing life online? Well?

In this ever-updating age, questions rotate in a perpetual thought-storm like transient objects of wonder. We are barely granted the time to form an opinion before the Next Big Thing has flipped the industry on its head and it’s time to reassess contemporary culture again. But whichever side of the fence you find yourself on, it’s important to take a balanced approach.

In 1936 Walter Benjamin wrote, “In the age of mechanical reproduction, art gradually loses its traditional and ritualistic value.” This theory bridged two states of human progression and so two states of art. The dust had barely settled since the Industrial Revolution and the Second World War was about to provoke an accelerated fast-forward into the modern age. What, then, would Benjamin make of art and mechanical reproduction today and which party would he align himself with?

Andy Stonier of Howling Basset defines one school of thought, “I believe there's no real difference between digital and analogue photography in terms of photographic art. They're merely different techniques for capturing a scene. Whether the image created is on film or a CCD it matters little; what counts is the idea.”

And sure, there’s a lot of weight to this argument. Quality photography is dictated by a certain compassion and understanding of the subject, alongside an innovative idea that challenges social conceptions or embellishes a moment, not to mention composition and technical now-how.

The trouble is, quality photography can be achieved using both digital and analogue cameras, it’s just that one instrument is distinctly more convenient than the other. Long have photographers bemoaned the loss of romanticism and solitude that came hand-in-hand with a day in the dark room. And indeed, it just doesn’t feel quite as poetic to plug a camera into a laptop and fiddle with exposure on Photoshop. Rick Adam of Destroy Everything shares this second school of thought, citing the skill involved in analogue photography compared to the point-and-shoot culture that’s now encouraged by social networking, “You have to be a lot more resourceful when shooting film,” says Adam in an interview with Digg Magazine, “for one you shoot fewer photos, but in doing so I think you learn a lot more about composition, lighting, etc… Looking at the bigger picture it’s not hard to see that technological advancements have affected photography drastically. Digital cameras have given people the chance to take and upload images to the Internet instantaneously. These days it’s easy to take some photos, build a website and call yourself a photographer.”

So where’s the resolution? Does the accessibility of photography make it easier to feign a career in the industry or, to put it another way, if one can afford professional gear, does one become a professional photographer? No, say many, for the tools don’t make the photographer. A good photographer needs ‘the eye,’ and that cannot be bought or sold.

Personally, I think the medium is evolving, just as all art forms have evolved and continue to do. If that weren’t the case, we’d still be painting stoic portraits of monarchs or eroticising reclining nudes. I think our online sharing habits have promoted a rebirth of photography as art. Sure, some would argue that this has diluted its quality, but the same can be said for every creative outlet. The internet provides a platform of expression for everyone, whether they’re good or not. This is something that shouldn’t be chastised, it should be celebrated. After all, the cream will always rise to the top and whether a traditionalist likes it or not, digital post production has the power to transform a moment in time into a work of art.

To quote Tolstoy, “Art is a human activity consisting in this, that one man consciously by means of certain signs, hands on to others feelings he has lived through, and that others are infected by those feelings and experiences them.”

So, tell us, do you think digital photography is disposable? Do you photograph with intent more with film versus digital?

Today's guest post is by Brian Hirschy, a photographer & designer living in the Tibetan regions of western China who has a passion for teaching photography, participating in the growing photographic community and working with Asian NGO's to communicate their stories. In 2009 Brian helped start Plateau Photo Tours, a company that facilitates socially-conscious  one-of-a-kind photo tours throughout Tibet – providing socially responsible and culturally non-destructive photo opportunities throughout the region as well as creating sustainable job opportunities – all in an effort to actually help rather than simply complain. You can see Brian's work at BrianHirschy.com or follow him on Twitter @BHirschyPhoto.

Last week, I ran across a video of my friend Zack Arias talking about the need for honesty and perspective as photographers (check it out there). It was a refreshing conversation about honesty and stood in stark contrast to often unhelpful conversations that we constantly see in this industry. Zack's video was a punch in the gut, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about what Zack said since.

I've spent the last three years working as a photographer in western China. In 2009, I started a company called Plateau Photo Tours with a desire to engage the Chinese photographic market by running culturally appropriate, unique photo workshops in the Tibetan areas of western China. I wanted to live somewhere that pushed me as a person and as a photographer. Having traveled these areas extensively for the better part of a decade, living here continues to be a fantastic experience.

But there's so much more to the story than that.

Here's some honesty: Over the last three years, I've spent a disproportionately large amount of time schmoozing Chinese officials for permission to keep working in this area—largely for no return. There's nothing like kissing butt for no reason. Since starting the company, we've had to call off five tours. I've watched our filled tours (of great participants) get cancelled due to political and social stresses, as well as a devastating natural disaster. I've seen what I thought were amazing opportunities pass just out of reach. Recently, I've been banned for months at a time from exiting the city in which I currently live. I've been followed around by plain- clothed police officers — an interesting experience. The local government constantly tells me where I can and cannot takemy camera and where my “foreign face” isn't welcome despite having official government permission. I've dealt with all sorts of political and social insanity just to keep a company afloat in a tough and variable market.

Here's some more honesty: I've made more money as a web and print designer and consultant over the last year than I've made as a photographer. I'd love for every person who visits my website to think that I'm making it entirely with my photography. But I'm not. I've relied largely on my gracious wife's job for parts of our income. I'd love for you not to know that. Depression, questions of identity, future, and my photographic ability have started to steal more and more of my thoughts and sleep. I'd love for you guys to think that I'm bursting from the seams with confidence.

This is not a pity party, and this is not a rant. Above all, I'm certainly not unique.

It's hard. No matter where we are in our careers, it's going to be hard. It should be hard. If it's not hard, you're in that dangerous place of not pushing far enough or hard enough. Or maybe you're in the wrong industry. Maybe you?ve set your goals too low.

The more I hear photographers get real with each other, the more I'm happy to discover what I already suspected: I'm not the only one fighting fights and getting black eyes in this industry. The black eyes I get from running a business in western China are just as painful and just as real as the ones everyone else is getting—despite where they are in their careers or what part of the world they live in. You deal with bridezilla, and I deal with drunken Chinese officials. By my count, we are even. It's hard to run a business—let alone one that is focused on photography. It's hard to be an entrepreneur in a service industry. It's hard for me. It's hard for everyone.

The point is this: We should want to learn from others? black eyes. We should learn from each other?s hard times—learn how to dodge the pesky left hooks of the industry. We should try and help the young and upcoming photographer become the best he or she can be and avoid what pain can along the way. But for some reason, we as an industry are so busy trying to convince everyone else that it was easy, that there were no hard times, and that the black eyes simply don't hurt. Maybe we want everyone to think we are special, naturally talented, smarter than the rest—so much so that we managed to navigate the minefield of this harsh industry with perfection and ease. And now everyone else needs to pay attention to us. Hell, some of us have it so figured out that we've formulated the industry into a “top ten list.”

It wears on me, this façade. It's tiring because not only have I been a willing participant, but also because I see hundreds of other photographers daily pushing something that isn't real, something that isn't personal, and mostly something that just isn't at it's core fully honest.

Maybe more honesty in our industry would result in fewer stretched families, fewer people going into debt because they were convinced they had to have some product in order to compete, fewer tired and burnt out photographers trying to keep up their image. Maybe honesty just makes for better stories. Maybe we'd actually spend more time shooting (remember, that thing we all profess to love so much?) now that we are, finally, allowed to be who we really are and where we really are in the industry.

I'm talking about more honesty in ourselves as photographers — more perspective on where we are in our photographic journeys and more willingness to share the successes with the failures. I've personally found that the more honest I am with myself, the more capable I am of falling in love with what I do. After all, that's really the point – loving what we do.

This article is the culmination of thoughts brought on by Zack?s amazing video (Kudos to Zack, Atlanta Creative Mornings, and Matchstic for producing it). If you haven?t watched Zack?s video, I strongly suggest you carve some time out to do so (here). These are simply my very personal and honest gut reactions to something that I?ve seen in myself for quite some time and something that I?ve seen more and more photographers bring up – it?s not meant to be a rant, an angry fist in the air, or a bemoaning of the self- promoting nature of the photographic industry. Zack says this infinitely better than I do and deserves credit for raising this subject in my mind and beyond that, being one of the most honest, generous, and gracious voices in the industry.

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It was well past his bed time, but that didn't matter to him or me. Somewhat unusually, my son Ketan and I started to watch television documentary a couple of night's back.

The submarines in the deep blue ocean had both of us hypnotized. Moving gracefully and carefully from one section of the ship to the next was a robot. Ketan's jaw dropped. Boys will be boys, right? The guys in the submarine were ecstatic on what that camera on the robot was sending them back visually. Not fully realizing what was going on, my son laughed too.

Then came the animations and talk of an iceberg, a collision and the ultimate sinking of a ship. The tone changed and I could see a shift in Ketan's body language. He nuzzled up to me, looked at my face for approval and then returned his gaze back to the television.

On April 15, 1912, a 100 years ago in a few days, the RMS Titanic hit an iceberg and sank; finding its final resting place two and a half miles deep. 1,514 people died in that tragedy.

Please watch this clip from the documentary:

Bill Sauder is not a photographer. His name probably won't ring any bells unless you watched the recent National Geographic special on the Titanic. He is the Director of Research for RMS Titanic, Inc. and has worked closely with James Cameron, the movie director behind the movie “Titanic.”

What struck me most about Mr. Sauder was how, even as he was breaking down in that clip, he was so very clearly able to articulate his ‘WHY' – his reason for doing what he loves to do. His dedication to the Titanic project, was less about the stuff that could be brought up to the surface and more about the people behind those things.

He says that upon opening those perfume vials found on the Titanic, “… for those few minutes, the ship was alive again.”

As photographers, I feel there is a valuable lesson here. Speaking for myself, I know I am not a photographer to create tchotchkes for people, but to tell their stories through images that they can treasure. For me, like for Mr. Sauder, photography will always be about the human condition – who we are, how we relate to each other and what we find important to celebrate as a global community.

Even for Director James Cameron, the pitch he made to the Hollywood producers was simple and effective – “Romeo and Juliet on a boat that sinks.” It was about a love story and the tragedy that befell the people on the ship. If you think about it, the ship itself is really a backdrop in the movie. We are more interested in the people – their mannerism, the class structure or distinction and their social sensibilities. Sure the movie is a bit much in some spots, but there is a reason why it was the biggest grossing film for 12 years, not to mention the first movie to surpass the $1 billion mark in ticket sales worldwide. There is power in telling stories. There is even more power in telling people's stories.

The tangible products we produce need to be of such quality that a 100 years or more from now, people looking at them or feeling them in their hands can think about the people behind them. I want my client's future families to relive moments that they may or may not have experienced themselves. For the images to be truly successful, they must help reconnect them to their parents, grandparents, uncle, aunts, cousins, nieces and nephews. To be the one to create this artifact, no, family heirloom, is such a huge honor and a responsibility for us photographers. What's more, there is no way of telling what real impact those images may have down the road.

When I watched the documentary with my 4 year old son, I couldn't help get a little choked up too when I heard Mr. Sauder describe those perfume vials. For Mr. Sauder, it's a sense of smell that reconnects him to the people on that ship.

I had to ask myself, when my clients receive their prints or albums, do they experience that fragrance of heaven too? Isn't that what they truly deserve? Should we not take the time to educate our clients about the work we do, why we do it and how they will be remembered and celebrated? I think we owe them that much.

Sound off below to tell us what you thought of the clip above or whether you know your WHY. In all honesty, I haven't fully defined mine yet but this book by Simon Sinek called Start With Why, is helping me get there. It's an interesting journey.

This guest blog is by Andy Bondurant, co-founder and director of Senior Portrait Artists (spa) an organization dedicated to equipping and inspiring senior portrait photographers. spa holds an annual Event that will be held this year in Palm Springs, California, in February 2011. Feel free to follow Andy on Twitter (@spartists), Facebook or the spa blog. Find out more about how spa and spa Event can help your senior portrait business by visiting www.spartists.com.

One of the problems that confront photographers who create high school senior portraiture on a regular basis is the question “What's too sexy?” It seems like every time I get together with a group of photographers, this discussion comes up. Everyone deals with it. I've posted on this question several times over the past year, and it has been one of the most viewed blog posts on the spa Blog to date.

In short, there is no real easy answer. You may please the senior, but not the parent or the parent but not the senior. Or you may be able to please both the senior and mother, but totally miss on the father. It's a fine line to walk no matter how you approach it.

Quite a few years ago we learned a great tip from fellow senior portrait photographer Gary Box. He says there are three things that make up a portrait that may be viewed as too sexy.

1. Outfit
2. Pose
3. Facial expression

His rule is that you can get away with using any two of the above three at one time. However, once you combine all three, you will have an image that has crossed the line and officially become too sexy. So if a senior brings in an outfit that will expose quite a bit of cleavage be careful with either the pose or expression (as well as being willing to talk with the parent and senior about the outfit chosen and how it may look).

Now, here may be the bigger and more important question – even though you've pleased the client how do you choose an image for your advertising? It was a question that was raised in the spa Talk membership forum just the other day – “Is this advertisement too sexy?”

I recently read a great article about branding and marketing about how a funny image or advertisement is good but it does not compete with an image that creates shock. Both engage emotion, but the one that shocks causes movement in the viewer more often than the one that is funny. In all honesty, if you aren't getting an email, phone call or letter every year or so that says you've crossed the line, you may not be close enough to the edge.

Again, it's a fine line. A really fine line. When working to attract clients and potential clients to your studio the reality is that sex sells, but at the same time too much sex repels. The same three rules apply in advertising, like they do in shooting an image for a client.

It's important to remember that in the end, high school seniors are kids. Many times they aren't even 18 years old. They aren't models, how you project them in your advertising can change the image they carry in their world (both for good or bad).

So, what do you think – have you been told that your work crosses that line? Do you agree that none of the images of high school seniors are “too sexy”, just right or completely inappropriate? Comment below. A dialogue is usually a spark for bigger ideas. Your voice is heard here!