This guest post is by Daniel Milnor who splits his time between the chaos of Southern California and the spiritual landscape of New Mexico. He is happiest with his notebook, Leica and trusty leather boots, sizing up whatever situation is happening in front of him.

Milnor is the author of the blog, Smogranch, which allows him to speak his mind, post his mother’s poetry and bring together like minded people around the globe. Connect with him on Twitter.

For being a “creative industry” we sure love to conform.

A trend develops, no pun intended, and suddenly the industry publications, blogs, advertising, seminars and trade shows are filled with what is hot, new and temporary.

I’ve never completely understood this.

This isn’t unique to photography. Look at television. One reality show becomes a success and suddenly three or four similar shows pop up, all slightly less relevant than the original. Within a year or two the public is saturated, bored and searching for a new thrill.

Today’s photography world is filled with more photographers than ever before as the barrier for entry into the professional world falls lower and lower.

So what gives? How do we look to the future with a positive glow in our eyes?

Well, to me it comes down to finding our individual vision and refining our style, and accomplishing this isn’t possible by following industry trends or what’s hot.

Finding your vision comes from intense soul searching, time in the field and mastering the basics of photography, things like light, timing and composition, not to mention actually having something to say, something unique and native only to you, or me, and not simply what the industry wants us to say.

Often times, words like “vision, soul, passion, style,” are thrown around with reckless abandon, but most of the time this is only for show. These things, these traits are easy to talk about but very difficult to actually acquire. The good news, you already have them and all you have to do now is find them inside yourself.

Why do you need vision? Style?

Well, in essence, your vision is the most valuable thing you have. Making unique imagery, instantly recognizable imagery, is what will create the demand around your business.

Yesterday I received an email from a potential portrait client who said, “I had another photographer booked to photograph my kids, but after I saw your work I canceled with them and knew you were the photographer I was looking for.”

If I followed the industry trends, used all the same tools that the masses of photographers were using, then how does the client differentiate between my work and the masses? What do I have to negotiate with?

If I’m using camera A, lens A, Photoshop action A, Filter A, and you are using all these same things, then where is the value in my work? Why would anyone hire me over the photographer down the street?

When photographers conform and follow the masses, what typically happens is the job comes down to price and how much the photographer is prepared to give away. What gets lost? The photographs.

This is NOT the situation you want to find yourself in.

When you produce unique imagery clients recognize they are seeing something they can’t get everywhere. This doesn’t’ mean you are going to book every job, the reality is far from this, but what becomes the focal point of the negotiation is the IMAGERY.

My point with this little story is that finding your vision isn’t easy and might require time alone and asking some serious questions.

“Who am I with a camera in my hand.”
“What am I trying to say?”
“What do I REALLY want to do?”

You might think this last question is an easy one but I can’t tell you how many photographers I’ve spoken with who have simply followed what the industry has told them to do, or what they feel “They have to do.”

How did I find my vision?

I found my vision by NOT working as a photographer. I began working as a photographer, full time, around 1993. By 1997 I knew something wasn’t right. I was working but I wasn’t particularly thrilled with what I was producing and after looking back at what I had produced over the entire year I realized I didn’t have anything to show.

So, I took a job working for Eastman Kodak and signed a non-competition letter stating I wouldn’t accept any assignments during my time working for the company. I sold all of my equipment except for one Leica M body and one lens.

Over the following four years I learned much about the industry, other photographers, but more importantly I had the time to learn about my own work.

Over the four years I worked for Kodak I shot extensively on the side, not for anyone else, strictly for myself. When I picked up a camera I had only my own vision in mind.

After four years I looked at what I had accomplished and finally recognized who I was with a camera in my hand.

I made the decision to leave Kodak and become a photographer once again only this time I had a personal vision to lead my way.

Had I NOT stopped working as a photographer I don’t think I would have ever come close to finding my vision. The industry and the controls being placed on me were just too powerful. There was little room to explore and what was expected of me was cut and dry.

My jobs today come more from me making suggestions than from a client telling me what to do. This is a very liberating feeling. When I book a portrait shoot or a wedding I book it because my work looks different and I have a clear vision of what I want to accomplish. Working this way feels like you are part of a creative collaboration as opposed to having to adopt to someone else’s idea of what images should look like.

My advice? Think about studying photography, really studying. Take classes, go to bookstores, go to galleries, museums and study what photography really has to offer. Learn who the masters were and are, and not just those in your genre. I’ve learned FAR more about how to photograph a wedding by looking at documentary work than I ever have from the wedding industry.

Also, think about taking on a long-term personal project, a project that is entirely controlled by you and preferably something outside your normal comfort zone.

And finally, approach one of your best clients and suggest a new direction.

We can make all kinds of excuses about conforming, about not taking the time to find our unique point of view, but ultimately we simply owe it to photography to continue to explore the limits of our vision.

Finding your vision can be frustrating, confusing, sure, but when you begin to see a pattern or begin to see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel the positive feeling will far outweigh any struggles you had to endure.

So go forth, take chances, break some eggs and keep your eyes open for the spark that can set you free.

Milnor is a former newspaper, magazine and commercial photographer who now tries to work solely on his own projects, projects that allow him to work in the fashion he feels most likely to produce images that go beyond the temporary. Milnor is also a member of the advisory board at Blurb, a print on demand book publishing company comprised of some of the most creative and talented folks he has ever encountered.

He has taught at Art Center College of Design, The Santa Fe Photographic Workshops, The Julia Dean Workshops and is scheduled to teach in Peru, California and New Mexico in 2010. He has also found considerable success with his portrait work, which is represented by the agency Masterfile.

This a guest post by Ken Jarecke, a world-renowned photojournalist and founding member of Contact Press Images, an illustrious photo agency based in New York. Please also visit and read his blog, Mostly True.

The past few years it’s been hard for me to pick up a camera. We all know that the industry, at least the editorial side of it, has been at an all time low. Sure, I’ve worked to put a good face on it, like in this piece on the New York Times Lens blog, but more often than not, my desire to make wonderful images has been absent. My heart has just not been there.

It’s not the creative side. I’ve rarely cared about the choices editors make about my work. That’s never been my motivation. Besides, I figured if I made great images, they’d get published. Somewhere. Sometime.

For example, here’s a take from the Beijing Olympics. After nine Olympics, I felt this was the best job I’d ever done. Normally, the Olympics will generate tons of tear-sheets, but outside of China, where my agency had a deal with the local English language newspaper, I managed to get only a single image published (in a French newspaper).

Frustrating to be sure, but still, not something that would stop me from making pictures.

No, I’m sad and ashamed to report that my lack of desire stemmed from nothing more than a lack of money. More specifically, the constant worry, and the ongoing struggle to pay the bills had taken its toll.

It’s sad, because I didn’t become a photojournalist to get rich (I was never that crazy or misguided). I’m ashamed because much of my money problems were the direct result of poor or stubborn decisions that are completely my fault.

In the past, I hesitated to book weddings. I made the excuse that I couldn’t book something that far in advance. What if an editorial job came up? In reality, I felt this type of work was beneath me. I felt the same about the portrait market (Yes, I know where this is being read). It’s easy to say now, but what’s more important than a wedding, or capturing a child’s life? Oh well, live and learn.

I didn’t let the magazines determine if a picture was good or not, but I sure put them in charge of what was important enough for me to photograph!

Pride and arrogance, a nasty couple of vices. As you can imagine, the only people to suffer from the choices I made was my family. Over the past few years, we’ve cut expenses, and eliminated most of the extras that come with family life, in my vain attempt to reinvent the editorial market and make things right (vanity, there’s another one).

Although I never stopped loving being a dad or a husband, the only thing I accomplished was to give my family a grouchy dad who hated making pictures.

As a photojournalist, I always try to have a backup plan. I would look at every situation with the perspective of a worse possible case scenario. Like, what would happen if I got a two flat tires in a post-Katrina New Orleans?

Practical to be sure, but it also gave me a sense of being in control. Maybe we all do this. It would explain tings like always having a pocket bulging with extra batteries.

Well, about three weeks ago, I ran into a situation that I couldn’t control. One of our children came home from camp very sick. It took twelve days for the doctors to figure out what was wrong. Plenty of uncertainty. Lots of prayers. Scary times. I don’t want to put too fine of a point on it. She spent four nights in the hospital and has been home for about a week now. She’s getting better everyday and is on her way to a full recovery.

Ironically, being in this powerless situation has seemed to heal me also. I have no cares about my reputation, or my standing in the photography world. I should be totally freaked about the medical bills (on top of everything else), but instead they just don’t seem important. I just want to be a better dad and husband (I thought I always was, but I didn’t give any thought to the huge burden I had placed on my family).

Strangest of all, I also want to make some really good pictures. Go figure.

I’m working on getting some portrait jobs… I booked one yesterday! I did my first wedding back in June. I gotta say, I really enjoyed it. The pictures were good too! I hope I have the chance to do some more.

The medical bills? Well, I hope to pay for some of them with a special print sale. I’m going to offer eight or ten prints at a special price for seven days only. They’re signed, archival pigment prints made by me.

You can see a preview here. I don’t know what the final selection will be, but I’m open to suggestions. Please check the above site on Monday to find out. The 17” x 22”s will be $300 and the 8.5” x 11”s will be $97 (plus shipping).

The two black & whites shown here are from an essay I did for Time magazine in 1990 called, “The Rotting of the Big Apple”. They’ve been very popular with collectors over the years.

The image from the Tiananmen Square student protests of 1989, shows a lone hunger striker sitting in front of Chinese soldiers. It has also been popular with collectors. At some point it was named “The Rose”. The Beijing Opera performer was made in May of 2007. It’s one that I like. I think it works well.

If you have ever considered creating a photography collection for yourself, Ken's offering here would be a terrific start. In fact, I have already told Ken that I will be buying one of his prints! Supporting each other through the valleys and peaks of life is what will make us stronger. Give it some thought, but don't wait too long because these prints are very likely to be gone soon.

UPDATE: Ken sent me this slideshow that you see below. It has all the images he has on sale through this Friday (September 10, 2010). I hope this inspires you to invest in one of his images.

This is a guest post by Jen May Pastores, a lifestyle photographer and portrait photographer based in Los Angeles, California.

There’s a window by my desk and outside are two elementary boys peeking in with their smiles eagerly anticipating my returning glance. “Teacher! Study? 4?” is the question I heard everyday from them. “Chaa, chaa,” I reply with a nodding yes. The boys run over to their friends practicing headstands on the side of the center’s building and bring them over to my window. “Can I study, too?” asks a new student. “I’d love that,” I say to him. I check my watch to see I have only a few minutes to prepare the cameras for the next class, so I quickly download the rest of the memory cards to my laptop and head upstairs to the classroom.

This was my typical afternoon at the Tiny Toones center in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Three times a day 15-20 students met me in a classroom to learn and practice photography with each class split among age groups from as young as 10 to 24-years-old. The majority of the youth barely knew English, so the center hired a local translator to communicate for me. Imagine trying to explain f-stops and shutter speed to a translator who was new at photography, then having her explain it to the class! It was a month-long experience with lots of picture drawing on the chalkboard and grand gestures, but it led to creating images and capturing stories that no language barriers could trap.

One of my students once asked me, “Do you take pictures and get money for it?” My class knew I was a photographer in Los Angeles, but they were curious as to why I was there teaching them for free. “Yes, people do pay me to take their pictures. Why do you think they’ll want do that?” I asked. “Because they want to remember something important or special. They want you to tell their story,” answered a student. “So why are you here?” they asked. “Because no one wanted me to tell their story this summer. And, I love teaching others that photography is more than making money. It’s about showing who we are and what we care about.”

Last summer, I ran into my first season where I had no weddings or sessions booked. I decided to look at it as a season of opportunity instead of as a failure. I had never considered visiting Cambodia before, but–as timing can work out perfectly–I was invited by Tiny Toones to offer a photography program at their center. The only thing asked was that I needed to provide everything, including cameras and my airfare, and do it all voluntarily. I looked into who the organization was and discovered that Tiny Toones uses the elements of Hip-Hop like break dancing and djing as creative tools to empower the youth, especially so they could live healthy lives apart from drugs and violence. I then realized that photography could be a complimentary, creative class to educate the youth.

My decision to go happened only a couple months before my program start date. A season with a seemingly bleak outlook turned into one of the busiest, but fulfilling season I’ve lived out so far. My main obstacle was raising funds to buy classroom supplies like digital cameras, memory cards, rechargeable batteries, and chargers for the batteries. This led me to announce my first workshop held in L.A. (which so happens to be the same place where the L.A. Smug group meets every month) where all proceeds went directly to my endeavor. I also reached out to industry professionals requesting donations and out of this Shootsac, Dane Sanders, and local camera stores and photo labs gave items for my workshop and program in Cambodia. In less than a month I was able to raise enough money to purchase 10 cameras, my airfare, and other necessities to main the program for a month.

After the completion of my program at Tiny Toones a gallery in Phnom Penh invited to exhibit the student’s work where 100% of proceeds from sold prints were donated to the center. This began the international tour of what is now known as, “The World Through Our Eyes.” Since last year, the exhibit traveled to Philadelphia, is currently in California, and has plans to continue in Hawaii this fall. None of this would have happened if I didn’t take advantage of an opportunity to give back, especially during a time when I could have easily given up.

The program covered the basics of photography such as composition, lighting and finding good backgrounds for portraits. More importantly, the workshop encouraged students to exercise their voice in telling their story and how they see the world around them. A series of photographs taken during that workshop, “The World Through Our Eyes” is a vibrant statement by youth countering stereotypes of artistic, emotional and urban desolation in the developing world.

To further read up on this cause and how you can help please visit http://cambodia.jenmayphotography.com. You can also watch a documentary on the site that interviews students who participated in the photography classes and find out about upcoming exhibits to see the photos in person.

This is a guest post by Robb Hill, a Washington, DC based photographer.

A few years ago I received an e-mail from my father. It was a link to a story in the Louisville Courier-Journal about how Kentucky and Indiana were in the planning stages for a new bridge to cross the Ohio River. His e-mail included the news that the location for the connecting highway will run about half a mile from the 150-year-old farmhouse they’ve lived in for 35 years. It was then I decided to photograph our pocket of rural, Southern Indiana.

Creating a historical record of the area before construction began appealed to me. A few months later I was photographing the woods, farms and fields I tromped around in as a kid. I found an old family cemetery I never knew about. Subdivisions that were just a few homes when I left for college had grown into communities of their own. Some of the woods were sparse from being logged over. Much had changed already in the land of my youth.

What has changed very little since I moved away are the people. Almost everyone I knew while growing up still lives there. A few have passed away and one couple moved. This should not have been the surprise to me it was. The Meyers have been farming the same land for four generations. The names Summers and Lentz on the headstones in the family cemetery from the 1800s can be found on mailboxes today.

Since starting my HomeLands project, I’ve come to understand just how much the land and the people are one. They may not say it in those words, but I know they feel it. Where they live is who they are. That can be said about anyone, I know, ask any New Yorker. But these people are unique: They know their way of life is facing imminent demise.

To see more of HomeLands or donate via the Kickstarter.com website click on this link.

Your comments below will inspire a dialogue. We want to hear your opinions. So, step up and speak up!

This guest post is by Livingston, New Jersey photographer Chelo Keys.

If you’re a part-timer working hard to be taken seriously, save yourself from some of the mistakes I’ve made.

It’s no secret that part-time and emerging photographers have to work hard to shake off the “weekend warrior” label. First, it’s hard to be taken seriously when there are so many part-timers entering the market at super low rates. Second, it’s very difficult to form good relationships in the photographic community when both your weekdays and weekends are taken up. With that said it’s easy to find yourself in a place of isolation, stumbling in the dark and making mistakes as you try to build a sustainable business. But even if you’re thinking of throwing in the towel, the good news about being a part-timer is that it’s never too late to start over, reassess your business and earn respect amongst your colleagues.

I’ve made some whopping mistakes starting out. But, I’m in the mist of a huge overhaul and can say that the following helped me chart a path to starting anew.

Practice Humility

Picking up a camera for the first time and thinking you know everything about the business is seriously obnoxious. I did this, so I know. If you’re doing this, stop it. I once worked for a prominent photography studio. Their practices were “old school” but the clients were rolling in and the sales were piling up. I was convinced that they were doing it wrong because they didn’t blog, Facebook or have a fancy flash website. Instead of soaking it in and taking notice of what they were doing right, I was pig-headed, left the job and thought I could do it better myself, but far from it. I failed and flailed. Lesson learned: Never rebuff anyone that is successful.

Accept Critique

I don’t think there is anything more anxiety provoking than taking critique from colleagues. But if you have the ear of a successful and trustworthy professional, take advantage of her or him. I recommend face-to-face critique. But remember, there is nothing more frustrating than advising a person that has selective hearing. Make sure to be open and don’t take it personally. If their advice is sound and you rebuff them, it will only bolster the idea that part-timers are Uncle Bobs with no regard for building skills.

Be Respectful

Things are hard when you’re just starting out, working part-time or transitioning to full-time. You need advice, but maybe you’ve found that other professionals are reluctant to speak with you. First of all, it’s my belief that good teachers should be paid for their time. Personally, I don’t mind answering questions because I don’t think I’m a super star. But I have contacted prominent photographers in the past and expected them to spend their precious time divulging everything to me. How rude! Don’t do what I did. Instead, contact the person that inspires you and make it clear that you are willing to pay for their time. Most importantly state that you are looking for advice on your business and not wanting to know every detail about theirs. Who knows, maybe they won’t want to be paid – but don’t make the assumption that they owe you anything. I’m happy to say that I’ve found a great teacher thanks in part to being respectful of their time.

Don’t Be A Groupie

This goes along the same vein as being respectful. I’m very eager to learn anything I can from successful professionals and it took me a while to learn that prominent photographers are real people. I remember second shooting for someone I really admired. I spent so much time star struck that in the end my photographs of the day left little to be desired. I may have also made the person uncomfortable. Needless to say, they never called me back. I also remember landing a small part-time job with a studio I was completely enamored with. I was so blinded with admiration that I exaggerated my skills, asked way too many questions and found myself fired 2 weeks later. Remember, fawning is not always taken well by others.

Don’t Brag

It’s unbecoming. There is nothing wrong with posting that you’ve booked another wedding on Facebook or Twitter. However, when colleagues state that they are having a difficult time in this economy, don’t counter with “Don’t know what you mean! I’m doing better than ever!!” Especially if your prices are still relatively low and you’re not able to fully sustain yourself on your photography income. Remember, part of this business is about building good relationships.

Be Professional

This should go without saying but you should be paying taxes and have insurance, even if you are part-time. You should develop a sound business plan and formulate rates that adequately cover your expenses and don’t undermine the industry. We’ve all heard the “you have to start somewhere” excuse. But believe me, after undervaluing myself for close to 3 years I’d rather the “somewhere” I started from was an educated and sound place!

Take it Easy

This is the last and most important point. Don’t rush into things like I did. You’ll find yourself paying for mistakes long after they are made. I’m excited to say that there are some great changes coming to my photography business and that the path ahead is promising. That’s the other great thing about being part-time – you can take the time to do things right. But, if you’ve stumbled around like me you can always, always start over.

Your comments below will inspire a dialogue. We want to hear your opinions. So, step up and speak up!