Category Archives: art

Pricing Is Not A Dark Art

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Arts District, downtown Los Angeles. Photo By Barry Schwartz.
Arts District, downtown Los Angeles. Photo By Barry Schwartz.

By Barry Schwartz

Social media can be a lot of things; thankfully, not all of them anxiety-producing. For a professional photographer such as myself, social media can be a window into how other pros deal with known issues of running a business. As an educator and professional, it is a tool that helps me step outside myself and keeps my thought processes from becoming too ingrown. For an educator, social media is a way to stay current with the pain-points experienced by students and emerging professionals – even mid-career photographers; complaints and confusion are ever-present.

I recently came upon a post where a photographer commented unhappily about the price of a potential car repair from a mechanic, comparing that estimate with how difficult it can be for photographers to figure out what to charge.

I responded that the estimate was based on what the market will bear, combined with what the mechanic felt their services were worth in comparison to their peers. That’s how all kinds of businesses keep their doors open. They were the same calculations that went into my fees during the twenty years I was a building contractor, and these days similar to how I calculate fees as a photographer. All business owners have specific expenses – personal and business – that must be addressed to stay viable, and everyone achieves stability in their own way; however, that does not mean the process is opaque or unique to each profession or even to each person. It boils down to: what to charge?

There were lots of sympathetic comments about the post, including the often heard complaint that pricing is an opaque, dark art, and that photographers as a group hold their pricing cards tight to their chest, revealing nothing. In fact, in the States, there are lots of ways to uncover what photographers charge for their work. Think of it as open source intelligence; no secrets.

For instance:

On aPhotoEditor, there are posts from Wonderful Machine that describe, in considerable detail, the briefs of projects, the resulting negotiations, fees, and expenses, all revealed in the actual contract, including the Terms & Conditions (look under “Pricing & Negotiating”). The owner of aPhotoEditor, Rob Haggard, has been posting a new series, “How Much Do You Make”, where people describe in varying amounts of detail (sometimes per job) how much they made in a recent year, Gross and Net, who their typical clients are, and even their workflow. These descriptions are remarkable in lots of ways, but not for being secret: anyone can read them. They even get posted on Instagram.

Consultants and reps who negotiate with commercial and advertising clients – even editorial photo editors – tend to have a good idea of standard pricing. Project pricing depends on a number of variables, including (but not limited to): the difficulty of the project, the client’s size, standard fees for support trades and vendors, usage length and breadth, and how the photographer’s experience and style factor into pricing. Bidding is both science and art, but the most important factor is prior knowledge, because consultants and reps develop bids all the time. Win or lose, they have their noses to the ground and a community they are engaged with. These folks can sometimes be hired by the hour or as producing partners, where they help develop proposals with the idea that if the photographer gets the job, so do they.

I find lots of photographers will discuss fees; I do, and so do most of my friends. I had one friend where, for some obscure reason, we were asked to bid on the same projects so often we would automatically check in with each other about the project and not only discuss pricing, but how we might light and even produce the brief.

I’m a member of several online photo groups where pricing discussions are common. It’s worth joining professional – or even semi-professional online groups, even as a lurker. Trade associations in the States, while not allowed to proscribe fees, can certainly enable the kind of community conversations where pricing is discussed.

The process of bidding all by itself is a way to find out how one sits among the competition. Valuable feedback can come in the early stage of developing a proposal when clients indicate what their preferred budget is. Even if the job goes to someone else, potential clients may reveal if pricing was the losing factor or if it was something else – knowledge to be incorporated into future pricing. Those factors could include style, personal connection, ability to think and respond quickly. A critically important aspect of business is people skills. If there is any art involved, it’s in knowing how to negotiate, which is not a dark art at all but a learnable skill, however much anxiety is attached to the process for both photographer and client.

Budgets can be remarkably variable. One of the reasons a client may request bids from several photographers is to verify that their wish-list for deliverables can be realistically attained: they may need feedback from photographers in order to meet their own internal requirements for the project. They honestly are not sure. This is standard operating procedure, not secret or deceitful. These negotiations are a reality for all kinds of gigs at every level of expense. People skills come into play here, as well, because even if a photographer is not awarded the project, other people will remember if they were difficult or easy, pleasant or abrasive – the bidder with the better behavior is much more likely to be asked to bid on further projects and thereby gain more knowledge.

Fine art pricing, where the artist decides in advance of a sale what the price for their art should be, can seem like the most opaque and arcane and secretive of all. However, it’s easy to see what other photographers are charging simply by going to galleries, where a puzzled photographer can look at work similar to their own and even compare how far along they are in their careers. I’m referencing actual, physical galleries – the kinds with doors on the front. Things can be learned by going to websites: fine art photographers list clients, exhibitions, and shows on their websites; more links for learning. Alternate venues that display photos, such as coffee shops, art fairs, restaurants, online marketplaces, and open studio tours can be valuable for research. Everyone starts somewhere. If an artist becomes part of a gallery’s stable – a somewhat unfortunate, yet accurate, term – the gallery owner will work out with the artist what they think the market will bear based on their own experience, just like commercial reps and consultants.

Wedding and commercial event photographers often publish rates right on their websites. Their fees, just like those of other kinds of photographers, are based on a specific set of services which may be listed in detail. These groups of professionals are particularly free with their knowledge, up to and including entire conventions devoted to their trades.

In editorial the budgets are not a secret because, with a few exceptions, publications, not the photographer, set the fee for an assignment. While not terribly negotiable, editors respect the need for additional expenses, such as travel, stylists, and rental equipment, all of which can increase the total fee. For instance, it’s not unusual in either commercial or editorial work to claim a rental fee for owned equipment.

Successful photographers in every genre at every level of experience lose out on jobs all the time; no one gets them all. One of the reasons such folks are able to stay in the game is because they are aware of all the factors above. Business is hard, but not impossible. If mechanics can remain viable with all their competition, so can photographers with theirs.

Interview with Jesse Burke

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This article first appeared on Lenscratch as part of the series Photographers On Photographers. The brief included speaking with photojournalists and documentary photographers whose work is exhibited in galleries, museums, and other public displays, as well as in publications and advertising.

Barry Schwartz in Conversation with Jesse Burke on Lenscratch: http://lenscratch.com/2023/06/photographers-on-photographers-barry-schwartz-in-conversation-with-jesse-burke/

The full article, sans photos, follows.

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Jesse Burke is a fine art, editorial, and advertising photographer based in Rhode Island.  After receiving his MFA from RISD (Rhode Island School of Design), he quickly gained gallery representation, which, unusually, led to commercial work.  He has worked on personal projects his entire career, including those with family members, and all are thematically and aesthetically linked to his commercial work.

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Artist Statement and Bio

My Wild & Precious project brings together treasures from a series of road trips traveled with my eldest daughter to explore the natural world and get more in touch with the earth. I use these adventures to encourage a connection between my child and nature and to give her an education that I consider essential—one that develops appreciation, respect, conservation, and self- confidence. Together we document and collect objects from the routes we drive, the landscapes we discover, the creatures we encounter, even the roadside motels where we sleep. Wild & Precious reveals the fragile, complicated relationship that humans share with nature and attempts to strengthen those bonds.

My Intertidal series is an investigation into the delicate balance that exists between the heroic idea of masculinity and the true reality of men. It explores the presence of vulnerability and sensitivity that act as forces against the mythology of male dominance and power.

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Barry Schwartz
You do both editorial and commercial work. The general take on editorial is that it is similar to personal work in that it pays less, but you have more creative freedom. Is that basically been your experience?

Jesse Burke 
Yeah, definitely. I think they’re looking to collaborate. Another difference between editorial and commercial is that along that on commercial projects they have a pretty solid sense of what they’re looking for. In editorial projects, most of the time they’re very open to what you can do, which is where you get to have be creative and do things that you would do for your personal work, because they know they’re not paying you a ton of money. But we like what you do. And we know we’re going to like what you give us. 

You also teach at RISD.

I took some time away from RISD to teach in other places. That’s a scheduling and money combination of things. I love being connected with academia, but I don’t love that it doesn’t pay very much and that it’s very time consuming. It’s a balance, right? I need to be available to travel when the jobs come through. I have taught at RISD, the more or less, since 2005.  It’s fun to get a variety of teaching positions and adjunct positions in different schools. It keeps me on my toes, the kids keep me on my toes.

If you’re going to be a responsible teacher, you actually have to know what you’re talking about, which means you have to keep learning. Keep learning from the students, of course, but bringing in stuff that’s up to date in terms of decent information. In my case, I’m not teaching how to take pictures, I’m teaching about how to make a living.

I think professional practice is the most one of the most important classes. It’s increasingly becoming more popular, but it was just implemented when I was at graduate school.

I’ve always felt that class, of all the classes I’ve ever taken, was the most helpful. Critique classes are great. But in terms of practicality, the professional practice class gave me a little bit of an insight into all this insanity. Henry Hornstein was the teacher. He’s a really amazing guy and has a ton of experience with different elements of photography, which would include commercial, editorial, bookmaking, photo, gallery. I’ve always been very fond of professional practice, as a course, as a visiting artist, which I’ve done countless times.  I just think it’s so crucial.

You studied at RISD also.

My academic path is I took some photo class electives at a community college in Arizona, then I transferred to the University of Arizona in Tucson for my BFA in photography. I went to grad school for my MFA in photography at RISD.

That’s a good school, in Arizona.

Big photo school. The Center for Creative Creative Photography was there. I worked there. The Avedon archive is there, Mary Virginia Swanson is there..

Had you started shooting professionally before you got your Masters?

I always knew I wanted to be involved in commercial photography somehow. When I was in graduate school, I assisted some wedding photographers. I knew that I didn’t want to be a wedding photographer, but it was photography, and it was fun, and it paid a little bit of money. I mean, I made $200 a wedding. But I had a great time.

When I graduated from RISD, through my professional practice class, I decided I’m going to follow the path they’ve laid out. I’m going to make a portfolio, I’m going to start reaching out to people and try to get meetings and go in and show my book, and then maybe they’ll hire me to shoot something. And over time they did. Although it wasn’t terrible, it was very rarely something I wanted to photograph. Slowly, I started to get better gigs. It’s a bit of a snowball that’s always rolling, still rolling.

Currently, I have no gallery and no agent. Those are partially my decision, but it’s always in flux, right? You’re always growing, the snowball is always rolling.

My fine art career came much easier than my commercial career did, which is usually the other way around. You work really hard, you can get some commercial success. The art world thing is out of your hands in the sense that you just make the work you make. You can’t necessarily cater to your clients, which would be like galleries and museums. It’s got to be a natural fit in some ways. I just got lucky that my work was appealing to the right people at the right time. It was harder for me to break through the commercial barricade. I think people liked it, but they didn’t really know how to use it, or use me, or what to do with me. I’ve slowly been able to get over that hump. I’m not the perfect lifestyle photographer, which would make it really easy to get jobs.  My work is a little more complicated for them. And maybe it’s not happy enough or as glorious as it should be, or as fun as it should be. At this point, I don’t really care, because I’m sort of confident enough to just make the work I want to make, which then lands commercial gigs. But that’s a very hard position to live in.

What was your entry into the fine art world?

James Wagner and Barry Hoggard did a review of my MFA work in their blog. Pre-Instagram. A couple of different gallerists found my work through that blog. One put me in a group show and took my work to Art Basel, Miami for one of the smaller satellite fairs. This is the December after I graduated. Crazy. That relationship blossomed very quickly, because I had a great response to my work at the fair and they offered me gallery representation and a show that led to a book being published. That trickled into another gallery in Canada, which had an exhibition and then another book, and that really set me on the path to go to Review Santa Fe in 2009. 

I found pretty good success pitching myself at that review, because the professional practice class I had with Henry Hornstein really prepared me. That led me to getting represented by a gallery in New York. And that really put me more on the map. So I got into the real deal art world very quickly, within a matter of five years out of grad school. It’s all contingent upon having pictures they liked, good artwork with good messages, good statements.  And timing is such a big part of this job. I was making work that not a lot of people were making, and I think it became a popular subject matter.  I got very lucky with this. I just made my artwork in grad school, I didn’t think about how the markets are going to digest it in five years, and whether or not it’s going to be a hot topic.

This was “Intertidal”, which was about about this idea of masculine identity, and a self portrait. “Wild and Precious” was really interesting, I would say it’s my best work, certainly, it’s my most favorite work. It’s my most successful work in some ways, but it didn’t sell very well. 

I shifted as a person. I had a kid, I started making new work. Again, I’m not making work for the market. I’m just making work I’m interested in.  Since 2015, the culture around children and nature and the connection — or not — between humans and nature, and the environment and climate change, all that stuff was really boiling up. This was just part of my life, became part of my photography, and wasn’t really something that was as sexy as my gallery wants it. It was different. I was now taking pictures of a little kid. No more men and no more self portraits, but now I was dealing with parents and nature lovers, and it opened up so many more doors for me as others were shutting.

That is the way careers go for creative people who are not trying to meet the market, they’re waiting for the market to meet them. Students and emerging photographers in particular, you’re told your voice, your brand — whatever that is — is the most important thing. Be unique and set yourself apart. At the same time, you’re told be commercial, whether you’re in the fine art world, the gallery world, or the editorial world; meet the market.

I have this relationship with that concept as a construct in the world. My friends that are commercial photographers, they’re often very successful because they’re always doing like what’s hot in the market. And I don’t necessarily have any interest in that, at all. I’m aware, very aware, of what’s hot in the market. I’m very aware of marketing in general, and what sells. But I don’t cater my work to that. 

For example, in the last few years, there’s been a huge push for minority representation, and BIPOC and LGBTQ+ representation that I’m all for 1,000%, I love all that stuff. But I don’t necessarily try to shoot that stuff in my work. When I’m on a commercial job, I certainly try to cast minority people for representation purposes, because I think it’s fair and equitable and something I want to do, but in my own personal artwork, it’s really not present. If I did, I could probably be more successful. My friends that do are more aware of it and chase it harder, and I find they are more successful in some ways.

There’s a total consistency in the work on your site.

I’m just me, and obviously the pictures are going to reflect that, because it’s really just the way I see the world. It’s not that unique, but it’s very specific to me. For example, right now I’m working on a project, we’re putting together a bid package for this job, it’s a road trip job, and it’s for a big brand. I was creating this treatment, which is a presentation about why I should get the job. All I did was say: Hey, this is who I am, look at all the shit that I’ve done in my life has led me to the moment where I can actually say to you that I am the right photographer for this job. Here’s all the proof. It’s a series of personal projects and client work. 

Just to give you an example, I had a client in the past where we would go on RV road trips with my family, which was spawned because of Wild and Precious. They were like: go make Wild and Precious for us. It’s 75% me being myself and 25% shooting stuff for the client. I would never shoot a picture of an RV personally for myself, but we were in an RV, but most of the pictures were just art pictures. The beauty of that process for me is that the client gets the artist they are after, and I get the artwork that I’m after on the client’s dime. So it’s a really great place to be. There’s a certain level of keeping it real with your vision and not catering to the market, but there’s also an element of commercial viability in my artwork. 

My life is one thing, it’s one path. I feel very fortunate to have stumbled into that. That’s not necessarily a conscious decision, it just happens. I think it’s nice I’m able to sort of live in between two worlds. I think there’s a lot of photographers that do that; I’m not the only one.

I don’t know how much influence pop culture has on my life. My work is infused with lots of things that are relative to culture, and pop culture. Somehow, my story is a little slippery, it can slide in and out of editorial work and commercial work and climate change, global warming, being a conscious consumer, traveling, parenting. Those are big, high level concepts that all my work fits into in a really fortunate way. We’re all living in the same world, right? We’re all trying to raise our families in the same world. We’re exposed to the same TV commercials and the same movies and the same political bullshit. So all of those things are overlapping into all of our lives. I just feel like I’m fortunate enough to have it also overlap into my artwork.

Most people, if they do artwork, are mostly doing their day job, then they do their artwork and there isn’t any overlap, necessarily. 

I think the takeaway from these interviews always, is that you can live the dream. It’s possible, right? I have some kids, I have a little farm, I have a decent career in photography, and I basically do what I want, when I want, and how I want. Not many people can say that, even in the photography industry. I don’t need a lot of money to survive. I have an older LandRover that I love and it’s a passion car for me. It’s still a nice car. We’re happy, and I’m able to make it work and keep it real with my vision and my artwork and parlay it into commercial photography. For people wondering how the hell do I do that? Or can I do that, I think it’s really nice to know that, yes, it’s definitely attainable. It’s a lot of work. You never can turn it off. It is never off. You’re never off the clock. It has sacrifices. I was literally up until midnight on the phone with other people talking about this commercial project last night when my wife is trying to sleep. My kids know that Daddy’s always on the phone. You’re never not working.

I saw Joyce Tenneson give a talk. She said it is still true that a lot of people assist in order to learn the trade, then they’ll go on to become photographers. The ones that succeed, they don’t go to the party. They go home at the end of the day because you have to build your portfolio. 

I assisted after grad school to make money when I wasn’t getting any jobs. I was a digital tech. We were taught how to operate camera RAW from Steve Smith over at RISD. I was able to segue out of grad school into the commercial world through the assistant path because of that, which gave me a lot of insight as to what commercial jobs were like. I remember my first job, where we had a motor home, and there were models and hair and makeup people. I was like, this is like a movie. Then I started working for Ralph Lauren Polo for my friend who was shooting that stuff. We were traveling all over the country shooting famous models, and it was nuts.

You made me think, when you quoted the photographer who said the ones that succeed are the ones that don’t go to the party. I would argue there is something to be said for the party, in the sense that that is a place to make connection. I think that’s a huge piece of this. I totally agree with that person’s stance, but also you need to make time to go to the party once in a while. You need to have some sort of a personality when you get to that party so you can connect with other people who are peers, other photographers, writers, cool people, art directors, clients: they want to go to the party. A lot of the times the people you want to work for are at the party. So not going to the party, ever, does rob you, in some ways, of opportunity. Part of the reason I was getting jobs is because I was having fun with these art directors. You’ve got to be open and flexible and fun and have a good personality, but also have good artwork.  If you have bad pictures, it’s game over right at the beginning.

I say to my wife, you know, comically, when we’re butting heads about something related to my job, I always say, Hey, listen, don’t get mad at me because I chose to make a career out of drinking beer with my friends and going on road trips.

It takes a good partner.

I have the best partner. Most understanding partner, no question. I’m blessed.

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Jesse Burke – https://www.jesseburke.com/

Interview with Victor Moriyama

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This article first appeared on Lenscratch as part of the series Photographers On Photographers. The brief included speaking with photojournalists and documentary photographers whose work is exhibited in galleries, museums, and other public displays, as well as in publications and advertising.

Barry Schwartz in Conversation with Victor Moriyama on Lenscratch: http://lenscratch.com/2023/06/photographers-on-photographers-barry-schwartz-in-conversation-with-victor-moriyama/

The full article, sans photos, follows.

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I became aware of Victor Moriyama through his essay “Living on the Margins, ‘Surfing’ on the Buses” as part of the New York Times series, “The World Through A Lens”.  As I went through his website, I noticed he placed the text description at the end of his photo essays, rather than the top, where most people — myself included — place them.  It indicates his sense of the primacy of images to tell stories, part of his training (which included writing) at university, where he learned photography and filmmaking, including how to be a camera operator.   Moriyama worked for a television production company for a few years, doing multimedia, advertising, and documentary projects.  

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Artist Statement and Bio:

For the past 4 years, I’ve documented hell in the world’s largest rainforest under the administration of ultra-right former Brazilian president Jair Bolsonaro. The Amazon rainforest experienced its worst moments breaking records of deforestation caused by the greed of the white man, who illegally operates in the region in a predatory and historical manner with the connivance of the Brazilian state.

I document photographically as a long-term project the process of occupation of the Amazon and its socio-environmental impacts for many years, but the “Oco” project intensified between 2018/2022. The word “Oco” in Portuguese means empty inside, devoid of meaning. Indigenous leader Davi Kopenawa, who writes the book’s preface, has a thought in which he says that we whites have empty thinking, because we don’t understand nature and we violate it until we reach its death. “The planet will end up like a big ball of fire”, says Mr. Kopenawa.

I believe that the model of historical exploration of the Amazon is part of the dynamics of the white colonizing man repeatedly violating women (Planet Earth, understood as the sacred feminine), a portrait of the history of Brazil since the invasion of the Portuguese that extends until today.

In this sense, the title of the book becomes urgent as the publication portrays the process of land grabbing that takes place inside the forest and summarizes the entire chain of destruction. First, invaders map trees of commercial value for export, then they cut them down and transport them to be traded. Then, they set fire to the area so that the ashes fertilize the soil for future cattle pasture. After the site is constituted as a large pasture farm, it can become a high-production soy or corn monoculture farm. The result of this process is a large forest converted into ashes, into something hollow. These are the images that close the publication.

I put myself as a photojournalist and activist for climate and nature. This condition has shaped my personal and professional trajectory over the last decade. It is in this context that I hope to sensitize the audience to a call back to Earth, to nature. It is urgent that we join forces: journalists, indigenous peoples, anthropologists, scientists, environmentalists, politicians, young people, to pressure decision makers from companies and governments towards environmental policies for the conservation of natural biomes.

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Barry Schwartz
You spent two years on staff at a local newspaper in your hometown of Sao Paulo.

Victor Moriyama 
It was my second school. It was amazing to work for a local, small newspaper and I learned a lot.  I spent two years working for them. And I worked for Associated Press in Brazil as a stringer photographer. It was in 2010, 13 years ago.

You have been working as a photographer or camera person since you got out of school.

Yeah, pretty much.

Normally, the route is still photographer moving into video, but you actually started with motion.

I was working as a cameraman, and then I just realized that photography is more interesting than video. There’s the challenge to capture the one single moment, and I just wanted to be a photographer.  

Here in Sao Paulo, the biggest newspaper in Brazil is called Folha de São Paulo. It started a TV department inside the newspaper. It was a very nice project because it was completely done by photographers with a documentary perspective, and they started to film some stories.

I’ve just been working as a freelance photographer for the past decade. The NGOs and newspapers I’ve been working with rarely asked me to do video recording… just special things. Right now, we are doing some B roll to open a story.  We are talking about how we can bring in audio recordings or video or drone: which fits better for the story we’re trying to tell.  This is pretty new and to be honest, I think it helped me to better understand how I can build my line, how I can be a better storyteller.

I studied that at university, about movie directors and how to be a storyteller, and I think it contributed a lot to my journey.

I tell my students there’s a reason a lot of photojournalists become wedding photographers and move into advertising, all kinds of things, because their skill set has to be so broad.

Yeah, absolutely. If you’re working as a staff photographer for a newspaper, you need to photograph everything, politics, sports, whatever.  It’s the best school for photography. I feel comfortable if I need to shoot some something different than photojournalism, because I have the good skills photojournalism gave to me.

There was a time when being a specialist was really the way to go. If you did advertising, beauty, or fashion, or product, that was your lane. I don’t think that’s the case anymore, which is really quite nice.

Yeah, and life is short. I think about how I can try something that I never tried before, like use a flash in the mid-day, or something different just to try it and see if it works. We can develop new skills. This is a very interesting thing about our formation as a photographer, and how you can just surf into different languages in photography.

Twenty or thirty years ago, it was unusual for a photo journalist to show in a museum or a gallery. Now, it’s much more accepted.

I think photography is the universal language. We don’t need to translate anything. It touches our hearts and it’s about feeling.  I just was listening to a podcast with Sarah Leen. She was the Photo Editor at National Geographic for years and years and she was talking about, we don’t always need text. We don’t need explanation; the picture just needs to talk with our hearts and the feelings that pop up. Photography and photojournalism is about that. The world is a global society, so while everything is local it is also a global issue. 

I’m working here on a story nearby my home.  It’s about the ocean, but it is talking about the entire world, if we’re talking about climate change. I think people want to see what’s going on in different parts of the world. I am working in long time perspectives, long term projects about the Amazon destruction.  The Amazon is the biggest tropical forest in the world so everybody’s interested in it, and thinking about climate change. We have Greta Thunberg and young students saying, hey, we need to stop this, it’s completely wrong, let’s think about that. 

Photojournalists, we are on the ground and showing the world to the people. Art has this potential to connect, to touch your heart, to bring you back to feel something different. And with that, you can organize your mind and the way you’re living your life. It can make changes in you, or push for different policies for governments to stop deforestation, or for human rights.  I truly believe in the power of pictures, the power of our job to push companies or governments to create new programs, balancing inequality or the environmental crisis.  I am an activist for the environment. I just want to keep it preserved because I think it’s so beautiful. We are so far away from nature, from the trees, and from all the knowledge we have from the indigenous tribes here in the Amazon rainforest. 

I’m really fascinated by them and by their knowledge and how they see the world, and telling their stories to a global audience. Galleries, museums, institutions, they’re trying to connect with authors like me, or other photographers that are trying to talk about issues and how it connects with the values of these institutions or companies. The Open Society Foundation just opened a local bureau here in South America and they printed a lot of my pictures of the Amazon in their office.  It’s beautiful, the ways I can inspire some institutions to talk about this subject. 

Selling pictures is complicated. Magnum, or the VII agency, or Noor, are trying to sell pictures, but it’s not easy because we are not in the art markets.

I did an exhibition in Switzerland two years ago.  I transferred all the money to the indigenous people to support their causes. They’re struggling to produce success in their communities. I’m glad to have that kind of relationship with them.

I did a final pass at everything on your website before we spoke, and I had to take a break, because it was so heavy-going — but it’s never as intense as it is for the person on the ground. You’re in difficult environments, sometimes dangerous environments, in order to tell a story. You have to be alert and awake all the time.

I think it’s much more about the subjects we are interested in and how we can bring these subjects to another level of discussion in society. I remember once I was flying over the Amazon rainforest in a very tiny airplane, a very old plane, and it was raining, and it was almost like a nightmare. I realized that, I’m going to die over here. But if it happens, I am happy with that, because I’m doing one of my assignments, I truly believe I’m doing what I love. I make my peace with death. A lot of people, they never think about death and how it works. For us, it’s very important, because if you’re covering a war, or if you are in dangerous positions, you need to have a very clear and peaceful relationship with that, if we truly believe in what we are doing. That’s why I think photojournalism is a profession that you need to be passionate about, because otherwise, you’re just like doing bureaucratic stuff. Right now, at this moment, we have billions and billions of images. And we need to do something different. We need to tell this story in a different way or in some way that can touch the hearts and minds of different people around the world. I think this is the most important thing.

Did you apply to be part of these exhibitions? Or were you approached to do them?

Sometimes I was invited to festivals, and other times I just applied, but most of them invited me. Visa pour l’image, Perpignan in France during the pandemic.  Everybody starts to know your work if you’re doing an exhibition in Arles in France or a festival in Santa Fe, good festivals about photography. They start to invite you to participate. I think, in 2019, the fires in the Amazon rainforest was a turning point. What is going on? The same in California. Everybody knows fire season is so bad. People are dying in Portugal. What happens in Australia? It’s happening in Indonesia. I think climate change is the most important topic right now…and Victor is doing work about Amazon destruction and deforestation. So let’s bring him to our festival to talk about that, and see how we can learn about this. I think it’s a natural, organic process.

In your work, you’re showing the fires, but you’re also showing the people who live there who have been abused and mistreated and marginalized.

Very hard challenge.

The NGOs that you work for want to get the photos into publication. It’s all about the message.

It’s our goal, absolutely. Greenpeace, here in Brazil, are trying to bring celebrities with millions and millions of fans on Instagram to see the Amazon destruction, to look at what’s going on. Then the celebrities, they do some TikTok videos, and I’m here in the middle of the jungle when it is on fire. Greenpeace, it’s very serious for them. I’ve been working for them for the past decade. It’s about the message. This is very important.

You also do a photo column for El Pais.

El Pais is the biggest newspaper in Spain. We had an office here in Brazil for almost 10 years. I worked for them since the beginning, and I realized that I need to write again, and I started my column. It was about photography. But then we had the pandemic, and the Brazilian Bureau was closed by Spain. It was a very short moment of my career, but it was very nice.

What was your subject?

Most of it was to show Brazilian photographers and their work. I mostly wrote about Brazilian women photographers and their work, with a beautiful gallery.

You were doing interviews?

Yes. It wasn’t a weekly column. It was whenever I wanted. I started my career in writing. It’s almost the same. We have this passion. When I was a young kid, I said to my mom — I was 8 years old, 10 years old — hey, Mom, I want to write a book. She agreed — amazing. I had no ideas about being a photographer.

The impulse is the same. You take photos to find out what you’re seeing. If you write, it’s to find out what you’re thinking. I think writing is the same as the photography in that way.

Yeah, it’s a very similar process.

You do mentoring and teaching. How did that start?

It happened as a huge influence from Ed Kashi. I have a great relationship with him. Then I realized all of them at VII are doing that, at least Ed, Ron Haviv, Sarah Terry, and other photographers.

I saw one of the last tours they did as the original group of seven. They came to Art Center in Pasadena for two days, not doing workshops, just being there and doing presentations.

Jim Nachtwey, too?

Yes.  It was amazing to just be in the room with him. Some people, they have a presence.

Yeah, he has a presence. Absolutely. Jim is amazing. I’ve seen his TED talks, and his “War Photographer” documentary film. We have his book, “Inferno”. 

I learned from Ed Kashi and the VII folks how important it is to be a mentor to people. Ed did that for  me for a couple of years. It is a very important thing to stay with young photographers for a year. We have weekly conversations or monthly conversations, to help provide more tools for them; how I can express myself on this subject or how I can develop my photographic language.  I just stopped a little bit because I have a young baby, but it’s very important. It’s a very rich process, because I learn and they learn, seeing how I can empower them to to be good storytellers and support their ideas. 

I want to create more connections between us, and empower our community as photographers in the world because I think we are very far away from the rest of the world. For instance, I was in Washington DC two weeks ago at the National Geographic Summit, and we had seven Mexican photographers, lovely people. And we just had one Brazilian photographer. Something is wrong, because Brazil is bigger than Mexico, we have a lot of a lot of issues pressing over here. We’re not accessing some important festivals around the world. Let’s think about photography, let’s print your pictures, put them on the wall and see how we can edit this job.

It’s important for me.  I like talking with students.  I’m invited to join universities and journalism courses and it’s a pleasure because sometimes the way I see the world, or my words or my images, can touch some hearts. 

For instance, I saw Sebastião Salgado’s book, “Workers”, which my mom bought, and when I saw the pictures I said, what is this? 

How old were you?

I was like a young kid, 15 years old. I was listening to Lindsey Addario. She was talking about that.  When I saw the Sebastian Salgado pictures, I realized that I want to do that. 

He’s doing similar things to what you’re doing. And he’s a Brazilian to boot. I think teaching is to give back. And to make it real.

I think it is magical. I like this educational perspective. For me, it’s another part of my job.

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Victor Moriyama is a photographer, educator, and writer.

Website: https://www.victormoriyama.com.br

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/victormoriyama