Lots has changed in photography since I entered the culture as a boy. It used to be that photographers communicated mainly through books—other publications as well, but the published book was the ultimate final form of accomplishment, and you needed to see a photographer's book or books before you could have any claim to know what they were up to. That's changed. The camera used to have some authority, commanding respect or at least attention wherever it appeared. Anyone remember what a big day it was when the photographer came to do your school pictures? And if the newspaper sent a photographer, it meant the story, whatever it was, was being accorded a certain respect and importance. No more. Nowadays, some guy with a big DSLR isn't even a potential terrorist or a scummy Princess-killing paparazzi any more! (To name two of the slanders against us that pertained in recent decades and thankfully seem to have subsided.) Photography used to be a specialized skill that took some effort to master, which had the effect of elevating the status of those versed in the art—and of keeping the hordes at bay. Those days might not quite be gone, but they seem to be going.
Book or box
In those days, your main calling card was your portfolio, an idea that seems to have become...quaint, let's say. The portfolio, which took the form of a box or book of prints (in fact it was called your "book" in several branches of the craft), was the well-arranged and carefully judged shop window of your expertise—it showed people not only the best of what you could do, your skills and competencies, but also who you were...your concerns, your way of looking at things, your style, your chosen subjects.
This was as true for art photographers as for pros of all sorts. Editors called to see your book if they got interested by your mailings or heard of you some other way. Engaged couples were shown the photographer's book in a carefully orchestrated meeting while deciding on a wedding photographer. Artists dropped their boxes off at museums for review, picking them up a week later, so the curators would learn their names, see what they were up to, and consider their work for purchase or exhibition.
Great care and attention was lavished on what form the portfolio should take. In art circles it was often a deluxe solander case with beautifully matted fine prints inside—sometimes you'd find a pair of cotton gloves carelessly tossed in on top of the pictures as a convenience for whomever would be handling the pictures (replacing dirty mats was an inconvenience for the photographer, expensive or at least time-consuming). In professional circles the form of the book was endlessly discussed, and part of the creativity of the, er, "Creative" (an unfortunate shorthand name I never did like). One guy I remember had his pictures laminated by an outfit that made paper art into placemats! As in, for the dining table. The resulting mats were rigid and had a soft felt backing. Unfortunately the hard plastic covering was not quite transparent, so his pictures had a soft matte sheen to the surface that didn't suite every image. He did think the presentation was distinctive, but he did it mainly because they wore like iron, as serviceable placemats must, so he didn't have to re-do them so often.
Of course amateurs, wannabes, students and hobbyists often imitated the pros and artists in this aspect of the practice of the art, as in others. So they, too, were encouraged to create portfolios. How else could anyone see a formal and considered presentation of your pictures?
Well, that's over, clearly. Slap a JPEG on the web. One picture can be exchanged for another with a few clicks, and the whole pile can be accessed by anyone the world over at any time (as long as they have a desire to go see it, which turns out to be the hardest part), and it never wears out from handling. And you can have five portfolios, or ten. Even though the limits of a physical portfolio were a great help in staying focused and keeping it all on point.
Doldrums
I wonder, though, if the portfolio might not be a key learning experience for many of us still. I heard from a reader the other day who finds her creativity in the doldrums. "I feel quite stuck and uninspired," she writes. "I keep asking myself questions about photography, but I just don't have a vision about it (pun intended). The state of the internet these days sure does not help: you know better than me how depressed to the bottom the landscape is, and how gear-driven and content-empty. I'm convinced that if it was not for TOP, I would not be into photography any more and with young kids and little spare time, I just can't engage in classes or activities...."
She was looking to me as if I'd have some answers, but, actually, my first reaction was to think, I know how you feel! I'm in a similar boat, I guess.
The art of the portfolio
It did kindle a glimmer of memory, though—a memory of how deeply satisfying it was to work on a portfolio. From the photographer's vantage point, a portfolio wasn't just a motley collection of the best snaps they had managed in the past. It was a hopeful statement for the future: this is who I want to be, it said; this is what I really love. This is me, in short.
Because, really, a portfolio had to be composed of things you had done in the past, but what it really was was a projection of the work you wanted to do in the future. If you were a wedding photographer but you wanted to do commercial product photography, you showed a portfolio of the latter. If you were a jobber photographer-for-hire doing grip-and-grins but you wanted to be a wedding photographer, you shot a few weddings for friends and relatives and put that work in your portfolio. For pros, as much as possible you made the portfolio show the kind of work you wanted to be hired for going forward. I remember reading stories of hardworking assistants, eager to strike out on their own and make a name for themselves, holing up for months in the studio to create a portfolio of new work in a new style, hoping to transform themselves.
I suspect the same relationship translates to a personal artistic portfolio as well. You can reinvent yourself, reimagine yourself. Start with a core of a few shots you've taken that intrigue you and work outward; pare away everything that's not what you do best. Keep questioning the work: what are you doing? Who are you?
Don't pander. No clichés, no "likes-bait," no conventional "I'm-supposed-to-do-it-this-way" kind of stuff. Maybe even head the other way. Challenge the viewer; find your depth. Use your online communities to help edit; make online versions so you can see, visually, how each picture works with its neighbors; carry a miniature version made of tiny prints so you can show willing friends and acquaintances, and watch their reactions as they look through it.
To put together a group of pictures that shows who and what you are as a photographer: it's a tougher task than it might seem at a glance.
Does it sing?
In a recent book review, Charles Yu writes: "In his craft memoir, On Writing, Stephen King describes a moment in his process when he asks himself the 'Big Questions.' The biggest of which are: 'Is this story coherent? And if it is, what will turn coherence into a song?'" Good questions for a portfolio, too.
When you find the right work, it flows. Sings is a good word too, because what's a song but notes in the context of others? A picture in a portfolio has to be in balance and harmony with the others.
Just a thought, really. I don't have a portfolio now and it's been a long time since I've put one together. And I know many of you already do practice what I'm preaching—I've seen great portfolios by readers who've come to visit. Thoughtful and coherent sets of pictures in self-published books and calendars and many other forms have crossed my desk. But I wanted to say this anyway: I guess one thing I have left over from the old culture is a faith in the powers of the portfolio and a faith in the creative rejuvenation of portfolio-crafting. As a curative, and a restorative, a way to rekindle and reinvent. A tangible stakepost in the ground that says "here's me, now." And as a way to forge forward, a way to get out of the doldrums, and get wind in your sails again.
Mike
(Thanks to Daniele)
Product of Interest this week:
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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:
Kenneth Tanaka: "I suspect that the days of assembling a portfolio of work as an aid in soliciting photo work are long past for many TOP readers, if they ever occurred at all. I also suspect that the traditional portfolio—i.e. a large, heavy book of plastic-covered prints—is itself a bit of a relic.
"However, this statement at the end of your essay is as valid now as it ever was: '...the powers of the portfolio and a faith in the creative rejuvenation of portfolio-crafting. As a curative, and a restorative, a way to rekindle and reinvent. A tangible stakepost in the ground that says "here's me, now." And as a way to forge forward, a way to get out of the doldrums, and get wind in your sails again.'
"More to the moment, the act of building books or magazines of one’s work is a powerful medium for self-realization, creative expression, preservation of work, and, yes, representation of one’s work. It’s something that nearly everyone can do today through desktop tools that you may already have. Even if you never print a single copy of your book or magazine you will be stronger and rejuvenated just by the act of curating some of your work into a cohesive collection. Guaranteed.
"I have made four self-published books of my own work and have plans for three more. I’ve just come to treat it as part of the creative photographic cycle."
John Camp (partial comment): "I know this post was about portfolios, but: Too many people think they have to go to some grand vision of 'art' to be a real photographer. To the woman who feels uninspired, and believes she doesn't have time to do serious photography, I'd say (from the perspective of 77 years and two kids and three grandchildren) DO THE KIDS. No matter whatever else you do in photography, or how great it turns out to be, when you finally get old, that's what you'll come back to, time after time."
[Full texts of "partial" Featured Comments are published in the full Comments section. Click on "Comments (#)" in the footer of the post. —Ed.]
Bob Rosinsky: "The thing about physical portfolios is most galleries choose to look at websites instead. It's like trying to pull teeth to get a curator to view actual prints. I am greatly chagrined by the lack of interest to view prints...I've spent 45 years devoted to the craft of printing, both analog and digital."
DavidB: "Just the other day, while looking for something else on my crowded shelves, I came across my portfolio album. Putting aside my immediate task, I sat down and flipped through it looking at the prints I had made at a time when I was considering becoming a full-time photographer. I never took that path but looking back at the portfolio was an opportunity to think 'What if?' The portfolio did its job. I showed it to many business owners and was granted the opportunity to display and sell prints in local businesses as well as one art gallery. The gallery showing was so much fun!"
Gordon Haddow: "I often aspired to having a portfolio, but procrastination always seemed to get in the way. I managed to produce a website for a show but this site is now woefully behind my photographic production (procrastination again). For my annual performance review at work, I had a long-running joke with my boss that my one of my three goals was to work on my procrastination 'but it was taking longer than thought' or 'I have not managed to start.'
"I gave up on the portfolio but always wanted to show my family and friends what I was working on. Then in 2007 I hit on the idea of giving them a calendar of photographs as a Christmas gift. The rule was that I had to print and produce it myself. They are archivally printed on matte paper. Only the binding could be done in a shop. Usually, they were photographs taken the previous year, or a particular subject, or a particular location. That year I printed 20. Last year (a calendar of San Miguel De Allende) the gift list had grown to 100. Some years are better than others, but it has revived my interest in photography, gave me an ongoing project and lots of feedback. It has given me much joy to see them hanging in the homes of my family, friends and colleagues. Many tell me that they still have all of them and treasure them.
"Maybe next year when I will be retired, I will work on a portfolio (and my website) but the calendar will come first."
Richard Skoonberg: "I have had the opportunity to share my 'book,' a portfolio box of large, curated prints, in face-to-face meetings with gallery owners, museum curators, and directors of photography centers. They like to see large, finished prints, 13x19", without plastic sleeves, unless, of course, you have a clear reason why they should be smaller. The print is the final artifact; the item to valued, exhibited, and sold. Your book should contain no more than 20 of your best prints and you should be able to talk about each one."
Mim: "My local photo club runs an annual portfolio process for all members who wish to participate. At your own level, you put together a coherent set of photos on one subject. Continuous support and feedback is available from specified volunteers in the club, and also in several structured meetings during the year from the membership as a whole. It culminates in a show at the end of the year. I've found it to be a really worthwhile process that stretches my abilities and challenges how I think about my photography. It's been great to think about how images fit together, and not just whether I've got one good (lucky?) shot."
Mike replies: I remember trying to collate and group together all my own "one good (lucky?) shots." The effect was rather disconcerting...they didn't work together very well, and each one seemed to be a little diminished in the presence of the others. I guess that's what happens when the whole is less than the sum of its parts, rather than more.
Sharon: "Well, we all should be making prints of our work. We may not need them to lug them around as much but the physical print is a different cat than looking on the web. There is a deep, deep satisfaction in holding a beautiful print. I put ours in archival boxes. I love the documentary The B Side, about Elsa Dorfman. She pulls print after print out of boxes and flat files and talks about them. That would have been a lousy movie without the prints."
Adam Lanigan: "I tried a few times over the years to put together a portfolio as it just seemed like the thing to do, but it flopped every time.
"I've totally fallen in love, though, with putting projects into book form via online self-publishing tools. As you said, pulling together the notes and stringing them from page to page to sing together is hugely satisfying. It's really helped me focus the work, but also shifted my perspective away from always just showing the very best shots (the melody) and elevated marginal ones (the harmony) that lay the foundation, build out the context, and let the melody photos sing louder. (Apologies for any metaphor abuse.)
"I've got three separate books on the go right now and it's great to push back and forth between them depending on what I'm feeling when I sit down at the computer to move them forward. I may print them all, I may not. (I've fallen in love with the possibilities offered by layflat books, which, of course, are far more expensive.)
"For me, these project books have replaced the need and function for a traditional portfolio, helping me get shows in the past, showing various aspects of what I do, putting that focused vision on a subject, etc. In fact, for the last show I did at the central library, they purchased a copy of the book and it now sits on their shelves, which is still the coolest damn thing to me. I'm currently working on reorienting my website around this project/book focus."
Thomas Walsh: "I would like to second what John Camp wrote about doing the kids. If one is blessed with grandchildren, the possibilities of building portfolios of their growing up are infinite. Who cares if my wife and I are the only ones who see them? The happy memories that they bring are worth far more than any accolade that may (more probably may not in my case) come from any photographic merit they possess."
Tom Duffy: "I endorse John Camp's advice. 'DO THE KIDS.' I was an early adopter of COVID, getting it in March of 2020. While recovering, I realized that if I didn't print my countless sheets of B&W negatives of my kids growing up, these pictures would essentially be lost forever. For every negative worth printing I make three 5x7s, one for each of my daughters, whether they are in the picture or not. They'll each get the same complete set of about 400 pictures. I'm objectively a mediocre photographer, but the number of really good pictures is pretty impressive when all is said and done. This will be my only photographic legacy but it turns out I'm happy with it and hopefully my kids will be too, come Christmas."
About ten years ago I found the need to redo my portfolio, and I built both online and a printed book versions, almost identical. (I was at a point where let's say I might suddenly need to be looking for work again. This was during the last big downturn in the economy.) I enjoyed the process for the most part, and I was quite happy with the results. But now it's ten years out of date, and I have been meaning to update for at least five of those years. It's such a daunting task when one doesn't *need* to do it.
Posted by: Ken Bennett | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 11:06 AM
I know this post was about portfolios, but:
Too many people think they have to go to some grand vision of "art" to be a real photographer. To the woman who feels uninspired, and believes she doesn't have time to do serious photography, I'd say (from the perspective of 77 years and two kids and three grandchildren) DO THE KIDS. No matter whatever else you do in photography, or how great it turns out to be, when you finally get old, that's what you'll come back to, time after time.
The thing about photographers and terrorists is so absurd that it gives me an ice cream headache. It is a persistent (and usually racist) movie theme that actually seems to appeal to segments of the law enforcement and political communities, but anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see after thinking about it for one second that terrorists really don't need photographs. Almost anything worth bombing you can walk up to and look at. Or ride in. To your heart's content. You don't need to lurk across the street shooting a 400mm lens through a car window. What are you going to get a photo of? A door? For really complicated targets, terrorists need to know about *processes,* not buildings.
Posted by: John Camp | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 12:20 PM
Excellent post, Mike. I think in these world wide web days portfolios have gone the way of the dodo. Haven't even thought about using one for well over ten years. Sold a lovely Billingham leather and canvas portfolio a few years ago as it was just hanging around taking up space. There was a slight pang when it went, but that was just because it was a beautiful artefact in its own right. Nowadays my website is my portfolio.
Posted by: Nick Davis | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 12:57 PM
Making a portfolio (in any form) is an excellent way to understand what your photography is actually about.
Which can be an unsettling revelation- and may help you toward making better, more meaningful pictures as well.
I recently pulled out a big black binder that I hadn't opened in a long time. Inside was a portfolio of architecture work that dated from the late 1990s, made to convince architects to hire me (a side gig then). 11x14" color prints inside plastic sleeves, they still looked good and showed my capabilities well enough to get jobs. I'd also included some personal architecture-themed work.
My point being that assembling that portfolio made me think about what I was doing and how well it held together... and that helped my photography a lot.
Posted by: Mark Sampson | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 02:49 PM
I was going to say no I don’t have, a portfolio but then I struck me I actually do albe it a virtual one. On my 500px page. 500px.com/terryletton I have a gallery which I call Twenty, it is 20 of my own images from the ones I have posted on 500px over the last several years. As I have never tried to make a living out of photography for fear of ruining a perfectly good hobby I have not paid any attention to who if anyone views it. But anyway it’s there for most anyone in the world to view if they happen to find it and building it did kill some pandemic boredom.
Posted by: Terry Letton | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 03:40 PM
I have forgotten the name of the writer (ken? mike?) but I bought a small handbook about photography quite a while ago. The advice was to start a project or call it a theme but in essence photography of particular target.
From that target your photography will advance because you will end up taking the photos and it will be your way. Basically the project gives you a reason to use your camera.
how good the project ends up is NOT the point.
Posted by: louis mccullagh | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 03:56 PM
Mike, I found your comments helpful and insightful. However, what about the portfolio shared at portfolio reviews, often for the critique of work, thoughts about how to advance the work, looking for input, and in some cases looking for publishers and gallery representation, or exhibits? Do you have a perspective on the use of the portfolio in this context?
Posted by: david myers | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 07:45 PM
This: http://wlewisiii.500px.photography is as close to a portfolio as I have and it is one of the ways I use it. This i how I show people - potential customers some rare times but friends and family as well - what it is I do and that I think I've finally gotten good at doing it the way I like to do it.
Posted by: William A Lewis | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 08:13 PM
Mike, really enjoyed your post today. These posts are why we follow you. I am doing some at home rehabbing now and can’t be out shooting so I am trying to curate 20+ years of images mostly digital. A difficult task but I have found some real gems within the images. I have a spark of an idea of a project utilizing these old images. Not a portfolio exactly but I will be posting to albums in Flickr. Thanks for the post. Eric
Posted by: albert erickson | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 08:46 PM
Bob Rosinsky commented (in part) ... It's like trying to pull teeth to get a curator to view actual prints.
Which says a lot about the curator. High quality prints viewed in good light are always (in my experience) better than pictures on a screen. Unbound prints allow the viewer to place several prints together on a table giving a better perspective on the work.
Posted by: Speed | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 09:41 PM
I think there's an analog to this for a certain kind of mid-century amateur and that was "the slide show". In the milieu I grew up there were at least two threads to this photo culture. One was the travel slide-show; something I inherited from my Dad. The second was the lunch-time slide show which my university mountaineering club held and which featured, each week, a 1/2-hour slide show from a member.
It's possible that the university club show has been replaced by a digital show with an LCD projector (that's what photoclubs do for their monthly critiques, I believe) but I think replacement for the amateur travel slide show is a tougher nut to crack. I remember as I grew up in the 1970's, when someone returned from a big trip and mounted a slide show, it could be a bit of an event. It wasn't just family who attended but also friends and neighbours.
I recently tried something to replace that. I printed a booklet (AKA a 'zine) of a trip I had taken a couple years ago to southern Saskatchewan, particularly with the intention of photographing certain parts of that country (I'm from British Columbia). Then I mailed copies of the zine to family and friends of the sort who may have attended a slide show forty years ago. It certainly doesn't have the power of a shared viewing but most of my recipients certainly seemed to appreciate the gesture.
Posted by: Phil | Sunday, 06 June 2021 at 10:14 PM
A Kansas City photography group that I belong to has annual portfolio walks. Fifteen - twenty photographers in a gallery, or other exhibition space, with their portfolios (matted prints in clam shell boxes) spread out on tables. People come through, look at the prints, chat with the photographers. It's very well attended, sales are made, relationships formed.
A printed portfolio is an excellent tool to see how YOU really feel about YOUR work. Images on line vs images on paper is sorta like the difference between casualy saying "I bet it will rain tomorrow." and putting a $100 bill on the table "I bet it will rain tomorrow." That image looked good on the screen, but now that I'm faced with spending time and money on it...
I read somewhere about a guy who had his portfolio printed up as playing cards. He'd hand out packs at parties and ask people to shuffle through them and pick out their favorites.
Posted by: Kirk Decker | Monday, 07 June 2021 at 12:32 AM
One way, especially for an amateur like me, is to go for a recognised photographic qualification that requires you to present a coherent panel of images together with a statement of intent. I am thinking here of the Royal Photographic Society's LRPS, ARPS and FRPS. You can work through these, none of which is easy, until you obtain a Fellowship, which is one of the hardest won accolades there is.
Posted by: Bob Johnston | Monday, 07 June 2021 at 03:37 AM
Don't forget the venerable old RPS Distinctions.
Putting together a distinction panel is making a small portfolio (online or physical prints).
The RPS require the panel of pictures to work together as a set (as in, the panel as a whole has to possess a kind of meta-composition) and this adds a second level to portfolio building.
https://rps.org/qualifications/
Posted by: Dave Millier | Monday, 07 June 2021 at 03:40 AM
My local photo club runs an annual portfolio process for all members who wish to participate. At your own level, you put together a coherent set of photos on one subject. Continuous support and feedback is available from specified volunteers in the club, and also in several structured meetings during the year from the membership as a whole. It culminates in a show at the end of the year. I've found it to be a really worthwhile process that stretches my abilities and challenges how I think about my photography. It's been great to think about how images fit together, and not just whether I've got one good (lucky?) shot.
Posted by: Mim | Monday, 07 June 2021 at 08:04 AM
Early in my career as an advertising photographer, the portfolio methodology for people like me was the matted original 4X5 or 8X10 transparency. We shot extra film of work we thought would be our better assignments, just to be matted for the portfolio. Nothing more stunning than waltzing into an ad agency with black "window-matted" original
8 X 10 transparencies and putting them on a light box!
During the same period of time, I knew a few "multi-photographer" studios that had a wider focus of work, that used to have actual salesmen on staff who would make appointments and show 20X24 prints in a "pizza case" (what we all called those black, zipped portfolio cases that were so ubiquitous until about the 90's).
The whole point behind the agency portfolio showing, was to meet and greet the art director or designer and see if you were compatible and liked the person. I went on a few where I ended up despising the people and I'm sure they felt the same; better to find out before they show up at your studio!
By the end of the 80's, agencies in Chicago and Milwaukee were having a "portfolio drop off day", where you just dropped it off in the morning and picked it up in the afternoon. A lot of times, you didn't see anyone but the receptionist, and never heard anything; AND, about 30% of the time, your portfolio came back damaged. This defeated the whole purpose of the old portfolio showing, and it started to feel like people were buying photography "by the pound".
The 80's were also an era where the Creative Black Book started to have an influence in getting jobs, a local photographer paying enough for a page in the Black Book was sort of a nod to agency users that is person was probably established, and after looking at the work in the book, they could call for an old fashioned "meet and greet".
When going to see an agency, you also modified your portfolio to reflect work that they were actually doing. No sense walking in with a fashion portfolio when all they did was product. Since I was mostly product, I always came in with mostly product transparencies, and a few examples of annual reports I shot, so they knew I could cover their clients ancillary work if needed.
No doubt about the idea that whatever is happening today on line, it is cheaper to accomplish, and also "works for you" night and day, especially if you use the right key words for a search. It's probably easier to get the "right" clients that are looking for what you do, rather than spend hours and thousands of dollars talking to "looky-loos" that don't really control a budget or have the clients!
There's so few commercial photo jobs that pay now, most people just have the junior ad department person take it on their cell phone and apply filters. As a professional, that works with professionals, my philosophy in the past was unless you control the money, or have the budget and the ability to close the deal; I haven't got the time. There was a lot of "high-hatting" by ad agencies in my town, when the reality was the work was disappearing to the coast from post-Arab-oil-embargo business consolidation. Lots of lunches paid for and portfolios shown to people that didn't have the work any more!
Posted by: Crabby Umbo | Monday, 07 June 2021 at 09:43 AM
Mike, I have bucked the trend apparently, putting together two books over the course of the quarantine. One is a history of the early Linhof cameras, the other a photo essay of "subjects" revealed from the Mesa Verde wildfires in 2000. I had been working on both for several years and decided it was time to wrap it up.
If interested, send me an email and I can send a copy of the latter. The book, while pretty good, does not have the imagery of inkjet prints that were converted from digital color to B&W. It was self-published, on a budget, but does not quite compare to the portfolio prints. Another consequence of the digital age?
Posted by: Rick in CO | Monday, 07 June 2021 at 09:54 AM
After about 40 years in the advertising/multi media business, portfolios were always being constructed with new stuff. Professionally, one was/is only as good as their last great work. This habit carried on to my later years, no longer in the “running of the bulls”, with my photographic endeavors. Each exploration or technique that takes me down an interesting path gets a book. Varying between analogue and digital, the ones I like the most sometimes get the negative or flash chip with the file stored with the print.
Posted by: Bob G. | Monday, 07 June 2021 at 12:01 PM
One of my earliest jobs in Photography was as a second assistant, and one of my tasks was as a beast of burden for the Studio's Book.
I'd get the heavy portfolio in one of those black vulcanized fiberboard shipping cases to protect the actual portfolio.
I'd drag it uptown on the NYC Subway system. and , when it was time I'd go back and retrieve it.
But as you mentioned, it was hardly ever our 'best' work. It would be reformulated and re-sequenced depending on what clients the Agency had, and what work we hoped to get.
It was a sales tool, a collection designed to appeal to others, much more than it was a collection of my then Boss's 'Best Work:
We were a Commercial studio in NYC doing everything from People, to products, set building, to the ever difficult 'Pour Shots' on 8x10 Ektachrome. My boss was known as a problem solver, and we did everything in camera. But he was also a really good photographer. I remember him being excited about buying the then new Leica M4 and a single lens -35mm Sumicron. Every Monday morning my first job was to develop the rolls of tri-x he had exposed over the weekend.
I never asked him what his 'Real' portfolio would have looked like.
I really wish I had.
Because Portfolios are almost always for 'other people', they are almost always different from that group of pictures of which we are most proud. I have made portfolios in the past, but no longer do.
But I do something I really enjoy. I invested in two multi Drawer metal flat files. Each drawer is about 3' x4 ' -Six drawers in each 3 1" deep and 3, 2 1/2" deep.
I print my best work and keep it in drawers. For sequences I use clam shell boxes which fit in the larger drawers. I have good light and each time I go look, I play a little Game of which do I want in the Top Drawer of each of the two cabinets. Over time, I have been able to figure out what I believe is my best work.
I feel good seeing them, and I am proud of having made them, but always ask myself the question, What have you done lately that might find its way to the Top Drawer?
Even though the honest answer for this past year is 'Not Much' I find it more energizing than depressing, after all , it SHOULD be hard to get in the Top Drawer...........
Posted by: Michael Perini | Monday, 07 June 2021 at 06:28 PM
I never thought much about a portfolio until I signed up with Flickr -- they have a showcase area for your profile where they encourage you to pick 25 of your best shots. How do I know which are best? I don't, so I've based the choices (9 so far) mostly on their popularity rating. My own thoughts about which are my best photos is not reliable, at least according to my wife.
Posted by: Ivan | Thursday, 10 June 2021 at 09:58 AM