So I can't really say much about this, but, a while back, out of the blue, I got invited to write about photography for a major publication. Actually it's one of the most famous, prestigious, and storied publications in the English-speaking world. Not to displace TOP; in fact, the editor specifically said he didn't want to distract me from TOP. The proposition was that I would contribute short pieces to them intermittently.
I've written two things for them and am currently grappling with a third. Nothing has come of it so far. For one thing, it's like skipping from pickup games at the friendly neighborhood sandlot straight to the Major Leagues. My mojo has always been that I'm fairly good at stringing words together—I've gotten praise for my writing since grade school—but that's baseline for them. Even their little throwaway pieces just glitter with writing talent. You don't realize how much until you try to do it yourself. For another thing, my bloggerish habits have gotten pretty ingrained. You'd never use a word like "bloggerish" with them, for example. Based on a 365-day year, I've published an average of 1.6 times a day for 16.5 years, and haven't had a vacation that's worthy of the word since George W. Bush was President. That creates...let's call it a groove. lol.
I would say those bloggerish habits are: first, everything's grist for the mill here, so everything gets tossed cheerfully in, down to those ferocious, human-averse little brown-black fisher-cats lurking in these woods; second, everything's done and up. I bash it out and up it goes. I haven't been able to identify it, but I think there's an old black-and-white Spencer Tracy movie (if I were writing this for them I'd have to go research that) in which he plays a journalist, and in one scene he rushes back to the newsroom, plops down at the typewriter, bashes out a page at high speed, rips it out of the typewriter and has a kid run it down to the printing press. If that scene doesn't actually exist, it should. That's like blog writing.
Except they had rules.
And oversight: editors. I haven't worked with an editor for a long time. Direct and immediate feedback from an erudite and informed audience, however, functions excellently as a form of oversight too—it has matured me, and honed my sense of the way what I say will be received. I've personally moderated over 300,000 comments—imagine a magazine writer receiving that many responses for his or her articles. Without, I mean, being driven around the bend by it.
I think my main weakness, and I hope not my Achilles heel, might be that I get all first-persony. Like I am now. I talk to you as me, and that's sketchy in real journalism. Except perhaps in carefully measured little amounts. When writing for a newspaper or magazine, you do get the byline for the reader to ignore (fact: bylines are magically invisible to the eyes and craniums of all but very few readers), but it's best to think of your writerly "voice" as if it's the publication talking, not you. Keep your triflin' self outta sight, you bum. If you don't, it's like physically inserting yourself between two parties who are standing talking to each other. Rude and awkward. So I'm having to relearn some old...manners.
On the other hand, I'm not 100% sure I should. Writing as myself might not be a deliberate didactic choice, but it's certainly the way my style of writing about photography has evolved organically. Who am I to parade my opinions as if they're objective truths? Who is anyone? I don't think it's justified. No one owns photography. Even though everyone thinks they do. Photography is a huge, baggy, sprawling medium, and saying that you know it is like saying you know the ocean or the stars. It can be used for anything, but it's not even constrained to being useful; there are a thousand paths into it and ten thousand things it leads out to. Consider this: a single human lifetime is no longer long enough to look at as many photographs as are made in one single 24-hour day. Photography and everything it contains is even more subjective and personal than, say, cooking, or clothing, where at least there is a semblance of consensus about what's good and bad within various groups in various cultures.
I had a good chance to become a critic. I took a one-on-one class at the Corcoran in writing criticism from a working art critic, and she was quite taken with me and with what I wrote for her. While I was taking that class I engaged in a broad "tasting" of art criticism from all over and from many eras, sampling writers from Lady Eastlake to Susan Sontag, John Ruskin to John Berger, Vasari to Clement Greenburg. I don't need to go into it here, but my conclusion was simply that I didn't want to write that way. It was a conscious decision. I remember where I was when I made it. I was already being published in local publications in D.C. before I graduated, and then, after graduation, the Washington Post offered to hire me to review local photography shows. I was to write two reviews a week. Visit the shows, talk to the gallerist, interview the artist or artists, brush up on their work and its context, and write it up newspaper-style so that it could be cut to fit space. I suppose I should have accepted, but it would have been about a half-time job and they wanted to pay me $100 a week. That wasn't much even then. I was poor as a church mouse at the time and simply needed a real job, so I turned them down. It would have dovetailed nicely with teaching, more's the pity, but I hadn't landed my first teaching job yet at that point.
Hubristic as it may be to say this, and it does make me wince, but I'm an original thinker on photography, for better or worse. I only mean that I have my own opinions, tastes, values, beliefs, conclusions, and photo-pertinent politics; I decided, again very consciously, that I wanted to write for practitioners, people in the trenches grappling with the problems. It ended up being a replacement for teaching. Writing for enthusiasts doesn't join in the conversation with what you might call the establishment gatekeepers, by which I mean the academics, critics, theorists, cultural commentators, curators—the real writers. Traditionally, enthusiasts got exposed to those people through the writeups on museum walls and in the prefaces and introductions to monographs. And I used the phrase "in the trenches" as though it's close to the front lines, but that's a conceit. I was never in any vanguard. I really only mean that I wanted to live closer to the border between photography and the public. I think (hope?) I developed the way I write about photography because that's the way I think it's most valid to write about it. I want to be a specific personalized individual in my writing. I want readers to see an individual engaging on a personal level with the medium. As if it means something to me and matters to me. I want you to see how I feel about it viscerally and not just what I think and what I can think of to say. I want you to know your opinions and tastes do not in any way have to align with mine, yet I do want to model a person who does have strong opinions and distinct values.
If all that is tl;dr, then put it like this: maybe I'm more of a columnist-type than a reporter, essayist, or author of articles. Someone who'd fit better in an Op/Ed section than in an Arts section. I don't know. In any event, I printed out the latest piece I wrote for that publication, lit up every instance of firstpersony with a highliter, and am currently cutting all the me Mike and I out of it, systematically and methodically, like a surgeon with a scalpel. It's harder than it looks.
When this first happened, I was high on hope for a while. Then, during the long delays, I had to accept that maybe nothing would come of it. Had I failed at something I didn't even ask to do?! But I know my editor is on my side—I've submitted, as I said, two pieces so far and he's consistently said he likes them. So something still might happen. I'll keep you posted.
Bottom line, though: sure is fun. When he approved of something, my late brother's late banjo-playing friend Jimmy-James Rollins used to say, laconically, "fired up!" And this has lit a fire under my katuschka, no doubt. I feel like I'm in it. I like to write, and I consider myself lucky that I get to. (It's thanks to you, too, and thank you again.)
But what the hell was I thinking, turning down the Washington Post when I was a wet-behind the ears newly-struck BFA grad? I had forgotten that. Was I crazy? Who did I think I was? That would absolutely have been worth the slog for six months just for a single line on the resumé! It's quite possible to argue that when it comes to career, I'm an idiot. Really. I'll try my best not to be an idiot this time, but please, keep your fingers crossed for me on that, would you? Because that's always going to be touch and go.
Mike
P.S. This piece: not counting breakfast and not counting my little jaunts out to the pool shed with Butters to rustle my creaky bones: 1,663 words, ~3:45 from concept to completion, ~45 minutes between finishing and posting. That's how that goes, in Bloggerdom.
Book of Interest this Week
Gregory Crewdson: Alone Street. "Filmic" seems the best single adjective to describe Gregory Crewdson's work; his directed and carefully managed tableau are the still photography version of scenes in movies. As such they are hyper-real; more beautiful than life and more poetic, and more concerted. They're also very easy to enjoy and a pleasure to look at.
This book link is a portal to Amazon.
Today at B&H Photo
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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:
Alex Mercado: "Re 'one of the most famous, prestigious, and storied publications in the English-speaking world': OMG!!! YOU'RE WRITING FOR TIGER BEAT?!?!?!?!?!?! Seriously though, you're a crackin' good writer. I feel confident in saying that's the reason why we all come here. I will be crossing all my fingers for you."
Mike replies: Tiger Beat? Let's not get too carried away. A guy always needs something out of reach to aspire to in the future. :-)
Dave Levingston: "First, I have to say I do love your writing. That's why I come here every day to see if there is a new post. It's the best writing about photography that I've ever encountered. Second, you reminded me of one of the greatest feats of writing that I've ever witnessed. It was many, many years ago when I was a newspaper photographer. There was a breaking story right at deadline. The best reporter in the newsroom sat down at his manual typewriter and started writing. When he would finish a paragraph he would hit the carriage return several times, rip off the paragraph using the paper bail, hand the paragraph to a copyboy who then ran with it to the line-o-type operator. He then wrote the second paragraph and repeated the process. He wrote the entire story in about 10 minutes without ever being able to refer to what he had already written. And it did not pass through an editor. It just went straight to the line-o-type and on to hot type and the front page of the newspaper. I was awestruck watching it happen."
Mike replies: The real-life version of the movie scene!
Kenneth Tanaka: "I hope this opportunity becomes a thing for you, Mike. I think it would be very productive and constructive for you to work under the pencil of a top large-market editor occasionally. About ten years ago I backed-into doing assigned photo work for one of America's top modern and contemporary art galleries and one of the world's top living sculptural artists. It was a sobering, draining, educational, and exciting experience of self-discovery for a guy in his mid-50s who thought he knew everything about himself. I would chew my left leg off at the hip rather than do any assignment photography again. But I would not trade those experiences for anything. I made life-long friendships and got quite a bit of my work published, too! I think this experience might have similar results for you.
"One more thought; I think writing about photography for a non-shutterbug audience would also be a strong experience for you. It will almost certainly force you past your own tendency toward personal retrospection, past photography's techie-ness, and put you front-and-center with explaining the fundamental essence of a photograph. Cold shower, anyone? Refreshing!"
darlene: "Mike my fingers are crossed for you. I do believe writing is your calling no matter how big the space, the topic at hand, or the argument. You got this!"
MarkB: "If some editor at a publication that-shall-not-be-named-but-can-be-surmised, ahem, explicitly asked you to write for them, isn't that request solely based on what you've written here, in all its bloggerish glory? So be yourself and run it up the flagpole! Editing yourself while you write is like driving a (real) car without using the clutch pedal—just makes noise and smoke and damages the machinery, IMHO."
Mike replies: Well, they certainly allow for stylists. But there has to be respect for the general tone and approach of the publication. The integrity of the publication comes first. Publications have a culture, you might say—history and tradition.
Maybe the main thing I have to relearn is to how to take my time on a piece, let it percolate, and be willing to rework it substantially—you know, what's called "writing" to most people. For example, so far I can't help but organize the piece in my head and then whack out the whole thing from beginning to end in one sitting. Which is a little funny. I don't have to do that with these, but it's almost a reflex at this point.
Chuck Albertson: "I was wondering when the Times was going to replace the Lens blog. Now, if they could just bring back a chess columnist...."
