Sunday, 31 October 2010

free publicity or rip-off...


Going through lots of things that have accumulated in my cupboards over the last two years, I came across issue 72 of Digital Photographer magazine from Imagine Publishing and the Digital Photographer Yearbook 2008, both of which contain images by me.

I have singled out this particular magazine for no other reason than that I used to read it and even subscribed to it for a number of years, and for a while I learned a lot from it. I also benefited from a generous Sony sponsorship deal - a free Sony Alpha 350 plus kit lens - for a reader feature in which I was paired with a pro photographer for a day to improve my SLR technique. I didn't even have a DSLR at the time, so the pro lent me his Fuji S3 for the shoot, which was heavy but I actually learned to use it very quickly and was stunned by the image quality, especially the incredibly smooth skin tones. So I have quite a bit to be grateful for. What I am criticising here is not this particular magazine but the general method it employs, probably like most similar magazines directed firmly at amateur photographers, namely filling its pages with free or cheap content.

I don't have an issue with not having been paid for the use of the images I took on the shoot. That was part of the deal, and I got a camera worth a few hundred Pounds at the time in return.

However, I later also entered their annual competition, and one of my images, as you can see, made it into the black & white section published in the Digital Photographer Yearbook 2008, retailing at £12.99. I never got paid for the publication. Of course, this was also part of the entry conditions for the competition, so I went into it knowing what to expect. Still, that's the point at which I began to wonder.

The thing is that I learned a lot more in the last year and a half than in the years of subscribing to the magazine, mainly from press photographer Edmond Terakopian (to whom I am forever indebted for his invaluable and patient advice) and from other professional and amateur photographers on twitter. To the point that I eventually changed my subscription from Digital Photographer to the BJP. I am still an amateur, though.

So with the months of exponential learning compared to before, I got increasingly dissatisfied with the Digital Photographer. Although it calls itself a 'magazine for enthusiasts & professionals', I seemed to outgrow it without getting anywhere near to being a pro.

That feeling became stronger once I joined their online gallery - promoted to readers as another level at which to get involved, to get one's pictures published as Photo of the Month, being chosen for the readers galleries pages, being part of the forum etc. True enough, it was through the forum that I managed to slip into the reader feature slot, which was - as I found out on site - glamour photography, so not really my thing at all, but at my level, there would surely be something useful for me to take away from it, and then there was the camera, too.

However, following the galleries of other readers and the forum strands I soon realised that not only were most of the images published in the magazine reader contributions which I had already seen in the gallery, but that the features increasingly included forum entries, coming across like expert opinions, not readers chatting amongst each other in a forum, and then those supposed expert opinions became more or less stand-alone features in their own right!

It was at that point that I cancelled the subscription. After all, the intention had been to learn from pros, not to pseudo-learn from people who knew as much or as little as myself.

Let me say this just for the record, I think amateur photography magazines have their place. Also, 'amateur' covers a wide field, and those just starting out can learn something from amateurs with a few years experience. Five years ago my head would have hurt after reading the BJP, and much would have been irrelevant to me, anyway. After all, people will not repeat-buy a magazine if they become discouraged because they don't understand half of what's in it or because they can't relate to it.

Still, that doesn't mean one should make amateur photographers feel like they are really knowledgeable by publishing their forum contributions in a magazine and thus giving them some sort of credibility they don't necessarily deserve, and it certainly doesn't seem fair to fill the magazine to a large part with readers' contributions who can then brag about having been 'published' in a magazine they paid for, but without getting paid themselves.

Quite frankly, all the articles about 'going pro' (i.e. making money with photography) in those magazines seem like a joke at the expense of the people devouring them when taking into account that hardly anyone contributing to the magazine - which is, after all, sold at a decent price - gets paid...

Friday, 22 October 2010

this looked familiar...


art at selfridges
Originally uploaded by antje b.

...so I entered the Ultralounge space in the Selfridges basement next to the Christmas shop I had ambled through. I wasn't really buying as I'm pretty skint at the moment (don't worry, I had lots of work this month, just waiting to get paid), just taking in the bustle and the beautiful surroundings.

The truth is that I had started work at 8 am today and was finished at a few minutes shy of 9 am, and as my colleague took the Central line home from Chancery Lane and I felt like a chat, I went with her and changed at Bond Street station, where I decided to go up and do some window shopping in Oxford Street before going home. It's a feeling to be savoured to be on your way back home when others are only just going to work.

When in Oxford Street, I usually stick to the end between Bond Street and Marble Arch, with Selfridges a never-to-be-missed milestone. Today I was fascinated by the antiques section in the basement, selling - would you believe it? - some shed moose antlers for £75 a piece! I also like several old wooden test tube racks with original test tubes that would look lovely with a single blossom per glass.

I also always pass through the stationary section for interesting notebooks, preferably leather bound, and seeing as I am having to start a new life on my own again, I thought I'd do it not just with a new chapter but a whole new book to document the wonderful things that life still has in store for me. I can dream, right? ;-)

I'm disappointed to report that artisan du chocolat have discontinued their gingerbread spice chocolate bars, but then again, indulging in this yummy treat was also part of the life that is now behind me.

After strolling through my favourite departments, I always have a look at what the Ultralounge might have to offer. I think Selfridges have landed a coup with introducing art into the Selfridges experience. It may not pay much but I definitely enjoy being jolted out of remotely controlled consumerism into self-aware appreciation of art.

Until 7 November you can see the work of 21 young artists who were chosen by the curators based on their potential to produce more works that might make us stop in our tracks and invite us to think in the future. The range of art on show includes paintings, sculptures, videos, installations and photography, so there should be something for everyone.

I chose this picture for the impression of the exhibition as I have seen it before, if I remember correctly, following a link on twitter. It's an image of a waterfall made entirely of plastic sheeting. I wish I could remember the photographer's name but it eludes me. If anyone remembers, please let me know. :-)

Wednesday, 13 October 2010

at home in both yet belonging in none...


contemplation
Originally uploaded by antje b.

Reading while having dinner on my own at the restaurant of the hotel where I am staying on this job, a sentence in a short story by Bernhard Schlink (of 'The Reader' fame) in his 'Sommerlügen' touched the same nerve as a novella I remember reading ages ago.

The sentence about a German academic spending a term teaching in New York went something like this: "What would he have missed, had he stayed at home back then!"

The novella was about a young Englishman around the 1900's in India who had just come back from England and sat under a tree, gazing at the stars, listening to the glassy clanking of the palm fronds, wondering why he loved both places so much yet felt like he truly belonged in neither of them.

My young, inexperienced heart went out to him, not knowing at 11 or 12 years the uncertainty of self-doubt. Today I'm sure I know pretty much exactly how he felt.

In the country that I have made my home, I have no family, no childhood memories of Christmases, birthdays, school friends or bullies. All of these I left behind in Germany, really all over the place in the East of the country but for convenience's sake let's say I left them all in Halberstadt.

Whenever I return there, I feel invisible strings tugging at my heart, awakening the part of me that is rooted in childhood and youth, really startling me who doesn't normally have these feelings in my every-day life. Yet as much as I sometimes crave my provincial hometown's peace with that sweet part of me I miss only when I'm there, as much as it makes me whole in giving me the first 23 years of my life back, I know I'd be restless there after a while.

Because 20 years in a bustling place like London have left an indelible mark on me, too. My first proper job, my first own flat, my lost loves and marriage, all happened here.

So the place where I have no past, where no memories from very early on sometimes whisper or sing to me, I would on going 'home' soon miss most terribly because my whole adult life has been there. A truly ironic dichotomy: Feeling at home in both place yet belonging in neither...

Monday, 11 October 2010

get well soon...


get well soon
Originally uploaded by antje b.

Times of crises can be, if tackled pro-actively, times of positive change.

This is my heart-felt message to the person whose hospital bed this picture was taken at.

It is a message to myself.

It is a message to everyone out there who doesn't feel on top of the world right now, for whatever reason. :-)

Sunday, 3 October 2010

rotkäppchen sekt to celebrate...


welcome
Originally uploaded by antje b.

...20 years of reunification on this 3 October. On this day in 1990 I was still settling in at Keele University where I had just started a one year contract as a lecturer for German, fresh from university myself.

Early today I stumbled across this article (in German) on twitter which made me reminisce about an event that normally doesn't register much on my celebration radar.

I still remember a job as an interpreter for the Adenauer Foundation in the mid 90ies in the UK, some kind of European conservative think tank meeting. During dinner I ended up sitting next to this guy from the Beeb who had just made a series about the GDR, which apparently made him so much of an expert on the subject that he thought he could tell me what things had been like. One of the episodes was dedicated to the 'Sender', code name for one of my previous lecturers at the alma mater lipsiensis. Apparently, he had recruited some the UK exchange students spending a term or two at our university as spies. By the way, like everyone else I had been warned to be careful around this person during my very first week as a student.

Anyway, this man from the BBC ruined my dinner as he kept trying to convince me from his moral highground that my memories of a beautiful childhood and untroubled youth were mere smoke and mirrors, and one day I would realise what an inhumane society I had grown up in, like this lady he knew from Berlin who late in life realised the truth about the Nazi regime and was inconsolable about her complicit part in it till she died. I'm pleased to say, this hasn't happened yet.

One example for my childhood memories that I will always hold dear: after my first kindergarten had burned down, they built a new one in the town's park, with a huge playground including mature trees deep into the park, with a paddling pool for the summer, a small indoors swimming pool in the basement, as well as a gym room. The kindergarten also had a special room where mothers could leave their sick offspring in the care of a qualified pediatric nurse (who happened to be my mum whose brainchild this group had been) and a pediatrician who would come to check on the kids once a day, so the women wouldn't have to take time off work and were secure in the knowledge that their children would be well looked after. Until this day I haven't found any childcare institution - either in the UK or in Germany - that comes even remotely close to this, and I went to kindergarten at the beginning of the 70ies.

Regarding the negative side: there is a Stasi file about me. The first page was bizarrely in my dad's file. Later on I was sent another two pages they had found - back in the day when they still sent them to you. Reading them on the one hand put me right back into this particular situation after all these years, albeit from an unpleasant new angle, that of having been watched, on the other hand I found everything that could have given me a clue as to why or by whom I was being watched had been blacked out, leaving me to wrack my brain for days trying to figure it out for myself. That's when I decided that I didn't need to know more.

To put this into perspective, it would be interesting to know how much information about me is in various hands today without me being aware of or happy with it. I wonder if we are any less spied on today than we were in East Germany. Somehow I doubt it.

To my fellow Germans on this day: have a good time!