Several days ago, I was asked by somebody if I was thinking of taking up photography professionally; whether I was interested in ‘becoming a pro’. I remarked that that was a curious choice of words, but that question struck me hard: I had never truly given it a thought. Would I like to stay an amateur photographer or ‘go pro’, as some say?

I never answered; but I did think a lot, and finally wrote this article in reply, the simple reason being I did not want to dumb this decision down. It is not etched in stone, but, as any artist will agree, this decision is something like a milestone for an artist to make.

Choir stalls

Who is an amateur?

Interestingly, many people have got the spirit of an amateur down wrong. Speaking literally, the word amateur means, a lover of. So an amateur sculptor is a lover of sculpting.

Further, however, an amateur footballer is not a lover of football, but a not-star-quality footballer. I know it is quite hard to wrap one’s mind around, but in sports, where terms like best have a cut-and-dried meaning and measuring system, an amateur becomes a measure of ability.

In art, however, the term amateur cannot possibly be a measure of capability — we have another word for that, talent — although some wrongly use it that way. So an amateur in all arts, science and sports one who does something without the aim of being paid for it, and, especially in art, one who does something because he loves it. Sometimes, it is both.

Ambulance service

Do I want to ‘go pro’?

I never quite understood why people looked at making art professionally as a level up from anything else. I have heard many say, I’m taking my photography to the next level, when they really mean they are planning to do it professionally.

Webster’s defines ‘amateur’ as ‘one who engages in a pursuit, study, science, or sport for pleasure rather than as a job’.

Working in professional capacity, or, to use the street term, going pro, ought to be looked at as a parallel to being an amateur: you still are at the same level, however high or deep, but your work will give and take away from you some very different things.

Professional photography is often mistaken to mean good photography. And, horribly, amateur photography is used to refer to a lack of talent. Neither is necessarily true.

Smoking Joe

Answer the question

Now let me return to the original question: do I want to take photographs professionally? do I want to ‘go pro’?

I am an amateur photographer. That means, among other things, that I do what I do because I like to do it, and that I do not get paid for it — regularly anyway. While shooting to get paid for my art may seem beckoning to some, to me it just seems like another chore that would fight for my time.

I would rather spend time getting a good spot to make a photograph from than getting lots of money to make mediocre ones. But some earn their only income through photography and they understandably have to make compromises between pleasing themselves and pleasing their clients. I, fortunately, (as an ‘amateur’) do not have to make such a compromise:

Two towers

Going professional means commitments. Commitments are good, so long as they do not eat into everything else. Photographing professionally also means less time photographing and more time managing a tonne of things in a businesslike manner.

Professional photography also means satisfying clients while putting your artistic intent — which not too many get in any case — to the background, and showing it the light of day occasionally, just so it remains alive.

Philip’s car park

So is an amateur photographer perfect or is a pro?

Given all this, it becomes easy to argue that, while they are both good, a pro needs to be perfect every time because he gets money to be and that an amateur is not. Conversely, one can also argue that an amateur, because he apparently does what he does because he loves it, must be close to perfect in realising his vision.

This has definitely happened to everybody, mostly many times over: for instance, I made this picture (which is shaky, blurry, and portrays every other fault you can think of) in a hurry because I had to catch my plane and could not risk getting delayed. I slid my travel bag to a halt, whipped up my phone, made whatever the best photo I could at that instant, and then ran through the airport to my departure gate. I know what’s in that photograph (and it’s exciting!) but that will do. I never made this and several photographs like this to show anybody; these are personal. What I make for art’s sake, I exhibit.

A photograph as a memory v. a photograph as art

With the time and all, indeed, we can all be brilliant. But sometimes all photographers — yes, even ultra pros shoot photographs for a very different reason. In fact, a reason that fundamentally gave birth to photography: memory. And when we shoot for memory, especially when we need more time to think and compose and set-up, but do not have it, only one thing rings in our minds (and as any real photographer, amateur or pro): when it is a shoot or quit decision, we need to capture a moment to remember it primarily, then make art if time permits. This does not demean photography in any way.

This all reflects one thing I strongly believe in: never sacrifice experiencing the moment with your eyes to make a photograph out of it. Do both if you can, but remember that experiencing the place must always come first, otherwise your photographs will be lifeless. Fellow writer, Pam Mandel, wrote about something similar a long time ago.

And if you think I am using this as a reason to explain that phone photograph above, I can still make memories more thoughtfully, like ‘em Harleys so popular in the US:

Sometimes, art can be memory

Should I go pro? It is all about the spirit.

An interesting question now is whether you should remain an amateur or go pro.

What is the spirit of your photography? Being an amateur is safe; you are your own master. You need to please nobody; there is no such thing as failure, just experiment. And it costs nothing but your time — which you are probably already giving a lot of.

Elisabeth’s golden light

On the other hand, being a professional might sound rewarding monetarily. But that is a harder path to tread, and involves lot less photography and a lot more business management than you might think at first. If you are a good businessman who does not mind putting photography second to building your brand, go for it.

But, if you are anything like me and have an obsession about putting good photography before good cash, (and that need not always be a bad thing), make your money elsewhere — perhaps in much easier places — and let photography be just what you love.

Think like a kid

Sandcastle

Most children are carefree. If you give a kid a camera, he will surprise you with a picture or two. But, more importantly, he will show you his talent.

The problem with matured people is that they have lost this childlike thinking: they worry too much about how else photography can benefit them and soon forget what got them into photography in the first place.

But, quite surprisingly, it is only photography (and painting and music and the like) that fall prey to this. Think of a car that really had your blood racing when you saw it. You drive it, and then, if it is yours, you drive it everyday like it is your first time behind the wheel. You never start thinking of selling parts of it from day two.

To me, photography is like that car. I drive it. I get to keep it without bothering about selling it in bits and pieces. The more you think of that, the less you think of your driving. Or, to say it straightforwardly, the more you think of leveling up and going pro and selling and getting published, the less you think of improving your work.

All flat, grey and moody

Pro quality: big income and big expenses?

Another aspect often associated with ‘pro’ photography is costly gear, time-consuming and expensive post-production suites, dedicated computers and a whole lot of studio space.

While that may define a generic photography professional, those are hardly the things you need to make a professional quality photograph (a highly subjective term, I realise that).

All that you need is really free. You do not pay the sun for light, you do not pay your camera to capture every frame. At the end of the day, that is all you need to do. You expose right and move the photograph from your camera to your computer through a RAW convertor like Lightroom or Aperture. Everything else is optional.

Let me illustrate with a simple photograph I made. My point? you can make a photoshop-esque effect with one open window and the right exposure. Watch the frame through your camera’s gorgeous viewfinder, grab what you want and voila, like this one I made with one of our cars one day while playing around in our garage:

Merc and open window
(The photograph is straight out of camera, hence the spots on the lower-right. I will probably clean them up some day.)

There are other ways

The real problem here is also what is on the back of many amateur photographers’ minds: publicity and getting noticed.
These are both understandable quests, but is ‘going pro’ the only road to attaining them? Hardly. Think of somebody like Vivian Maier. Honestly, her work surpasses most famous photographers of her time and later and perhaps even those of today.

Maier’s work was hardly in any book, newspaper or magazine. So how did this woman from the mid-1900s become so famous? Because of her work, re-discovered through a collection in a box (of course while she was still alive) gave her unmatched reputation, and rightly so.

What is my point? Let your work speak for itself. The harder you find yourself trying to sell it to people and magazines, the worse your work is probably getting. And you never realise such things until it is too late.

I’ll ride home tonight

Neither route is bad

All-in-all, neither going pro nor being an amateur photographer is bad.

If you can shoot and make your life all about selling (because nothing less will do) then you can do photography full time and be a ‘pro’ by definition. But never make the mistake of thinking full time photography is 24×7 photography.

Really, it’s about 15% photography (most probably lesser than what you are already doing) and the rest is maintaining your business, talking with clients, sacrificing your personal shooting space and time, paying any assistants (you’ll need them soon enough), paying taxes, offering money back to dissatisfied customers (there is always one), and generally doing a lot of things that have nothing to do with your camera or pressing the shutter. Not all glitz and glamour.

Gothic

The eternal amateur

That is my decision: I will be an eternal amateur photographer in terms of income. Because I will photograph for my passion; I will keep learning and I will not attempt, on purpose, to make any money out of my work. If you liked my photograph, there is no greater joy; if you used it, I will be honoured. If you did neither, I will not grow to hate you.

There is nothing wrong with being an amateur — unless you feel lowly about yourself (in which case you need to visit a mind doctor). An amateur can be wrongly taken as a fellow poor at his job, but he actually is one who loves what he does, sometimes even does it better than the pros.

It feels great to be an amateur, then; to be free to do what one likes, to be free to dictate one’s own work; to be in a safe ground where you can deliver better than expected and stay safe and generally keep improving. That, believe you me, is what it has always been about.

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