The difference a year makes...

One year ago this week, I was sitting in a garden chair in my bedroom, battling two problems. First up was achieving a position of comfort, as my elbows rested uneasily on the arms of the chair, impeding my use of the computer’s trackpad. Secondly, I faced the issue of how best to salvage the photographs I’d taken at the 2008 Norwich Cathedral Christmas Fayre, littered as they were with problems of sharpness, blurring and some ghastly composition, not to mention poorly lit and showing next to no evidence of any interaction between myself and my worthy subjects.

Three hundred and sixty-three (or so) days on, things are a little different. I write to you now from a proper armchair in my bedroom (albeit one which would like to gobble me up), on which my arms rest comfortably, and I have a whole year’s experience in making photographs, which has helped immeasurably to iron out each of the aforementioned problems. I am not claiming perfection – oh-ho, lawks, by no means – but, just as a toddler eventually more-or-less stops wetting himself, after a year’s practice, I can be more-or-less confident in my ability to deliver photographs which are (comparatively) well-composed, sharp and devoid of blurring. Equally importantly, though, is the confidence I have developed in setting up shots with people.

A year ago, I would shoot furtively and hurriedly away, and mutter an incoherent ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ to anyone caught in my viewfinder. If I was feeling particularly brash, I would ask someone to pose for the camera, take one photograph, at a push two, and feel houndingly guilty for taking those eight or nine seconds of someone’s time. The resulting shots would show that sense of hurry and lack of composure. Of this attitude, I can only say that it was a necessary stage to pass through on my photographic learning curve, that I have passed through it, and that I am piddling glad that Norwich Cathedral weren’t paying me to photograph for them.

These days, the composure is there with the composition. I cannot claim perfection – whenever I take my camera to work with people, nerves creep over me – but I will say that I have learned to convert that nervousness into concentration, which I think has improved my images tenfold.

As we look into 2010, I resolve to improve my images tenfold again – keep watching this space…

A confession...

Ladies and gentlemen. A confession, if you please.

It grieves me, it galls me, it irks and appalls me, to admit to you that throughout 2009, I have been rather less than responsible with my debit card. Consider that for six months, I have made a consistent saving of £90 a month on my rent, compared with my previous house, and I have spent a good deal less time in the Alexandra Tavern in that period too (which also grieves, galls, irks and appalls me): logic would appear to dictate that I should have saved a not inconsiderable sum of wonga.

Yet there is a gap in this logic, a gap which (coincidentally) corresponds with the gap in my funds. A gaping gap, a gap which leaves me agape, aghast and tearing my hair out. A gap created by such acts of liveliness (and foolishness) as trips to London, St. Andrews, Nairn, Chelmsford, Southwold, Great Yarmouth, Sheringham, Worcester and London again (twice). In addition to learning to drive (a necessity), which wasn’t without expense, I also invested in Photoshop (a necessity) and a new iPod, to replace the one that was stolen in farcical circumstances in July. One or two gabbling sharks I know rage on about the necessity of this last purchase, but this is my argument: you try walking through Anglia Square twice daily or more, without the distraction of a cricket audiobook or Tom Waits...

In short, Lord only knows how much I have plundered into the economy this year, but what is starkly clear is that it must be curbed. My New Year’s resolution for 2010 is to be worth at least £5 by the beginning of the summer. This will necessitate severe cuts in visits to other cities for purposes of beverage consumption, a commitment not to fork out £650 on computer software, further promises to take care of my iPod this time, and to spend my time being productive with regards to my chosen career path. Your support at this difficult time is immeasurably appreciated…

Rest in Peace, Mim

Quite impossible to blog this week without paying tribute to our friend Mim Cross, who last week moved onwards and upwards at the age of 23. Though my knowledge of Mim may have been somewhat fleeting, I can certainly attest to how enjoyable her company was, as she added a whole different dimension of amusement to a recent birthday party of mine. Unforgettable in particular was the present she so thoughtfully thrust into my arms that evening, in her desperation to find me a gift at a moment’s notice – a dumped Christmas tree, missing almost all of its leaves. Either through student indolence, or in keeping with Mim’s spirit of goodwill (who else would have the brilliance of mind to rescue a forsaken Christmas tree?), the tree remained in our house until it had lost each and every one of those remaining leaves. At this point we placed it just beside our front door, as it seemed against the spirit of the gift to get rid of it. For eight months, our house had a symbol of Mim’s character as I and my housemates so briefly knew her – caring, generous and endlessly funny.

In my mind, Mim has gone to decorate that tree again for this year. Without doubt, those friends of mine who were closer to Mim will be able to draw upon reams and reams of other fabulous memories, memories which characterise all of her other qualities – sincerity, chirpiness and soulfulness. Memories which will bring comfort and smiles, memories which will never lose their leaves.

Today's Meeting

Met with the wonderfully friendly Ian McKinnon-Evans, creative director of Norwich-based advertising agency The Point, this afternoon. Entering the room with higher hopes than expectations, we chatted about the type of work that I’d like to specialise in, in the future, as well as the characteristics that my photographs are going to have to develop (ahem) if I am to make a success of myself, in a county crammed with talented photographers. I am the first to confess that half of the photographs in my portfolio look lovely, but are in fact almost wholly unremarkable; a steep learning curve lies ahead. I have, thankfully, already demonstrated a little of the flair required to get ahead in commercial photography, although ideas must begin to flow freely in the future, and in rather more of a torrent than the sparse puddles I have hitherto created. Effort, effort, effort is what is required. I must devote every spare moment to photography, from creating more dynamic, thoughtful and original photographs, to shadowing more established professional photographers, to ruthlessly removing photographs from my portfolio, adding in the improved works of the next few months. After this, I must set about making further copies of that improved portfolio, to approach advertising agencies and design consultancies. I must be prepared to have those portfolios tossed aside carelessly by people who know better than me, and I must put together a glitzy and professional-looking website. One of these days, a few months down the line, a commercial commission may come my way, and I must be ready for it with the ideas and the consistency to put together perhaps a hundred-and-fifty different images. Above all, I must have the equipment to deal with it too.

If I arrived at the meeting with only a bumbling, vague idea of what I can expect from a career like this, with skewed and unrealistic ideas of how to achieve the progression I’d like, and when it will happen, I am under no illusions now. Even if each networking event that I photograph brings with it new connections, and the possibility of further work, it is only one step at a time on a long, long path. I can content myself only with the thought that these steps do eventually add up. My challenge is to be prepared against the black ice and the dogs when, in however many years’ time, I eventually get to the gate…

My First Camera

I picked up my first camera today, a wee Kodak compact. I knew it was mine, because it was well-worn, like me, slightly battered from trips into the countryside, like me, and the battery cover had been replaced by a mountain of Blu-Tac. It’s all right, I know that you’re curious. You see, the fact is that a friend of mine dropped it from a great height one evening in a bar in Norwich. The camera survived, but a chip came off the battery cover, making it difficult to keep it closed. I attempted to remedy the situation by gluing the chipped bit back on; my idiocy was to carry out this repair job while the battery cover was closed.

Well, everything was fine, until the batteries ran out. Could I open the cover? Imagine it for yourself: the young budding photographer, struggling against his own camera as he struggles against his own mind, telling him how much of a BLITHERING SPAMHEAD he is. Who glues a battery compartment shut?

We can be thankful that I have learned how to take care of my equipment since those halcyon days of idiocy. I would hope that those I hold close to my heart have learned too – that friend of mine, who dropped the camera from a great height one evening in a bar in Norwich, is none other than my girlfriend. My current camera, much like its owner, can get as battered as it likes on future trips into the countryside…

Professionalism defined...

First of all, if you aren't already a member of the group, here is the link to my Facebook photography page. Joining that will give you notifications of blog updates without requiring me to soil my personal page (and yours) with unnecessary business speak. Done? Aah...

If I didn’t feel like a professional photographer before this last week or so, I certainly do now. Or, at least, this angle of thinking allows me to feel justified in making the ludicrously expensive purchase I indulged myself in over the weekend. I doubt it has escaped your attention that a new Apple store opened in Norwich on Saturday morning. Excited beyond any level which could possibly be deemed acceptable at such a prospect, I blazed into the bright lights and the beaming smiles (it just doesn’t happen in other shops), and… well, the atmosphere put me all in a tizzy. Charging through the hordes of ecstatic children and equally gleeful parents (that certainly doesn’t happen in other shops), I raced to the software section, hoping to find something fresh to liven up my Mac, something to put it through its gears.

Somewhere in my mind, I think I was actually hoping for some form of computer game to whisk me back to youthfulness, a Championship Manager 32, or a Red Alert 56, or whichever version we’ve got up to at the end of the new millennium’s first decade. It wasn’t to be, though. None of those games stirred the excitement I’m now used to, the excitement of football, or of cricket, darts (yes, I hear you, and I advise you to stay silent) and real ale. I wondered to myself, stroking the almost-stubbly bumfluff on my chin, have I finally begun to Grow Up?

Then it happened. The eyes spotted a familiar blue, and before you could say ‘tickle my fancy’ I’d given my bank account a bit of a stretch. Photoshop isn’t cheap, you know.

So, here I am, fiddling around with my new toy. At £615, I consider myself to have invested meaningfully in my future career, and to mark the occasion I have set up a dedicated photography desktop on my computer, devoid of iTunes, Facebook and Championship Manager. Odd how one can have every success with a series of commissions, work tirelessly to create a network of contacts and run out of midnight oil reading photography books, but it is only a childish impulse purchase at an unforgivably large price that makes one actually feel like a professional. Now, how do you work this thing…

www.ryanwatts.741.com

Well, well, well. Look who’s come crawling back. Four months after my last blog, after moving into a new house and taking on a second job (at the Fat Cat pub), I finally put aside the time to do a little bit of writing. Let’s put it into perspective. For one hundred and five consecutive days, I have deemed everything else in my life more important than maintaining this blog, including - and let’s be frank here – playing cricket and football, attending barbecues, Pro Evolution Soccer, playing board games, doing crosswords, snoozing, watching cricket and football, the pubs of Norwich and buying new socks. Whether this is unacceptably bone idle of me, or whether I have discovered a formula for contentment, is down to your own discernment, dear reader, but I can at least justify my inactions: I have also been busier than ever on the photography front.

Since the last blog, way back in May following my week in the Spiegeltent, I have commenced a stint of regular work for the Norfolk Network, photographing their organised events, worked with bands such as the tremendous, up-and-coming Brownies, produced portraits for families, photographed my first wedding, and a civil ceremony, covered an election count, taken shots from the tower of Norwich’s City Hall and travelled through Scotland with my camera. Profusely enjoying every moment of it, I am finally on the path, thanks in no small part to all those months of voluntary work, to becoming a professional photographer. Quite a learning curve it’s been, too…

In the space of four months, I have developed from a quiet rookie, meekly following the lead of more experienced, better photographers and leaving them to organise people for shots, to becoming that leader. Time will tell whether I will ever genuinely become accustomed to shouting at people, but I did at least have a successful time at the wedding of Oli and Naomi Isaac, organising some one, two, three… twenty-eight people into smiling for my camera, simultaneously. Other photographers there were following my lead, which felt rather odd, though not unpleasant… It was also a day of gentle mockery, ordering the couple to ‘at least TRY and look like they love each other’; I will forever remember poking fun at Naomi for looking everywhere except into the lens, with the resulting photograph without doubt my favourite of the day. It seems that this is becoming something of a fixture in my style of portraiture...

My ongoing work with the Norfolk Network is also a pleasure. My thanks go to Lucy Marks, the director, for affording me my first paid work, and I am informed that I am amply repaying her with some stylish images. I do hope to eventually become a permanent member of that circus, as a member as well as a photographer. It’s been a promising start – let’s see where it leads.