Do Photographers Exist Today?

The photography world is full of questions. Many of these questions are met with few answers and even fewer absolutes. Perhaps the biggest question of all is: “Do photographers exist today?”

This far-reaching and highly existential query concerning the nature of photography as an occupation takes its place among other high-brow and worthy contemplations that often creep up from the back of my mind when the hour grows late:

• “How does Superman shave?”
• “Was Pegasus’ pulmonary system more similar to a bird or a horse?”
• “Did the Mayans invent mayonnaise?”
• “Are corn mazes heterographically redundant?”

While you chew on those interesting concepts, let’s dig deeper and try to discern whether or not being a photographer has evolved into something entirely unrecognizable.

Photographer by Name, Photographer by Nature

I’ve never self-applied the title of “photographer” to anything I do. My tastefully understated business cards speak for my truth.

That’s not to say that, for the sake of simplicity, I haven’t given generic answers to equally generic social questions by saying I am indeed a “photographer and writer.”

There’s just no way around it in some situations. To illuminate the full story of what I do with any reasonable degree of requisite detail would be virtually impossible.

Even though, for the greater part of the past decade, I have worked exclusively in the realm of photography, I never felt like a “photographer” in the true sense of the word.

“Photographist” always seemed to be a better-fitting pair of socks for me. It’s an antiquated English word essentially meaning the same as “photographer” yet encompassing other tangential duties spanning a greater scope than exclusive camera work.

Maybe it’s because I’m wholly self-educated in the craft, or perhaps, in my mind, I see a photographer as someone who solely makes photographs for a living—the true incarnation of the occupation.

I write. I poetify. I’m a low-brow philosopher of sorts. I make YouTube episodes. I’ve done consulting work. 

t would not be inaccurate to state that I have supported myself far more through avenues peripheral to photography than from providing the craft as a service or fungible product in and of itself.

For over seven years, I was the lead developer of Lightroom presets and educational material for a fashionable photo-education entity. I founded and maintain an anomalous novelty company catering to strange and unusual products for strange and unusual photography people.

Whatever the case might be for my own weird aversion to labeling myself a photographer, the notion that I am ultimately viewed as one still lies outside my control.

This got my gears turning.

Is photography as a sole profession coming to an end? Has it ended already? What makes a person a photographer anyway?

Fingers in Many Pies

Today, it is virtually impossible to find someone who strictly makes photos for a living in any exclusive capacity.

No matter the genre, most people who professionally sling a camera tend to have various other offshoots of business endeavors other than solely providing photographs for clients or as art pieces.

Workshops. Mentorships. YouTube channels. eBooks. Consulting services. Video courses. Photo groups. Patreons. The list goes on.

Virtually every working photographer today does more than just take photos. Of course, this is nothing new.

Historically, it has always been brutally difficult to make photography a primary source of livable income, especially if you’re not a client-based producer (portraits, commercial, weddings, etc.). Ansel Adams even struggled to shift to a “print-only” business model until surprisingly late in his career.

So, as wearers of countless hats, what are we? Entrepreneurs? Businesspeople? Or does the title of “photographer” act as a blanket moniker covering any and all actions undertaken once an individual picks up a camera?

These questions will lead us into truly murky waters…

What Is a Photographer?

Ours is one of the few artistic crafts defined by a single tool: the camera. 

Despite this, it’s safe to say that the idea of what a photographer is or is not constantly evolves with the passage of time but remains unaffected by technological progression.

To make a photograph, one must have some type of camera. Naturally, these cameras are as varied and different as Batman’s silverware, yet the basic operational needs remain constant.

As such, does anyone who can make a photo (any photo) with a camera instantly become a photographer? When do they stop being one?

Is there a minimum amount of work that must be produced before a person becomes a photographer, or is the title bestowed at frame one?

This is an increasingly interesting subject as we find ourselves riding the crest of a higher and higher wave of photographic accessibility.

Cameras, in one form or another, are quite literally everywhere. Camera phones in purses and pockets. Full frame mirrorless cameras produce ultra-high resolution image files that stupefy the mind, with cropped and micro sensors not far behind.

Medium format digital is no longer exclusive to the realm of lofty professionals and the super-rich.

Film photography has entered its embattled Renaissance. Photobooks are popular again. Photographs are shot and shared with literal instantaneous ease.

Taken in a broad sense, if any person who uses a camera is a photographer, then we live in a time when virtually everyone technically is one.

Let’s pry the can open even wider.

If not the simple act of using a camera, what makes a photographer, well, a photographer? Is it a measure of skill or proficiency? And if so, what’s the metric?

Should the title of “photographer” be limited to those who are scholastically credentialed?

Where does it all begin and end?

A Matter of Choice

The typing began for this little existential rag as I enjoyed the cozy luxury of an early autumn rain while the walls of the apartment echoed with Leia’s shockingly loud canine slumber.

As the rain came down outside the window, I found myself surrounded by the implements and trappings of digital and film photography. Big cameras and small, all the weird little trinkets I need to go about my selected photographic debaucheries. I still don’t feel correct in calling myself a photographer.

How can I ever know for sure? Maybe I am unknowingly living up to my own manufactured values of what a “real photographer” could and should be, although the true impact of what I do falls outside the realm of my own perception.

Perception. Could it be that simple?

Perhaps the wholly subjective self-reflection of the individual is what makes all the difference. Could this small singularity be the infinite answer to whether or not photographers still exist today?

Something in the Blood

Relatively speaking, one person’s “professional” will always be another person’s “amateur.” It’s impossible to say precisely where the line is drawn—and ultimately crossed—between the two.

Anyone can be called a photographer regardless of their station in the craft, whether that station is one of professional or otherwise, real or imagined.

Photography is a strange manifestation within the line of human existence. It always has been.

It’s a job for some and an obsession for others. A hobby and an art. It’s something so trifling yet capable of being elevated to the highest level of human expression and emotion.

The people who do this…thing…are just as unique and different as the cameras they wield.

In a way, we’re all photographers when we’re holding the camera, but a few of us remain so long after all the lenses and machines are put away.

No matter how we see ourselves, and no matter if there is such a thing as a “photographer” today or tomorrow, that was never really the point.

All we have are the pictures, and for many of us, the pictures have always been enough.