The Death of Photography As We Knew It

I am a photographer. You are a photographer. We are all photographers. These days it’s easy to call yourself that, so congratulations are in order, if I may say so myself. I say this tongue-in-cheek because it is fashionable nowadays to say that everyone is a photographer. But it was not too long ago, in the not-too-distant past, when the roof caved in on a century and a half old profession once known as photography.

The beginning of the end started taking shape around the mid-1990’s with the emergence of the digital revolution, when smartphones and digital media started taking over from what was predominantly an analog world of seeing things. The state-of-the-art has never been the same since.

Before then, there was a certain respect for the intrinsic components that made up a good photograph. Most of us knew that it took some degree of skill and expertise to pull it off successfully. It wasn’t just luck. It took a fair amount of talent. As a result, we actually looked at photographs, we examined them carefully with our eyes. And perhaps we were in awe of what we saw. It wasn’t going anywhere at the flick of a button. The long standing honeymoon with the art of photography was in full swing. But this is not to say it was all a big love-in.

The industry was hemorrhaging by the late 1980s as costs mounted both with photographer’s fees and rising costs of materials for production. Even a good camera cost thousands of dollars. The consumer market was in crisis, with companies like Kodak trying to make the technology of analog photography simpler for the average consumer. It wasn’t working out as well as they thought. The average person was getting frustrated at the cost of developing and printing a roll of film – usually with results that were far from satisfying.

But at the other end of the spectrum, in the fine art world, dealers and artists were starting to embrace photography – however reluctantly, as a new member of the family. Photography had finally arrived. The documentary genre, for one, was lauded as the New York school kept many street photographers active. Their work was not enhanced, modified or changed in a way so as to distort reality.

It was a social commentary, a documented reflection of a time. And it took talent and drive to make a good photograph which was then recognised by an appreciative audience.

I’m not saying that all that has gone now. But most professional photographers I know, including myself, whether they made their livings shooting portraits or food or mountains in Tibet – have been affected profoundly by the changing landscape and market. Photography as an industry has been decimated to a free-grab-for-all. Photographers at major newspapers have been replaced by reporters asked to shoot photos on the side with their smartphones. News agencies, traditionally the bastion of hard core photojournalists, are now lifting photos off Twitter feeds from anonymous users and posting them. Art galleries are inundated with either mediocre work that wouldn’t have made it off the cutting room floor in the past, or are scrambling to stay alive with major drops in sales.  And  as each year rolls along, more and more of us are entering an already overcrowded marketplace and becoming photographers.

I would argue that the quality of the work may have also suffered as a result.  As the demand for more and more images being absorbed by an ever-hungry consumer society increases, it’s only reasonable to expect that our expectations will dip lower as well. There’s just too much out there to absorb. Sure, the pictures are quicker to deliver electronically and sharper than the human retina even allows. But are they … better?

One could argue that we are in the midst of a second coming of the information age, or even a newer version  of the digital revolution that began 20 years ago . Something new is bound to emerge from it all. And in the name of progress, maybe how we communicate through images will be better. It could  be an entirely different perspective on seeing, one that could trigger different emotional and visual acuities in our brains. Future generations of humanity will undoubtedly be wired differently.

As for myself, I still enjoy shooting film and hand-printing my work in a traditional wet chemistry darkroom – no different than I did in the past. It’s a personal choice, to enjoy the process of creating images and not just the end result. I may live in the past in this regard. But I have also crossed over the line to the new frontier and have benefited from the surges in technology. I shoot with my iPhone and post on Instagram and Facebook, like millions of others. There’s nothing like the immediate gratification from those “likes”.

Cynthia and Susan, Gelatin silver print (2008) © Steve Stober

Photo Credits
Image © Steve Stober

Steve Stober Photographer Bio

Steve Stober is a portraitist living and working in Toronto. His work is known for its authenticity and originality. He has travelled all over the world and has photographed people from all walks of life.  He still shoots his studio subjects on film and hand-prints his work archivally in a darkroom. 

Website: http://www.stevestober.com

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