Back On The Case ...

[caption id="attachment_3304" align="alignright" width="235" caption="Even "Thor" has his mornings where his first reaction is to use the hammer."][/caption] A skull shattering siren blared in systematic rhythm, my eyes slowly opened as I was visually reminded this could not be my alarm clock as I could still see fragments of it on the floor. Closing my eyes my brain quickly ascertained the situation, “your phone is ringing, and not only it it ringing, that’s the ring tone you assigned to a specific person whose phone calls you have not returned in some time.” (Which sounds like this if you must know.) Waiting out each pulsating blast of sound, I patiently told myself “do not touch the phone, do not hit ignore, it will go to voice mail but they will know you saw the call, . . . be still.”  Eagerly I awaited the sound indicating a voice message has been received so I could ignore it like the last 42. Instead of a soothing two beep notification the phone erupted with the same ring tone, that bastard was calling me back!  Raising a hammer above the phone I stopped myself from slamming it down on my phone realizing that it is this destructive behavior that had left my previous 6 alarm clocks in fragments on the floor.[caption id="attachment_3314" align="alignleft" width="180" caption="Know coffee, know common sense. No coffee, no common sense."][/caption] For another 10 minutes I watched the persistence of call after call feeling like I was being depth charged in a submarine unable to walk away until a voice mail appeared.  I had to evaluate the consequences of turning the phone off, hitting the ignore button, if I ever figured out how the “silent” button worked, or setting up a video camera for possible auditions for the local theater production of “Thor” as I destroy my phone with the hammer still in hand raised above my head.  Not yet having my morning coffee, my brain made a logical but possibly fatal decision to stop my wrath to this morning symphony … I answered the phone. Ignorance can be bliss, especially if you pretend to possess it.  “Hello?” I gently spoke into the phone, the other end however did not possess the ignorance I was portraying but in fact was backed by knowledge, which in many circles has been associated with power. “Does the word CONTRACT mean anything to you Justin?!?!?” Many songs have been written about playing cards and knowing when to hold them and when to fold them, these songs are not in my MP3 collection which is why I elected to play out my hand of ignorance. “Contract? I know of no contract,” I said as under the alarm clock debris I picked up a piece of paper with the header stating, “Contract.” [caption id="attachment_3404" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Note to self, contracts are in fact legally binding"][/caption] “You don’t know about a contract, what do you know about lawsuits then?” It was all coming back to me now especially with the help of bullet points in the contract that I was now holding in my hand and pa-rousing.  I recently attended a trade show where I met one of my old classmates from school who was now a major player in the developing realm of social media and marketing for a publishing and syndication firm, from our past and his knowledge we spoke of collaborating together to blog the photographic industry utilizing my knowledge of the past and merging it with the future that he was clearly at the forefront of. Walking with my phone to my head I was picking up phrases here and there such as “litigation” and “advanced payment” and “50 phone calls” coming from my apparently angered friend, whose anger was making more sense.  Looking down I saw a picture of my friend and I celebrating signing the contract in Las Vegas at a following trade show, beneath it was photographic equipment and Chinese fireworks that I had purchased with the advance he gave me that day in good faith. [caption id="attachment_3309" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Sure, the money could have been used for things like rent, food, shelter, but who is ever really unhappy when fireworks go off into the sky and or at your enemies?"][/caption] “The agreement is clear, underlined and in bold type, you owe me blogs I assign and corresponding editorial blogs as you see fit. WHERE ARE MY BLOGS?” Without coffee to fuel my ability to squirm out of situations I frequently put myself in my responses are limited to the verbal ability and convincing power of a toddler who with chocolate all over his face is asked by his parents where the candy went and says “I have no idea.” “I’ve got them right here, I will email them to you shortly no worries, you can send the rest of the money now if you like.” His response quickly made me aware of the danger I was in, “bring them to me, in my hand by the end of the day.” He had me, he probably also had lawyers to go along with his evidence which just so happened to be my signature on a legally binding document. Having something by the end of the day was going to be problematic, after all, it was already half gone. With slow somber tunes playing through my head, I grabbed my keys with the intention of driving to my friend to apologize and for not coming through, perhaps a bag of chinese fireworks would buy me some forgiveness I hoped. Not quite awake and still pondering how I got myself into this mess I stopped for coffee along the way, and to my surprise I ran into my friend David Campbell. Dave and I went to school together as well, he is a working photographer in the industry and just so happen to be waiting on a client to meet him to discuss a job. A quick hello was exchanged and before you knew it his client arrived, I excused myself to wait on line for my coffee which let’s face facts is the fuel I need to function at almost any level. As I paid the cashier I planned on turning and giving the universal raising of the coffee cup head nod that is the manly “good bye see you around”, mid turn I saw David packing up his computer and preparing to leave and his client already absent. Intrigued, or possibly subconsciously delaying my own execution I walked over and inquired, “quick meeting?”  The response was as predictable and jolting as that first sip of coffee in the morning.  “Another bride who wants a wedding that should cost $10,000 but is willing to pay $200,” he said with a tone that had all the shock value of the color beige.  Coming out of school both Dave and I had aspirations of being a glorified Jimmy Olsen dreaming of becoming an Eddie Adams, but the world changed photography as a business and both of us.  Dave stayed straight and true to his dreams but with lacking assignments turned to portrait and product photography whereas I went anywhere a paycheck could be found utilizing or knowing photography. Walking out to our cars I looked at Dave, packing his portfolio and computer a man of talent and honest business practices being dismissed cause a bride who is spending a fortune on gift baskets decided images of this once in a lifetime occasion in her mind was worth only pennies on the dollar.   [caption id="attachment_3333" align="alignright" width="300" caption="I understand the brides position, why pay when you can get images like THIS from relatives with the fancy camera? It's not about the look on the brides face, all that matters is how the dress looks and the guy who paid for it is out of focus in the background."][/caption] Pulling into the office parking lot I tried to see if I could wash the bulls eye off my shirt that I had through neglect, ignorance, down right laziness placed on myself.  Using the covert tactics I learned through years of avoiding uniformed security guards at such events as trade shows, concerts, general locations like Las Vegas and New Orleans where drunken behavior is both frowned upon and yet at the same time encouraged I managed my way to my friends office without being seen. Walking in I checked the floor in front of me to make sure I was not standing on an X where a giant rock could fall on my head for my lack of professionalism, let alone to a friend who offered a opportunity which I was currently regretting not seizing.  Motioning to a chair he calmly said, “sit down, lets talk.” After a quick inspection under the chair and on the chair itself and finding no X I sat down and began debating in my head do I make an excuse, offer some fireworks, or simply accept the fact I failed and face the music as they say. [caption id="attachment_3409" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="When the canvas is blank, you know you are in trouble"][/caption] “You have no material do you?”  He knew me well, aside from failing over and over again given opportunity after opportunity he never judged on history, just what he saw in front of him.  “Who would have figured that?” I regrettably and perhaps laced with too much sarcastic enthusiasm I proclaimed.  “You can’t write about what you are not part of, you need to be where these things happen, and you have been living under a rock since the last time I saw you, there was no way you would have the material that is why I asked you here today to give you one last chance.” Puzzled I sat in the chair now checking the walls for advanced technology like laser sighting pointed towards my head, “chance?” I inquired.  “Yes one last chance.  Right now tell me what you would write about, tell me an idea that you want to write about that will stop me from asking you to return the advance, which lets face facts I know you don’t have most likely and giving me whatever you bought with it in exchange is not going to make me stop calling my lawyer who is on retainer.”  At that moment all things became quite clear, might have been the coffee kicking in or the cold harsh reality of litigation that focused all my thoughts, energies and perhaps survival traits into perfect harmony. Over the next few moments, I spoke of my friend Dave who I had just run into.  But not so much “Dave” as “photographers” and what they are going through today.  It fills me with dread that those who have worked hard to get where they wanted to be are finding it increasingly difficult to do what it is they want to do.  What makes clients feel that in a digital world a picture from a cell phone is good enough to capture a wedding and who needs to pay the basic price of such a service from a professional.  “The world needs to know that becoming a photographer is something you can still do, its a respectable and essential occupation to both the art and business world and I feel it has been neglected and slandered for to long.” I am not sure if my friend was fascinated by my idea or the fact I had formed a comprehensible statement that had “legs” if you will for the vision he had when he offered me this position.  “And other than writing that photographers are under-appreciated, how will you go about doing this? You do your best work when your in the middle of it, your idea is simply, an idea.” With an expression once again of a toddler covered in chocolate I shrugged and stated I was open to suggestion. From his desk he handed me a post card reading “Photo North East.” “This show is coming up, I expect this will help.”  Looking at the card I could see names of photographers I have known and those I know of teaching a variety of classes to photographers. I stood up, still checking for weapons of retaliation installed in my friends office, holding the card in my hand I said, “ … It all starts here.” [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="575" caption="It all starts here ...."][/caption]   Justin Case is a free lance journalist with experience in the photographic industry.  A trained photographer, Justin works as a contributing editor to a variety of photographic blogs and publications.  His views and ideals are a delicate blend of accurate reporting and a completely warped interpretation of reality.