I was recently going through some of Galen Rowell’s old essays and came across “Beyond Coincidence” in the Inner Game of Outdoor Photography. Rowell was an inspiration for me when I was learning photography. I vaguely recall reading it back in the day — back before I was selling prints and running workshops. In the essay, he writes about multiple different photographers producing similar or even the same compositions and then selling those works as their own. He ponders about whether those works are derivative, and if so whether or not they should be shared, used for monetary gain, or even if the person making the derivative should be taken to court if they used it for profit.
For example, over a decade ago I went to a small and relatively unknown island on the north shore of Lake Superior and took a Milky Way image that I called “Dreaming of Adventure Under the Milky Way.” I had been photographing this island for a couple of years before then and enjoyed going there. I had purchased a D800 in the fall the year before this shot and was waiting for the Milky Way to appear above all my favorite spots. It was the first camera that I owned — I was barely able to afford it — that was truly capable of producing night sky images such as this one at a quality that I found acceptable.
Shortly after I took it, a friend of mine went there and made a similar shot with his own take. Then multiple people found it and did their own shots. In response the following year, I added a tent.
I also started to take people there on my night sky workshops and more night images were produced of it. I tried to take my work a step beyond what I’d done in the past or photograph the island in a new way on the multiple occasions that I’ve gone on my own.
And each time, I felt happy with where my work lead me.
I’ve seen a lot of shots of this island and can’t help but think that many are derivative of what I did.
And that brings me to this point. Here’s a pull quote from the Rowell’s essay from a paragraph where he discusses lawsuits and friendships lost:
Such is not the case in a number of recent feuds between nature photographers over “first rights” to landscape images. The typical claim is that a singular personal vision has been copied for profit by the photo equivalent of an art forger. Dollars and reputations are put on the line.
It was so different back in the days of film and before all the now popular spots had been photographed a million times. People would take original compositions and if copied, they’d get offended. Now, I just expect that someone will eventually find my spot and copy my photo. I know of some people who download my images, figure out where they were, and then go and photograph them.
That’s just how it is done these days.
There’s no doubt that it has impacted the earnings of those who took the first photo or first composition of an iconic location. If I earned royalties on all the derivatives photos that people sold, I’d be earning something for that, wouldn’t I? Maybe I’d have a bit more money.
It’s sad in a way. It’s also happy in a way. It’s also flattering in a way.
I teach photograph and photo workshops and take people to my favorite spots to show them how to make compositions and photos like I do. It’s amazing when they get it. I’ve seen the proverbial lightbulb go off in someone’s eyes before when after multiple workshops they finally were able to put everything together.
And that makes me proud of the work that I’ve done to inspire people to take similar shots to mine. The next photo was taken on a workshop, and I helped people get this shot. I actually like a few other photos better. I helped them get the shot before the moon was as high as it is in my shot.
In Rowell’s essay, he would have considered those shots his and would have been upset if they had been sold by his students or assistants. He ends his essay by stating that in the future he would have to get noncompete contracts for his assistants so they couldn’t make money from a photo shoot that he arranged.
Myself, I’d prefer that people make photos they love. Even if they sell those shots and that costs me monetary gain. I couldn’t feel more rewarded than helping people get those shots.
That said, I’d rather see you get better than I am and make your own original works than try to copy my old work. That should be the goal for anyone mentoring another, of friends and of others who practice photography. We’re all in this together and we can only get better collectively by lifting each other up so we can create something unique and new.
Until next time
I also opened up registration for my July 1, 2, 16 (three sessions) Online Night Photography Course. During this course, you’ll learn how to photograph the night sky. There will be two Zoom classroom presentations followed by nearly two weeks of time for you to shoot on your own. During that time, we’ll have an instant messaging group to keep in touch. After that time, we meet back up in the online classroom space for an image review.
Sign up early and often, and I’ll see you again in two weeks.
I do think there is a difference between wanting to get a similar shot to another photographer (I still want a Yosemite tunnel view shot) and the "Instagram effect" where you are taking photos of a particular place for a meme or because everyone else is doing it. But in the end, a photographer needs to trust their own eye and vision and not just be a copier of others. That's the value of taking a course like yours in person with a group of other photographers, too, I think, so one can experience directly how that works. How a half dozen of us can be in the same area, but get a wide variety of shots based on what we see and what we like and where our art takes us.
Thank you for the the thought provoking article Nryan. Art is full of people finding "inspiration" from past work - although I am sure that blatent copying would be frustrating (how much money lost are we talking here?). A different (more provocative perspective) - the landscape is giving the photographer a gift (or the photographer is taking the photo), receive this gift with gratitude. It is not owned by anyone.