CRITICAL PHOTOJOURNALISM

Mike Davis is a visual consultant, editor, author, photographer and professor emeritus. His book Creating Visual Narratives Through Photography: A Fresh Approach to Making a Living as a Photographer was published by Routledge/Focal Press in 2023. A visual leader who has worked with hundreds of photographers independently and on multiple staffs, Davis taught visual storytelling courses at Syracuse university and directed the Alexia Grants. He was twice named picture editor of the year and has been on various workshop and review faculties. He has edited more than 40 books.

The interview was lightly edited for clarity and length.

JW: You're an expert in lots of different areas, Mike. I've always been incredibly inspired by the way you see visual narratives—visual stories—and how you put them together. I would say you are one of the best in the world to help photographers achieve their goals as visual storytellers. You take them beyond what they would be able to do without your expertise. Your vision is incredibly unique and you think about story structure in such creative ways—at times, nonlinear and in a linear way when that’s best for the story.

MD: One impression I would like to highlight is that we are, professionally, the sum of all the experiences we’ve had. The more settings we’ve been in and the more challenges we’ve overcome, the more able we become in each new setting. It's been my nature in new settings to explore, “What could I do to advance or fully develop my understanding and approaches to this situation? Then, when I feel like I have achieved that understanding, the next question is, “Okay, what's next? So consequently, I've worked in a lot of different settings—big to small, editorial to commercial, public relations and communications— with each one requiring a different kind of understanding for how to go about producing work that is relevant in those settings. Going beyond the binary is critical; understanding dynamics/choices not as either this or that, yes or no, one type of work, one approach. Every aspect of our profession is on a spectrum or continuum. One of the spectrums, as it applies to the visual world, at one end is producing work because of its informational value.. At the other end is a more lyrical or idea-based approach to the types of images we're trying to create and what we’re speaking to — the modes or creative means that we apply to that expression. So at one end of the continuum is purely informational work and at the other is purely impressionistic and thought-driven work.

Typically, photojournalism has been close to the informational side of that spectrum. Fortunately, more and more settings are moving toward the other side of the spectrum, where what the photographer brings to the telling is as important as what is being depicted. That requires a whole different set of skills and ways of thinking about both the production of individual photographs and the selecting and sequencing those images based on the environment in which the photographs will live. And, thankfully, the number of places where photographs live has grown exponentially. And that requires realizing narratives more dynamically than in the past. 

The opening premise and section of my book is that why we do anything determines how we do it. The more dynamic that we set out to be, the more varied and engaging the work will be. The Why drives every aspect of our decisions. Section two speaks to fully realizing photography’s creative means of expression in the service of the Why. Creative means are the seeing of color and light, choosing varied distances from what’s photographed, compositional choices and moment value as a way to measure the completeness of expression. Subsequent chapters speak to non-photographic aspects of the image-creation process that advance your abilities, a process to enhance your ability to select and sequence photos, creating visual narratives, and finally what it takes to make a living.

Students from the get-go should be moving beyond the informational approach to making photographs and narratives. And most seasoned professionals are having to rethink how they do what they do to maintain their livelihood.

JW: Could you elaborate on that for a moment like they're having to rethink how they do, what they do, and what the pressures are, or what are those forces that are kind of creating that shift?

MD: Sure. I was actually just reading, re-reading one of Ken Jarecke’s books and he talked about the dynamics of the profession changing in that he used to be able to make a living by doing one thing, let’s say it was photojournalism or another type of photography. Then you would have a set number of clients. There were only a certain number of boxes in which people could work. Now, especially in the editorial and photojournalistic world, the number of jobs have decreased substantially compared to the number of staff positions available ten to fifteen years ago. So, for people who want to produce that type of work, they have to figure out other ways to make a living from it. You have to put different efforts out there to be able to make a living. In Ken's case, he talked about selling prints from gallery shows. He does workshops and presentations. He works for commercial, editorial and photojournalistic clients. He rethought and reworked his entire way of making a living. Most of the people that I know have done some version of that.

JW: I love what you were saying about the more dynamic we set out to be when we're approaching a body of work or an assignment, the more dynamic the work, itself, will be. Can you elaborate on that?

MD: Sure. Say that you were sent out to photograph an event—the most basic kind of assignment that photojournalists do. The standard approach is you simply photograph what you see, just as it's happening. Then, you go back to your car (it used to be the office), and you pick what you think are the best pictures that reflect what you saw. And, by golly, there's the story. That's still what most photojournalists at newspapers do. It's an approach that tends to produce the same types of pictures, no matter what kind of event you're at, and it lacks compelling narrative. What if, instead, you just said, “Look, I'm going to find a more specific or several narratives within this event. I'm going to connect more deeply with what is going on and who the people are and then strive to say more about what the event is about and why it exists—something that reaches deeper. That means you connect with the people forming the event long before the event happens. You get to know the people involved and what it takes to participate in the event, ideally before the event, and at the very least during the event. Maybe you learn that something within the event is actually the most telling story that you could produce. One example: Lara Solt once returned to photograph a county fair after noticing the dominance of the color pink that year. The narrative was built around pinkness.

This approach is all the more important the larger the topic. KayLynn Deveney wanted to speak to immigration in New Mexico and had met a newly immigrated family who were about to have their first child. The narrative became seeing the family’s experience through that child’s first year of life.

JW: Would Burning Man be a good example?

MD: Sure. You could just show up and photograph or you could find a group of people who have been coming there for thirty years and then follow them through the experience. You go with somebody who's going for the first time, or you decide that you are only going to make it about curves and linear expressions within this environment, and then find a thread within that setting. The goal is to present an impression of the world that people wouldn't get otherwise, even if they were there.

Part of the dynamic in this thinking is that however many smartphones there are in the world right now is how many photographers there are. As professionals, we compete with them every day. Anybody can make the, “I was there, and I made a picture,” kinds of photographs.

It used to be that there were people who could operate these complicated machines called cameras. They could afford the lenses and the bodies, they had the machinery to publish the work and had a support system. The mechanics of photography and publishing allowed only a specific number of people to make pictures. Now, anybody can own the machine and have access to the publishing environment. Therefore, if you want to make a living as a photographer, you have to do more than simply present the literal stuff. Your work has to be better or special, in some way or you won't make a living.

JW: Something that you said really struck me—about how photographers go into their cars, all alone, turn their mi-fis on, transmit a pile of images that probably automatically flow into a gallery. This makes me sad, because I feel so strongly that photography should be a collaborative process. The photographing part is collaborative because you're obviously having to collaborate with an environment, a group of people or whatever. Then getting the best work in front of the public—that is also best if it’s a collaboration with someone with visual expertise, like a photo editor or someone whose understanding of visual narratives is above that of the photographer. 

When I was working mainly as a photographer, I would do the first broad edit, then take those images to a photo editor, who would do a wide selection from those. Then together we would select the final edit together from that last edit. I'd like to hear about your process when you're looking over a photographer’s work, or maybe coaching the photographer before the shoot. How do you work with a photographer, or if you get work after it's created, how do you approach the body of work? That? Do you have any tips that you might offer to a photographer on how they could better critique their own work? Separating yourself from the emotional experience of shooting the assignment or story for me was very difficult. I always appreciated having someone check out my work who was not present for the event or the story.

MD: Through the course of writing my book, I started to use the word narratives instead of stories, because that's an open forum. There is no automatic notion to what a visual narrative is. So, for people who create visual narratives it's important to think of the whole as one complete process, from the conception of the idea through refining the idea and what you're trying to say about that setting or people, to creating the work, and then responding to the work as you're producing it, to recognizing what is working and what is not so you can refine it to the point of advancing the narrative, and then to assembling the sets of photographs that actually present the narrative most effectively. All the while asking and defining forms best realize the narrative. 

It's not a linear process; it's not a factory line. You have some sense of the forms that it might take from the inception, ideally. But then you evolve the final forms as you're producing the work, and then the final forms will influence or affect the kind of work you're producing as it progresses. It’s much more like playing three dimensional chess than 2-D checkers.

JW: Your three-dimensional chess game is a wonderful metaphor.

MD: You can simply pick pictures as a visual editor, but that's a really small part of the process. The value of a visual editor is that the actual selection and then sequencing are considered in the context of the whole. And they're not simply choosing the “best” images, as one might define the “best.” Part of the process is actually challenging the photographer to speak to what they think are the most compelling images. Inevitably, it is that interaction that creates something greater than it would have been if either of you had done it alone.

JW: And you know, having the time to be able to collaborate, as well to create something greater with the people who you're working with is such a gift.

MD: You mentioned time. One of the consistent arguments in journalistic settings is that word editors seem to think that creating imagery takes too much time. That is not true. It isn’t that creating images takes more time, it just takes the right amount of time. So, instead of them expecting a photo tomorrow at a certain time, chances are that it might not be the right time to make the picture. It’s much more efficient to know when the right time is to make the photo, rather than going at the wrong time, then having to go back and try again, and then that time didn't work out, either. Time is a big subsection of my book because how you deal with time in a visual environment is one of the most powerful tools of creative expression.

The ideal is for word editors to ask: “When do you think the work will be ready?” and “How much time will it take to get what we need?” You get there by educating them about the value of imagery, how it differs from what words convey and what it takes for imagery to be successful.

JW: I really appreciate you saying that the right time is connected to the timeline of the story versus the timeline of the publication, which have often been at odds in my career and was a source of great stress for many years.

MD: Absolutely. And I think it's getting worse in publishing environments because proportionally the visual staffs of most traditional publications have shrunk relative to the writing staffs, so there are more decisions being made by people who have no visual acuity. And there are fewer people in leadership roles that have any visual experience. I feel like it's regressing back to the late sixties, early seventies in many publishing environments. The greatest irony in our profession is that historically, it was the smaller publications that produced the most amazing work and the greatest presentations and the New York Times and the Washington Post were always visually bland in their presentations. But now the Times and the Post are producing some of the most phenomenal work out there, really leading the way and setting new standards. And it’s because they've committed resources — people in positions of authority and structures that support more dimensional imagery and visual content – while smaller environments have been depleted and their visual staff are doing less engaged, less interesting work. Then there is a new area of the profession that didn't exist ten years ago—the non-profit news segment—and they will hopefully be a little more visual. But, in turn, many don’t have leadership roles in the visual side.

JW: And at a time where we've never been more visual, right? The higher ups, at least right now, at the Washington Post and the New York Times see the importance of investing in visuals. You've got to be on your game visually, more and more, if you want to succeed in media. 

MD: Seriously, the absurdity of publications diminishing their visual report. It's just mind blowing at a time when people's lives are more visually driven than ever and driven by visual technology, at that. 

The literal process of selecting and sequencing photographs begins with trying to separate yourself from having made the photographs. An equivalent would be when you open a bottle of wine—you don't just chug it. In the same way, there are a series of things you can do to enjoy wine the most—to get at its essence. The process of selecting and sequencing images has a similar set of steps. The first one is, ideally, that you've allowed a little time between having made the photographs and having to choose them. Let yourself breathe a little bit after each of these steps.

The goal is to create a hierarchy in each set of photographs you make: best, second best, third, fourth, fifth. With that in place, you can much more efficiently choose photos for any subsequent usage. Here are the steps to creating such a hierarchy.

• Step One: Use whatever software you prefer to review photos in grid view. Slowly scroll through the images to get a sense of your body of work. You will probably think, “Why did I make forty pictures of that?” or notice that you only made one image of something else. Notice things like when the light was bad and then when everything seems to come together. Assess your own way of making pictures — questioning why you chose to do what you did in the way you did while looking at the work in grid view, because that gives you the five hundred foot view, as opposed to getting into the nuances and intricacies of each image. 
• Step Two: Look at each image large — still not making judgments. Make overall assessments as opposed to saying this one's in or out. Get past thinking, “oh, I wish I had done this” or “oh, God! I'm great! I did this!” Further remove yourself from the experience of having made the pictures. 
• Step Three: Take another breather and then look at them all large again, one at a time, and ask, “do I ever want to see this photograph again?” Give those you want to see again the lowest rating in your software - a tag, one star.
• Step Four: Review those you chose in step three and give the better images another star. Repeat this elevation until you’ve given a set of photos up to five stars of ratings.  

Assessing what you’ve chosen is critical. Ask, how many did you choose at a certain level? What separates the top tier from lower tiers and what should change to increase the number of successful photos. Over time, that ratio should change as a reflection of your growth. 

The more informed you become around your own decision making process and clearer in what you value in photographs and what you were striving to do at the outset, the tighter your selections will be. And your work will be better over time..

The second chapter of my book is on assessing your work based on first, do you feel anything from it? Does it convey something beyond what is happening or the object just being clearly presented? Next, is the photograph successful in communicating what you were trying to say? Does the quality of light, as you've seen it in that setting, convey something? Were you at the right distances to different things in your images—extremely close versus extremely far? Have you chosen the best way to compose the frame in consideration of what was in front of you? Was your composition specific to this setting, as opposed to being a generic approach? A way to assess all of these as one expression is what I call “moment value,” which takes into account all of these decisions made to produce a uniquely expressed image.

I should back up, because really the first step is recognizing what your default approaches to photography are. Everybody has them. Some people tend to put the main subject dead center in the frame. Some people create oval images where things outside of the oval part of the frame aren't important or fully considered. Others create plywood, which most people in the profession call “layered” photos. Note that plywood has a lot of layers, right? 

JW: That's interesting.

MD: I never use the word layered unless the goal is to produce simplistic imagery. Considering only one layer of a setting is common. In those photographs, there tends to be no foreground, and the background won't be fully considered. The critical thing is that you know what your defaults are, and chances are you aren’t able to see them. That's where an informed visual editor comes in. They can say, “Did you realize that you tend to build most of your photographs from the bottom up—which is another tendency. Or that you tend to make, what I call, “diving board” photos, which are anchored on one side or the other. Helicopter photographs are when you split the frame horizontally and vertically, another typical default. Any one of these approaches can be the best way to make a picture in any given setting, but if it's your default approach, that's a problem. 

Some people use colors to further segment their selections topically—based on subject matter or theme. I tend not to do that, unless it's an appropriate approach for whatever is happening. Let’s say I want to make a book, and it's feeling like it needs to be in chapters, and these would be the chapters. Then you can set a color for one chapter, a color for another, and a color for the third, and then sort by strength. You can use this approach as a way to assess your work as it moves forward. Let’s say you only have six for the first chapter and fifty in the second—you can work some more on what you need for the first chapter.

So, that's selecting images in digital form. An alternative one is to make prints—four by six inches or larger. I start by creating rows by topic or theme—however a given project breaks out topically, thematically or individually. It helps you assess or understand visually the breadth of the work that you’ve produced. The next step is to move the strongest images forward in each of the rows. It’s a great way to realize what you've actually accomplished, and how you've been spending your time. More importantly, what you need to do to move forward, to make the project more complete. Sequencing is easier from rows, too. You can see that this one and this one work and move the pair into what will be the sequencing space. Keep finding photos that cry out to be near each other and moving them in place relative to all other selections until you either run out of photos or start repeating what’s been said. Refine by moving them about until you feel confident.

JW: There is something about the physicality of the prints, especially with sequencing. I would say that for me these little discoveries, these synergies—you might not see digitally—or at least I might not. Maybe that's my age—I'm not sure.

MD: In a teaching environment, pair two students with the same set of photographs and challenge each pairing to create the strongest way to present the photos. Then each pair presents their sequences and reasoning to the class. It’s fascinating and such a growth opportunity.. 

Sequencing is very different. Again, everything is on a spectrum and the same applies to sequencing—the setting, the form, the environment in which the photographs will live determines the best sequencing approach. The opposite ends of the sequencing approach continuum are informational and lyrical considerations. If sequencing is based on the information that the photographs present, then sequencing is based on what you need to show first, then second, third, etc.... Interesting to the extent that what is pictured is interesting in the sequence of its occurrence. Process stories follow this path

At the opposite end is lyrical sequencing which is responding to the visual aspects of imagery, what each image conveys and the experience of seeing the image. So, what you're doing is considering how the light plays from one frame to the next, how the placement of elements within each frame plays from one to the next, how the color dynamics play from one to the next, where you start within a frame one to the next. If you start deep within one photograph the next frame leaps out at you—that's a super powerful sequence. If you keep the sequencing consistent, then break it—that’s a lyrical dynamic. 

JW: So sequencing to keep the viewer awake, kind of like (Josef) Haydn’s Surprise Symphony in some ways?

MD: You bet. Music is a great analogy. Another is a rollercoaster. We're rolling along and then we just drop or bank left or go straight up. And you can have a hybrid sequence that goes between informational and lyrical. 

JW: When you're thinking about how to open, how to end, the middle—what are the things that you're thinking about or feeling?

MD: When trending toward purely lyrical work, I decide what the first image should be usually based on whether it reveals enough, but still leaves you wanting more. The first image is really the hardest one to select. You don't want to answer all the questions. You don't want to give away too much. It has to be evocative. I put the first photo on the left side of a split screen view and then scroll through all the other selects on the right side of the split until some kind of third effect – a relationship, a chemistry between two photos – happens between the first and another photo. The photo with chemistry to the first becomes the second image. Then place the second photo on the left side of the split and repeat the process with the remaining photos, building a sequence one pairing at time, until you run out of pictures or start repeating what’s been said. Don't pre-conceive—just let the photographs dictate how they flow. This creates a chain-link of imagery—with each image responding to the next, purely visually. People who sequence based on what the caption says or do the this-then-that approach largely forfeit the power of sequencing.

This approach evolved from directing the Alexia grants for years and seeing how judges responded to work. People who sequence their work based on the informational aspects of the photographs left the judges confused because the sequence only made sense once you knew the information in the caption. If you give the judges an experience, they're like “Oh, my gosh! I don't know exactly what this was about, but I sure love it!” 

JW: Exactly. Then I am inspired to go back and read the captions or the abstract to know what the body of work is about. It seems like a combination of informational and lyrical works effectively a lot of the time. You have the informational grounding or structure but can also incorporate duality and surprise.

MD: That’s why I connected the starting point of understanding your creative means of expression fully. That magic gets carried forward in the selection and then plays out fully in the sequencing. The greatest value of this approach is that in every setting you encounter, you can photograph uniquely, because the goal is to say something specific, dimensional, and unique about each setting. I just wish I had known this when I used to cover seven county fairs in a summer.