Making Your Camera Pay

by Frederick C. Davis

On an invaluable rejection-slip prepared by a national magazine, examples are given of "What we want and don't want." Under a photograph of Senator Johnson with upraised fist, as if he were driving home a point in his speech, is printed: "Here the upraised fist does the business—makes action, life—and transforms what would otherwise be just an ordinary likeness of Senator Johnson into a striking and arresting picture."

But if a photograph is sufficiently unusual it may be without life and yet may sell, although it gains materially by a show of action. Under a photograph of a floating submarine, the rejection-slip notes: "No action here; but it is safe to say that few of the readers of this magazine skipped this one when it appeared. Submarines are common today; but not the kind that carry huge twelve-inch guns." Similarly under a photograph of three men standing in a row and looking with a "where's-the-birdie?" expression at the camera, the caption is: "A posed picture and, as is usual in such circumstances, a dead one. We used it because a story centering around these men was a singularly interesting one appealing to a large audience in America." But no matter how extraordinary a photograph is, it gains a hundred-fold by exhibiting signs of life.

True, a "dead" picture may sell; but a live one will sell more quickly, and the photographer's work will be more in demand, and the resulting cheque will be larger—much larger.

If you make a photograph of a building—even for instance, a new arsenal—you will never sell it to such a publication as the New York Times roto-section. The rejection-slip says, under such a picture: "There isn't even a human being in it to relieve the severity of the building's hard lines and the flat expanse of water. We do not care for such pictures." True, a photograph of a building—and of a building only—may sell for a few dollars to an architectural magazine; but more dollars and a bigger future come from putting life into photographs and in getting your work into the national weeklies as a result.

Again, no magazine wishes to buy a photograph of something not new. A monument, if photographed a moment after the unveiling and with the crowd around it, is a likely seller; but if the photographer waits several years, a print of the monument is unsalable. And that is not strange: you prefer fresh to cold-storage eggs.

The big secret of the successful press-photographer is the introduction of human beings into his photographs of inanimate objects. Human beings have a deep interest in each other. When one is introduced into a picture, human-interest is introduced at the same time; and, if the human being is pictured in the act of doing something, the interest is even higher. For no one ever outgrows the question, "What ya doin', mister?"

Popular Science Monthly says: "We want good, clear photographs of a human being doing something of a mechanical nature. The subjects must be new." If a new invention is pictured alone, it is lifeless and meaningless. But let a human being operate it and a photograph of it gains in value.

One has only to apply his common sense to the matter. If a murder is committed in the city, the newspapers will not demand photographs of the corpse; it will do very well to obtain a photograph of the "arrow-points-to-the-scene-of-the-crime" variety.

One has to depend wholly on his "nose for news" and this sometimes proves treacherous. "A human-interest photograph sometimes slips past the trained nose of a photographer of twenty years' experience and is picked up by a beginner," to paraphrase Charles Phelps Cushing. And, on the other hand, the old-timer may snap away confidently at a subject which the beginner has scorned, and then find he has an unsalable print on his hands. Sometimes, so to say, "noses for news" contract colds and are unable to scent a subject's salability. But colds may be cured and the scents picked up once more. The best remedy is to stop, to think, and to sniff again.

There is a market somewhere for every good print. There is no market anywhere for a print that is not good.