Friday began with yet another long, complex metro ride into the city. We met at the Gitterman Gallery, a beautiful exhibition space featuring hardwood floors, giant windows, and absolutely stunning light. Tom Gitterman, the owner, met with us to talk about his life, his work, and his advice for dealing with galleries in the future.
Tom began by stating that he is not, in fact, a photographer. Despite describing his teenage self as a “rebellious, messed-up kid who hated religion,” Tom told us how his entire worldview was altered by seeing a fresco of heaven painted on a vaulted ceiling during an art history trip in Italy. It caused him to look at art in different ways, more as an expression of self than propaganda. “Art enhances my life,” Tom told us. “It’s hope for where one wants to go; it reminds us that we are not alone; it connects us to something greater than ourselves. It can nearly be a spiritual experience for some. Also, it’s fun.”
After getting kicked out of high school, Tom was barely admitted to college into the art history department, where he became deeply interested in history of photography. He explained that he was especially inspired by the struggle by Stieglitz and Steichen to prove photography’s status as an art form, especially because he still found that many people didn’t view photography as art. It was around that time that he started hanging shows for friends, then for Ithaca College’s art gallery, and then for the historical society in town. After graduating, he began interning at, and then working for, galleries in New York. Slowly he worked his way up, but described the impact of 9/11 as a huge turning point. “It made me think, ‘what do you want in your life?’ CHOOSE. Do it. Don’t let life just happen to you. Life is fragile. Go for it.”
Tom described his initial fear at starting a gallery of his own, but realized that all he really had to lose was money. “You might lose a lot of money, but couldn’t you get another job?” That statement really stuck with me.
In terms of the work he chooses for his own gallery, Tom explained that he’s not interested in art that doesn’t look like it’s created by an individual. “It’s not a question of whether or not something grabs your attention,” he told us. “It’s a question of, ‘do I want to keep looking at this day after day?’”
After telling us his own story, Tom jumped right into advice for the young photographer. “Develop a reputation that you’re proud of,” he told us. “Before you contact a gallery, know what the gallery is about… do your homework about who you’re contacting.” He also told us to expect to pay for matting and framing ourselves when preparing gallery shows, and to keep an open mind. “The more finite you are about the way things have to be, the less exciting you will be to work with,” he said. Tom also recommended that we always get receipts when leaving work with people, to set up insurance, and to keep edition sizes small. “It is much better to sell out your edition and move on to the next project than to have huge editions,” he explained. “If the popular image is sold, people will move on to the larger body of work.”
Allen and Tom.
Next, we were visited by street photographer Allen Frame, who passed around his books of moody black-and-white work as he began his talk. Allen explained that he never went to art school, but had Henry as a photography teacher at a community center. He said that Diane Arbus and Emmet Gowin’s “penetrating psychological perspectives on portraiture” strongly prompted his initial interest in photography. Since 1977, he’s been working with the same subject matter: that open, ambiguous phase of life when people haven’t settled, and are still exploring.
Interestingly, Allen explained that he’s much more of a natural writer than a photographer, but is attracted to the challenge of visual arts. As a writer myself, I was intrigued by how Allen managed to fuse the two together in his life – currently, he’s working on writing a play, while also working with photography. When asked when he knows he’s “got something good,” he answered that a good photograph should present some psychological familiarity, trigger a sense of authentic impact, and even become an emotional experience for him personally. “Pictures don’t mean as much when I don’t have a connection with the subject,” he explained.
My favorite comment of Allen’s, however, was about fame, something that I see so many people chasing, but that I have no desire for myself. “Everyone wants to be known, be stars,” Allen said. “But take a look at those big names. Look at their pain… look at the dues they’ve paid for it, what it’s done to them. Either they end up completely wrecked, or so armored, it’s frightening to be around them.” He paused for a moment. “It’s curious… but I like where I am.” I couldn’t agree with him more.
Before we left, Allen gave us one piece of parting advice: “You are so lucky to be where you are. Stop whining. Grow up. NOW.”
Next on our list for the day was American Illustration/American Photography, where we met with director Mark Heflin. Through a competition, American Photography publishes a hardcover annual of the best photography work produced within that year. The books, which are meant to promote photography and photographers in general, serve as a resource for art directors, designers, etc. The competition (open to anyone despite its name) is juried by people who hire photographers (and the jury changes every year). “Even if you don’t get in the book, you’ll still get seen by the jury,” Mark told us. “Be seen, be seen, be seen. The world is definitely waiting for you. Always keep that in mind.”
Mark gave us a detailed description of the book’s process, from the jurying process to the design and printing. He explained that while there is a special category of the competition just for students, student work is printed in the book right alongside the professionals, with no indication of which is which. I was really impressed by this straightforward respect of quality work, regardless of one’s professional standing. Mark also explained that American Illustration/American Photography is beginning to develop more publishing besides their annuals, such as their newsletters Pro Photo Daily and DART, Design Arts Daily, which aim to get news from as many sources as possible.
In terms of advice, Mark said he would encourage us to do everything possible once we’re out of school. “Take every opportunity to be seen,” he told us. “The world’s always looking for a new image. Also, go to parties – they’re a great place to meet people. Remember that you never know what’s going to happen in your life. You should have focus, but you never know what’s going to happen.”
Inspired by Mark’s encouraging, positive attitude and the beauty of the American Photography annuals he showed us, we set off to our last meeting of the day at Trunk Archive. A beautiful office awaited us, featuring giant windows, shiny hardwood floors, and rows of people working away at computer screens -it’s hard to explain, but the atmosphere was very conducive to creativity. We met with Claudia Lebenthal and Leslie Simitch, who began by describing Trunk Archive’s primary purpose: to find new ways to re-use images that have already been taken. This, they explained, includes everything from fashion photography to celebrity portraits, decorative/nature photos, etc.
As they spoke, Claudia and Leslie projected a gorgeous selection of images from their website onto the wall, absolutely stunning images that, as they explained, truly did cover a wide variety of topics. They explained that they don’t bother getting model releases for every image in the archive until someone actually wishes to use the image, and sometimes photoshop their images to make the models less recognizable if they’re on a budget. They explained that they contact photographers they’re interested in working with – not the other way around – and that 50% of their sales go to the photographer. I was truly impressed by the beautiful images they showed, and experienced one of those fleeting moments of desire to shoot commercially – a moment which never lasts long for me, but it’s inspiring when it does.
The evening ended with a delicious, photogenic Korean dinner with Abby.
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