ยฉ Gareth Bragdon
The Price of Independence
The beginning of the year is always a strange point.
Part of it looks backward, with a certain sense of nostalgia, while another part pushes forward with renewed energy. It is not easy enthusiasm; rather, it is a tired but lucid clarity. The kind that comes after moving through complex, difficult, sometimes even uncomfortable months, and deciding nonetheless not to change direction.
Last year tested us more than once. We faced mistakes that were not our own, flawed productions, accumulated delays, and costs higher than we had anticipated. We found ourselves defending our work and our idea of quality against structures far larger and more powerful than us, and it was not easy. But in that moment, one principle became clear: if quality stops being the primary criterion, everything else loses credibility. And on that, we were not willing to compromise.
At the same time, we continued to build. With effort, with uncertainty, but also with an increasingly conscious determination. We launched a YouTube channel that was not meant to be entertainment, but a space for real dialogue. Interviewing photographers and international figures requires courage, preparation, and respect, not to speak about ourselves, but to truly listen, ask the right questions, and take the subject seriously.
It was also a year of extraordinary participation in the Open Call, and of in-person events that reminded us of something simple yet essential. We are not working in a vacuum. Hundreds of people passed through, looked, talked, shared. And this, more than any number, gives meaning to the effort.
This year will be different. More focused, more demanding. The studio, conceived as the Eyeshot Academy, will become central, not to teach formulas, but to train the eye: to learn how to read oneโs own images, to select, to develop a critical spirit, to understand when a work is truly finished. It is a natural step, born out of years of editing, doubt, and dialogue.
We remain small. Independent. Stubbornly independent. We know the road is long and the work immense, but it does not frighten us. If this year has taught us anything, it is that persisting with a voice of oneโs own is not easy. But it is the only way we know to move forward.
Marco Savarese
Editor-in-Chief
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marco Savarese
Marco Savarese is Editor-in-Chief at Eyeshot, the independent publisher he founded in Italy in 2018. He spends most of his year reading portfolios, judging the Open Call, and editing the magazine catalogue. The reading desk is open, and he takes one-to-one Professional Reviews from photographers working seriously on long-term projects.
Who Finishes Your Photograph
NOTE #210. A photo isn’t finished until it survives to where people see it. Paul Strand chose hand photogravure for Photographs of Mexico so the printed copy kept the tonal weight of his prints. Protect the tone to the end, or the worst medium decides for you.
What the Dark Does
NOTE #209. A face lost in shadow reads as underexposed, a defect to fix. Gordon Willis kept Brando’s eyes in the dark in The Godfather and held it against the studio. Before you rescue a shadow, ask what it does; if you can say it, you decided it.
The Place After
NOTE #208. Of a huge event, often only an ordinary place is left. In On This Site (1996) Joel Sternfeld photographed fifty banal American places where violence happened, each with a line of text. Photograph the aftermath, and let the line do the work.
The Photo Made Together
NOTE #206. Street photography teaches you to steal people; there’s another way. In Malick Sidibรฉ’s Bamako studio the youth chose how to be seen. Before you take someone, ask how they’d want to look, and make the photo together.
Write Your Own Rules
NOTE #205. The thing that improves you most isn’t a new camera, it’s a short list of your own faults. Tony Ray-Jones kept a notebook of orders to himself and it shaped Martin Parr. Write your three rules and keep them in your pocket.
Watch the Master Work
NOTE #204. You don’t learn from a master’s finished prints, you learn from watching them work. In 1962 Joel Meyerowitz watched Robert Frank shoot, quit his job that day, and picked up a camera. Watch the body, not the result.
The Work Before the Name
NOTE #203. The worth of a photo and the worth of the byline are two different things. Koudelka shot the 1968 Prague invasion anonymously as ‘P.P.’ and revealed it sixteen years later. Photograph what must be photographed even when no one will know it was you.
The Subject You Run From
NOTE #202. The strongest subject you have is the one you’d rather not photograph. Ishiuchi Miyako went back to Yokosuka, the occupied base town she was taught to fear, and made it her life’s work. Point the camera where it’s uncomfortable.