© Daniel Arnold
The problem isn’t photography. It’s time
There is a strange habit in our world: considering a photograph valuable only once it is already far removed in time.
Photography from the past is treated as a certainty. It is reassuring, already digested, archived, legitimized. It has a price, a shared history, a place in museums. No one has to defend it anymore.
Contemporary photography, on the other hand, is uncomfortable. It doesn’t agree with anyone yet. It has no established value, no definitive frame, no clear ending.
And this is why it does not receive the recognition it deserves.
Not because it lacks quality or vision, but because it lacks distance. It lacks the time needed to turn a living work into something “safe.” And the market, when given the choice, will always prefer safety over risk.
The paradox is obvious. We live in an era in which documentary and street photography are more conscious, more subjective, more political, and more necessary than ever. Yet they continue to be treated as a promise rather than a reality. As something that might one day have value, but not today.
Today, value is still decided elsewhere. By institutions that look backward, by collectors who buy stories that are already complete, by a system that needs consensus before it recognizes importance.
Meanwhile, the present produces images that speak about our time with a clarity that the past, by definition, cannot have.
For me, independent publishing means standing exactly here. In this unstable space. Publishing works that are not yet canonized, that do not have a reassuring pedigree, that do not promise returns but instead ask questions. Building value before it is certified by someone else.
Perhaps the point is not to ask why contemporary photography is worth less.
Perhaps the point is to decide whether we want to keep measuring value only once it has already become history.
Because the present, if we do not support it now, will never become the past.
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 Sidibé’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.