White House Year in Photography

Pete Souza, the official White House photographer (who also served a similar role under Reagan) posted his Year in Photos on the White House website this week. I loved poring over these! As you might expect, Souza’s photos tell a powerful, insider’s story of President Obama’s 2014. They also serve as a primer on masterful photojournalism.

The photo above offered a brief look at Obama’s propensity to be present. Souza’s caption:

Surrounded by Secret Service agents, the President views the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Rather than immediately board the Marine One helicopter at Crissy Field, the President instead walked right past the helicopter to see a better view of the bridge on a clear summer day.

Here are some other nice examples of this.

Masterful photography and storytelling is nothing new. What I especially love is how the White House uses the Internet and social media to share these pictures. All of the pictures above (and many more) are shared more or less in real-time on Flickr. If you click through on any of the photos, you’ll notice that all of the camera metadata is there. (Souza uses a Canon 5D Mark III, often with a 24-70mm f/2.8 zoom.) Lots of professional photographers hide their metadata, a ridiculous, misguided attempt to maintain some kind of competitive edge.

You’ll also notice the licensing: U.S. Government Works. By law, federal work is not protected by copyright. However, that does not mean the work is in the public domain, as federal work is protected by other government statutes. For example, you cannot use government work to imply endorsement by a government official. No such luck with public domain or even Creative Commons.

I had never seen the U.S. Government Works statement before. It has very nice language around publicity versus privacy rights, an issue that has flummoxed me.

Souza also maintains an excellent Instagram account, where he shares iPhone photos and insider stories, including his thought process behind how he curated his 2014 photo essay. He also recently gave an excellent interview about his process.

This is what working openly looks like. This is what getting it looks like.

Happy New Year, everyone!

The Power of Constraints and Practice

I love the Golden Gate Bridge. I’m lucky enough to be able to see it from where I live. I never get sick of gazing at it, visiting it, or taking pictures of it. For me, it never gets old.

Still, I know that the hundreds of stock photos I’ve taken of this iconic bridge aren’t very interesting. While I somehow can’t resist taking these shots anyhow, my goal is to grow as a photographer and as a storyteller, to capture unique, emotional moments. I want to take pictures that are meaningful to me, but that are layered, not just literal. I also want to take these pictures largely spontaneously, although I’m not opposed to a little bit of direction here and there.

I’ve been taking lots of pictures with my zoom lens these past few months. It’s a great lens — fast and sharp — and I’ve wanted the flexibility for the situations I knew I’d be in. But I also realize I haven’t had as much fun taking pictures the past few months as I usually do. There are lots of reasons for this, but I felt like the zoom lens was playing a role.

So this past week, I started carrying only one lens with my camera — my 50mm equivalent, which is my favorite by far. It’s a tighter lens, which can make it challenging for landscapes and tight spaces, where you have limited room to maneuver. You have to let go of what it can’t do, or you’ll just get frustrated. When I manage to do this, I find it liberating. I’m forced to eliminate options, to choose and focus. It opens up all sorts of creative possibilities through the power of constraint. I don’t know the exact role carrying only one lens played this past week, but somehow, photography started feeling fun again.

Yesterday afternoon, I went for an afternoon walk on the bridge with my Mom and younger sister. I noticed them holding hands as they walked, and I asked them to pause when we got to the bridge so that I could snap the photo above.

I didn’t want to mess too much with the moment. I wanted to take the picture quickly, and move on. But I couldn’t help making two changes to the scene. First, I noticed that my sister was wearing a bracelet that our 10-year old nephew had made her recently. It was on the wrist that she was using to hold my Mom’s hand, so I pulled up her sleeve so that it was fully visible, giving the photo yet another layer of meaning.

Second, their hands were partially enshrouded in shadow. I couldn’t eliminate it by repositioning myself, so I moved their arms slightly. This is something I never would have done two years ago, not because I was shy about directing people, but because I wouldn’t have even noticed the shadow.

Much of my growth as a photographer over the past two years has simply been a result of paying more attention to light. In the past, I was so focused on the subject, I’d often ignore light and other compositional elements, such as the background. However, simply knowing that I should pay more attention to light wasn’t what ultimately helped me do so.

My growth has been a result both of intentionality and of practice. Taking pictures like these…

… has helped me develop a sensitivity toward light, so that it’s become more instinctual rather than something I have to consciously pay attention to. This, in turn, helps me recognize situations like the one above with my Mom and sister, resulting in better pictures.

I don’t know if the payoff is noticeable to others who look at my photos. But I notice it in the photos I’m seeing and taking. Here’s one I took of my nephews and brother-in-law after church in Cincinnati:

I saw my older nephew, Elliott, offering food to his little brother, Benjamin, and thought it was a cute moment, so moved to capture it. At the same time, I noticed how beautiful the light looked along the wall, so I positioned myself to try to get that too. A split second later, I noticed my brother-in-law in the distance, and included him in the photo.

It’s not a perfect photo. I was shooting in aperture priority mode, and I forgot that I was at f/8 ISO200, so the shutter speed was slow, and it came out a bit fuzzy. By choosing to compose the photo this way, I also missed out on capturing Benjamin’s face and the details of the boys interacting. It’s all good. I like the photo, and I see the progress I’m making as a photographer in it.

I’m also loving what I’m learning about perceived imperfections and how they sometimes result in stronger pictures. I took this photo of my friend, Oz, and his dog in front of the Painted Ladies while on a walk a few months ago:

I was paying attention to light — it was the middle of the day, but the clouds had come in, dispersing the bright light beautifully — but I missed the shadow on Oz’s face as a result of his hat. I still miss details like this, despite the progress I’ve been making, and when I catch it, I’m always annoyed. I could have asked him to take off his cap, and the picture would have been technically stronger as a result.

But upon further reflection, I’m glad that I didn’t. I like that he was wearing a Pixar hat, and I like that both he and his dog are wearing hats of sorts.

I’ve barely started to understand photography, but I am loving the journey. I love having an archive of memorable moments, especially with people I care about, and I absolutely love the learning process.

An Anthology of my Critiques of Organizational Development

My friend and former business partner, Kristin Cobble, recently asked me to re-share some of my critiques of the organizational development (OD) field and of OD consultants in particular. It took me some digging to pull together what I felt were the most relevant posts, so I thought I’d share them here.

The best place to start is, “Group Process on Steroids.” I make the point that OD practitioners tend to be too meeting- or tool-centric. I think they need to be more principle- and practice-driven, like chefs.

In “Disrupting Organizational Consulting,” I talk about commoditizing the low-end of the market. For most people, hiring OD (or management, for that matter) consultants is overkill, and they generally get a low return on that investment. If we created more DIY and low-end support options (which is where I’m focusing a lot of my energy right now), we could eliminate that side of the market, which would also help weed out mediocre consultants. I riff on this some more in, “What Consultants Can Learn From the Photography Field.”

In “Organizational Development as Product Design,” I compare the two fields, and I talk about what OD consultants could be learning from product designers. One of those things is about naming and testing your assumptions up-front, which would give us a baseline for measuring our effectiveness. This rarely happens, especially among social change consultants, many of whom suffer from Noble Pursuit Syndrome.

“Lessons from the NBA on Life, Learning, and Navigating Power” is more of a personal riff, but I talk a bit about the lack of openness and collaboration in organizational consulting, something I’m trying to be a lot more intentional about modeling.

Finally, this network analysis of OD and related fields shows how siloed the OD field in particular is, and discusses some of the implications.

Seasons

It was almost 80 degrees and humid when I arrived in Minneapolis earlier this week. Two days later, summer had taken an about face. This morning was in the mid-40s, sunny, and clear. As I left my hotel, I felt the brisk air wash over me, and I was reminded of something I hadn’t felt in a long time — the changing of the seasons.

As a lifelong Californian who had spent four difficult years in Boston, I used to scoff at my friends who would pine over seasons. “We have seasons too,” I would argue. “It just doesn’t get miserably cold.” I understood what they meant, but I could never relate.

Until this morning.

I’m not sure why this feeling of transition felt so pronounced this morning, and why I felt so nostalgic over it. Maybe it was the cab ride to the airport, whizzing by and gazing as long as I could at the Mississippi River and the beautiful buildings along its bank, which a friend had guided me through the night before.

Maybe it was the sensation of starting something new, of planting a seed, then immediately leaving. I’ve traveled so much over the years and I’m connected to so many people and places through the magic of technology, I’ve become practiced at ignoring how disorienting it feels. I love that my relationships can transcend place, but I also value place more than I ever have.

Maybe it’s where I am in life, the ongoing uncertainty of a career change that’s still in progress and the recognition that I’m not as driven as I used to be. I still love to learn, to create, to do, but I also value the pause more than I ever have.

Maybe it’s because I’m flying on September 11, and I can’t help but to reflect on the past 13 years and how much everything has changed in the world.

I don’t know why I’m feeling the way I am. All I know is that the moment is here, and that I’m just about ready to seize it — to acknowledge where I am, to mourn and celebrate what’s passed, to look forward to something new. Maybe that’s why my friends are so willing to endure miserable winters and blazing summers — for those four brief moments every 12 months when we’re gently, but firmly reminded to breathe.

I think I get it now.

What Consultants Can Learn from the Photography Field

Last year, I wrote that I wanted to disrupt organizational consulting. My basic premise is that spending money on organizational consultants is a poor investment the vast majority of the time. Those funds are better spent developing the internal capacity to do the same kind of work.

I think this holds true across the board, but it’s especially true for small organizations, particularly nonprofits. They often don’t have the capacity to evaluate or manage consultants, and they don’t have the budgets to afford good consultants or to absorb the mistake of hiring mediocre or bad ones.

I believe there are lower-cost, higher-return ways to meet the needs that organizational or management consultants typically provide. This is what I’ve been exploring (and writing about at Faster Than 20) for the past year.

Suppose that I’m right. Furthermore, suppose that this is already happening in a big way and that organizational consultants are starting to feel the pinch as a result. If you’re a consultant, what should you do (besides come after me with torches and pitchforks)?

There are plenty of examples where this has already happened — photography, for example. It would be a massive understatement to say that the field of professional photography has shifted significantly. The low-end of the photography market has become completely commoditized.

Digital technology, of course, is to blame, but it goes beyond the ubiquity of cameras. There was a time when being a photographer meant understanding metering, film speed, manual lenses, etc. Today’s cameras figure out most of that for you, and they do a fine job of it most of the time. Two out of three non-professional DSLR owners have never changed their mode dial away from automatic.

The barrier to entry for taking decent quality photos is low, meaning that the market for photographers has completely changed. There is a saturation of “professionals,” and most people are taking their own pictures for many uses rather than hiring pros. Last year, the Chicago Sun Times laid off its staff of photographers (later rehiring a few), opting to use freelancers and train its reporters to take pictures instead.

What are professional photographers doing in the face of these dramatic market changes?

When the low-end of a market gets commoditized, that increases the value of the high-end. There’s still a market for great photographers. To take advantage of that market, you have to be great at your craft, and you have to do everything you can to keep growing.

I recently listened to a podcast interview with photographer, Jay Bartlett, who described how he continues to differentiate himself. First, because he’s a fashion photographer, he has done everything he can to learn about every aspect of fashion — from the makeup to the clothes to the industry. It’s not just about mastering his technical craft, it’s also about mastering the subject of his art.

Second, when he was first starting out, rather than invest in equipment like most photographers, he chose to invest in a support team so that he didn’t have to do everything himself. Famed photographer, Joe McNally, recently told a similar story, describing the critical role his studio manager, Lynn, plays in keeping his operation running.

What can organizational consultants learn from this?

First, don’t rest on your laurels. Just because the bar is low, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t raise it on your own. Set high standards, and continue honing your craft.

Second, invest in a team. It’s great that you can do everything — everyone should know how to work the line — but you should be focusing on what you do best, and working with others to do the rest. That means being intentional about building a team and applying your own skills in facilitating collaboration toward your own team.

The market for organizational consulting at the low-end should be commoditized. People can and should be able to do the basic work on their own with more cost-effective (and effective in general) support structures than consulting. But there will always be a need at the high-end. Those of you who are consultants should be working to get there and to continue growing.