David duChemin's Blog, page 13
November 7, 2015
Postcards from Venice
Ciao from Venice! I shared this last week with 3 new friends in Venice, all here to do the first in what is, for me, a new kind of workshop. With just three students, all here to see Venice, of course, but also to work on a very specific body of work, it was a very intimate workshop. The week was full of discovery, great meals, much laughter, and – so rewarding – the chance to see new work from these three photographers that, at least to my eye, represents a huge leap forward in the way they approached their photography and their creativity. What an honour and a thrill to participate in that with them.
Images from this past week in Venice, with a couple from Paris thrown in. The featured image at the top of this post is an in-camera multiple exposure created with my Fuji X-T1.
I believe two of the most significant keys to creativity are curiosity and constraints. During this workshop one of the most extraordinary things was watching how all 3 of the photographers I was working with dove headlong into their self-chosen constraints with such courage (a third key to creativity, and perhaps the most difficult). They chose to do work so well out of their comfort zone, and so far from their usual modus operandi. I hope you’ll have the privilege of seeing their work and hearing their stories at some point. More than that I hope you’ll have the privilege of being a part of this process at some point. My own constraints mostly involved shadows and reflections, and what a fun week I’ve had playing with new ideas, shapes and colours.
I’ve now got a week to keep following my curiosity around the corners of this city, and cherishing the romance and the new memories I’m creating here with the girl I love. After this it’s off to Tuscany for 8 nights, then on to Rome for the first time. I’ll check in as I can.
October 26, 2015
Postcards from London
Some things are over far too quickly. 3 nights in London has gone by like a shot. But the days were packed with long walks and sights I haven’t seen since I was 15 years old, juxtaposed by things that weren’t even here 30 years ago. The city remains terminally cool – in fact it just seems to get cooler. We spent evening on the Strand and in Covent Gardens, going from martini bar to mexican tapas bars and back again. In fact in both Dublin and London we’ve eaten some of the best mexican food of our lives. And in between that there were prosecco brunches with new friends and a day with family, and a long slow bottle of cabernet franc called Cabaret Frank.
Photographically it was interesting, but more because I left my so-called real camera back in the AirBnB flat (we’re doing two months in Europe, almost entirely on AirBnB) in favour of my iPhone. The images, as you can see, had more to do with glimpses of London under gathering cloud than about red buses, phone booths, or Union Jacks, but cool as those things are they don’t fascinate me that way the architecture did. Not remotely the kind of images I expected to come home with, but delightful to me all the same, as was the discovery that the three smaller people in the image below all roughly mirror each other in their gesture, iPhones to their ears. Some things you wish you could take credit for, but I didn’t see it at the time.
Next stop Paris. I’ve left the landscapes behind and am trading in my muck boots and tripod for suede wing tips and my Leica, and endless wandering now through Paris for three nights, then Italy for a month. Thank you in advance for your sympathy.
October 20, 2015
The VisionMonger Sessions
We all get stuck.We all get to places where what we need is an outside perspective, some fresh ideas, or an old-fashioned kick in the ass.
Who we choose to give us those ideas, that perspective, or the push forward depends on what we want to accomplish and how we want to accomplish it. It’s probably best that we find those things from people we trust, people who’ve been where we are and who are now in a place similar to where we one day hope to be.
This December I’m making myself available for another 13 one-on-one mentoring sessions, this time specifically for those who want to get serious about their business as a photographer or creative. If you want an hour or two of honest, nothing-held-back, conversation with someone who’s been there, someone who’s made his living from his creativity for years (my whole adult life) and who feels part of his calling is to help people do the same, then this might be for you. Book your session(s) today.
“David has been a constant voice in the development of my photography style, business, and voice, since the very beginnings of my journey as a professional photographer. There are many voices in this profession that ring true to me, but it was David I turned too when it felt like the hurdles were getting a little too high and a little daunting. His expertise as an artist, photographer and listener made a world of difference to me and I am delighted to have the opportunity to work with him one on one. “ ~ Vanessa Powell
If you’ve been wondering what your next steps are, or wrestling with how to distinguish yourself in a noisy marketplace, we can pound that out. If the conversation needs to be about getting your head above water financially, or about building and evolving a brand, to finding creative ways to more fully serve your market, or build and nurture an audience – we can talk about that too. Put the coffee on, dial me in on Skype and we’ll work it through. And at the end I’ll send you a recording of the call so you don’t miss a thing.
“Mentoring with David is one of the best things I’ve ever done for my photography. He’s been a trusted, guiding force who has helped me discover where my passions and strengths lie, and how I can best translate that into a business that works for me, and serves my audience with relentless dedication. He’s helped me truly follow my heart, and my work is more authentic and I’m more confident in it as a result.” – Kate Densmore
If you’re stuck, and you’re tired of spinning your wheels, and the time is right – let’s talk. I’m making only 13 spots available this December. Last time we did this we sold out in a couple days, and that was for twice as many sessions. So space is limited. These One-Hour VisionMonger Sessions are the last opportunity I’ll be offering for mentoring until summer 2016. Book your session(s) today.
“David invests in people. From the first minute I talked to him, I knew that he was truly interested in helping me achieve my goals. He is incredibly generous with his ideas, and he is great at breaking big, pie-in-the-sky type dreams down into actionable plans. This guy isn’t about toothless, inspirational quotes that will make you feel good and leave you wondering what to do next; he’s about getting stuff done.” – Graham Scobey
Single Session (1-hour) $399 – only 9 available
Double Session (2 x 1-hour) $758 – only 2 available, save 5%
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October 16, 2015
The Thing About Rainbows
I made the mistake recently of saying, out loud, that I hated rainbows. I could have said, “I like to eat kittens and gravy” and the reaction would have been no less appalled. You HATE rainbows? It wasn’t exactly what I meant. I had been called to the deck of the sailboat with “Get your camera!” I came on deck with my camera and the expectation of a whale or a bear on shore to find that it was “just a rainbow.” Perhaps the word “hate” is too strong. No one really hates rainbows, do they?
What I meant was this – rainbows don’t do it for me photographically. We all have things we like and dislike, and rainbows always seem a little saccharine to me. All those colours competing for attention. I don’t mind the sun showing off a little, but rainbows make it seem a little like the sun is suddenly fishing for compliments. It feels needy. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make.
I don’t hate rainbows. I love the arc of the bow. I love the dramatic light in which rainbows occur. I just don’t dig the colours.
“Well,” I was asked, “what about Galen Rowell’s image, Rainbow over Potala Palace?”
“Nope, doesn’t do it for me.”
How he made the image is a great story, but the late Galen Rowell, of whom I am a big fan, made hundreds of images which are much stronger, more resonant, to me. It’s a very symbolic image, but to me not a particularly beautiful one.
My friends went back to conjuring images of me eating kittens.
So when I saw the rainbow over the Fairy Pools, a long series of cascading falls at the feet of the rocky Cuillens on Skye last week, I knew I was going to catch shit for photographing it. But here’s the thing: a rainbow is not only colour. It’s light and shape and those to me can be insanely beautiful. But if I want to focus on that luminous arc and not on the trying-too-hard festival of colours, then black and white is a great choice. I have precisely one other rainbow photograph in my published work – it too is in black and white.
My point is this: recognizing what you like, and what does nothing for you, and then finding a way to include the one while excluding the other, is much of the creative task of photography. And it takes a little courage because someone (probably several someones) is going to ask you why you killed the rainbow. They lack imagination. I didn’t kill it at all. Anyone that sees a black and white image of a rainbow can imagine the colours. They fill in the blanks themselves. I don’t need to show it in colour to provide new information – this rainbow, like all others, is going to be the same progression from red to violet. For me the impact is greater if I’m unburdened by the need to provide that information.
Everything we photograph has several aspects to it. We make choices about which aspects we show and which ones we do not. We choose one moment or another when making a portrait, and what we do not show strengthens what we do show. We choose one point of view, or perspective, over another, and again, something is shown while something is hidden. The same is true with our choice of lens, exposure, focus, depth of field, and crop. The more intentional we are about those choices the more able we will be to control both the impact and the information in our images.
Whether, by the way, the image is stronger to you in black and white, is not the point any more than Galen Rowell was worried about my opinion when he made Rainbow Over Potala Palace. He had his own vision, and his own way of doing things. I have mine. You have yours. Be intentional about it. Own it.
October 13, 2015
Postcards from Skye
We arrived in London a week ago and, jetlagged and a little confused about driving on the left and how exactly one determines the speed limit, we made our way to Scotland’s Isle of Skye. It’s beautiful here – almost magical. It has some of the remoteness and magic of both Iceland and Newfoundland’s Fogo Island. We’ve spent our time exploring back roads and taking walks and, for a couple pleasant hours while taking refuge from the rain, which has been abundant, we toured the Talisker Distillery. The evenings are spent with good food in front of a roaring fire at the Sligachan pub, later drinking whisky and downloading photographs. And just as I feel like I’ve found my vision for this place, and something that might be mistaken for a creative groove, we’re packing up. Tomorrow we head back to Glasgow to find a replacement for the iPhone that got shattered when I slid on some rocks and landed on my ass (I’m fine, the phone is shattered to bits), then to the ferry that’ll take us to Northern Ireland for the next leg of the adventure.
These images are just sketches at this point. This place is super colourful, even when those colours are muted and soft, but strangely, so much of the work coming out of this time here, photographically, seems to be finding its best expression in black and white photographs.
See you in Ireland!
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October 1, 2015
Now and Then
Tomorrow I’m speaking to a group of creative directors for one of Canada’s most recognized ad agencies. But as I write this I’m still going over my thoughts for the presentation. I don’t have much to contribute to a conversation about the How of creativity at this level, so I’m going to tell stories, and ask some questions. The stories will be drawn from the zig-zagging arch of my own story, and the questions will be about the work we do, and how we do it, specifically these: Is it authentic? Is it narrative? Is it human & alive? Is it good? By this last question I only partly mean quality. I also mean: does it do good?
Those questions keep me calibrated. They help me create work I love, to make a living, and to make a life. If my work isn’t touched by those questions, I don’t do it. I have the luxury now of being so idealistic because I’m no longer struggling to pay my bills. But I’d argue that I’ve always done my work this way and that I am where I am now, in large part, because of this idealism, which I’ve found to be wonderfully pragmatic: my questions help me produce my best work, and create the most value for the world around me.
“Is it authentic? Is it narrative? Is it human & alive? Is it good? By this last question I only partly mean quality. I also mean: does it do good?”
Ultimately we have two things: now and then. We live in the present. In one sense Now is all we really have and I want to do work that gives me meaning, that doesn’t chafe my soul while I do it, or leave a bitter taste in my mouth when it’s done. I have no idea how long I’ll live – none of us do, and most of us try not to think about it. But if today’s the last, it’ll be too late to change my mind about the things I fill my days with. It’ll be too late to do the things I could have done. Should have done. It’ll be too late for more wine, more laughter, and more stories. Now is what we have.
And if now lasts long enough – which it might – it will become Then. And eventually it’ll be over and the only thing left to me will be my legacy. Legacy is the difference between whether you have stories at the end of your life, or regrets. Legacy is the knowledge that what you built mattered in some way, to someone.
You can make a million things with your life. The ability to do that, and to do so while answering yes to those four questions, transcends your constraints. You can do it without a penny to your name; poets and painters often did. You can do it limited by your health and circumstances. You can do it regardless of what life has thrown in your way and the excuses we allow to accumulate and, when they get high enough, to insulate us from the fear. In the end it’s fear that keeps us from living a life – and doing work – that is authentic and human and good. It’s fear that keeps us watching great stories instead of living one. Sure, fear disguises itself as busy-ness and laziness and a million other things. Just like excuses so often look like reasons, though often only from one angle and you need to squint just right to see them that way. But it’s fear. And the only thing for that is to face it, see it clearly, take a breath, and move forward. Fear is the voice saying: “You don’t know what might happen!” Courage is the voice that says: “You’re right. Let’s find out.”
“The way we build a life – now – that is good and authentic and fully alive is to make our work, our days, our relationships, that way.”
So why the sermon? When a couple weeks ago I suggested a version of these four questions as helpful for finding next directions in your photography, I don’t think I acknowledged what was at stake, nor the obstacles that might seem to stand in the way. And I wanted a chance to say, I get it. I have skin in the game on this one. Unless I’m a little scared of whatever my next steps are, then those next steps aren’t taking place in the unknown, and they aren’t so much next steps as repeated ones, a sure sign I’m walking in circles. Unless I feel like I’ve bitten off a little too much, it’s probably not worth doing. Unless there’s a chance I could fail, I’m not sure it’s worth the time, the one resource of which we not only have a limited amount, but we have no idea exactly how much of it we have. My four questions help me spend that time wisely, passionately, and without regret. Mistakes, yes. Regret, no.
“Legacy is the difference between whether you have stories at the end of your life, or regrets.”
I guess I’m as concerned – no: more concerned – with making a meaningful, extraordinary, good life, as I am with making art or work that is also those things. But I think we accomplish the one by making the other, because the way we spend our minutes and our hours is the way we spend our lives. The way we build a life – now – that is good and authentic and fully alive – is to make our work, our days, our relationships, that way. They are the materials from which we build that house and legacy.
This is probably the last thing I write before I head to Scotland. I’ll be photographing in Europe for the next two months and will be posting regularly as I travel. I’ll send postcards on Instagram.
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September 24, 2015
The Great Bear Rainforest
There’s a patch of land on the coast of British Columbia that’s become known as the Great Bear Rainforest. Humpback whales make these waters their home, rising from the black water to throw their breath into the fog before diving again, their massive flukes, crusted with barnacles, seem to wave goodbye as they do. The labyrinthine islands, low, shaggy emerald mountains, meet the water with a ring of grey rock, an inter-tidal zone home to yellow kelp, anemones, and sea stars. In these forests, the cedars bearded with low-draping moss, are a bear found only here. The Spirit Bear, or Kermode bear, are a white black bear. They are not albinos; they have black eyes and noses. Go a hundred miles from here and you won’t see one. I have wanted to see one for as long as I can remember knowing about them.
“I guess we all respond differently to mystery, the unknown, and being faced with something so much larger than ourselves. Some with wonder, some with fear. Some with an instinct to “get the shot.” My initial awe tends to slow my response time. I prefer to experience the moment first.”
Last week I joined friends for a week in the Great Bear Rainforest, hiking up creeks swollen with relentless rain, and sitting for hours in front of dripping tripods and camera gear waiting for the white bears to come to feed on the remaining salmon, weak and dying after the fall run. When they came, and they did, along with many black bears, they came silently. One moment you’re sitting there in their absence, sure they will never come, wondering if they exist at all, and then there she is: a white bear moving silently towards you, padding over the moss.
I’m not sure I can quite describe the feeling of being with these bears, of being so close. But close isn’t the point. Intimacy is. It’s this feeling of being given permission, by the bears, to be there, and to share in the moment. I’ve had that feeling before in shrines and temples around the world, the feeling of being somewhere sacred and full of mystery. I guess we all respond differently to mystery, the unknown, and being faced with something so much larger than ourselves. Some with wonder, some with fear. Some with an instinct to “get the shot.” My initial awe tends to slow my response time. I prefer to experience the moment first. Like Sean Penn’s character in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, I feel like sometimes the camera gets in the way. Sometimes the shot isn’t the point at all.
It would be too easy to anthropomorphize these bears, but it would be a shame not to recognize them fully for what they are. They are not human but that doesn’t make them any less. There’s a consciousness and emotional state of being in all animals, and that allows for intimacy, if not complete understanding. Ask anyone who’s spent time in the water with whales or dolphins. Ask anyone who’s ever loved, and been loved by, their dog. The bear we spent most of our time with is a gentle, beautiful animal. She is also fast and powerful. Sitting (respectfully and safely) with bears, as I have for the last couple years, makes me feel a part of creation – frees me not to feel separate from it, frees me from the once-held belief that we occupy the top rung. I feel in my proper place here in this beauty. The nature of life seems clearer to me here.
This area is right now threatened by our need to move and sell oil and gas, and while I don’t question the need for some of these resources, I question the greed that drives us closer and closer to piloting massive tankers through some of the most treacherous navigable waters in the world, waters haunted by the ghostly wrecks of hundreds of ships. I wonder what will happen to this piece of the planet – currently the largest remaining uninterrupted stretch of temperate rain forest in the world – and to the entire ecosystem when the first hull is pierced and thousands of gallons of oil spills. What will happen to the bears, and the eagles, to the whales and to the families who’ve lived off this land for hundreds of years? These questions all simmer under the surface for me. It seems like the greatest beauty is the most fragile and vulnerable.
I’m not sure my photographs will change things. I wish they could and still try to protect the hope that I once had that they can. But these experiences and the photographs I’m making can change, and have changed, me. Paul Theroux once wrote that “where there is wilderness there is hope.” I’m clinging to that.
You can see more from this trip now and over the coming week on my Instagram page.
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September 16, 2015
On Wanting More.
“What if we longed, not for more things, but for bigger things? Wouldn’t that desire lead us, almost automatically, so long as we actually, and actively, seek these bigger things, to a bigger story?”
Two thoughts came together in my head this morning. I talk a lot lately about living and telling a great story. But where do you begin to live a great story? I know how to answer that question for myself, but until this morning had no idea what to suggest as a starting point for others. That’s where the collision of these two thoughts came from.
The first thought comes from reading a couple books about story and storytelling – John Truby’s The Anatomy of Story, and Jonathan Gottschall’s The Storytelling Animal. Both authors identify the heart of story as (I’m paraphrasing): the protagonist wants something, and he overcomes obstacles as he seeks it. Hold that idea in your mind for a moment while we look at this morning’s second thought.
“What if desiring more is the key to living a great story?”
Writer G.K. Chesterton once said (again, I’m paraphrasing) there are two ways to get what we want: to acquire more and more or desire less and less. I have always resonated with that, particularly where the desiring less and less applies to material things, and the pursuit of a simple life. But this morning it flipped on its head for me. What if (here’s where we loop back to the first thought) desiring more is the key to living a great story?
I don’t mean material things, per se. I mean what if we desired more from our art, our legacy, our relationships, our bucket lists, and our impact? If we longed – not for more things, but for bigger things – wouldn’t that desire lead us, almost automatically (so long as we actually, and actively, seek these bigger things) to a bigger story? I think it would.
And that’s why so few people do it. Because as the story grows, so do the obstacles. We have so much more to lose. The voice of fear gets so much louder. The resistance, on all levels increases. There’s nothing I can tell you to make that not so. It’s what makes the story something worth living, and something worth telling.
“As neither of those voices have ever led me to a freer, fuller, kinder, more creative or generous life, I choose to ignore them.”
Most of us are flanked by two messages that twist this idea. The first voice is a cultural one: to desire more and more means more stuff. I can’t help you with that, but I can tell you that the more stuff you acquire the bigger the pile of reasons (things you have to lose should the story go sideways) not to live that larger story after-all. Who needs a great story when you can watch one on a new television the size of a car? I don’t think the most rabid materialist wants too much; I think he wants too little. I think he settles for a counterfeit, preferring the ease of Stuff over the beauty of Story. Story can’t be bought with a credit card, and Stuff never lasts.
“If you want a bigger story, it begins with giving yourself the freedom to explore, and lay hold of, the biggest desires of your life.”
The second voice comes from the other angle; it’s loudest message is that to desire more of your life is selfish. Just who do you think you are? And you’ll have to answer that for yourself, too. As neither of those voices have ever led me to a freer, fuller, kinder, more creative or generous life, I choose to ignore them.
If you want a bigger story, it begins with giving yourself the freedom to explore, and lay hold of, the biggest desires of your life.
This short article originally appeared on my Beautiful Anarchy blog. I’m re-publishing it because I take the advice of Jay Maisel seriously when he says if you want to be a more interesting photographer you need to be a more interesting person. Photography is a means by which to say something, but if you don’t have anything interesting to say, it’s just pressing buttons and buying gear and over and over again my audience tells me they long for more than that. If that is so, if you long for more, then dial it up a notch, take that desire beyond photography and into your life and see here it leads.
The image of me at the top of this post, shot by Jason Bradley, was made off Hornby Island, British Columbia, during my ongoing attempts to become a competent diver and explore more of what this beautiful world has to offer.
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September 13, 2015
Learning Mastery
Facebook did it to me again. A headline promised me I could master photography easily. It sent me (I couldn’t help it, I was curious) to an infographic about apertures and shutter speeds and focus modes and rules of thirds. I read it all. And when I was done I knew exactly what I knew when I was 15 years old, after a year with a camera in my hands. Nothing more. And nothing anyone would mistake as mastery. So what in the name of Nikon have I been doing all these 30 years since then, if those things alone don’t lead to mastery?
Learning. Learning about what vision means to me. Learning about my own aesthetic tastes. Learning how others do things. Not learning to become a master, but learning for its own sake, knowing that learning is the journey itself and mastery isn’t a destination.
I think that we are learning is often more important than what we are learning.
When you learn something new, doors open, and those doors lead to more paths and more possibilities.
I know so many people, and mentor so many students, that are stuck. And when I ask them what they’re reading, well, they aren’t. When I ask them what new things they’re learning or exploring or playing with, they aren’t. We move forward when we push against the unknown, try things we’ve never tried. We used to call it “play.” It used to come so much more naturally.
“I think that we are learning is often more important than what we are learning.”
We used to be curious and hungry for new experiences. We knew we didn’t know things, as children, and we seemed wired to peek into corners and behind things to find out. We knew we didn’t know, but we didn’t know what we didn’t know so we learned it all.
That same approach can still work. The problem is that we think we know what it is we don’t know. We think if we want to master landscape photography that we should study only that, unaware of what new place we might go if we spent time spent studying great painters or the way portrait photographers use light, or how the impressionists did their work.
“Stuck? Learn something new. The moment you stop actively learning, is the moment you get stuck. The joy, the meaning, the life, is in the forward momentum and the discovery.”
Can you focus your camera? Can you expose? Perfect. You’ve got the start on the technical stuff. You’ll keep learning that, I promise. But what you probably need now is…well, that’s the thing. Most of us don’t know. But I guarantee there’s a good chance it will come from the creative process. It’ll be a mix of this and that, and it’ll be unexpected and the more unexpected it is, the more interesting the results will be. That’s where the path to mastery begins, friends. Mastery is not that you can do something, it’s how and what you do with the something.
And if mastering the technical stuff is your goal, you’ll still do that better while you play with new ideas and try them on for size.
There are a million ways to learn, and to play with new ideas and techniques and see where they lead you. This past week we’ve been pimping the Complete Photography Bundle III (for more info, click here) in partnership with the 5 Day Deal. For $127 you get over $3000 worth of education. Some of my products are in there. I’m only involved at all because for this kind of money you’re not going to get exposed to more variety in photographic education anywhere. And all these ideas, when you play with them, go somewhere. This is about learning mastery, by which I don’t mean “learning how to gain mastery.” I mean mastering how to learn. From there the options are infinite.
Stuck? Learn something new. The moment you stop actively learning, is the moment you get stuck. The joy, the meaning, the life, is in the forward momentum and the discovery.
This big sale is over at noon, Pacific time (PDT) on September 15. Once it’s over I’m going to get quiet for a while. I’m heading up to British Columbia’s Great Bear Rainforest to photograph the Spirit Bears and whales for a week. Then I’ve got a quick assignment with The Nature Conservancy in Clayoquot Sound, before packing my bags and heading to the Isle of Skye. That’s the first stop on a 2-month personal project in the UK and Italy. I’ll take you along as I can, sending postcards to the blog, and posting new episodes of Vision Is Better. If you did participate in the sale, thank you. We’ve raised $80,000 for some great charities so far and I’ll be adding a portion of my own profits as an affiliate as well. Thank you for being part of what I do. Always grateful.
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September 10, 2015
5 Days of Photography Begins Now.
Starting right now, the 5 Day Deal is live and for five days only you can get over $3000 worth of photography education for only $127. That’s over 70 hours of video instruction, over 700 pages of eBook education, and more, from some of the best educators around. That’s something like 96% off the retail price. But when it’s over, at noon Pacific time on September 15, it’s gone forever. *If you purchased the Complete Photography Bundle last year, this is 100% new content!*
You can get it here, along with more information, if you click the graphic below.
If you decide it’s for you, and you’re a regular part of this community, please purchase it following the links in this post, or anything I post on social networks. Yes, they’re affiliate links, but it’s things like this that pay my bills, and allow me to create the free content I do.
DO GOOD!
When you pick up this incredible bundle through me, it also means I can continue to do pro-bono work for organizations like the BOMA Project – and 20% of what I earn from this sale goes to those organizations and to that work.
WIN STUFF!
And you could win a trip to visit me, or one of 10 signed copies of the Visual Toolbox. We’ll tell you if you won (as long as you’re a subscriber to The Contact Sheet, over 18, and can answer a skill testing question when we email you).
FREE STUFF!
And if you don’t have the cash this time, then each day of the sale we’re giving away one product at Craft & Vision – just head over to the store and find the free product on the home page. It’s yours.
WATCH STUFF!
And if you’ve got everything I’ve cranked out in the last few years, you don’t have these: starting today I’ve got 5 episodes – one each day – of the Vision Is Better Show published on YouTube. Today it’s Episode 15, The Single Best Thing You Can Do to Improve Your Photography. Tomorrow it’ll be Episode 16, Two Things: A Bit of a Rant, followed by Episode 17, 3 Ways to Create More Engaging Photographs. And then there’s Episodes 18, and 19, but you’ll have to wait and see them. 5 days, 5 new shows.
I won’t blog about this again. I’ll probably mention it once or twice a day on social media. I’m sensitive to the fact that there will be a lot of noise about this sale. It’s a great sale. I think the value is extraordinary and the cause is a good one (last year $250,000 was raised for the charity partners!). If you want to purchase these resources, I’d be grateful if you did it through this link.
Enjoy the episodes of Vision Is Better, and the free gifts from Craft & Vision. See you when the dust settles. Thank you so very much for all your support.
Take me to the Complete Photography Bundle, now.
PS – Be patient if you go to the site and it’s slow or down – it’s about to get really, really busy.
Do me a favour? Tell others about the 5 Day Deal.
