“WHAT makes YOU stand OUT? Hmmm?”
Among the most aggravating inquiries that are posed to professional photographers when it comes to marketing themselves, this particular question (splattered above in rainbow colors) may top the charts. Personally, it has never dropped out of the top five of my all-time “How to Market Your Photography Business” greatest hits.
For the purpose of this article, here’s one basic fact : I’ve been a professional photographer for more than 15.5 years. I owned my first single lens reflex camera (a Minolta 5000) when I was 10 or 11 years of age. “Minny” remains one of the best gifts I have ever received from my father. (In retrospect, it’s quite uncanny to realize the wondrous experience that singular gadget would create later on in my life). This blog would not exist if that moment as a child never occurred. TIA International Photography probably would not exist. Fortunately, I was able to document the origin story of TIA so I will never forget.
Fast-forwarding back to May 2025, I still find myself struggling with social media as a means to market my photography instead of fully enjoying the science, art, and fun of photography in and of itself. At the beginning of this year, I deliberately enrolled in a virtual online course about marketing — specifically geared towards photographers — just to see if I had overlooked or missed any significant guidance or instructions since establishing TIA International Photography back in December 2009. A lot can change in 15 years, doubtlessly.
The online course was for eight weeks. When it had reached its conclusion, I realized, thankfully, that I hadn’t missed that much at all. Almost all of the instructor’s guidance was information of which I was already well informed. Even though this was a very good result, it did not eliminate my consternation of “what makes me stand out” within the seemingly fathomless plethora of digital photographers on Earth. This was a question the instructor continued to repeat many times to her class.
“What makes you stand out? What makes you stand out?”
Up until this year, I had always believed my official website and the presentation of my work augmented my ability to “stand out”. In the event that the creative work wasn’t enough (and it appears it really isn’t enough these days, according to all the “experts”), I explicitly state what TIA’s objectives are in the “About TIA” section — just in case a casual viewer needs my photographic creed to be spelled out word for word.
(In my experience, I would opine that spelling things out can be a time-saver and life-saver. Never assume your customer knows what you know or has limitless depths of knowledge about what you offer.)
Otherwise, trying to state how I stand out versus thousands — maybe even millions — of other photographers seems to be a fool’s errand in many ways. If I am being realistic and objective, the way I stand out is probably similar or reflective in the ways that thousands of other photographers stand out. Ultimately and ironically, if this is true, then this doesn’t make me stand out at all. It feels like a “Catch 22” or “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” exercise — one of which I’m tired of sabotaging my blood pressure to finally overcome. I don’t know if I can. I have no gimmicks. I have no phenomenal physique or distracting, insanely beautiful or superficial physical features to make one conclude (erroneously) that I must be a “phenomenal photographer” for which I deserve tons of business. I thought my ultra sexy and seductive body of work (pun fully intended) was supposed to communicate this to consumers for me. TIA is fully “WYSIWYG” and always has been.
To be candid, there was one aspect from the course that I hadn’t realized. While speaking with the instructor during a one-to-one appointment with via Zoom, she apparently visited my official website and gave me some unexpected feedback. I had not asked her to review my website, but our conversation had led to this.
For context, please bear in mind that my present website is the fourth version of itself since 2010. My current website (a.k.a. “TIA Website 4.0”) took me nearly nine months to set up, organize, and curate to the best of my capacity given everything that I had experienced with the three previous versions of my website. I had been painstakingly deliberate, methodical, meticulous, and excruciatingly patient before going live with TIA Website 4.0 in late June 2024. I requested several friends and family members to view TIA Website 4.0 purposely so they could each provide specific feedback about what they liked, disliked, as well as what was unclear or could be improved. These selected individuals each took a few days to visit my website, review the content, and provide feedback afterwards. (Routine and run-of-the-mill stuff, right?).
OK.
While speaking to me on the Zoom one-to-one meeting, the instructor visited TIA Website 4.0. After viewing it from her side of cyberspace for less than 30 seconds, she made two remarks. Rather dismally, she mentioned that: 1) My subject matter was “all over the place”; and. . .(“Drums, please!”). . .2) My website was “amateurish.”
Amateurish.
To her credit, the instructor is an experienced photo director who has hired photographers for different assignments and projects for several publications over the years. Like so many people in contemporary times, this makes her an “expert” to give advice, provide “profound” insight, offer “valuable life lessons” and pass judgement on any material presented by another individual.
Everyone is an “expert” today.
(Yes, I’m being extremely sarcastic because a lot of this is pathetically gimmicky.)
Did I forget to mention that this one-to-one meeting commenced with the instructor going into details for nearly 20 minutes about her personal accomplishments with completing a recent marathon? Upon greeting her after logging on, all I had said was “Congratulations on completing the marathon,” and the next third of an hour was spent talking about her marathon exploits.
Anyway, I digress.
I took her criticism of my website casually, at first. In response, I just said, “Oh!” in a semi-interested, semi-enthusiastic, and semi-surprised tone. I wanted to remain objective during our meeting. It wasn’t until much later that I became irritated because she had barely taken a half-minute to utter that observation (and in my presence). The optics were unprofessional given her background and her claim to be an expert on all matters regarding the marketing of photography. Most individuals are not fans of “snap judgements” on matters they regard seriously. Such rapidly quick jumps to conclusions are disrespectful, lazy, lowbrow, and thoughtless. Don’t call yourself an “expert” if you don’t spend the time to properly assess a situation. At the very least, PRETEND to have invested the time before responding.
In retrospect, I really wanted to ask her which website she was looking at from her side of cyberspace. Why? In the last 15 years, no one — friend, relative, customer, complainer, etc. — had ever called any iteration of my official website or the presentation of my professional work “amateurish”.
Admittedly, this irritated me. I was incensed because I believe this kind of practice has become the norm in our society. A lot of people just like to talk but not say anything of meaningful substance — and they call themselves “experts, “gurus”, “thought leaders”, “influencers”, and all sorts of other jargon that lends some credence of (often false) importance.
What did I do during the aftermath? I decided to focus and put more weight on her first comment — an observation that I could use constructively. When the instructor said that I was “all over the place”, she meant that the featured subject matter on my website was too broad. This suggested that I was a “jack of all trades” photographer offering everything to everyone, which is a massive taboo for professional photographers. I was offering services for cityscapes, animals, events, interiors, family portraits, etc. You name it. TIA was offering it.
Alas, that critique was fair.
I thought it wouldn’t hurt to revisit my own website and have a thorough examination of my content and subject matter. I decided to remove all the material in which I neither specialized nor felt enthusiasm. What remained were my portfolios for cityscapes, night-time images, and event photography. Full stop. These were the subject matters in which I excelled because I had had years of experience in these subjects. Plus, it was this same specified content that mentally invigorated me upon viewing it on my website. These images were what locked me into photography and, at present, motivates me to keep trying to promote my work.
As for the “amateurish” remark: I am especially sensitive about my photographic work and its presentation because, simply stated, my photography is an extension of myself and my personality. As a result, when the instructor/expert/influencer/guru/thought leader/coach/grifter/whatever-they-are-today deemed my website as “amateurish”, it was very upsetting because she had not only dismissed a body of work on a website that took me nine months to perfect, my psyche registered it as a slight on my career as a professional photographer. She was calling me “amateurish”.
As the owner of TIA International Photography, let me state one thing without equivocation: There is NOTHING about my work as a professional photographer that is amateurish. How do you dismiss 15 years of effort in 20 seconds and still think so highly of yourself?
However, the few times when I ejected my emotions and thought objectively about her annoying remark, I had some moments of clarity. She was a photo director who had informed us during the online course that most directors would not donate so much as a minute to a photographer’s online work if the directors can’t immediately find the subject matter they’re seeking. I started to think about this more critically. From a business standpoint, I resolved that I would have to reshape the presentation of my work online if most photo directors were like my instructor. That reflection of reality didn’t leave me optimistic, but it did make me more objective for the long-term. I buckled myself up and spent the next week remodeling my website (once again) to appear how it looks at the time of this writing.
The presentation of my work is critical to me so if I have to reorganize my website to appeal to the individuals who are able to hire TIA for commercial photography projects, I will go ahead and make the change.
My stubbornness and reluctance about social media remains steadfast. I don’t know if any arguments in favor of social media could change my mind after so many years of trying to make it work. I’ve been reviewing information about how to market my small business without reliance upon social media. (There’s actually a lot of advice and guidance about this specific topic if you search online. I’ve discovered that my viewpoint on this issue is far from isolated). The only form of social media that I enjoy the most is this blog. My instructor advised me to maintain the blog if it’s something that I love and enjoy simply because it’s likely that I’ll stay committed to writing and posting regardless of whether I get any views, likes, thumbs-ups, or idiotic algorithm pushes.
La Vue Atypique has been in publication since January 2012, so there is truth behind my instructor’s point. The only challenge is that I’m certain that I write about topics most people do not care about or do not find helpful to them. I’ll leave the resolution to this challenge for another time, or maybe never. Trying to identify and cater to a niche market that loves the same types of photography that I offer has been tough. Nevertheless, I am so curious to learn if I can achieve this now that I’m no longer a “jack of all trades” photographer.
TLDR? One final point: At the end of the day, anyone who provides feedback or information or judgement about your work is only their respective (and subjective) opinion. It is up to you, yourself, to determine how much value you truly want to give someone who doesn’t know you personally or professionally, or who took 20 seconds to size you up and make a determination. Think about who is making the comment and whether you believe the commentary is helpful for your objectives. Use what you find useful in others’ feedback. Leave the rest in the rubbish bin because it’s typically useless and smells (quite miasmatic).
Let’s keep on keepin’ on.
