Barriers to Entry

Whether we like it or not we’re going to be yanked by change right through our whole lives. Change is here to stay.
—Pete Turner

One of the most powerful reasons for stopping short of taking a chance when change offers an opportunity is the perception of risk. Just to be clear here, by “perception” I mean possibility, and by “risk” I mean the chance of loss or injury. In other words there is a fear of losing or being hurt by something, which may be real or imagined. From your overall assessment of the previous chapters, have you noticed that you have often gone with the safer decision? What kind of creative career risks have you taken and what were the outcomes? What has been more important when considering your creativity, choosing security or picking the unknown? In order to overcome our fears, we will have to have a clear vision of what we want, and we will need to understand our strengths and weaknesses, as was explained in the last chapter. In this chapter we will look at the concept of embracing risk rather than using it as an excuse for inaction.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not implying that all your choices have to be totally selfish and foolhardy in order for you to have a fulfilled life. Of course you have to make decisions that are going to involve and impact your loved ones, and their needs must be honored; but you must not forget to give due consideration to using your gifts, your talents, your passion, when making those decisions. It’s the responsible thing to do.

And I am not suggesting that the only truly free people are those who have no bosses. It’s just the opposite, in that you will never be so bossed around as when you are in charge. You are not selling out when you punch a time clock, or pick up a regular paycheck, as long as the work you do is fueling your desire to make a contribution and filling that need inside of you to be part of something greater.

Job security is nothing more than a construct. As a friend of mine says, job security exists between the ears. My generation, the baby boomers, had parents who suffered through the Great Depression. To them the most important thing was to make sure they had job security so that their children would have financial security. But when I entered the workforce, I could not conform to the structure of the eight-hour day. I could not understand that I had to sit around for eight hours even if my work was finished, or that I had to go home even if there was more to be done. How could I be secure in my job if I felt I was wasting my time at it? Going out to make a living on my own was considered risky, but it was something that I had to do because the alternative was unbearable for me.

The days of graduating from school, getting a job, staying there for thirty years and then retiring are pretty much over. By some estimates, today’s worker will have five or six job changes during his career. And as medical science improves our ability to live longer, we will have even more chances to—that’s right—have more jobs. The rug can be pulled out from under you at any moment, and you can find yourself in totally unknown territory. So why not prepare yourself with a little knowledge of your abilities and how to go about using them to their best potential?

I am not advocating that you change jobs just for the sake of change. Running off to join the circus is not the answer to all the ills of job disenchantment. Maybe the job you have now can be improved with some restructuring or communication skills, some fine tuning of attitudes. It could be that you and your clients or coworkers just got away from the core values (Vision and Mission statements) you started out with. The topics we are about to consider might 1) help you to ask the right questions; 2) start the right discussion; and 3) possibly create the dialogue that will build a more productive atmosphere.

I am proposing that we approach risk in a calculated way, weighing our options carefully, and thoughtfully acknowledging what we have going for ourselves. In that manner we can minimize the odds of failure and enhance our likelihood of success.

Risk Assessment

Risk is an essential part of the artistic tradition; it is part of every story of growth. Even though we can go back to ancient times and find examples as to why we should not take chances, we still tempt the fates in hopes that we might succeed where others have failed. One classic example we all know from Greek mythology involves the archetypal artist Daedalus, who was directed by King Minos to create the labyrinth to confine the dreaded Minotaur on the island of Crete. In his attempt to leave the island and also save his son, Icarus, Daedalus designed wings of feathers held together with twine and wax, so they could escape by flying over the Aegean Sea. But young Icarus, who was warned to fly a middle course, gets carried away with the exuberance of flying and strays too close to the sun, thereby melting his wings and crashing to his death. Icarus’s legacy is that he is now nothing more than a symbol of bad judgment for future generations. Had he listened to his father, he would have been saved. But no, he had to get cocky and push beyond the limits of reasonability. The part of the story that is fascinating to me is that presumably Daedalus made a successful flight because he understood the limits of his invention and he steered a measured course.

For some, just the thought of risk turns them to stone. They never take chances, because the outcome might be more terrifying than the ordeal itself. Fear of risk can come in three forms:

1 · Fear of failure (self doubt). It is easier to do nothing and know where you stand than take a chance and not have any certainty of the outcome. This is also sometimes known as an excuse for laziness.

2 · Fear of not being able to live up to your own expectations, or not being able to live up to the expectations of others. But if those expectations stand in the way of your passion, how valid are they anyway?

3 · Fear of fraud. The chance that someone will find out you don’t know what you are talking about, you will be revealed as an imposter, and you will be ostracized.

Fears are grounded in the anticipation of pain. Therefore the best way to overcome fear is to take command before you find yourself immersed in a threatening situation. How do you do that? You do it by becoming knowledgeable of the threat by doing research, educating yourself, gaining information, visualization of the situation with yourself in control, and then proving to yourself that you are well armed with the information you have gathered, and that you will gain from the experience no matter what the outcome. When you have knowledge of the obstacle, you can weigh your reactions, calculate your means to succeed, create alternate plans in case things go awry, embrace the challenge, and grow from the experience.

Some people seem to have the risk-taking gene woven into their DNA; others have to cultivate it. I remember reading a story of how Steven Spielberg gained entrance to the Hollywood. Apparently he discovered his passion for filmmaking at an early age when he used his dad’s camera to make family movies. Then, when he was a teenager, he took a tour of Universal Studios and managed to leave the group tour to explore on his own. When he was asked what he was doing by a studio official, he said he wanted to learn about films so he had ventured off on his own. The official was so impressed he gave young Steven a pass, which allowed him onto the lot for a week. Each time he walked through the gate, he made his presence known to the guards and they got used to letting the young man pass. He turned that weeklong pass into an ongoing one. He managed to get on the lot for three months. He even placed his name on one of the empty offices. He visualized himself right onto his career path. He literally saw himself in the role of studio executive, and he took the small steps that led to the larger steps necessary for him to create his dream. That kind of chutzpah has given us one of the finest filmmakers of our time.

The Artist as Risk Taker

So what is it that lets photographers who have successfully recreated their careers know when to test their limits, but also know when to step back? What internal mechanism allows them to go further than most are willing to go, yet alerts them to stop short of self-destruction? I asked a number of professionals how they dealt with the topic of risk as it applied to their careers and the reinventions of those careers. Read between the lines of their answers and you will find that something special about each one, which will tell you about the depth of that person’s character and breadth of judgment.

Some, like Phil Marco, accepted the title of risk taker as a badge of honor: “I think that part of the excitement in life is going over the edge and trying something new. Although some sensibilities remain the same, I’ve never been afraid to move into new areas. I find that it’s not only very challenging but necessary.”

Douglas Kirkland took a long-range view of risk: “I suppose that’s a very interesting word, ‘risk.’ Freelancing is a risky business, but there isn’t any work today that does not have its risk. My grandfather was born in Scotland, came to Canada, and got a job as a teenager in a foundry and spent his entire life working one job. Essentially nobody can say that anymore. Because things change, jobs change. If you are looking for security you are probably more vulnerable than ever if that’s all you’re thinking about, because you will not take enough risks to satisfy your curiosity. The most secure person is the one who is adaptable.”

Bob Krist reinforced these views: “Funny, we talked about that the other night. We, Peggy and I, took some enormous risks when we were younger, when we were going freelance. And now that we are both in our fifties we’re not such risk takers anymore, although this thing with self-publishing is a big financial risk. I think we’re taking more calculated risks. But I am not a daredevil in any manner or sort of way. But if we need to risk something for a new outlet or something, we will try it.”

Mark Edward Harris took a pragmatic approach. What some people might think is a risky lifestyle, he sees as a normal part of his job: “I’d like to think that I am always ready for an opportunity. In other words, if I get a call this evening saying, ‘Can you get on a plane tomorrow to Tunisia to do something on this earthquake?’ I’ll do it. In other words I am ready to go. Just like the shoot to do the Special Olympics came up, I think, two days before they were starting, so I was ready to make a move. It was the last thing on my mind when I was invited to this dinner, but the person there said, ‘Boy, we’d really love to have you there.’ I don’t know if that is risk taking so much as it’s just juggling. For some people, change is tough. That type of change means nothing to me. If there’s a flight this evening to anywhere in the world and there’s a good assignment, then I am ready to go, simple as that. It’s hard to say which part is the risk. To me I think just that ability to adapt very quickly to a situation—like all of a sudden I have to be in Japan tomorrow—I could do it and I feel very much like I am at home wherever I am. That type of personality is vital for what I do. You don’t have two or three days to sit around. You just do it.”

Mark Edward Harris: Children Playing

Mark Edward Harris: Taj Mahal

Ken Merfeld had this to say about taking risks: “I’ve always been one to push the envelope as far as the type of work that I do, the variety of work that I do. I just have never been satisfied doing one genre, so I’ve explored a lot of different levels of commercial photography. The personal project is very important to my heart and I’ve risked many times going out and changing the subject matter of that project. Whether I’d spent a year or two working with bikers, or transvestites, or people with their pets, whether I feel I’ve exhausted or explored an area for long enough to understand it and have a viable body of work and make a decision to go to another area. And that’s always a risk, because if I was starting over with new subject matter and new people, reasserting who I am and what I do with these people, no matter what the type of person I am dealing with, can I still do consistently what I do, across the board, as far as getting underneath someone’s skin or into their heart and soul? If I can do it with a gang member, can I do it with a difficult CEO?”

Few people take as many chances as Pulitzer Prize–winning photojournalist Nick Ut. Nick has been a photojournalist since the Vietnam War. Nick received his award for his unforgettable photograph of a young Vietnamese woman running through the streets, her clothes burned after a napalm bombing—a photograph so powerful that it helped to change the way the American public viewed the war and thus changed the course of history.

During our conversation I asked him about the circumstances of the famous photograph, how he got started in photography, how the profession has changed over the course of his many decades as a photographer, and his work process:

One of the aircraft dropped napalm and the bomb killed a couple of her family members and her clothes were all burning. Her back was burned very badly. They had many photographers and TV cameras there, CBS, ABC, NBC. In the old days they shot film, and some had to rewind their film because they [had taken] pictures of a grandmother carrying her one-year-old grandson who died in her arms, and they were out of film. And that’s why when the girl was running, nobody had any film left. I had three or four cameras. I saw a lot of black smoke and the girl running, and so I ran and took a picture of her.

[I am Vietnamese. I was a teenager during the Vietnam War.] My brother was an Associated Press photographer. Like me, he was a combat photographer. He died in 1965. I asked AP if they would give me a job, and they said, “Nicky, you are too young, you are only sixteen.” I wanted to learn something about photography, and they gave me a darkroom job. I loved it there. After that I said that I wanted to become a photographer, and they saw my pictures and said, “Nicky, you’re a good photographer,” and I said, “Okay, I’ll go out and shoot the war,” and I became a photographer after that.

Things are different now. When I first started, we shot black-and-white film, and you had to develop your film yourself. But today it is easy because of digital cameras. When you take a picture you put it on your computer and send it in right away. Back then you had to set up a darkroom everywhere when you wanted your picture right away. Today you can set up a computer anywhere you want to go. You go to a Starbucks Coffee house, sit down, eat, and send the pictures. . . .

[In terms of planning versus instinct], if you go to do a feature, you have time to think about the story; but when you are on the news you don’t have time, you have to have action and act right away. But like I told you, you make this your business and you do the assignment right away.

Then I said “I am going to ask you a question that is going to sound stupid but I have to ask it because I have asked everyone else. Do you think of yourself as a risk-taker?

He said, “No. AP has been like a family. When my brother died, I loved the company so much because I had so many friends with the company. I enjoy the job all the time. When I told them I was leaving the company they said, ‘No, Nicky you better stay because the company is like your family.’ That’s why I enjoy working. They love me so much and I love them, too.”

Nick certainly takes what most of us would consider all the risks in the world, because he’s out there where people are getting hurt, and he is our eyewitness to it all. But he sees it differently. The people he works for are his family, and he would do anything for them. But he’s not foolhardy either. He’s been in harm’s way for forty years, but he has had the good sense to protect himself, so he could photograph another story, another day. Like he said, he knows his business. So, I suppose, our perception of risk is related to what we think is at stake.

And so it goes—risk is what you make it. Making sense of things is what our minds are all about. Could it be that many of the things we initially consider as barriers to entering some new area of enterprise are really illusions, mirages, and chimeras? With knowledge we can assess how much risk actually exists and calculate the margin of success. Maybe we only need a new way of seeing things to look past the prejudices and excuses we have assimilated into our field of perception. Maybe we need to broaden our knowledge to give ourselves more patterns to recognize and visualize more options for success.