Non-photographers Need Not Apply

Exploring the Contrast Between Written and Photographic Books

In my world, photo books hold a special kind of reverence. They are cherished not just as vessels of visual narratives but as objects in their own right. A finely crafted photo book often surpasses the allure of a museum or gallery visit, though, admittedly, the prospect of a meandering walk through a quirky district with exhibition cases carries its charm (wink-wink, hint-hint).

On occasions when I find myself in a bookstore, it’s an interesting observation that I’m often not alone in the photography aisles. Cameras, like silent companions, dangle from the shoulders of many who wander there. Photo books, it appears, are a niche savored largely by those who speak the language of aperture and shutter speed.

In contrast, the world of written books is a vast expanse—people from all walks of life read books. It is unimaginable to fantasize about the world in which literature is enjoyed solely, or even mostly, by writers.

I hadn’t thought much about this divide until I came across Mark Power’s interview for Magnum courses, where he talked about his first book. Power recalled a chat with his publisher, Dewi Lewis, about how a half-decent book would sell 700 copies to other photographers. “We all buy each other’s books, basically.” The Shipping Forecast sold ten thousand copies in the first few years, which is an astonishing number for an unknown photographer at the time. He continues, “[…] So we obviously got out of that photography ghetto and reached a whole other audience. It reached an audience that was Radio Four listeners, people who love the Shipping Forecast. I was constantly meeting people who told me, and I still do, actually, people who tell me, “Oh, I bought that for my Dad for Christmas.”

Recently, I’ve observed a surge in new social media platforms centered around photography. The common rallying cry seems to be over Instagram’s betrayal of its original photographic essence. “It’s overrun with diverse content and people not primarily focused on photography,” they argue (they do not use the word diverse, of course). These platforms propose an alternative, a new haven where photography is promised to be the main attraction once more.

I’ve stopped signing up for these networks. My reluctance isn’t rooted in their typical short-lived nature but rather in how they remind me of the photography sections in bookstores — yet another silo where non-photographers need not apply.

How does one create a book, or any photography-related media, in a way that it breaks free from the insular boundaries of this niche circle?

Honestly, I don’t have the answer. It might be that no one really does, and perhaps it all boils down to luck. Or maybe there’s a system to it. Who knows?

It’s not that I’m aiming to sell ten thousand copies, but setting a goal to captivate the interest of at least one non-photographer does present itself as an intriguing challenge for the book.

Regardless, I’m eager to delve into and learn from this exploration through the Out of Memory book series project, and I look forward to sharing this journey with you.

Thanks for reading,

—T