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I’ve reached a point where I understand I most likely won’t see the end of the next decade or two. Over the years, I’ve amassed a significant collection of negatives, slides, prints, and digital files. Without any heirs, it’s become clear that my work will likely end up in a dumpster when I die. I’ve considered donating my collection to institutions like the Center for Creative Photography or a local library. Still, I’m no Atget, Adams, Penn, or Walker, so they don’t see any value in preserving my work.
Have any of you pondered this problem? Is it something you’ve even considered yet? If so, what solutions have you come up with for preserving your photography legacy?
Jim,
Thank you for this very interesting question. Having put in half a lifetime making photographs it's a big question. How - or whether - or should - they will live on.
I have no definitive answer, but perhaps to start it would be good to digitize as much as possible. Slides, negatives, and prints will all fade with time. A digital collection is much more portable, and can be duplicated easily for backups. Give copies to friends and relatives.
Having said that, there is a case to be made for prints. Put them in albums, or frame them and give them away to whoever wants them.
Another possibility is simply to become famous and let your biographers take care of everything after you're gone. :-)
By chance I came across an article by Joshua Rothman in The New Yorker that touches on the topic of a photographic legacy. If you're interested here's a link . . . .
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/open-questions/what-can-you-learn-from-photographing-your-life
. . . . Steven T.
Steven;
Ha! I've worked hard for 50 years to become the next overnight sensation.
Those are exciting Ideas that you've listed. Hopefully, we'll get more ideas shortly.
Unfortunately, your link to the New Yorker is for a paid subscription, so I didn't have a chance to look at it.
jw
Jim,
I think you can get one article from The New Yorker before hitting the 'pay-wall'. I was able to read it without a subscription.
Or Google 'Joshua Rothman latest articles' and maybe you can get to the article from there. It's an interesting read.
Steven
Youtube. put a slideshow together of your best work, upload it to Youtube. It'll live there a long time. If it's well received, do it again.
I’ve reached a point where I understand I most likely won’t see the end of the next decade or two. Over the years, I’ve amassed a significant collection of negatives, slides, prints, and digital files. Without any heirs, it’s become clear that my work will likely end up in a dumpster when I die. I’ve considered donating my collection to institutions like the Center for Creative Photography or a local library. Still, I’m no Atget, Adams, Penn, or Walker, so they don’t see any value in preserving my work.
Have any of you pondered this problem? Is it something you’ve even considered yet? If so, what solutions have you come up with for preserving your photography legacy?
Hi, I thought about this about 5 years ago. After my many participations in exhibitions, winning contests and hundreds of publications on photography sites, etc., I felt empty. For me, the solution was to first make my own print archive at home. The archive consists only of prints that are not framed and have stamps of authenticity and signatures. Every year I print in 30/40 cm size. of 10 copies of selected photos, some of which are for sale, some of which I give away or donate. Yes, this is the Way! Prints that do not sell go to the archive. So my heirs or friends after I'm gone will find the right way to use them. I do not approve of digital storage. It's not serious, at least it won't be forever. I like the paper, and any self-respecting photographer wants to see his prints. Moreover, modern inks already last 100 years, then they fade, but then the photos will be valuable. This is my way to immortality😀!
Svetlin,
I agree that prints are still important. Holding a print in your hand is a different experience than seeing it on a screen. I was pleased to read that you are making prints, and mulitple copies too. I wonder how many photographers make prints anymore.
A short story . . . . A few years back we were visiting relatives and the small children there were feeding a squirrel in the backyard tree. I snapped a picture and showed it to the kids on the LCD screen. One of them asked "Can you make me one of those pictures that are on paper?" That made me wonder if digital imaging will take over completely, and prints will someday go the way of records, tapes, and CDs to become just a curious artifact of the past. I hope not.
. . . . Steven T.
Interesting thoughts. I can only speak for myself, of course, but my photos can be binned or disregarded from that moment on.
It was me challenging myself shooting, I was the person proud of some, it's my brain that keeps the memories attached to the photos. If I'm not around anymore, they lose their primary audience and all emotions tied to them. There will always be beautiful or interesting photos, and aren't we more looking for the new shots, don't we photographers look forward to the next capture? I don't see my photography as valuable for the world, I'm not shooting documentary.
An exception is my wedding photography, they hopefully are valued by others, ideally for a long period.
Mike
Mike,
Wedding photos are very valuable. More so, in my opinion, than the very best landscape or still life photos. With your good work you contribute to a family's history. Maybe a hundred years from now they won't remember who did the pictures, but the pictures will still be there to give good feelings and a sense of belonging to the family members. That makes the world a better place. Some conceptual and street photos are worthy too if they make viewers think or help them to understand something.
Mike, you know I like quotations. Here's one from the poet, Robert Frost, that I think applies to photographs or any creative endeavour. Not many photographs reach this goal, but it's something to strive for . . . .
“ It [a poem] begins in delight, it inclines to the impulse, it assumes direction with the first line laid down. It runs a course of lucky events, and ends in a clarification of life—not necessarily a great clarification, such as sects and cults are founded on but in a momentary stay against confusion.”
. . . . Steven