About: Process

As I was deciding how I would sequence the images on my website, the thought crossed my mind that based on the questions that I am most frequently asked, "Is that picture real or is it Photoshop?" When I say, "Did they have Photoshop in 1963?" The person asking the question is typically unsatisfied with my answer.

I came to the conclusion that because most people were suspect of the fact that I created the image, starting with the idea, through every phase of the image making process. I would try to shed some light on my work ethic.

Critics always assume that I had collaborated with a team of set designers, technicians, wardrobe stylist, hair and makeup artists, and last but not least where the idea for the image came from. At my last show in New York, a critic from a magazine came up to me and said, "Why don't you admit your Bubble pictures are all airbrushed!" as he rushed out the door.

A typcal question asked, "The idea for the bubble shoot was actually yours?" When I tell them that I designed and built the bubble, expressions of disbelief darken their faces.

In order to reveal my work ethic, I will go back to the beginning.

My desire to become a photographer from about the age of 13 was a preoccupation 24 hours a day. Photography was the only thing that interested me so I spent much of my time living in my own mind imagining and altering reality to satisfy my vision.

When I look back, I realize I had no choice in this obsession as I had no resources in terms of photographic equipment, and the ideas that intrigued me were even far beyond someone of means, so I had to let my imagination and minds eye vision become my portfolio. In truth, I saw photography as the vision of one mind from beginning to end.

I see the work ethic of a photographer very much like that of a painter. The painter starts with an idea, from stretching the canvas, to the creation of a palette that is so individual that it embodies the sum total of his or her being. A life based on individual creations which when gazing on the finished work, hopefully brings feelings of catharsis, until need and desire rears its ugly beautiful head again.

The fact that I was never an assistant to any photographer was a blessing in disguise, in that I was not influenced by a mentor's vision. There is no right or wrong way to light, I believe it takes years to free oneself of the mentor's pallete.

My influences for lighting were paintings and the reality of my surroundings. I had no preconceived ideas of how to light except for what I intuited, and what looked good to me. Looking back in time I realize my strongest insight wasI knew when image was good and when it failed.

I also realized that the images that I presented were going to be compared to the best. No one is going to give you a major campaign because you’re a nice kid; when you enter that arena you're going against the best.

When I was eighteen, I rented a studio in New York on East 39th Street. Although the rent was low, I had no extra money for assistants so I did everything by myself. I designed the sets, painted the sets, sometimes with the help of my girlfriend who became my prop stylist and later my wife. We would go antiquing in Connecticut on the weekends. The antique places were large tobacco barns leaden with beautiful old pieces, which we rented to shoot samples for my portfolio. I had saved enough money for about four months and if I didn't get a job, that was it!

I would spend days playing with lights until the look pleased my eye. What I did not realize was that my lighting was unorthodox (no umbrellas, no canned lighting) so my pictures had my individual palette. There were art directors that recognized that I was creating a personal look.

It was that personal look that got me a shoot for Harper's Bazaar. Many of the art directors I met asked me if I was in Alexi Brodovitch's class. I was too embarrassed to say I never heard of him, so I said, "I'm sorry I never met him." At that time being in Alexi Brodovitch's class was kind of a passport into the world of Harper's Bazaar.

The point that I am trying to make is if you can do every function that creates the final image; then you are the true author of the picture. I can't imagine Rembrandt saying, "I hired Vermeer to help me with my painting."

I will admit that later in my career I hired the best technicians in the world in terms of practical and commercial needs. Collaboration is wonderful if you speak the technical language and can perform the tasks at hand on equal terms; bottom line if everyone went home could you do the shoot with out the team. I am speaking metaphorically, of course.

The camera is like a musical instrument; it takes many years of practice to become a virtuoso and it is the same with a camera. If I don’t shoot for a week I get rusty.

Reminds me of a phone call I got from Conrad Hall (a virtuoso cinematographer) about 25 years ago who asked me how much he should charge as his daily rate for an important car commercial. I told him to ask how much they had in the budget and play a little hard to get. Connie called me the next day and said in his inimitable excited way. "Would you believe they’re giving me fifteen grand a day?" I said, "That sounds about right." Connie then said, "That’s more money than I made on my last picture."

A couple of weeks later I ran into him on the street and asked, "How did the shoot in New York go?" Connie said, "It was weird, the director didn't know where to put the camera, I had to direct the commercial." I smiled and said, "Connie they were buying your palette, and your ability to move the camera to create excitement."

In terms of ideas for editorial shoots the ideas always come from me.

In terms of commercial shoots, the ideas come from the creative team at the agency. I actually enjoy rendering presented ideas because it gives me a glimpse into the way other people think and the fact there is less pressure in terms of self-expectation.

Melvin Sokolsky

October 7, 2007