I’ve been a judge for many photographic competitions and I’ve learned there’s a mathematical pattern behind the scenes that ensures that the most interesting images are unlikely to win. If there are three or more judges on a panel, then a bold and unique image is far less likely to get the points, because the range of views across the judging panel will normalise scores towards something more conventional.
The same bold expression of character that impresses one judge can be a big negative for another. For this reason alone, plenty of really great images are destined never to win a prize. That’s worth keeping in mind for those many instances when you don’t win a competition. Being judged by a panel is probably not the way to go if you seek reward for individual style and technique. make your own creative spirit subservient to a set of perceived criteria. Most of us will dilute our expression and boldness in favour of conformity.
Before you even lodge a submission, your own process of selecting images presents the first hurdle to your chances of success. You are likely to second-guess the judging panel and their style when you curate an entry, or factor in a set of guidelines that may nor may not be determinant. You essentially Deeply unique souls who dare to step outside the margins can find their desire to enter competitions quickly punished with failure; they soon learn to either play within the rules or stop entering them at all. The self-limiting and self-censoring of your creativity happens almost imperceptibly at first, but can make a lasting impact on your style.
Cheaper than Free
Sometimes we are driven to enter by the lure of winning prizes and the glory of a title. We have a hard drive full of great images so why not win a new camera for ourselves? I love it when my past travellers email me to say they won a prize from a photo they took on my tour. One lovely girl went home with a new Leica and a ticket to Africa. She deserved it too: her photos are deeply intimate and engaging.
But most of the freebies aren’t for photographers, they’re for the company running the competition. I used to photograph for one travel operator that had an annual requirement for new travel images but very little desire to spend their money. Instead of buying all the photos they needed, this company would run a competition every year that included a clause in the fine print that gave permission to use any photos submitted, whether they won a prize or not. Always read the fine print.
Most competitions are about marketing, however: a way to enhance brand awareness via social media. Engagement with the entries, public-scoring and getting friends to ‘like’ our photos to improve the chances of winning are all tools to help raise the profile of the brand. Little wonder that camera manufacturers fund a select number of major competitions every year. The more they offer in prizes, the bigger the returns they want to see. Always ask yourself, who is benefiting from this competition? It may not be you.
I do like to support competitions that promote a destination instead of a brand or company, the kind of competitions that encourage people to travel and experience somewhere lovely. Wilderness, wild creatures and conservation areas are big on my list. That’s why I don’t mind backing promotions for places like the Northern Territory or to raise awareness for protecting bird habitats.
These are things that we can all enjoy, and we don’t have to buy into a brand to do so. They are genuine inspirations, and participating gives back to everyone involved.
Structure and Expression
If I could design a perfect photography competition, it would in fact offer a reward for everyone who entered, not just a few. Camera clubs usually aim for this by awarding points for quality of work, instead of simply picking winners.
The value of camera club competitions lies in their ability to make us think about techniques and aim for a high standard of presentation. Ideally, they send us out into the world to shoot new material with a theme in mind, thereby making us active with our cameras as well as our creativity. They can push us forward, gently and incrementally.
Most of us humans are naturally lazy and we need motivation to be our best, so a camera club and the associated environment to learn is often beneficial. Plus, we get external feedback on our photographic work, which can help with our next submission. Guidelines to camera club competitions usually have a challenge built into it, an objective that helps focus our attention. They can be more like a homework assignment than a competition. There are no million dollar prizes at the end of it, just a few points on the board and some good conversation with your colleagues.
While camera club competitions operate in a climate of nurturing skills, there is a downside. Their definition of good or bad photography can be very rigid, sometimes defined by legacy standards that have resisted modern advances in the art form. In the absence of broader perspectives, some camera clubs become dominated by a few personalities who influence the style and structure in which learning takes place. For the most part this is fine, until an individual’s potential approaches or exceeds that standard. Our full creative potential can only be reached beyond the realm of structure and rigidity. Creativity is an expansive process, not purely reductive. There comes a point when the framework of review will impede expression instead of encourage it.
Celebration of Ideas
When is a competition not a competition? When it’s an exhibition. Many festival programmes invite photographers to participate in their fringe event, where a fee is paid to enter and exhibit work. It’s a great opportunity to put your creative vision forward to an audience, and immerse yourself into a wide range of productive challenges. You are pushed to consider more deeply what messages you want your photography to convey, or maybe even why you are a photographer in the first place. Whether or not your work is considered for a prize is of minor concern.
Exhibiting provides an invaluable and deeply personal challenge: curating your work, establishing a standard of presentation, and seeing your work hanging on the wall changes how you see your own work. Scale, materials, lighting and medium all become aspects of an image that go beyond what lies inside each frame. It’s both powerful and daunting.
Many local councils have very active artist’s programmes that also encourage exhibition of photography, but most of us pay no attention to the opportunities right around the corner. Keep an eye on the local newspaper or council newsletters to see if there are cultural and artistic programs you can benefit from. If so, it’s possible the rest of your community could benefit from seeing your photography too. Signing up to exhibit might seem like a big challenge, or just too time-consuming, so perhaps a smaller exhibition is a better place to start. Making a book with a print-on-demand service will provide a similar challenge of curation and preparation. You have more room for images in a book than on a wall, and a more portable means by which to share your collection.
If you commit to making a book for yourself at the end of every travel adventure you will quickly find lessons emerging from the pages. It’s a productive way to review your work and look for ways to rethink your skills and expression.
The next time you’re thinking about a competition, just ask yourself who will benefit from it and whose standards are you trying to meet? Will this help you be a better a photographer, or just help someone else sell a product? Every time you share your work you create an opportunity to learn from it, and to share your joy with a wider audience. Reflection on where your photographic spirit takes you is invaluable, but make sure you hold onto that value for yourself instead of giving it away for free.
– Ewen
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