Flow Photographica

Hosted by curator, fine art printer, and photographer Alex Schneideman, Flow Photographica offers a fresh insight into the world of photographic arts through challenging and entertaining conversations with leading photographers, curators and other key photographic people as well as essays and original observations. Drawing on over 20 years of experience, Alex shares insights from his photographic career and his work at Flow Photographic Lab and gallery space in London with some of the worlds greatest photographers, publishers, museums and galleries. Every episode features engaging and informative conversations with leading photographers, curators, and other key figures in the photographic world, offering a fresh perspective on photography.

EP32 - A Conversation with Wolf Suschitzky 02/22/2025

EP32 - A Conversation with Wolf Suschitzky EP32 – Wolf Suschitzky Show Notes In this episode, I sit down with Wolf Suschitzky, legendary photographer and cinematographer. We met at his home in Little Venice, London, where we talked about his incredible career, spanning over 70 years in both photography and film. Born in Vienna in 1912, Wolf fled Austria in 1934 as the political climate worsened for Jews. Settling in London, he quickly established himself as a cinematographer and photographer. Over his career, he worked on over 200 films, including Get Carter, Ulysses, Ring of Bright Water, Entertaining Mr. Sloane, and the film adaptation of Rising Damp. Wolf’s early career was shaped by the British documentary movement, working with John Grierson and pioneering filmmakers such as Harry Watt and Paul Rotha. He was cameraman for Night Mail (1936), the iconic documentary with narration by W.H. Auden and music by Benjamin Britten. His cinematography in World of Plenty (1943) helped define the humanistic style of British documentary filmmaking. Beyond film, Suschitzky was a renowned social documentarian, photographing London’s street markets, working-class life, children, and laborers. His work in Charing Cross Road, Soho, and post-war Britain captured the texture of everyday life with rare intimacy. This conversation offers a glimpse into Wolf’s thoughts on photography, cinematography, and the art of capturing reality. Though frail, his mind remained sharp, and his love for his craft was undiminished. Links & References Wolf Suschitzky Biography & Legacy – National Galleries of Scotland Books & Photography Charing Cross Road in the Thirties – Amazon Street Markets of London – Photobook Details Exhibitions – Notable Films (Cinematography by Suschitzky) Get Carter (1971) – Ulysses (1967) – Ring of Bright Water (1969) – Entertaining Mr. Sloane (1970) – Rising Damp (1980) – Key Figures & Collaborators John Grierson (Father of British Documentary Film) – Harry Watt (Filmmaker, Night Mail) – Paul Rotha (Director, World of Plenty) – W.H. Auden (Poet, Night Mail) – Biography Benjamin Britten (Composer, Night Mail) – Films Mentioned Night Mail (1936) – BFI Player World of Plenty (1943) – BFI Screen Online Notable Publications: "Photographing Children" (1940): A guide offering insights into capturing the essence of childhood through photography. "Photographing Animals" (1941): This book provides techniques and tips for photographing animals, with a foreword by Julian Huxley. "Seven Decades of Photography" (2006): A retrospective collection showcasing Suschitzky's black and white prints spanning over seventy years, selected by the artist himself. "Work" (2020): A compilation focusing on Suschitzky's portrayal of labor and working environments, reflecting his deep engagement with social themes. Notable Exhibitions: "A Grand Tour: Amsterdam, London, Paris etc. in the 1930s, 40s & 50s" (2006): Held at The Photographers' Gallery in London, this exhibition featured Suschitzky's works capturing urban life across major European cities during the mid-20th century. "Wolf Suschitzky – No Resting Place" (2020): Hosted by Fotohof in Salzburg, this exhibition showcased a comprehensive collection of Suschitzky's works, emphasizing his contributions to photography and cinematography. "Crawley New Town Seen Through the Lens of Wolf Suschitzky" (February 6 – March 29, 2025): Displayed at Crawley Museum, this exhibition featured photographs capturing the early development of Crawley New Town, returning to the public eye after six decades. "Wolf Suschitzky Photography Prize 2023" Exhibition: Organized by the Austrian Cultural Forum London, this exhibition showcased works by winners and shortlisted photographers, celebrating Suschitzky's legacy and influence on contemporary photography. /episode/index/show/photographica/id/35387335

EP31 - A conversation with Sir Don McCullin 02/15/2025

EP30 - The Flow Photographica Relaunch Monologue with Alex Schneideman 02/14/2025

EP30 - The Flow Photographica Relaunch Monologue with Alex Schneideman Flow Photographica - Episode 30: INTRO TO FLOW PHOTOGRAPHIC Episode Overview In this episode of Flow Photographica, host Alex Schneideman reintroduces the podcast with a fresh vision, tracing his journey through photography—from childhood awe in a darkroom to founding Flow Photographic Gallery, becoming Artistic Director of Photo Oxford and the development of the Pictures from the Garden project. Alex reflects on: The early days of Photographica and its rebirth as Flow Photographica A transformative moment in a darkroom that sparked a lifelong passion for photography His journey through photography, from assisting in London studios to founding Flow Photographic The creation of Pictures from the Garden, a project honouring the late photographer Paddy Summerfield The role of publishing in a photographer's career and the importance of books in photographic storytelling This episode is a personal exploration of what it means to live a photographic life and an invitation to continue the quest for understanding the medium. Links & Resources Mentioned Flow Photographic & Gallery 🌍 Flow Photographic Studio & Gallery – Photographers & Projects Mentioned 📖 James Ravilious – An English Eye – 📷 Paddy Summerfield – Mother and Father – 📚 Pictures from the Garden – A collaboration with photographers Jem Southam, Alys Tomlinson, Sian Davey, Vanessa Winship, Matthew Finn & Nik Roche Featured Photographers: Jem Southam – Alex Schneideman - Alys Tomlinson – Sian Davey – Vanessa Winship – Matthew Finn – Nik Roche – Photography Institutions & Festivals 🏛️ The Bodleian Library (Holds Paddy Summerfield’s archive) – 🎨 The Photographers’ Gallery (London) – 📷 Photo Oxford Festival – Book Publishing & Design 📖 Want More – Published by Art/Books (Andrew Brown) – 📘 Dewi Lewis Publishing (Paddy Summerfield’s publisher) – 🎨 Herman Lelie & Stefania Bonelli (Book design) Connect with Alex Schneideman 📸 Instagram: 🌍 Website: 🎧 Subscribe & Listen: Available on , , and . 🔔 Support the Show: If you love Flow Photographica, consider sharing, rating, and reviewing the podcast! TRANSCRIPT Ep 30 - INTRO TO FLOW PHOTOGRAPHICA Hello, Alex Schneideman here welcoming you back to ‘Flow Photographica’, a new look podcast that used to be called just ‘Photographica’. I started Photographica as I start almost everything; to satisfy an urge - or obsession would be a better way of putting it. Back in 2016 when I recorded the first interviews podcasting was a relatively new medium and I wanted to see how it worked. I made almost thirty episodes and then I got busy with work and life and, what had started with a clear plan became fuzzy. And with the fuzziness, indecision and with that the dissipation of the creative energy required for this sort of endeavour. But much has changed since then, both in the photography world and for me. We had a big old lockdown which for some was a disaster and for others, many artists, was a boon - a time to take stock and to decide what was important. I started a Masters and, having never taken part in further education fulfilled a dream to go to university. Just before lockdown I moved the Flow studio from Portobello to Kensal Green, less than a mile but a world apart. And with that I opened a gallery dedicated to showing documentary work, Flow Photographic Gallery. When you put these two things together as well as a spell as Artistic Director for Photo Oxford (which would never have come about if it weren’t for a Masters and a new gallery) then you will find me trying to forge something out of this amalgam while, at the same time, carrying on with my ‘day job’ at Flow making prints, scans and repro etc. The upshot of this desire to bring together these threads is this podcast and its renaissance. I love photography. I have loved photography since I was about eight when, in the late Seventies, my father took me to a photographic studio somewhere in London - this company made the catalogues for my father’s kitchen supply firm. A kind man in a lab coat took me into a room lit red and smelling overwhelmingly exotic. He showed me to a bench where a strangely tall machine shone a light on to a white board. In this rectangular shape of light I could make out the dim form of a woman, ¾ length but in the wrong distribution of tones that made no sense at all. The shape of her was all that told me this was a person. He switched this image off and placed a piece of paper where the image had been. That strange image of a woman appeared again for a few seconds. The light went off and he removed the paper and placed it in a tray containing a pale liquid. He rocked the tray. In the red gloom a sheet of white paper with nothing on it floated in the liquid. And then a faint image appeared out of nowhere. I began to recognise that the forming image, no denser than a murmur, actually contained infinite and recognisable detail. In this instant I felt the profound magic of photography. As the image continued to form the man removed the sheet and ripped it in two. I was shocked - whoever was in that picture would be terribly upset. He placed one half of the image back in the same tray and the other he put in to a second and then third tray where he left it. After perhaps a minute he removed the second shred of paper and followed the process he had with its other half. Suddenly the room was illuminated and he showed me how one piece of paper contained a denser image than the other which had spent less time in the first tray - the developer. This was magic. He washed and dried those bits of paper and gave them to me in a glassine slip. Those shreds of paper are long gone but something had indelibly changed in me, in my soul, and from that moment on I wanted to know photography, to be become photographic. Later at boarding school, where I had a reasonably unhappy time, there was a darkroom and then photography became a sanctuary. I was a fish out of water - arriving as a plump’ish, Jew’ish boy from London into a sealed community of sons of the landed gentry who knew not only each other but where their own DNA had developed for perhaps a thousand years and more. Like a fish doesn’t feel wet I had no idea I was that different to anyone, until I arrived at that remote school, deep in the middle of a beautiful English nowhere. My apparent ‘difference’ and a certain belligerence got me noticed, and not in a good way. I was reminded that being a Jew was a bad thing (it wasn’t something I had ever thought about so I didn’t know why it meant so much to them) and was physically attacked in ways that would be criminally investigated now, but this was the Eighties and you didn’t talk. The school had a darkroom that was shambolic and unloved. But happily it was neglected on the whole and I discovered that here was heaven. Again that smell of dev, stop and fixer became inextricably linked to a sense of wonder and the potential for deep satisfaction. I spent every minute I could here. Nobody taught photography at the school so it was a case of finding your way through trial and error. The number of thin, pink rolls of film I disappointedly pulled from the Paterson reel still sting to this day - the great pictures lost to ignorance. But the joy of developing a roll of film that you could then make an image from; burning and dodging until you got just the right balance, hours eaten by joy and ignorance of the world around you - that darkroom was the making of me. A footnote - I took both O and A levels in photography without one bit of input from the school. I failed both. I left school with one D in English - a technical pass if not a recognised one. Luckily I had never even thought of going to university. After a few years as a commie chef and generally working in various London restaurants I found my way into photography by assisting in studios in London. I worked with a photographer called Peter Rauter, then a leading advertising photographer who became a great friend and mentor. Peter was hugely talented and frustrated. Despite our friendship and the allure of a successful career in commercial photography I knew this wasn’t for me - However it gave me a classical training in the medium and I got to know the network of labs, now almost disappeared, around London that sprang from the newspaper world around Fleet Street. After completing my apprenticeship in studio photography I left - disillusioned and confused. And feeling myself to be a failure - to have had this opportunity to work with amazing equipment, travel the world etc, etc and all for nothing. A dead end. I had fucked up and a life in photography was apparently not for me. I left and did other jobs, never loving my work but falling in love and getting married to Sophie, a bookseller. I hated my work, mainly with computers now, and I was awful to be around. But, in about 2000, Sophie went to a bookfair one weekend and somebody, who knew Sophie well enough to know that her husband had at one time been a photographer, gave her a book to give to me thinking I might like it. It was a casually kind gesture and it changed my life. The book was ‘An English Eye’ by James Ravilious. Not only are the pictures breathtaking and humane, like HCB but with more heart, but he gave his recipe for processing and his photographic technique. Ravilious lived in a small rural community in Devon. From the 1970’s to the 1990’s his photographic life was spent recording this community with a commission from the Beaford Archive, a local arts centre, and he did this over three decades with the sensitivity of a poet. His photographs were his life. Reading this book, over and over again, I could see that here was a route to return to photography - it was not to make money from commissions but to print for other people - something I had loved doing as an assistant and had gotten quite good at - and to make my own work in the spirit of Ravilious - work about small places and the fellow humans that occupy them. That idea to print was the beginning of what would later become known as Flow Photographic and was the regaining of my photographic life. Being free to photograph without the dead hand of a commercial brief was my liberation and allowed me to engage with photography in the way that I had always wanted to - to become as completely a photographic person as it was possible for me to be. This feeling I have for photography is nothing strange and certainly quite common. It has been my greatest pleasure to meet older and younger people, men and women, who share the raw love for this medium. Along the way, and particularly, since I posted the last ‘Photographica’ episode, the wish I had as an 8 year old boy has turned into a reality. It really is extraordinary what has happened in the last ten years. It started with finally having the balls to look for a publisher for a body of work about consumerism. This was where my luck turned. In 2105 a very lovely man called Andrew Brown, who had been the chief commissioning editor at Thames and Hudson, had recently set up his own imprint - Art/Books. They mainly published contemporary art but ventured into photography occasionally. I was introduced to Andrew by the legendary book designing couple and life partnership of Herman Lelie and Stefania Bonelli. Herman said Andrew had seen the pictures and wanted to meet me. In what turned out to be a very short drink in a pub in Maida Vale (In had to pick children up from school) Andrew offered me a publishing deal. It wasn’t a great deal for me - I’d be lucky to see a penny from years of work but my photographs would be printed and distributed all over the world. I couldn’t believe it! Idashed from dashed from the pub to the nursery all thinking, fuck fuck fuck! That book was Want More and it opened more doors for me than anything else I could reasonably have done to engage more deeply in my chosen nook of documentary photography. Note to listeners - if you have a chance to publish a book, do it. So long as you are confidant of the quality of your work and you feel the publishers are working with you, a book of your work will pay dividends , but almost certainly not direct financial ones! Lookijng back there are things I would have done differently. The team that worked on it; Andrew, Herman and Stefania were all so experienced and had worked together a lot. I didn’t have the confidence to insert myself as much into the process as I would now. For example, I did not write a text for the book and there were no captions. These are two things I would do differently now. The book was printed at EBS in Verona without any input from me. There is no better place to have a book printed and, even now, the photographs sparkle on the page in beautiful and subtle duotone magic. This was thanks to Herman, and left to my own devices, I would never have known how to get the best out of the printers. So I balance what I missed through inexperience with the enormous expertise that brought the book to fruition. There was some decent press for Want More - Elizabeth Roberts, the then editor of Black and White Magazine, a gave the book a good deal of space in the journal. I am an eternal and appalling opportunist - it may be the immigrant blood coursing through my veins. I seized the opportunity of having met and got on with Elizabeth. She commissioned me to write a monthly column on ideas behind photography. It was here that I got to make mistakes and develop a way of writing about photography that was mine, rather than a clumsy simulacrum of better writers. My work with the magazine survived Elizabeth’s departure and I continued to write pieces for several years, morphing the column into a series of essays on influential books of British photo documentary. In fact you can hear my conversation with Don McCullin in the following episode of Flow Photographica. I sat down with the great man to discuss his book, ‘In England’ and we didn;’t restrict the conversation to that one book - I mean, how could you? I met Paddy Summerfield and his soon to be wife, Patricia Baker Cassidy in Oxford in 2016. Like a lot of people I loved his book, ‘Mother and Father’ and when I chanced upon the couple at a friend’s book launch in the city, I was star struck. But I got over that and that very night the three of us went for a drink together at some pub that only Oxford denizens could ever find. I’ve never found it again. I arranged to come back to visit Paddy at his home in north Oxford, the scene of Mother and Father itself. I returned a few weeks after our first meeting with a recorder and we sat down to discuss Paddy’s life and work - this turned into Episode 17 which you can listen to now. Paddy, Patricia and I became friends fast and I became one of the lucky people to whom Paddy would send frequent pictures to made on his extremely clunky flip phone. When we moved the Flow studio to Kensal Green, Paddy would become the first person to be shown in the new Flow Photographic Gallery. A note here, and possibly continuing on the theme of opportunism - In 2018, the arts writer, Hettie Judah, a very old friend, asked me to take pictures of certain places in London known for their connection to London’s historic and contemporary artworld and some of the leading artists involved in it. As we skirmished about London Hettie opened a whole world to me that I did not know existed. Art runs strong and deep in London. I kind of knew that but not really as it turned out. In particular the south east of London; Lewisham, Peckham, Deptford held so many tiny art galleries tucked away in improbable places. It was thrilling. One place, Matt’s Gallery in Bermondsey, was nothing more than a front room of terraced Victorian house containing a six foot square white cube, neon lit. From this tiny, impossibly residential location the careers of many leading artist had been launched. Concurrently to this project we were moving the studio from where we’d been for 11 years to a new premises in Kensal Green, around the corner from where I live. We had to fit out the new premises from scratch and, being exposed to all these extraordinary art spaces, I thought why not build my own, on the walls of the new studio? This became Flow Photographic Gallery and since the first exhibition of Paddy’s ‘Holiday Pictures’ we have given shows to Matt Finn, Izabella Jedrezjik, Ian Macdonal, Deanna Dikeman and, as I write soon to Jem Southam and Barbara Bosworth and Judith Black alongside Deanna again later this year. So Paddy, Patricia and my friendship and trust grew and grew. I became a frequent visitor (and photographer) of Paddy and his garden of photographic wonders. And then, sometime around 2021, Paddy became sicker with an illness that was already besetting him when he showed at FPG in 2019. The three of us would sit in the garden, on the white plastic chairs that his book had turned into icons, discussing the future. Paddy wanted to know that the garden would be preserved. We all did. We kicked around different ways of making this happen, everything from asking the National Trust to taking over or giving it to the Martin PArr Foundation - none of these were at all likely to happen. I suggested, as a last resort, that should we fail to guarantee the physical preservation of the garden we could preserve it through photography, and that we ask some photographers who knew Paddy’s work to come and visit. Beyond that we didn’t have another good idea. At the time, I was working on the colour separations for Stanley Barker on Jem Southam’s new book, ‘Four Winters’. I can remember thinking (highly opportunistically), “if Jem would say yes that would be an amazing start”. I sent an email to Jem and received a reply almost immediately, that yes he would love to be involved and had long been a fan of Paddy’s. A side note - Jem entered this project without asking who else was involved. I was prepared for this question and would have answered that Paddy himself had wanted Jem to take part, but the question was never asked. Feeling the confidence of one yes from Jem, I went on to ask Alys Tomlinson, Sian Davey, Vanessa Winship, Matthew Finn (who is a friend to be fair) and Nik Roache. Not one of them asked who else was involved. They all accepted without complication or, seemingly, hesitation. I would like to say to all of them now how grateful I am for their engagement in the project that would be come, Pictures from the Garden. It was life affirming that some of our greatest photographers were as great human beings as they were practitioners. I love them all and have made more friends as a result. Thank you Matt, Alys, Vanessa, Jem, Nik and Sian. A side note - I’d like to mention Matt Finn - Matt has both the greatest knowledge of photography and an endless desire to discuss and argue about it. Matt has been a great collaborator and I hope to continue hatching schemes with him for a long time to come. So with these wonderful photographers busy visiting Paddy and Patricia, often making several visits and with a lockdown Masters burning in my opportunistic pocket, I got a call from the Photo Oxford team who were preparing for the 2023 edition of the festival. They asked if I’d be happy to show the work from Paddy’s garden which at the time was not complete. I said potentially yes and they... /episode/index/show/photographica/id/35291515

EP29 - PHOTOMUSE on Ian Berry and The English 10/03/2018

EP28 - Conversation with Loupe Magazine Editor and photographer, Luke Archer 03/30/2018

EP27 - Conversation with Professor Greg Currie (republish edited) 01/18/2018

EP26 - Conversation with Jonathan Teplitzky, director of Railwayman and Churchill 07/10/2017

EP25 - On the Decisive Moment - An audio essay from B+W PHOTOGRAPHY MAG 06/13/2017

EP24 - PHOTOMUSE 5 - Trump, Brexit and Money for Art, Cambrian Explosion, The Value of Joy and a New Way to Exhibit 02/26/2017

EP23 - On Perfectionism, a critique - An audio essay from B+W PHOTOGRAPHY MAG 12/12/2016

EP22 - On Purpose - An audio essay from B+W PHOTOGRAPHY MAG 11/08/2016

EP21 - PHOTOMUSE 4 - Worries about fascism and freedom of expression, the Turner prize, a car incident and Buddhist finale 10/21/2016

EP20 - On Sharpness - An audio essay from B+W PHOTOGRAPHY MAG 10/06/2016

EP19 - PHOTOMUSE 3 09/30/2016

EP18 - ON CAMERAS 09/26/2016

EP17 - Conversation with Paddy Summerfield 07/24/2016

EP16 - PhotoMuse 2 07/17/2016

Ep14 - On Context - reading from B+W Mag Column 05/17/2016

Ep14 - On Context - reading from B+W Mag Column This piece appears in the June edition of Black and White Photography magazine. The magazine have very kindly allowed me to record my monthly column, Thinking Photography, for the PHOTOGRAPHICA podcast. Please checkout more info at the podcast page on my new website, . TRANSCRIPT B+W190 THINKING PHOTOGRAPHY ON CONTEXT ˈkɒntɛkst/ noun the circumstances that form the setting for an event, statement, or idea, and in terms of which it can be fully understood. ----------------------------------------- To give your work context is to give it meaning to the wider world. Without context our work may seem irrelevant. With context our images connect to the intricate dynamic of human experience enabling people to form a bond with it. The purpose of this piece is to focus on a consideration that we all know to be true, is not often discussed and can have a great impact on our photographic legacy. In my last article I spoke of the creation of art as being the act of bringing attention to the abstract. This is a good way to start looking at the concept of context; in observing something and making an exposure you have effectively placed your subject in its own context – one that has meaning for you. This initial personal contextualisation gives the impetus required for the photographer to capture the image and give him or her the reason to commit to it. Let's say this is called 'primary context'. At this stage all sorts of nuances, details and fluctuations of meaning are either consciously or subconsciously known by its originator. Now a selection of images is made perhaps for an exhibition, a book or entering into a competition. At this stage ‘secondary contextualisation’ is required. As your images transfer from the private world of their inception and selection to the public world of arbitrary engagement those qualities and ideas in your work will be lost unless you can elicit some control over how they are viewed. The viewing public do not have the visual acuity, time or inclination to engage with your images as you would wish so you must help them by controlling the environment in which your work is seen. The key here is to concentrate the viewer’s gaze on your work without distraction. This needs to be done both practically and conceptually. A frame is a ‘practical’ conxtextualising tool Here the border allows the elements of the image to live in their own world – a world defined and delineated as something different but the wooden surround. A secondary or ‘conceptual’ context can be described by imagining the power of a solo show at the Tate versus the display of some work in a village hall. The same pictures may be exhibited but to different effect by leveraging gravity by association. These suggestions are all vital aspects of placing your work in the right ‘light’, perspective or context. This is a report from the front line of working with photographers over many years but it is not exhaustive. The craft of placing your work in the right context might come to you instinctively or not. It doesn’t matter – context is essential when it comes to generating the most effect from showing your work. Context is relevance. It can’t be put simpler than that. Ignore it at your peril. Here are some observations made during my time printing for photographers all over the world. I’ve had a chance to examine success and failure at close hand and these notes reflect some of the lessons I’ve learned. ONLINE It is too easy to show your images to many people. Flickr, Facebook, Instagram and the like all make the exposition of your work almost automatic. But, unless your pictures are connected to an event or cause, these media are disastrous for preserving the gap between the metaphysic truth of your images and the prosaic mess of the world around them. Your work needs space – space to make its own case. It is much better to use these media to bring people to your own website. WEBSITES Picture editors and curators have told my so many times that websites need to fulfill only two functions; clear visibility of images and ease of navigation. That’s it. A website does not need to be pretty – simply functional allowing the work to ‘speak’. GROUP VERSUS SOLO SHOWS When showing prints avoid group shows – they do nobody’s work any favours. Instead commit to your images and find a space where they can be shown on their own. Group exhibitions have the benefit of bringing more people in to view your work and they can be effective for people starting out but they are messy, prone to compromise and have the effect of degrading the power of your work especially when your work is adjacent to a weaker display. The aforementioned ‘village hall’ is a better environment to display your work than risking contamination by acquaintance with poor images. PRESENTATION Framing is over considered. You cannot reinvent photography with a stunning frame. Keep it simple and make all your pictures the same size so that the viewer can ‘tune out’ the ancillary details and concentrate on the actual images. iPads are great for casually showing your work but we automatically devalue the work on show because screen images are so pervasive in our visual lives. Hanging pictures is crucial to their impact. Poor hanging will reduce the power of your exhibition by a huge amount. Make sure that frames are neat and clean and hung so that they are dead straight. Failure to do this makes you look like an amateur (I mean this in the pejorative sense!). Neat hanging is more important than correct exposure for the purposes of connecting with viewers. PORTFOLIOS A set of prints in a clamshell portfolio box is endures as a good way to show your work. Allow wide borders (go up a paper size to incorporate this) and you get the double benefit of being able to handle prints (matte paper cleans up very well – direct message me and I’ll tell you how) and the separation from the environment that every good shot deserves. CURATING A SELECTION Loose a third. Some of my clients refer to the process of selection as ‘drowning your babies’ – a horrific term but one that sums up the process well. Your final selection should hurt. There will be loved pictures left behind because they weaken the ‘whole’. Agree or disagree? Let me know at @schneideman331 or email me at [email protected] /episode/index/show/photographica/id/4374339