Don’t shoot for the client

I was watching Top Chef Masters one day, when it hit me. No one gets kicked out for producing great food that barely meets the criteria of the challenge. But people get kicked off all the time for producing mediocre food that perfectly fits the criteria of the challenge. Most challenges force the contestants to cook meals for someone other than the judges. It might be a rock band, an actor, a tailgate party, or a couple about to be engaged. But they don’t really matter. The judges do. And no one is impressed with people who just show they can follow the rules. You cook down to the people, you get kicked off. You cook for yourself, and you might just go another round.

Weddings are events of unbridled optimism. And I’m not talking about the couple, here. I’m talking about the photographer. Or, at very least, this particular photographer. Every wedding, I psyche myself up, I dig in, and I get ready to be my best self possible. I say I’m going to hit the ground running and never look back. I’m going to be amazing. Everything will be flawless. And that’s pretty easy when you’re looking in the abstract. Why, after all, didn’t I do that cool thing I wanted to do last week? This time, I will.

And that lasts right up until the maid of honor tells you to what’s going to be your next great shot. A videographer flips on his video light. The planner gives you five minutes for 10 formals. The site manager treats you like yesterday’s meat, and probably serves you the same for your vendor meal, and the bride asks you if you can take a picture just like the one she saw from the competitor you hate the most. And you deflate. You can feel it. What is that clicking sound? The sound of a thousand shots sucking. The hop in your step just became a slump in your back. You start to shoot less, move slower, and every shot gets more and more lifeless. You start out shooting art with a capital A. You finish shooting for The Best of Wedding Photography, the 2003 edition.

What happened? In simplest terms, you went from shooting for you to shooting for them. And shooting for everyone else is the surest way to die a slow, painful death. Now, I can hear my inner voice of self-justification telling me now, “Well, the client was happy!” Banish the thought. It will get you nowhere, but to second guessing land, where no shot is ever a good shot. Every wedding is a chance to show who you are. To home your vision. To stand out. Even the worst of them. Sometimes, especially the worst of them. They’re your chance to see things a different way.

The trick? Forget about making other people happy. Do it for yourself. Pour yourself into it, and don’t pull your punches. Now, I’m not saying not to give a damn about your client’s happiness. I care very deeply about clients being happy. But you cannot make client happiness your target. That’s a manager’s mentality, not a creator’s. It’s a band going for the hit, instead of a band making music. It’s a business clinging on for dear life. If you want durability and growth, let your voice be heard. Client happiness should be the result of a good process and great creativity. It arises as a natural byproduct of people who care about what they do in the most personal way possible and not from people shooting down to the lowest common denominator. After all, in the end, you’re your own judge. So shoot for the stars and not for everyone else.