The Struggle of Freelance: A Conversation with Photographer & Artist, Giles Clement

Chris: Just so you know, I started recording already.
Giles: Oh, Christ! Okay.
Giles stands next to a subject in preparation for taking the image.
Ā
āThe problem was that I was trying to take the photos that they would wantāĀ -Ā GilesĀ C.
I hadnāt been to see Giles in a couple of years. He had moved to a new live/work space in Nashville since then, and he was kind enough to have me out while I was visiting in early spring.
āGive me a call when youāre close. Youāll cross the railroad tracks and immediately turn down the gravel drive.ā
Gilesās directions make it sound as if he was guiding me through the country by-ways of middle Tennessee. In reality, I think Giles just has a knack for finding oddity, character, and an avant-garde charm in the middle of what is otherwise the norm. The place he lives and works and was guiding me to is no different, and lies smack in the middle of the city of Nashville.
I hear the tires crackle on the gravel as I pull up the drive and arrive at a large, multi-story brick building. Before I see Giles, I see his beloved and famed Irish Terrier, Zeiss darting from around the building. I step out of the truck and say hello to Giles and also Zeiss who is barking and just excited to exist!
Once inside, I take in the space as Giles makes a french press coffee for us. Itās on the ground level, with concrete floors and a pleasant amount of natural light, despite there only being two windows. Along the entrance wall are cabinets and shelves full of camera gear and equipment, film tools. Further down, a workbench with what looks to be ongoing projects and a few dismantled lenses and parts of other things that I don't recognize. Rounding the corner and between the windows, is the backdrop that Giles uses all the time, which only increases in character with its age and use. The extra-large format wet plate cameras Giles uses sit nearby on their tripods. Thereās a small dark-room setup, red lamp and all, and a bed thatās currently hoisted up to the ceiling. There are also other things hanging from the ceiling, including a giant silicone penis with a small gas-powered engine and propeller. Apparently, it doesnāt quite fly right. I honestly canāt help but find the place rather homey and welcoming.
The two of us sit down with our coffee at the large, gear-covered table in the center of the room. Before I know it, weāre in deep conversation, both of us clearly ready and eager to talk to another person freely about the real-life struggles of what it means to be a freelance photographer and artist. The struggles of finding jobs, undervaluing yourself, not knowing how to sell yourself, or being able to advocate for yourself. Not just the surface-level problems but the deeper issues that can become real and paralyzing psychological plagues!
While weāre talking, I think to myself, āthis is the good stuff! This is the stuff that we all need to talk to one another about and support one another in!ā
I hit the record button.
āJust so you know, I started recording already,ā I say.
āOh, Christ! Okay.ā
And we continue.
By Giles Clement
INTERVIEW
[Chris] I mean, this is the real shit, right? We all do or have dealt with these hardships to some degree.
I love what you do, and I love the ingenuity that youāve put into your work ā just building that enormous camera. [pointing to the gigantic ambrosia camera that Giles fabricated] Not anyone just up and fucking does that! Itās pretty special! And on top of that, your work in general, and the way that you see things and people is also unique, and I see that.
[Giles] Thanks!
I do like talking about building things and artistry, and weāll probably get into that more. What weāre talking about right now, (the struggles thatĀ every artistĀ faces) are things that we deal with and toil over all the time, and we all pretend like we donāt and that we all have our shit together.
[both laugh]
Right!?
Yeah. Nobody talks about it. I also donāt really know where the start and the stop point for that is. Because to some extent, if youāre just too honest with people (via social media and whatnot), it can be a turn-off. I get that. I donāt want to read about someone thatās always having a bad day. I want to see people doing cool shit. So, I feel like you have to be positive or at least optimistic about what youāre doing. I think a lot of times when Iām doing that itās more a facade and Iām putting it on because I want people to see and feel, āOh, thatās Giles. Heās having a really good time, and blah blah blah.ā But what the reality is or what I alternatively sometimes do is to say some version of, āHey. I fucking broke. Iām dying, and nobody is hiring me.ā I sometimes want to say that to people, but people donāt necessarily want to hear that. So do you ask for help or do you not ask for help? I guess thereās probably a time and place for either option.
I think youāre right. I believe that so much of it has to do with the approach. You hear the mantra, āfake it ātil you make it,ā and then thereās certainly the opposite side. We all have that person on social media, who we maybe even stop following because it seems like everything that they say is always some sad tale of how sorry they are feeling for themselves.
Yeah. I had to get off of Facebook for a long time because I was doing that to my friends. I was constantly like, āNobody is hiring me. Nobody is hiring me.ā and nobody wants to hear that. Itās also funny because thereās this weird yin-yang, and on my public-facing social media it shows that everything is great!
By Giles Clement
I heard a photographer say in response to someone asking him, āNow that youāve 'made it' do you feel like youāre good and youāre set?ā He said that people tell him that heās made it, but the truth is that if he were to stop hustling, heād be out of work in a week.
That realization is something I donāt like about the business. Thatās the exhausting bit. I want to have this vision that it somehow gets easier and that you somehow find constant work. This morning I was at the dog park, sitting in the grass and smelling flowers, and I look across the way to see a parking lot full of cars next to an office building full of thousands of workers who have a constant source of income. I still would not want to do that! I wouldnāt last a day! So, I donāt know. [[siiighh]] And then, really, no matter how much money you make, itās still fucking expensive to live, and youāre still kind of chasing your tail. Do you just move to a country where thereās a lower cost of living and grow things to eat and eat them? And donāt try to buy a Tesla or a dirt bike. Well, maybe a dirt bike, but a cheap one. So, I donāt know. Hahaha!
Yeah. Iām going through a whole existential crisis right now. Iām asking myself why Iām doing any of this. I want to work with brands just because I have ideas that need more money. Working with a brand offers the ability to potentially fund your project and also give you a bit of a platform to reach people with the art that youāre creating. Those are my two issues right now. Iām creating art, and nobody sees it, and Iām self-funding all the art, so Iām fucking broke. I have three or four projects that Iāve wanted to do for a long time, but Iām waiting to do them because of funding. Me, two years ago, would have just driven across the country and done them and shot the shot. Iāve done that, and it doesnāt work long term. I want to do things right!Ā
Iām just at a point where Iām tired of doing things half-assed. Thatās what Iāve done for a long time. Underfunded and half-assed. I look at some of the budgets that I wrote a couple of years ago; for huge fucking projects, and Iām like this is insane! How am I even doing this? Iāve had several clients now that when Iāve sent them the bill they just tack on a couple of grand because I charged them so little. Why am I doing that to myself? I went through therapy with this stuff. Itās a whole self-worth thing where you donāt think your shit is any good and so you constantly undersell yourself.
I think that goes back to the whole peanut butter thing. [refering to theĀ Jeremy Cowart Photoism interview] Where instead of trying to sell, and Iām rambling here ā but I think that some people have the innate ability to be happy with what they do and think that it is good and of value. They have no problem telling somebody that. The other side is the people who canāt seem to do that, and itās also usually the artists that I like the most. Itās like they have the full artistās brain where they're just making art, but theyāre not able to sell it. Then you have other people who are just taking shit photos and copying everything that everybody else does and theyāre making fucking bank! Or not even necessarily making bank but theyāre like the photographers that succeed. Theyāre making $2k in a weekend instead of the guy thatās making $500, but that guy is probably the friend of the bride and is doing it for cheap, and his photos might be fucking cool. I canāt do that anyway. I hate shooting weddings. Ugh. Itās just the worst!
[both laugh]
By Giles Clement
Iām really glad that there are people out there that love shooting weddings! That way, people never ask me or you to do them! Haha!
Yeah. I did a few, especially for friends but I stopped doing it all together. I was bad at it.Ā The problem was that I was trying to take the photos thatĀ theyĀ would want and they werenāt getting that.Ā Haha. They didnāt want me. They didnāt want what I do. They wanted pretty stuff. So now, I donāt do that. Even when my brother got married, I was like, āIām not doing that. Iāll be there with a camera, though.ā
Letās touch on something that you said, speaking about ātaking the photos that they wanted you to take.ā Itās clear that you gravitate towards the āinterestingā rather than the standard idea of beauty. Can you speak more to that?
Yeah. I like weird people. I see people that only want to take pictures of ābeautiful people,ā and itās like wanting to take a picture of a statue of some architecture. Youāre not really making the art youāre more just copying it. I will unfollow people if they start only taking pictures of nothing but pretty young women because itās not hard. None of that is hard. You have a gorgeous person in front of you, and youāre taking a picture them, and youāre the 100-millionth person to take a picture of them and they all kind of look the same. Whatās the point?
I like working with models once in a while, but I much prefer working with people who arenāt because you get to discover something with them. You can show them that theyāre pretty when they havenāt been told that since they were two. Anyway, that was a tangent. What were we talking about?
By Giles Clement
The artistās plight.
Hahaha! Yeah.
What youāre saying is something that resonates with me and is something that Iāve felt to varying degrees. Sometimes even debilitating degrees. The crazy thing is that even if thatās where youāre at right now, itās probably not the first time youāve been there, and youāll come out of it at some point. Youāll be stoked and excited, and youāll start doing personal work again and being weird and crazy, and then itāll all probably happen again later.
Right. Yeah, thatās certainly true.
By Giles Clement
I donāt believe that artists have to be āsadā to create work, as some do. You can be creative and not sad, I think. I think what must always be present is "the searching." Whatever mood youāre in, be it sad or happy or whatever, that searching for something new, interesting, or something unseen. Even just looking at something familiar but in a different light could reveal something new. Thatās something that I love about portraiture. Tiny nuances make big changes!
Do you ever feel that youāve pigeon-holed yourself or created too much of a niche with all of your work doing wet plates and ambrosias?
TOTALLY! Totally! Yeah! Thatās really ā I mean in some ways I havenāt. Thereās just so much photography going on all the time, and itās become so insanely common-place that nobody looks at it anymore. I guess I did find something thatās allowed me to stand out from the crowd a little bit. I still like working with [wet plates and ambrosia], but it is frustrating that I canāt easily get hired for digital work. I like working with digital too. I like banging out some photos. I love being able to just climb on a plane, go do a job and fly home with nothing but a bag that weighs 15lbs. With the wet plates I drive somewhere with a van the weighs 4000lbs. So, yeah. Iāve totally worked myself into a weird corner.
I go through these cycles. I was out in L.A. three months ago or so. Someone set up a meeting for me with a creative director, and the first thing she said when looking through my portfolio was, āWhere is your color?ā Iāve gone through that before where people have encouraged me to add color to my portfolio, and I go through and change my entire website.
What I said to her was, āOh shit. Well, hereās some of the color stuff Iāve done but itās very, very minimal.ā I donāt like shooting color. It has its place, but itās maybe 15% of the time for me. I like black and white. If I canāt take a good photo in black and white, then I definitely canāt take a good photo in color.
So, Iāve gone through this thing where Iām trying to change myself to fit somebody else's idea of what they want. If you look at my website, itās mostly black and white. Itās mostly portraiture. Thatās what I do, and itās obvious that is what Iām good at. If you wanted a color photographer, then youād hire hundreds of other photographers that are better than me and arenāt partially color-blind, so they have a better ability to edit color photos. Haha! When I edit color I usually just desaturate the shit out of it and hope that I donāt turn somebodyās face green because I wouldnāt know. Haha!
So, with the wet stuff, if Iām not getting work with that, I start beating myself up and tell myself that maybe I should shoot more digital. I went out an bought a big, medium format digital rig, and I said to myself, maybe thatās something I should move more into and give people what they want.
Then thereās the backswing of that. Iāve worked for over seven years with the wet mediums, and Iāve invested thousands of dollars, and tons and tons and tons of fucking time. I got good at it to the point where, technically, Iām one of the better people in the country at doing what I do. So, I guess I want my cake, and I want some ice cream too. I still love doing the wet plate stuff, and I still want to get work with that, but I also want to work with people that can see my photography beyond the medium.
I feel like if they canāt see that, then they donāt have much of a vision. I find that a lot, especially working with some companies. I donāt want to shit-talk anybody, but most of the people that hire photographers and set up the shoot, in many cases, their primary focus is to see a product. They donāt have the time, and theyāre not getting paid to appreciate the artwork or the nuance behind the vision of the work. Their job is to take your picture of a screwdriver and sell it to somebody that needs a screwdriver. With the wet plate stuff, which is so unique in comparison to a digital photo, people see that and say, āWeāve got this wet plate photographer. Letās do wild west shit!ā Iāll be like, āThat sounds great, but why donāt we also do a project with rappers or something completely opposite of a wild west cowboy?ā
Iāve had calls with people about the wet plates, and they say āwell, itās cool, but itās not a good fit.ā So I say well, letās shoot film. āNo. We like you for the wet plate stuff.ā
I want the ability to shoot a film or digital camera on the same project and produce an equally good result.
By Giles Clement
Something you said about the narrative reminded me of a question I have. If you were to say there was one underlying narrative to your work, what do you think it would be?
Um, well Iāve got three sorts of narratives behind my work. The first one is portraiture. Iāve struggled with it a lot. I started photography as a photojournalist, which there they teach you, āDonāt change anything. Donāt mess with anything. Just capture whatās in front of you.ā So, when I started moving out of journalism and working with people, and with subjects, itās very different. Youāre meant to create the story and create the image. You know, itās not editorial. Youāre meant to create the story. So I struggled for a long time with portraits. Iād feel lazy if I wasnāt directing my subjects. Iād feel like this is the image I want to capture of this person, and if Iām not telling them to twist up like a pretzel or telling them to do something weird, then Iām not directing them. Iām being lazy, and Iām not doing my job. I donāt really think thatās the case. I think Iām enabling people to sort of write their own story with my portraits. And that sounds really fucking pretentious, but I donāt really direct my portrait subjects. I always say, āHey, Iāll tell you if you look bad.ā I let them do the thing they want to do for me. I donāt know if thatās necessarily a narrative or a theme with my images, but I think that itās consistent with my portraiture.
The second thing is something that I havenāt explored tothe extent I want toĀ yet. Everybody kind of shits on Annie Leibovitz and doesnāt like her and all this stuff, you know? And sheās easy to dislike because sheās famous and weāre all jealous. I do greatly admire her work, and I like her cinematic, big "TADA!" over an image. [Using] a huge set, staff, and all this stuff. Thatās something that Iād like to do more of, and Iāve done a little bit of it with some of my images. Itās a kind of theater in creating an image. Thatās something that I like and want to explore more.
And then the third [narrative] I thread into some of my images is a quality that is a little bit⦠not bizarre, but goofy. My girlfriend calls it whimsical. Taking photos that are unexpected or out of the ordinary. A sort of a humorous theme to everything. They usually involve nudity. I donāt know why.
I get that.
Right. So a few years ago, I was drunk, and I was Googling, āfish spanking.ā I donāt know why. But there wasnāt a good image, so I was like, āLetās do it!ā It took four years for me to find somebody that wanted to get whacked with a fish. We made a photo, and it was super fun. So now if you Google, āfish spankingā thatās my photo. So thereās that one. And then we did a naked nativity scene a few years ago where the bulldog was baby Jesus, and there was a stormtrooper. Kind of weird stuff, ya know? That sort of thing. Thereās this guy Joel Peter Witkin. Heās old. I donāt know if heās alive still, but he was always doing midgets and dwarves and penises and weird fucking shit. People have kind of compared me to him, but his stuff seemed very dark and kind of gross to me. I like celebrating the absurdity of humanity in that sort of segment of my photos. Thatās a long answer for a short question.
Itās a good answer. I like it.
Cool.
I think the weird stuff can be great! Iāve gotten jobs from doing weird personal projects, just because it shows people your brain. Thatās what people are interested in for the most part. If they get interested in your art, theyāre really interested in the way that your brain works, because it doesnāt work like theirs and youāre showing them that.
Right!
I want to do a series on firefighters in California. The forest fighting guys. So thatās another one. I donāt know. Iām slowly pulling that one together. I like the idea of photographing these men and women out there doing this often-times boring, but insanely dangerous and important work. I like the idea of getting them when theyāre coming back from the day or the week they spend out in the woods, and theyāre all covered in shit. I think that would be a cool series. Iād like to do that.
I feel like the internet is bad for your brain, and I feel like I spend way too much time on my phone. I was thinking about doing a trip to London or New York City or a little town in the middle of fucking nowhere, and only bring a flip phone and one camera and my toothbrush. Thatās it. And kind of throw out there that Iād like to photograph people in this location and for $10, Iāll do a photo. But I donāt want to do a photo of the person that contacts me because Iāve tried doing that before and I ended up with a bunch of fucking boring people. I want [it to be] a more collaborative thing where I reach out on Instagram and say, āHey, Iām going to be in Syracuse for 24 hours, and Iām bringing six rolls of film. I want to fill those with interesting people in Syracuse, so if you know of somebody with a really interesting face or someone shoeing horses or someone thatās doing something that people find interesting, [send them my way.]ā Basically, a series with a very limited camera and limited supply of film. I think it would be good for me to unplug from everything for a minute and just appreciate the 24 hours Iām going to spend in a place. To immerse myself more fully than I would if I had a cell phone and a bunch of gear. That kind of thing. Thatās something Iāve just started thinking about.
So what youāre saying is that youāve already given yourself a construct, your constants, and variables. Then it just becomes about doing it and talking about it. I thinkĀ talking about itĀ often becomes one of the hardest things. Maybe not so much as selling myself, but explaining my intent. Like what Iām exploring. Something that I like about Michael Pollan, one of my favorite authors, is that when he writes, heās not telling you what to think. Heās inviting you on this journey that heās going on.
Yeah, I like that. And I think for me itās more likeĀ I want to find ways of taking photos for myself, not other people.Ā Not for the people on the internet because ultimately if Iām taking good photos, people will find that. I think thereās too much emphasis on making people look at your work rather than making work that people canāt not look at. I want to try and find that. Iām trying to find reasons to take photographs of things at this point in my life. I have various bouts of depression and all this stuff, and I have a difficult time finding meaning in what Iām doing. If I donāt have meaning in what Iām doing or photographing then nobody else is going to get it either. So Iām currently just trying to figure out photos for me, projects for me, things that inspire me and that Iām interested in.
Art is for the artist, and other people relate to it, and thatās why itās impactful. I have an ongoing series that I do, and Iāve never turned it into a big deal. I do it when I remember to do it and when I feel like doing it. And itās all because I just like the way the images make me feel when I look at them. I call itĀ Body SpacesĀ and my only rules for the series are that itās an image of a space that you may take a photo of, with or without a person in it, and then I put a person in it, but I never show their whole body and I never show their entire face. Those are the three rules. So when you look at the images, youāre not sure if the person is supposed to be dead, or if theyāre supposed to be asleep. Thereās an open narrative to it. I like that feeling of uncertainty that it creates.
Totally. And if it means something to you, thatās all that matters, essentially. I feel like thatās what I was saying with making my work look like everybody elseās so that I get more work. I think it is easier to do that than to do your own, to carve your own creative path or whatever. Itās easier to do work for other people to pay attention to rather than to make work solely for your own consumption. At least for me, it is. Because you can avoid what you should be creating by creating stuff that is for other people. Then you can use the excuse, āOh, Iām making it so all these other people can enjoy it.āĀ But then the reality is, at least for me right now, Iām hiding behind that because I donāt know what else to do.Ā I have ideas, but I donāt have anything that Iām feeling super passionate about right now.
Yeah, I think there are some things that we can write off as artists. For example, I can say, āThis is a job today. Today Iām going to work, and Iām going to create lifestyle photos for these shoes.ā Accepting that can make it enjoyable. I understand, just like if I am bartending, I can say, āIām going to go to the bar, and Iām going to make drinks, and Iām going to go the fuck home.ā So when I shoot shoes, I go out on the golf course and I shoot some pretty photos that will work well for their lifestyle. I edit them, make them look great, deliver them as fast as I can, get done, get paid, and Iām not putting those in my portfolio. The cool thing is that even on those jobs, I look for an opportunity to create something weird or interesting, and Iāll putĀ thatĀ in my portfolio. It almost becomes like a hunt.
Haha. Art in the mundane.
Yeah! So what Iāve been able to do sometimes is start delivering on exactly what they asked for and then be like, āHey, weāve got the shots, so if you guys are cool with it Iām going to set up a light over here, and weāre going to take some weird portraits.ā Even if they donāt use them, I got some portraits that I like.
Totally.
Thatās been a cool way to do that. I mean, Iām still figuring this shit out too.
I mean, everybody is! Fuck. Iāve got a few older friends that have been shooting since the seventies or sixties even. You see people like that who own their studio, and they have all this gear and get these gigs where they only have to shoot like one day a month or something like that I think, āOh, they made it.ā Thatās the obvious conclusion to reach. But then you sit down and talk to them, and theyāre dealing with the same bullshit, too. Itās just at a different level.
It all comes back to, āyouāve gotta keep hustling.ā Youāve got to make money no matter what level youāre at. You can be Annie Leibovitz, and youāve still got to hustle your ass off. Just to a different extent.
Iām fine with the hustle until Iām budgeting for food. At that point, Iām like, āfuck this.ā
I know! Iām in that same boat right now because I mean, weāre just blowing our credit cards up. And Iāve stopped touring, Iām not going to tour anymore, and that was our money. I donāt know. Iām always a pessimist, but stuff usually comes together at some point. I feel like Iāve been pretty lucky in that way. Iāll be down to my last can of dog food, and six-pack and somebody calls me and gives me a cool gig. I get that. I just havenāt had that in a while. Or I have actually. Iāve had something come up in the last couple of weeks so.
I try to remind myself of that too. Itās always worked out. I donāt know how, but itās always worked out.
Really if you think about it objectively, you think, āYeah, Iām doing okay. Iāve got a good setup here.ā I have younger photographers that will come over and be like, āOh my god, you have so much fucking equipment, you make your own schedule, and do whatever the fuck you want.ā I had somebody say that the other day. I was like, āYouāre right, but it sucks!ā
Itās just the flipside of the coin.
Yeah! Itās just different. When I was getting started, I wanted gear, and I couldnāt afford it, and now I have every fucking piece of gear that I want really. Itās all perspective.
By Giles Clement
I like to ask this of most people. What is one odd fact about you that most people donāt know?
I donāt know. I think thereās a lot of stuff people donāt know about me. If you're talking about public perception, people that follow my work, most of those people probably donāt know anything about me. Thereās always the thing of, how much do you share? And how much of it is just a brand? I donāt know.
Most people donāt know about my religious upbringing at all. Thatās one thing. I think the stuff that people donāt know about me is naturally the stuff that people donāt want to talk about. Itās religion, depression, anxiety. Um, various insecurities. Various states of mental disrepair. When youāre having these moments that everybody has you feeling like youāre sucking at life. Itās something Iāve just started working on in the last couple of years with help from my lady friend. Iām dealing with my childhood. Iām dealing with depression. Iām dealing with anxiety. You know, whatās going on inside this body and brain instead of going head-on on autopilot which is what Iām good at doing. So yeah, I think the mental health thing is something that people probably donāt know about me. But, everybody has mental health shit.
Just as we said ealier, other's perception of you, (the universal you) is going to be inaccurate. Knowing that youāre not alone is often times such a fucking relief.
Yeah, it is, but I was hoping it would be more of a relief. Haha! I was hoping it would like, fix everything, and it hasnāt.
Sure.
Itās like, āOkay, those people are depressed and weird, and you think theyāre crazy.ā So youāre not alone, but it still sucks.
Yeah.
Iām looking for a quick fix, and I havenāt found it yet. Iāll sell it when I do.
An areal shot of Nashville using a Brownie camera attached to a drone.Ā By Giles Clement
You can find Giles online here: