An author, critic, teacher and photographer par excellence, Richard Sexton has seen photography evolve in his own work and others'. He does, however, warn against doing too much too soon for fear of burnout... he spoke with Fotoflock.com about his work and his life.

Richard Sexton is a photographer, artist, writer, critic, teacher and author. That’s a huge mantle and you’re deserving of it considering your varied experience with photography. What is the secret to your success?

Maybe it is. I’m good (not great, but good) at both photographing and writing and I tend to use these two means of communication together to strengthen the message, as well as to make it more accessible. I sometimes use photography alone and when I do I’m not too concerned with the individual power of any one image. Rather, my focus is on the narrative, the photo essay that emerges when a series of related images work together on the printed page or in a gallery exhibit.

Thematic relationships between images and the persistent photographic pursuit of a given subject over an extended period of time is the way to get a good portfolio, book, or exhibit together. It also gives a purpose to your photography. If you have no idea what you want to photograph, but just head out the door with your camera, the probability that you’ll take a good photograph on each excursion is slim. But, if you have an idea about what you want to photograph and you seek out your subject in a planned, methodical way, you are more likely to create at least a good photograph, and on rare occasions a great one.

However, it’s always a good idea to have a camera with you and I always try to have a point and shoot camera with me wherever I go. I want to be prepared for the fortuitous, but would never rely solely on random encounters as a photographic methodology.

You’re a self-taught photographer. Do you feel that photography education has come a long way and professionals could benefit with the formal study to tackle industry needs?

I think formal study is always good for technique. Photography requires tools and a specific skill set. You need to learn this somewhere and formal study can be an efficient way to do it. Artistic vision really can’t be taught. It can only be channeled or challenged or inspired. A good photographic educator can do this, but this kind of feedback can also come from your fellow photographers, your significant other, art directors at magazines, gallerists, curators, a lot of people can influence you, give you advice, and help you become a better photographer. Schools and formal education programs aren’t the only places you find artistic epiphanies. In fact, for the most part, true epiphanies tend to come from the least expected places. And, as a general rule, the more unexpected the source, the more unique you are as a recipient.

Back in 1970’s, you became disillusioned with art school and discontinued your pursuit of a graduate degree. Why was that? What important lessons were learned in the process?

I didn’t like art school. I’d never taken a studio art class of any kind when I decided I wanted to get an MFA in photography. I applied to about five schools, but really only wanted to attend San Francisco Art Institute because it was in San Francisco, which is where I wanted to live. I didn’t get in SFAI, but decided to enroll there as a special student at the undergraduate level while I continued to apply to graduate school. Each semester anywhere from 30 to 50 students applied for enrollment in the MFA program. Usually two were accepted. It seemed the primary criterion was the number of times you had applied previously. The typical average was about 4 attempts and virtually no one got in the first time. I didn’t have time for that, nor did I care about subjecting myself to that level of rejection.

Also, when I looked at the work of the MFA students it seemed their best work had been done when they were trying to gain admittance to graduate school and not after they were enrolled. It seemed they spent more time talking about art than making art. The potential reward didn’t seem worth the effort. The industry has borne that out. How many great photographers historically and today have MFAs? They’re a small minority. I don’t want to take anything away from any photographer who has this credential. But a graduate photography degree hasn’t proven to be a vital means of refinement of photographic ability nor has it proven to be an essential credential. Personally, I’ve never even been asked by a gallerist, an art director, or a curator what my academic credentials are. They’re only interested in my portfolio.

How did you get interested in architecture? As an exponent and pioneer of architectural photography, do you feel that the medium has been overlooked compared to say, fashion or advertising?

I’d always been interested in architecture as a subject and maybe I should have been an architect. It’s a subject that suited my temperament as a photographer. I tend to work rather methodically and architecture is a stoic, patient subject. Architectural photography is technically demanding, somewhat like the still life--frequently referred to as table top photography in commercial circles. You have to understand view camera movements, lighting, perspective, etc.

Commercially, I think architectural photography is somewhat overlooked. The usage of the images has a lower media profile and the work isn’t inherently as glamorous. However, architecture is one of those subjects like portraiture, the human condition, or documentary. It has what I refer to as crossover potential. The sensitive and persistent pursuits of these types of subjects can be regarded not just as commercial art, but fine art. In my case, when I’m working for an architect, designer, or one of the shelter publications, my job is to document the subject. When I photograph for myself, then the architecture serves as a point of departure for my personal idiosyncratic explorations. I photograph ruins a lot and am concerned predominantly with the effects of the passage of time on the subject.

In 1984, you developed the concept for a photographic book consisting of a diverse selection of noted American products of contemporary popular culture. How did the idea come about? Did you face any setbacks or reservations when you started off?

The concept for American Style evolved in a timeframe when urban American culture was infatuated with the European lifestyle. Perhaps, it still is. But it was in the late ’70s when the allure of suburbia and automobile culture had begun to wear thin that all things European came into vogue as status symbols. Whether it was a BMW automobile, a Bang & Olufsen stereo, or cappuccino, European things were a symbol of sophistication and achievement. This social phenomenon presented an opportunity to herald American products we tended to take for granted, but which were equal achievements culturally.

Fortunately, I came to this project with considerable naivete and was largely unaware of how much work would be involved and how difficult it might be to pull this off. Plus, given the production budget for the project, I couldn’t interest a writer in collaborating with me. So, after a number of “thanks, but no thanks” responses I decided I’d write the text and create the photographs. Again, my naivete kept me going and though the final result had certain limitations because I was attempting to do so much and was in over my head, I managed to create a competent and successful book in the end.

You’ve done many a book project. What kind of thinking goes into this kind of work? Could you share some tips?

First, to do books you have to be a photo essayist. There’s a narrative involved. You’re telling a story in photographs. You also have to be able to write. You don’t have to write the text of a photo book, but you do have to write a proposal. You have to convey in words the concept of the work, define the intended audience, and you’ll need to explain the logistical execution in a way that works both in terms of a reasonable timeframe and a modest financial cost. And you’ll have to write all this down. Editors and editorial boards don’t have the time or accessibility for you to convey all this information in person or over the phone. You have to write it down. Further, you have to be succinct. No one has the time for 50 pages of verbiage either. Truthfully, the ability to communicate effectively via the written word is vital for everything. This is what literacy is all about.

Whether you’re submitting a book proposal, applying for a grant, or writing an artist’s statement to accompany an exhibit, you can further your cause greatly and decisively if you can write and you can diminish your cause significantly if you cannot.

A few years back, you published an art project called ‘The Highway of Temptation and Redemption: A Gothic Travelogue in Two Dimensions’; please tell us more about how and why you decided to do this work.

Well, this is an eccentric little project. It’s one that everybody in publishing loved, but no one could figure out how to make money with, largely because it was different and defied categorization. “Highway…” is a book of photographs of road signs with a travelogue-like written narrative that goes along with them. Essentially, it’s a travelogue and the road signs are my travel pictures. I originally conceived it as a post card book. But, I couldn’t sell it to anyone. So, ultimately I decided to self-publish the work as a handmade art book. It led to my first exhibit at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art in 2005 and was an instrumental project in reorienting my career more in the direction of fine art photography.

Last year, you published ‘Terra Incognita: Photographs of America's Third Coast’ as part of your landscape photography interests. What do you feel are the essential tools to the landscape photographer?

For the sake of clarity I authored Terra Incognita. It was published by Chronicle Books, San Francisco. As for the “essential tools of a landscape photographer”, I’d say it’s two things: patience and a unique approach to a subject that’s been painted and photographed for centuries. Your landscape photographs can’t look like every other photographer’s landscape photographs. Whenever you photograph a well-traveled subject you have to bring a unique perspective to it.

You also teach photography at the New Orleans Academy of Fine Arts. Is it very rewarding? Tell us more about the kind of students you get to teach and the kind of content taught.

I enjoy teaching because it connects me to other individuals who share my interest in photography. Also, I constantly challenge myself to provide my students with a better, more encouraging learning experience than I had when I was in art school. My students at the Academy essentially fall into 2 camps: those that are interested in enriching their lives with photography and those that have aspirations of a photographic career.

My primary goal is to help them master their photographic tools and hone their skill set. I leave it up to them to decide what and how they want to photograph because I think these are personal choices. I don’t want to be judgmental. Some students want to take better pictures of their pets and others want to be the next Irving Penn. I treat them both the same and don’t really critique either ambition.

What is the secret sauce for professional longevity?

Photograph the subjects that interest you. This way you’ll enjoy every assignment and project. Also, make career choices that are sustainable. In the 30 years I’ve been working professionally as a photographer, I’ve witnessed a lot of fads—gimmicky techniques that were all the rage for a year or two, only to fall out of favor with art directors and/or curators in no time. I’ve also witnessed many photographers who become intoxicated with their success and take on an impossible travel schedule with a litany of high-pressure assignments to the point that eventually they just walk away from photography completely because they’ve burned themselves out. You’ll last longer and live longer if you don’t take that approach. And, by the way, from time to time don’t be afraid to totally reinvent yourself. There’s no better way to get out of a rut.

More photos by Richard Sexton | Fotoflock Gallery