Few professions struggle so ardently in defining themselves as photographers. In historical terms, this identity struggle is relatively new, fiercely manifesting itself only within the last generation or so, when the lines between professionals and hobbyists were dramatically blurred by the digital revolution. As a result of this technological change, the clearly identifiable professional photographer of yesteryear now had to contend with the hordes of talented (and not so talented) amateurs infringing on their business and creative territories. Like an infestation, these newcomers became a nuisance that rocked the existing balance in the profession, not to mention its financial wellbeing. It was a shock to the established system, but not quite a mortal blow. Its primary effect was a democratization of the tools of creation and publishing, and while arguably not as dramatic as the creation of the printing press, it came darn close to it in terms of its impact on society and the distribution of knowledge and artistic expression.

Caught somewhat by surprise in this new world, the professional photography establishment found itself not only threatened, but having to mount an aggressive defense to reduce the financial impact on its profession. Initially, defenses revolved around the traditional distinction that to be a professional photographer, you would have to draw most, if not all, of your income from the sale photographs. This common model had somewhat of a short life, namely because as more professionals began diversifying into teaching, commentary, or writing out of financial necessity, the income being derived from actual image sales began to take a backseat to these shifting priorities. The appearance in the market of the so-called “weekend professional” didn’t help matters either. These weekend professionals, who’s market-entry cost and financial risk was minimal, spent the week working at more pecuniary rewarding careers than that of being a starting photographer in a crowded market. Monetary considerations being less of a worry for these new entrants, their growing participation in the shrinking market began having a deleterious effect on the industry as a whole. As their impact became more pronounced, the newcomers were becoming as welcomed by the established industry as a horde of Taliban fighters at a wedding party. Needless to say, the fight was on, and so was the business of degrading labels.

As the argument of money from prints fell short as a label with which to distinguish between professionals and amateurs, something else would have to take its place. In came the quality argument. This argument revolved around the notion that professionals just produce more “consistent” good work than non-professionals. After all, who would risk their marketing campaign, or wedding memories for that matter, to these one-time wonders? Without a doubt, this was a much better argument, as everyone could relate to the “practice makes perfect” viewpoint. The notion that anyone would turn to other than a seasoned professional for their photographic needs was inconceivable. But the biggest flaw in this line of reasoning was that it ignored the other forces at work in the consumer’s mind of the 21st Century, where technical perfection had receded dramatically in the consumer’s priority list. Content, even if grainy and less than perfect, became not only acceptable, but trendy at that. The dormant, hidden talent of the masses was suddenly catapulted into the limelight, and at a lower cost. The clinical perfection argument was weakened as a result, while the notion of content, regardless of its imperfections, catapulted to the forefront of popular culture. As attitude shifted, so did the money, forcing dramatic changes on the photographic business.

But if traditional labels were not doing the work, what would? The answer would appear to reside in that old purveyor of all that is new: the future. By transforming the seemingly negative effect of modernity from a liability into an asset, a more compelling defense of their financial and market turf was mounted by industrious photographers. The concept of photographers as mere picture takers began to give way to a more holistic approach to the kind of services (i.e., value) a professional photographer would bring to the table. A new spirit of entrepreneurship rooted on the emerging technologies of today (drones, internet, video, sound, storytelling, and rapid customer care) became necessary. As technology and customer expectations continued their relentless progress, the adoption of a “multimedia entrepreneurship” approach has become the new line of demarcation between the professionals and the rest of us want-a-be’s. Such transformation appears to be an imperative for most photographers contemplating a future in today’s market. After all, that hungry twenty-something with an mobile phone out there, capable of shooting video, stills, time-lapses, slow motions, etc., while immediately processing the content using computational technology and distribution tools is not going away any time soon.

So perhaps simple labels don’t work as well as some people thought. In this crowded world of photography as a service, the price of providing these services will still be higher than what the “good enough” photographic community can provide. These newcomers don’t depend as much as they do for such things like 401K retirement plans or discretionary photographic income. And no matter how good your work is, the old cost/benefit equation will continue to be alive and well undermining any attempt at differentiations based purely on labels. The trick will be finding the proverbial sweet spot somewhere beyond the reach of the amateur competition. This may entail saying goodby to that low-hanging fruit that fed the photographic industry for so long, but that may not be as bad as it sounds, for as many photographers who have moved up with the times have found, that unperturbed fruit sitting at the top branches may be a lot sweeter than the picked one below.