Between the first attraction and a finished project there is a long stretch nobody talks about. It is where projects run aground, and after a while you stop mentioning them. This interactive essay covers that stretch in nineteen chapters, from the idea to the market: at every stage, a photographer who actually went through it, with the videos and the sources sitting inside the text.
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Not one of them is a technical problem. That is exactly why no course covers them, and why they are what this book is about.
Four thousand files and nothing that holds them together.
You chose it because it photographs well, not because it is yours.
You can describe what is in the pictures. That is not the same thing.
Too close to see it, or too far to be let in.
Six months in, the enthusiasm is gone and you think that means it was a bad idea.
Every picture cost you something, so every picture stays.
The sequence is chronological, because no other reason presented itself.
It sits on a drive, finished enough to be over and unfinished enough to be hidden.
There are no formulas here, because nobody can give you any. There are methods that worked for other people, real experience and real stories, put back in order until they became a process. And ten different ways of going through them.
The complete essay, chapter by chapter. Nothing is cut or summarised.
When an argument is easier to grasp by looking at it, the essay draws it.
Videos and sources chosen by hand, at the point in the text where they are needed.
One word, and you land on the exact passage. Cmd+K works too.
Highlight a sentence, save it, and find it again when you come back.
A minute of audio at the end of each chapter, for when your eyes are done.
Three concrete things to start, and they stay ticked when you return.
Every visual concept becomes an image for Instagram, with one button.
The essay’s questions with the templates to fill in. It exports and it prints.
New sources, revised chapters, new instruments: they are already there.
Every time the reasoning reaches a point that is easier to grasp by looking at it, the essay draws it. They are cards built as instruments: you recognise them, you find them again, and you can take them out as an image when you need one. These are the frames that recur.
Eleven families, almost a hundred cards, spread across all nineteen chapters.
Videos and links are not there to fill space. They are material looked for, watched and chosen one by one, placed at the point in the text where they are needed. Curation, not an automatic list, and it is kept up to date.
Interviews, lectures, documentaries, books leafed through. Embedded where the text needs them.
Essays and reporting that widen the case, picked one by one and not fished out at random.
Collections, catalogues, museum pages: the places where the work can actually be looked at.
Who they are, when they were born, where to find them. Hover the name and it appears.
No abstract theory. Every step of the process is told through somebody who actually went through it, and a body of work that exists. No author appears twice: what comes out is a small side history of photography.
The essay is read, the workbook is filled in. It is the working instrument that sits beside the chapters: the questions of the route in the order they arrive, the templates to complete, and the room to write down the project you have in your hands. What you write stays saved in your browser, exports to a file, and prints, if you would rather work on it with a pen.
What you see above is only the shape of the pages, not what is written inside: the workbook opens with the key, along with the chapters.
The title already says what each one deals with. If you have your key, this is where you go in.
Plus the preface, which says what this book means by project and why the middle stretch is the part nobody writes about. Read the preface now →
Where a project actually begins, before there is any idea: Alec Soth's lists taped to a steering wheel, Perec's teaspoons, Vivian Maier's hundred thousand negatives and what they cost her. Five thousand words, six videos, ten drawn cards. Leave your email and it opens.
Straight with you about this edition. The essay was written in Italian and has been read there for months. All nineteen chapters have been carried over into English by hand and not by machine, because the way it is written is most of what it is: where a sentence would not survive the crossing, it was rewritten rather than translated word for word.
Everything is here, including the audio: a one-minute summary read at the end of each chapter, in English, by the same voice all the way through.