Yesterday I posted some shots of the crater-shaped Kiglapait Mountains on the frozen coast of Labrador, including the one above. Here’s how views of those shots, and many others, looked in Flickr’s stats:
It got 90 views. Not a lot. But a lot of other shots got a bunch of views too, and they add up to, on average, a little over 5,000 per day, and over 5 million all time. For a blog that’s not bad — and I’m beginning to think that, in a way, a blog is what Flickr is for me. I’m not crazy about how Flickr works. (It’s gotten more slick and complicated over time.) But it’s where I’ve been posting photos since 2006, it does have a lot of upsides, and I’m reasonably confident (though I’ve had my doubts) that it will stay in business.
I don’t post my photos to sell, or to show off. If I were doing either, you’d only see the ones that look best. What I’m doing instead is a form of photojournalism: providing source photos of subjects to journalists, a class of people that now includes everybody. Journalism at its best is a form of documentation, and I provide fodder for that.
Including the three other Flickr sites I contribute to (Linux Journal, Berkman Center and Infrastructure), I’ve put about 50,000 photos up so far. All of them carry permissive Creative Commons licenses. As a result, 425 of my shots have showed up on Wikimedia Commons, which is Wikipedia’s source image library. I put none of them there. Other people went looking for photos of topics that came with Creative Commons licenses that are friendly to low-friction re-use, found some of mine, and brought them over. Some haven’t been used anywhere (that I know of), and others have seen lots of use. For example, this shot of the roofline at Denver International Airport is in 27 different Wikipedia articles. This one of San Gorgonio Mountain is in three. The one at that last link is a different shot of mine.
Hardly a week goes by that a shot of mine doesn’t find its way from Flickr or Wikimedia Commons into a newspaper, a magazine or a blog post somewhere. Here’s one that ran in the NYTimes Bits blog on the 19th. Sometimes they even turn up on TV. For example, NBC’s wallpaper for the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver came from some shots of ice crystals on poorly insulated windows I took at my apartment in Massachusetts a few months earlier. (No, NBC didn’t pay for them, and I was glad to give them away. NBC would have been glad to give me tickets, it turned out, but I didn’t even ask until it was too late, which was dumb on my part. And they did give me credit.)
To me the world is a fascinating place, whether I’m down in a subway or gliding through the stratosphere. Often I don’t know what I’m looking at, but discover and dig into it later. Examples:
- Doom town, wasted in a nuclear blast on Frenchman’s Flat in Nevada
- Montserrat Mountain in Spain, looking like the hull of an overturned boat
- Robbers Canyon, a meandering slot carved in the flatness of Utah’s San Rafael desert of Utah (said to be where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid hid out)
- The serrated peaks of Colorado’s remote Needle Mountains.
- Boreray and other islands of Scotland on a clear day
- Snow-buried mountains of Greenland in low November sun
- The Matterhorn from below in moonlight and above en route to elsewhere
- Houses bunched in Anguillara Sabazia on Lake Bracciano in Italy.
- Ice floes on Hudson Bay
In every case, however, I see these shots, and what I add to them, as accessories to others’ fascinations, which in sum will range far more deeply and widely than mine. And for longer as well, I hope. So: enjoy.
Hi Doc
Ansel Adams, the greatest photographer ever was not only technically excellent but he had a great eye. He was also fortunate to have a job that paid him to wonder around the American national parks to take photos of the stunning landscape. So he could be in the right place at the right time of year to get the best possible image.
Despite that, his most famous image is “Moonrise”. This scene caught the corner of his eye while travelling on vacation. A distraction, or five minutes sooner or later and he would have missed it. That is Ansel’s account of the making of that great image.
It looks like we can’t go wrong carrying a camera with us everywhere, and keep looking.
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