The Photographer's Business Coach

I’m back safe and sound after a couple of long days of driving back to San Diego from my personal project of photographing in the Bakken oil fields of North Dakota. As I drove through the unending rolling hills of Wyoming and Montana with nary a car in either direction for many miles at a time, I reflected on my week of roaming in and around the boom town of Williston in search of the interesting moments and great subjects. No question it was a tough week – one especially challenging from the perspective of just trying to get access to the people and places that I wished to photograph.

Unfortunately, there’s no central repository for hard working subjects who wished to be photographed. And to the extent that there is, good luck getting to them. Access is strictly controlled and anyone with a camera is viewed with suspicion. Still, the week was a fantastic learning experience in so many ways. For example, I now know the difference between a roustabout and a roughneck. Beyond learning that a roustabout is someone who does the dirty work around an oil rig and a roughneck is the guy actually getting oil on his hands, I did manage to glean some other, more photographically inspiring lessons that I hope are worth sharing:

Embrace the BHAG
James Collins, in his book “From Good to Great,” writes about how successful companies create what he calls Big Hairy Audacious Goals – BHAG’s for short. These are ambitious goals where the odds of failure are pretty high but the rewards even higher. For me, driving to a distant part of the country that I knew nothing about for the purpose of photographing oil workers, truck drivers and other hard working individuals with whom I shared no connection was indeed a BHAG.

The site manager aka “company man” at a drill site near Williston, North Dakota.

Not only that, I had more than a couple people tell me I should pack a gun and that Williston was a lawless Wild West. Though I didn’t bother with carrying a gun, I did indeed wonder what I’d gotten myself into. In the end though, none of that proved to be true. Not only did I learn so much of what has proved to be a fantastic story, I’ve immersed myself into a project that may well change the course of my career.

Be bold in your goals – then act upon them!

Persistence Is the Key
I can assure you that I did not enjoy walking into an oil company office unannounced and asking complete strangers if I could shoot photos of their workers. I certainly did not enjoy being shown the door almost immediately afterwards. Though there were moments were I grew discouraged – I remember arriving in town and just wondering “what the hell did I get myself into?” The possibility of going home empty-handed was not one that I was willing to accept – so I just soldiered on. Ultimately, I knew what I wanted and was determined to get it.

Worker at a frack site outside of Williston, North Dakota

One Thing Leads to Another
More than anything else, this thought kept my hopes up and my wheels moving. Whether through boldness or foolishness, I left for my trip without a single contact in Williston. Along the way, a Facebook friend gave me the number of his ex in-laws. They in turn gave me the number of the local state assemblyman who in turn gave me the number of a local economic development liaison. She then referred me to a contact at an oil company – who turned out to be married to the man who proved to be the guy who discovered the secret to unlocking North Dakota’s oil. Not only that but she was able to get me onto both an oil drilling and fracking site. Bingo!

Sometimes the task in front of you may seem overwhelming with no sign of the way forward. No matter. Just start with one thing and see where it leads. Just one thing is all you need most of the time. Then stay in motion.

An oil well during the process of being fracked. The pipes contain water that is forced down the well at high pressure to open previously created fissures in the rock.

No Plan Survives First Contact With the Enemy
If you’re a military strategist, you’re familiar with this axiom. Events rarely work out as planned so allow yourself to be flexible and inventive enough to go along with Plan B – even if you have no idea what that might be. I remember waking up on my first morning in Williston and staring in despair at the ceiling of my cramped camper van. I realized that my original plan of showing up at work sites wasn’t going to work. My solution was to set up shop at a nearby truck stop and see who walked by my little spider’s web. Though that wasn’t my preferred option, I ended up getting some of my best images of the trip that day.

Blend In
If you’re going to take on a project like mine where you visit another city as an outsider, but wish to walk away with images as though an insider, you need to fit in so that you can be accepted. For me, this meant trading in my usual Southern California wardrobe of skinny jeans and quirky t-shirts for something more… um… country appropriate. I busted out my cowboy hat (hand made in Texas) and well-worn boots. I found that people tend to open up to a guy wearing a cowboy hat. More important than that, I didn’t come across as some California kook out to make a mess of things.

Oil worker, Williston North Dakota

People Skills Are More Important Than Photography Skills
I’d like to think that I’m a pretty good photographer. What I came to realize though is that I’m even better at connecting with people and getting them to pose for my camera. In so many situations, I had just seconds to convince someone to pose for me or let me walk onto their job site. Without the ability to connect with a stranger in a micro-slice of time, the best photography skills in the world won’t be of one whit of use. Disarming people and making them feel comfortable enough to relax in front of the camera is an absolutely necessary skill for being a successful people photographer.

Bow Your Head Upon Entering the Teepee
This lesson is one that I heard from my business mentor, but I sure lived it in North Dakota. A key component of excellent people skills is being respectful of the people you’re working with. Coming in as some “expert” who knows how things should be done will not get you very far. Be open to what people have to say. Take their recommendations to heart. Take interest in what they have to say. You may well learn much more than you expected.

Besides, if you’re doing all the talking, you’re doing none of the listening – and it’s in the listening to what people have to say where the learning takes place and new ideas are born.

Truck driver, Williston North Dakota

Have a Clear, Compelling Story to Tell
People constantly asked what I was doing. Though in the beginning, I had little clear idea, as I began to talk to people, I quickly developed my concept and an elevator pitch to go along with it. (An elevator pitch is the slang term for being able to pitch a plan in the length of time it takes to ride in an elevator.) If you stutter and stammer your way through an explanation of what you’re doing, no one is going to believe you nor take you seriously. Having your story down cold is supremely important.

Downtown Williston at night.

Make as Many Friends as You Can
You never know who is going to be in a position to help you. I learned more from people I wouldn’t have thought to talk twice to. I remember sort of getting stuck talking to a particularly tough looking guy at a bar I stopped in at. Turns out he was the boss of a work crew and could get me in to shoot at his work site. I later dropped his name to another site manager who then let me photograph his workover crew. (You can also file this one under “One Thing Leads to Another.”)

Mile long trains with 100 oil cars arrive empty but leave full. The railway is BNSF (Burlington Northern Santa Fe) which is owned by Warren Buffet’s Berkshire Hathaway company.

Be Honest
Don’t lie or try to pull one over on your subjects. Be clear about what you’re doing. Nothing gets people riled up more than being told one thing and then finding out that the truth was something different. A big part of the reason why people were so reluctant to work with me was because they had been burned so many times in the past. Now it’s just easier to say no and not worry about it.

While there, I bumped into two different film crews doing programs on environmental issues. The oil companies worked with them because they wanted to get their story out too. They don’t mind working with people who are honest and upfront. What they don’t like are people who are sneaky and operating with a hidden agenda. Now if you’re a muckraking photographer whose goal is to infiltrate and reveal the dark secrets, then I guess you’ve got to do your thing. As much as possible, be honest though. It’s a lot easier to burn bridges than to build them.

Roughneck on an oil drilling rig outside of Williston, North Dakota

The Story You Start With May Not Be the Story You Finish With
The more you go into a story with an open mind, the more open you’ll be to perspectives that you never would have thought of on your own. It opens you up to turning around and seeing what’s behind you or on the other side of your anticipated subject.

More than a few people encouraged me to approach this project from a perspective of environmental activism – I’m a former Sierra Club member so that’s no stretch for me. But that to me was far too simplistic a story that others are already telling. Instead, I allowed the story to reveal itself to me. By focusing on the people, listening to what they were telling me and then observing scenes as they unfold, I feel like I’m onto a much more powerful and mostly untold tale.

Tired oil worker resting after a 12 AM to 12 PM shift working on a workover rig near Alexander, North Dakota

No Work Is More Important Than Personal Work
I want to stress the importance to photographers of personal projects like this. I could have left these posts on my personal blog, but I feel that there’s a genuine business interest in creating work that excites both photographer and viewer. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: It’s far too easy to get caught up in the daily grind of doing client work. But it’s the personal work that inspires us and pushes us to create work that stands out from the crowd.

You have the potential to create great work. Make it happen!

Workover crew repairing an oil well near Arnegard, North Dakota.

In a sense, I’ve been schooled. It’s not easy to come into an oil town and get the sort of access that I’d like. As much as I’d like to walk onto a drilling site and start shooting photos of guys working hard, that’s just not going to happen. I tried starting at the top but, in cold-calling a couple of drilling companies, “not interested” and “this conversation is over” were the highlights of my efforts.

I have managed to secure some other contacts so things are moving forward – though not at the pace I’d like. Instead of focusing on that, I’d like to share another experience that I didn’t think too much of at the time, but in retrospect was one of those moments that only could happen out here on the Bakken Oil fields.

Walking back to the van after taking photos of a passing train, a man in a car pulled up. “Which way to Williston?” he asked.” That was an easy answer as it was just a mile or two down the road. Seeing my camera, he asked if I was a professional photographer. “Yes I am” I answered in my well-practiced drawl.

Eager to talk, he swiftly exited his car and began asking questions and telling us about his life. He’d been in his car for days – traveling from 1,800 miles from his home in Louisiana, his road atlas as his guide and only companion. From his excitement in speaking with us, it was obvious that he was overjoyed to connect and share with someone, anyone – and that just happened to be us, two strangers who gave him directions.

Like every other newcomer, he came in search of work. He wore a neat collared shirt.  Recently dry cleaned shirts hung in the back of his car – ready for him to proudly wear at his hoped for new job. Though I hated to squelch his enthusiasm, I gently let him know that in this town, t-shirts and jeans are the standard uniform. No matter. He lifted his pant leg to show us his duct taped shoe that one of his two labradors had chewed on. (He left his wife at home, but it was the dogs that he missed most.)

Because the sun was not far off from setting and I had a photographic agenda to attend to,  I let him know that we had to move on. That didn’t stop him; he asked if we drank coffee. I said no, Tulsi said yes. He opened his trunk and offered us a small vat of Folgers coffee. What were going to do with that, neither of us knew. What we did know was that refusing his kindness was not an option. Finally, we wished him well and drove off.

Sitting here the day after and reflecting on this ten minute connection, I’m truly moved by this man. From his car and his clothes, it’s clear that he had some well-paying job in the past. But the fact that he’s come to Williston means that it’s over and this his last chance. The money is all gone and hope following soon after. All that he’s got is packed in his small sedan – his likely home for the next days or even weeks. Yet, like the Biblical widow who donated her two coins to the temple, this man offered to us all that he had to share.

Though I can’t remember your name – was it Dave or Tom? – thanks for the coffee. May your story be one of success.

Back in the days when the American West was wild and untamed, young men would traverse the country to prove themselves and older men would undertake the journey to reinvent themselves. The lure of a new life and better opportunities drew men to cross the continent into unknown territory. In North Dakota, the promise and the lure of the American West live on.

Young men come here to kickstart their lives while older men come to begin anew. And, just like in the days of yore, the women either remain at home or follow in support. Instead of homesteading in log cabins and traveling in covered wagons, the modern day pioneers come by pickup and find lodging in all manner of trailer – from tiny things barely larger than a walk-in closet to monstrous fifth wheel trailers that are larger than my first apartment.

Regardless of what size trailer someone may inhabit, everyone has a story to tell. Everyone. They share it with the willingness and ease of a policeman giving directions to an old lady. Some almost wear it on their shirt like a badge of honor.

There was Scott from Maine who had a thriving business until the economic crash. He managed to hang on for a few years until he finally had no choice but to close up shop and give up everything he’d worked so hard for. He found rebirth in North Dakota as a drilling rig worker.

Then there’s 23 year old Kami with her tales of child abuse so bad she suffers from epilepsy, sex abuse, a mean ex-husband, and cancer of the pituitary glands. Hard work is her savior and steadying hand.

Or twenty something Chad from Northern Michigan where good jobs are as scarce as the trees are plentiful. North Dakota was his escape from an unappetizing future of $10 per hour jobs.

These guys are tough. Hard workers. No messing around here. At the end of the night, they take taxi’s home because a DUI will mean the end of their time here. Pot smoking is verboten with all of the drug testing. One wrong move on an oil rig and lives are lost. More than that though,  these guys are here to work. This isn’t summer camp; this is about buckling down and making money so that when the time is right, they can move up or out.

Still, there’s an underlying vulnerability here that, perhaps because I’m a photographer whose method and goal is to connect, is shared so readily. Whatever the reason, I’ve learned so much here that I can’t help be touched and changed. I came here expecting a wild west of testosterone gone rampant. What I have found instead is much more tender and inspiring.

Like every other new arrival to Williston, I’ve come here to seek my fortune. To be sure few come here with an eye to get rich quick. Instead, it’s with the hope to draw a steady paycheck and live out the American dream of bettering one’s place in life. Though the fortune I seek comes in the form of photos, not an immediate paycheck, I feel a kinship with all the other migrant souls who have gathered here.

That sense of kinship is not necessarily reciprocal however. Upon rolling into town yesterday, our first thoughts were to find a place to park my camper van for the coming nights. There’s not much by way of campgrounds in this town to start with and a couple of calls revealed that they were full. What we didn’t know is that every campsite in every campground is spoken for either by full-time residents or those who leave for the Winter but hang onto it so as not to lose it come Springtime.

Our first stop was the Buffalo Springs campground a couple of miles north of town. Although they’d claimed they were full when we called, I figured we should check it out all the same. In driving through, we discovered a small village of fifth wheel trailers and their long term inhabitants. After connecting with a few friendly folk, we continued our way down the road, but not before I secured my first photos of the trip.

A couple of miles later, we pulled into a much larger and even more bereft of landscaping trailer-filled parking lot. Tulsi, my companion and one-woman support crew, checked in with the office to see if there might be a spot for us road weary travelers. No luck.

As we stood outside our parked van and I snapped photos of the site’s playground, Bill, the trailer park manager, came out to let us know that we needed to move on since my van sat in reserved spot, though its occupant had yet to return from his winter hiatus. Bill’s underlying message though came through loud and clear, “You liberals from California aren’t welcome here.” My long hair and California license plate told him all he needed to know about us.

That was fine by me, but Bill wasn’t done with us yet so the lecture carried on. After a little bit of cajoling and passionate discourse with him about my desire to document the lives and work of the oil field’s men and women, he flipped course and offered to let us stay for a couple of days – no charge.

But my moments of confrontation weren’t over. Just as my conversation with Bill trailed off, two obviously angry and itching for a fight women demanded to know what I was doing taking pictures of their children. Knowing that I wasn’t going to win any arguments with angrily protective momma bears, I showed them the photos and explained the goals of my visit. By the time we finished talking, all was well and my request to photograph one of the women’s family was accepted, though not without the usual grudging ode to female vanity.

Later that night, we traipsed off in search of a bar. Meeting people for me is the key and I figured that there’s no better place than late night over a beer. Walking into Champs Bar with my Nikon D3s over my shoulder, the bartender immediately instructed me, “No photos.” No problem.

On my way out, a burly, menacing looking guy asked what I was doing with the camera. Last call was over and it was the end of the night – just about fighting time. My first thought was this guy is looking to cause some trouble. I suppose he could have been but in the end, we talked about my project and life in the oil fields. Before I drove off in to return to my new, temporary home in the plains of North Dakota, I photographed him in the headlights of my car – but not before he had me feel the damaged bones of his face where a bullet had entered back when he still lived in the place he’d come from.

Just like in the days of old, a new life awaits in the American West.