Rangefinder Magazine
September 2001/Features

David Brickman's Neighborhood by David Brickman
A Self-Publishing Love Story

What photographer hasn’t thought about self-publishing a book? After dreaming of publishing my own photography book for more than 25 years, I’ve finally made that dream into reality. What follows is a description of the process that transformed a body of work and an idea into a beautiful, 32-page piece that I can mail to prospects, share with friends and colleagues, and sell at my shows and talks, as well as in bookstores and museum shops.

Getting Started
To do a book, you first need an appropriate body of work. It’s possible to start with an idea or a theme, and then execute it. This is the way that publishers usually approach the task. Another possibility is to choose from existing work the pictures that you think will make a good group or theme.

Either way, the best approach is to have a clear concept that unifies the images into a whole. Even the best known photographers don’t often take the risk of just putting together their favorite pictures and expecting people to “get it” without developing some unifying theme to the book. Having produced more than 20 solo exhibitions of my work, I knew what groups of pictures worked best together, and I had a couple of themes already worked out when I decided it was time to publish. In fact, the book I produced was not the one I planned to do first. I had a series in mind initially, with a short easy-to-like selection to start off, followed by the more challenging book I ended up doing, and topped off by a third book, far more ambitious and complex than either of the other two. I’m getting ahead of myself a bit here, but the point is, I had plenty of material to work with.

Second, if you want to do the job right, and not be at the mercy of the marketplace, you need money. How much you need can vary a lot, depending on factors such as number of pages, number of colors (even black and white can call for three- or four-color printing), size, type and quality of paper, quantity and so on. I set aside $8000 and ended up spending nearly twice that amount. But it was well worth it.

Third, and perhaps most important, before you publish a photo book, you should know exactly what you want it to do for you. Will it be primarily for promotional purposes (say, if you’re a commercial photographer, and you want it to bring you new and better clients), or do you expect to try to distribute the book and sell it for a profit? Or is it intended as a sort of catalog that will help people get to know your art and maybe get some to collect it? In my case, the book would be both an end in itself and also used as a promotional piece. Its main purpose is to put my art into a context that communicates what it’s about in a clear, concise way.

To reach that goal, I knew I would need a good design, as well as excellent reproduction and printing. Also, I decided to include an essay to add a second point of view and engage the reader.

Being clear about my goals helped me to reach them, but I had to be flexible enough during the process to be able to make changes where necessary. For example, I didn’t plan on selling the book much except to offer a reasonably priced option to people whom already knew my work, and maybe couldn’t afford an original. I was aiming, at most, to replace my outlay and make it possible to turn around and do another book, while reaping the benefits of having a nice piece to send to galleries and curators.

As it turned out, because the book cost more than I thought it would, I’ve had to put more emphasis on selling it. But that hasn’t been difficult, because the quality of the concept and presentation are winning over customers wherever it’s seen.

Here’s what the production process was like: Once I knew what group of pictures I was planning to publish, and the general theme, size and purpose of the book, I began making little sketches of the layout. Using small prints as references, I worked on the selection, sequencing, page pairings (or groupings) and size relationships. I also chose a cover picture, based on visual impact and how well the theme was expressed in just one photo. Then I put together a little paper “dummy” of the book to show the physical form it might take, and to determine how many pages I would need. There are title pages, credits, text and other things to consider in addition to the pictures, and they all need space. In general, one must work in multiples of four, because a book is made up of sheets folded over and joined together (folios), giving you a spread and what’s on the back of the spread as the basic unit. I determined that I could fit what I needed into seven folios, or 28 pages, plus the cover (which is, in effect, four more pages).

This allowed me enough room to establish a beginning, a middle and an end. The essay, which I commissioned from a well-regarded arts writer with a solid background in photography, would go last—just before the title list and acknowledgements.

The Right Help
Next I contacted a professional designer. Though I have some experience with graphics and have worked closely with printers, I wanted to ensure that I would get the best possible piece my budget would allow, and I didn’t want to stress myself out worrying about all the details on my own. Designers know about typefaces (also called fonts), paper and printers, in addition to having a refined sense of what works on the printed page.

A friend in the advertising business put me in touch with a first-rate freelance designer, Jennifer Wilkerson, who has a feel for fine art and photography. After showing Jennifer the pictures and my little dummy, she agreed to work up an estimate of her fee and get some quotes from printers. This is done before a contract is signed or money changes hands.

Now, a good designer is expensive. At first I didn’t think I could afford the price. But a lucky thing happened to convince me that this designer would more than earn her fee. Even before I agreed to do the project with her, Jennifer used a connection with a paper manufacturer to get the paper for my book donated. “They like artists,” she said. That saved me $2000 and finalized the decision to hire Jennifer.

The next step was to choose among the printers. Because I expected to print only 1000 copies, alternatives to offset printing were discussed. The technology of digital output for small press runs can be very beautiful and competitively priced, but we determined that four-color offset was the way to go in order to best retain the style and vision of my work.

Pre-press was also a consideration. There’s a lot more than a simple scan involved in getting a reproduction ready to roll on press. Of the printers we looked into, one had no in-house scanning, and another had only just tooled up for it. We decided not to take the chance of losing quality at that phase of production, and narrowed the search to two printers with time-tested in-house scanning. Of those, one cost a little less, but Jennifer convinced the other printer, whom she regarded as the best to work with, to match the lower price, arguing that this was a piece they would be proud of. In the meantime, Jennifer scanned my photos into her computer and worked up a version of my dummy, with her choice of typeface, font size and spacing. She also did a couple of variations, in which some of the photos’ sizes were altered, and with a few different ideas for the layout of the cover.

Though I had a very clear design concept for the book, Jennifer’s contributions were invaluable. Little things that we take completely for granted can make a big difference in how a book is perceived, and I knew I needed her expertise to pull them off. Page numbering for example. Do you number all the pages? Where do the numbers go? How big should they be? And so on.

By establishing a strong, subtle style in the details, the designer made my book work better as a whole. And she made some significant suggestions that I ended up using. The best of these involved the center spread.
I had planned from the beginning to take advantage of the continuous sheet of paper in the folio at the center of the book to showcase a panoramic photograph. Jennifer, in her first variation on my dummy, made this into a full bleed (in which the picture goes to the edges of the paper on all four sides).

My first reaction was that I didn’t like the boldness of the look. But it grew on me, and I kept it. Now that the book is done, almost everyone who looks at it, from photographers to farmers, stops at that center spread and comments on how well it works. People also frequently comment on the high quality of the printing. One printing technique that contributed to the professional look of the book is a finish called aqueous solution. Suggested by the printer, seconded by Jennifer and OK’d by me on her recommendation, aqueous is a contemporary alternative to varnish that goes on the page after the ink, coating the image as well as the surface of the paper in a sort of plastic.

I chose a satin finish from options including matte and glossy; it very effectively mimicked the look of my color exhibition prints, which are custom printed on matte paper with a lustrous, pearly finish. Aqueous is also non-yellowing and water-, smudge- and scuff-resistant, ensuring a longer, better-looking life for the books at a cost far lower than lamination.

Following Through
The last stage of production, after five rounds of going over and tweaking color proofs, was the printing and “press check.” Rather than pay Jennifer to be at the printer on press day, I decided to do the press check myself. This proved to be an extremely valuable experience, and one that I would recommend to any photographer having their work reproduced in offset. Not only is the process itself fascinating to watch, the professionalism of the printer’s staff made it pleasurable, despite hours spent simply waiting for press sheets.

One of the pluses was getting to know the people behind the proofs, and discussing the ideas behind my pictures with the guys who had sweated to reproduce them faithfully. The bottom line is that, by being at the press check, I was able to help ensure the best possible interpretation of my work in offset. Once the press run was done, I went home to wait. It took a few days for the ink to dry and the collating, trimming and binding to be done. Because my book is only 32 pages, perfect binding (like the spine of this magazine) was not an option. Instead, the book is “saddle stitched,” which is a fancy term for stapling.

The whole process, from first contact with the designer to delivery of the books, took four months. Now, I have a schedule of signings lined up in area bookstores and museums, in addition to a “publication party” at a friend’s gallery, where I will toast my new book with champagne and strawberries. And, I hope, sell a few copies.

David Brickman is a fine art photographer living in Albany, New York. His first book, Neighborhood: Photographs of Arbor Hill and West Hill, can be purchased by writing to Brickman at 116 North Lake Avenue, Albany, NY 12206 or calling (518) 432-6384. The book, printed by Finlay Brothers in Bloomfield, CT, is 9 x 11 inches and costs $25, plus tax and shipping. Brickman can be reached via e-mail at david@brickmanphoto.com