Matrix Unloaded
June 2003
by Peter Howe |
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In a recent review of The Matrix Reloaded in the
Chicago Tribune the Matrix itself was described as: "The real world
as nothing more than a virtual-reality program constructed by enslaving
machines." It is a statement with which Barbara Sadick would probably
empathize. One of the causes of her fifteen-year-old photo agency closing
earlier this year was the cost of those enslaving machines. The name
of her agency was Matrix.
I have known Barbara for as long as either of us cares to remember.
In fact her first foray into photography was in 1979, the same year
as my arrival in the United States. She started an agency called Picture
Group with her husband at the time, the late Don Abood. The agency was
an interesting departure because it was based in Rhode Island, not New
York City. The advantages of the location were that the costs of space
and labor were dramatically cheaper, and the disadvantages of its distance
from the Time and Life Building were overcome through the use of an
emerging technology known as Federal Express. For the younger photojournalists
out there, Fedex in those days was the precursor to e-mail, an improvement
over the United States Postal Service of such a dramatic nature that
it enabled Picture Group to get photographs to any domestic location
overnight, and often within the same timeframe as a messenger service
in New York. It was certainly fast enough.
Although the agency was successful, the marriage was not, and Barbara
moved back to New York to work with Robert Pledge at Contact Press Images.
For her his business was a revelation. Quite unlike the wire service
orientation of Picture Group with its network of photographers covering
a wide geographical area, Contact represented a small collection of
high quality photographers, with less emphasis on news and more on in-depth
features and projects. It was a model that she was to emulate when she
opened her own shop in 1988. When I asked her why she left Contact she
said that she was never very good at working for other people, something
that is easy to believe. She is quiet, but obviously strong willed,
determined and persistent, and it was these qualities that must have
made her a difficult employee, but that also gave the agency its core
strength. She also started Matrix with a good counterpart, Jonathon
Wells, easy going and affable, although in his own way as persistent
as Barbara. They made a fine team for many years.
The photographers that they represented were also a good team. Each
of them were high quality shooters, but diverse in both subject matter
and style. The early group included Louie Psyhoyas, Karen Keuhn, and
Jay Dickman, which gives some indication of the range that Matrix offered.
The agency remained small for its entire existence, representing a maximum
of twenty photographers, and acting as U.S. representative for Network,
Focus, IPG and Katz. The business started on a shoestring, and unfortunately
remained on it for the rest of its life. Like so many "mom 'n'
pop" operations it was undercapitalized from the beginning, and
as Barbara puts it was "never swimming in money", but money
wasn't the reason that they were in business. She wanted to represent
quality work, and quality is the hardest commodity to market without
money behind you. Even Rolls Royce went bankrupt. Having said that,
with only an initial investment of $50,000 and an original location
of a room in Barbara's apartment Matrix became one of the key players
in New York's editorial photography market.
At its height the company employed eight people, and its terms of business
with the photographers were that they got seventy per cent of the assignment
fees, and fifty per cent of the resale. I have always felt that the
only reason that a fifty/fifty share on resale was standard is that
photographers started the original agencies, and that this seemed to
them the most equitable arrangement in the truest sense of the word.
Barbara herself admits that the only way to make a living on this basis
is to do a high volume of sales, and that did not interest her because
it would take her away from photography and create a more factory like
feel for the people she employed. She also did not have contracts with
the photographers. She said that she tried to, but none of them would
sign. The only reason for attempting to have a more than handshake relationship
with them was that Matrix was in some cases co-producing stories and
Barbara wanted to make sure that the work in which the agency had invested
would be available for them to sell for a defined period of time.
The business was doing well enough to move to larger premises, not once
but twice, and it was the second move that in her words "killed
us." Like many people at that time, myself included, Barbara was
fooled by the economy. The stock market was soaring, dot com billionaires
were sprouting up like smug mushrooms overnight, and banks were lending
money to anyone who wasn't actually in a penitentiary (and even to some
who were.) Matrix also had another pressure upon them beyond the need
for smart premises; they had to play catch up on technology, and equipping
the business with "the enslaving machines" took most of the
$250,000 that Barbara had borrowed. No sooner had the computers been
bought, and staff employed to deal with their tantrums than the economy
tanked, and with it the market for the kind of editorial photography
for which Matrix had a reputation. With advertising pages at an all
time low publishers were not prepared to offend an advertiser with an
edgy journalistic story. In Style prospered during this period; Life
Magazine went out of business. Furthermore the business had already
started to change in other ways. When Arnold Drapkin was the picture
editor at Time he would give a guarantee for a story on Staten Island,
never mind Baghdad. Now magazines didn't have to pay for photographers
to go anywhere; they were already there on their own dollar.
But the hard truth of the matter is that Matrix was not so much a victim
of a bad economy or expensive technology; it was an example of an old
way of doing business, and ill suited to adapting to the new models.
Its archive was completely analog and digitizing it would have been
cripplingly expensive, but more importantly Barbara herself was a product
of the old world of photography, and one with which she herself admits
she feels much more comfortable. "I didn't want to become a computer
operator" is the way she puts it. In fact to compete against Getty
and Corbis she would not only have to change her attitude towards computers,
but also towards pricing and many other aspects of her relationship
with her photographers. She would have to get much more comfortable
with volume.
She feels to this day that it could have been different, that the smaller
agencies could have exerted pressure with the magazines had they put
on a united front. Indeed there were several meetings with the heads
of other agencies of a similar size, but because of a combination of
concern over anti-trust laws and possible charges of price fixing plus
the almost standard lack of unity that affects photography nothing ever
came of them. "Everybody's out there on their own. I don't think
it had to be that way," she observes. Having watched Barbara work
for more than fifteen years the saddest statement to my ears that she
made during the whole interview was the following "I just can't
love it that much any more; to battle every single day" The "it"
to which she refers is the business of photography, not photography
itself. In fact she may not only be a part of photojournalism's past
but also of its future. Her plans are to go back to school to obtain
a master's degree in health advocacy with the intention of using photography
as a part of the communication arsenal that she feels is needed to promote
much needed changes in a flawed system. It is areas such as this that
photojournalism can make the most difference and which will inevitably
be a part of the solution to drag the craft from the muddy ditch in
which it now resides. If the days of the "mom 'n' pop" shop
are numbered, the days when most photojournalists could rely on magazines
for their livelihoods are already history.
When I was thinking about the changes that have affected our industry
over the lifetime of Matrix I came across a quote from Maya Angelou
that I think should give us all pause for thought. She said, "If
you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change
your attitude. Don't complain." During the conversation that I
had with Barbara about Matrix I heard regret, but not complaint. One
of her regrets is not being able to pay all of the photographers she
represented all of the money that she owed them. I also heard nostalgia
for an industry that she clearly preferred in its old form than where
it is today, but along with that an acceptance that there will be no
return to times gone by. The determination that served her so well when
she started Matrix will propel her into her new career, and who knows,
maybe the Arnold Drapkins of the future will be working in the fields
of health advocacy, child care, education, environmentalism, or anywhere
else that the powerful communication tool of photography can best serve.
The future is there to be defined, and Barbara and the rest of us have
the responsibility to define it.
© Peter Howe
Contributing Editor
peterhowe@earthlink.net
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