The Tweezer Times

By Lisa Golden Schroeder

Those of us in this business hopefully “get” the title to this publication. But sometimes I have to define it…and I just spent two days really working this angle of our work. As much as we love to style loosely and naturally, plating gorgeous recipes or artistically staging photos good enough to eat, the reality of commercial work is all about pleasing our clients. Two days of styling test shots for new frozen dinner packaging drained much of my usually ebullient creativity.  Placing peas with a pair of tweezers and trying to make a frozen dinner look appetizing and natural illustrates the amazing realm of the jobs we’re called to do. This is not the glamorous career that many think we have–it can be down and dirty. Thawing freezer burned vegetables and pouches of sauces only a food technologist could love. Sorting out undented peas, chunks of meat with a nice texture, slices of carrot with smoothly round sides. And reassembling meals so they look like something your family will beg for–or at least eat on a busy weeknight. Homestyle, family friendly, comfort food…whatever it’s called. So here’s a snapshot of the ubiquitous spatula of “stuff” with a biscuit on top. Almost ready to be delivered to a dinner table near you!

Lately, as each issue of Bon Appétit arrives in my mailbox, I shake my head and wonder what the editors are thinking. October, in particular, started a conversation among colleagues. What goes into the decisions about the images a magazine creates to illustrate their articles? Clearly, if you take a long view of the evolution of American cooking magazines, efforts have been made periodically to push the envelope. Gourmet took on the challenge a few years ago, shooting with only available light and taking on the portrayal of classic, iconic foods like your Thanksgiving turkey. And they seemed to be committed to the concept, come hell or high water. Even if the images appeared cold, grey, and unappetizing. The photos departed from the conventional warm, studio-lit images of beautiful food. One memorable July cover featured a grilled steak that had as much appeal as a piece of shoe leather–the cold, bluish light on the meat deadened what should have been a shot that fairly sizzled in the waning summer evening sunlight.

So now Bon Appétit appears to have growing pains. I haven’t spoken with anyone there, but we all (me, along with colleagues both far and near) agree that their stab at shaking up their photography is both interesting enough to generate conversation and surprising enough to make us think about what we’d do if asked to shake things up for a client. So I had an e-mail from Sarah Thompson, the senior food stylist at Reader’s Digest Milwaukee (Taste of Home). She wrote “I was looking at the new October issue of Bon Appétit. I’m curious about this cover. It’s an overhead shot of a copper stock-pot  filled with Texas Beef Brisket Chili. It makes me go “hmm?!” While I do think the food itself looks appetizing -the cover, on the whole, doesn’t really “grab” me. But in a way: It does grab me because it’s a rather attention-grabbing image. It’s bold, it’s confident, unconventional. Which makes me wonder: Is this by design do you think? Putting a cover out there that isn’t very appealing - in order to get noticed, to get people talking?  I mean, I know there’s always that intention. You want people to take notice of your products. But you also want them to make the purchase. Not just look at it momentarily and return it to the rack because you’re put off by the cover.”

I do think that there’s sometimes that idea of “let’s throw it out there and see if it sticks.” Experimenting with making readers question how they personally cook or think about food. Viewing photos is so subjective, and despite many readers liking some of the earlier spring Bon Appétit covers (I personally thought the whole grain pancakes on the February 2008 cover looked kind of greasy and inedible, but the novel approach to showing a very tall stack seemed to strike a cord in people.)  So who knows what prompted the tall stockpot full of stew–I doubt that basic appetite appeal was the goal. It was probably the idea of evoking memories of long-simmered stews of our grandmothers (even if we didn’t have a grandma who cooked like that). But the light background (I’d like a moodier setting for memory retrieval) is a bit of a disconnect. Like it’s an outline shot waiting for more type to be added. Maybe there’s a desire to “play” a little right now by their editorial staff. I do have to say that I lust after that copper stockpot!

Sarah shared that their approach to magazine and cookbook covers is not overly complicated. For any particular repeat publication, they look at what has worked for them in the past - the percentage sell-through on the publication over recent years. They consider repeating a success or taking a different direction. Do they want to show several whole recipes or individual servings? Sweet or savory? Is chicken selling better than beef because of high food costs? They make sure they don’t have another cover that will overlap in the marketplace with a too-similar look/feel (including recipe type). The time of year is also an important consideration. They sometimes shoot two cover versions and put them through online testing. Recently, they brought in Karen Tack and Alan Richardson (authors of Hello, Cupcake!) to help concept/develop and style the December/January issue of Taste of Home. That issue of their flagship publication will launch a new design that they are very excited about and hope the new look will make sales soar. In the end, publications are out to sell themselves to an audience hungry for content that solves their personal cooking dilemmas but that also entertain and stimulate them to try new things. You can’t argue with that.

By Lisa Golden Schroeder

I’ve been in the business of working as a consultant for corporate food giants, small entrepreneurial food companies, publishers, and any number of other non-food related businesses for 21 years. For much of that time I’ve been available as a freelance food stylist, working in a metropolitan area that knows food photography. Over the years, the studios that shoot any amount of food hired stylists and assistants with a simple phone call. The level of trust was high—it was assumed that the freelancer would show up prepared to do the job, the studio would pay in a timely fashion, and that the client would be happy. Rarely was any formal agreement signed beforehand, unless a corporate giant required a work-for-hire or confidentiality release. But lately, with business less certain and tightened budgets, I’m finding it’s getting more important to spell out what I will provide for any given job. I recently was hired for two different jobs—and both changed midstream with unspoken expectations that I would absorb and respond to the changes with no complaint (or additional charge). But maybe it’s because I’ve been around long enough that I’ve begun to feel less flexible (and a little crabby). I’m beginning to think that it is good policy to have a standard letter of agreement ready to fax or e-mail to a studio or agency that spells out my day or hourly rate, overtime, and cancellation policies for EVERY job. Once a client has confirmed a booking with me, the letter goes out. It may not be necessary to have it signed (unless you’re nervous about getting paid), but at least the studio or hiring agent has been notified of my most current rates and what services they cover—and what I expect if anything above and beyond is necessary.

I’m hearing from many stylists that job “holds” are increasing, with lots of last minute cancellations. I think that because jobs have become more uncertain and clients are waiting for budget approvals or multiple bids to come in, many studios want to be ready when jobs are inked (confirmed). So to ensure they have a stylist they’ll put more than one on hold for sometimes as long as a week or more. And they figure as long as the job is penciled (not confirmed), they won’t be held responsible for cancellation fees if the job falls through. But I think it’s important for both studios and stylists to be firm about the length of time they will remain on hold—and state that up front when the first call comes in.

I guess what I’m thinking is that clients need to know and understand that those of us that execute their projects are just as professional as they are. And deserve the same respect they expect. We won’t turn on a dime for them if we aren’t given good, timely information to get a job done well—or work under unrealistic time frames. Because every time we do, we set the bar higher for the next time, doing a disservice to ourselves and to the rest of our colleagues.

Image © 2008, Mette Nielsen/Lisa Golden Schroeder

I recently had a shoot for a magazine client in another city, one that is expecting the editorial and photo work that I do to upgrade the look of their food pages. My writing partner and I worked hard to create new ideas for the summer issues for next year, including a piece on refreshing sorbets and ice creams using seasonal fruit. Watermelon is a garden feature for the June/July issue, so we developed a simple watermelon sorbet for the article. Our photo session was scheduled, with the plan being that we’d post our progress at the studio web site for review as the day progressed. We needed to do three shots, so we made it clear that we expected the editor to be available during the day. As usually happens on shoots without a client on site, the editor had to be out of town at the last minute. So we were on our own most of the day–with a little input at the very end of the session. The editor saw two of the shots, offered a few suggestions, but basically said he really liked how we were proceeding. The watermelon sorbet shot in particular appeared to be just what he was looking for…

The next week we heard from the editor, who was back-peddling quickly: his manager thought that the slices of melon in the back glass didn’t make sense. That at a real picnic, slices of watermelon would be on a plate. Hmmm–would you be serving watermelon slices at all if you had made sorbet? Or so I was reasoning…we used the slices in the glass to give a flavor ID, so the sorbet wouldn’t be confused as raspberry or strawberry. So in the end they decided not to re-shoot (whew!), but we now know how literal they will be in the future. What do you think?

Welcome back to The Tweezer Times™! We’re back in business and have all sorts of great content to post for you. In particular food styling technique articles from colleagues worldwide. The purpose of this publication is to offer many professional viewpoints about the work we do, from actual photography methodology, tabletop propping, cooking techniques, to really good business/marketing advice specific to creative entrepreneurs. We can’t forget that we need to stay inspired, keep learning new things, concept innovative ways to problem solve, and stay solvent!

Please let us know if there are any topics you really want to read about…and don’t hesitate to drop us a note if you’d like a personal response to a question.