Taken

  “I think I actually understood that,” Shannon replied. “A license means I’m basically renting out my photographs to someone who wants to use them as part of something else—to put some text across them as an advertisement, have one in a calendar, maybe use one as the background on a song lyric sheet.”

  “Exactly.”

  “When I want to sell a photograph, what’s involved? Is that a straightforward process?”

  “It’s a bit more complex than people realize,” Ellie said, then gestured to the seating in the office next door. “Bring your photographs, and let’s have a seat while I get us something to drink. I enjoy this, Shannon, talking about the business of selling art.” Ellie brought out soft drinks and bottled iced tea. They settled in comfortable chairs around a low, round table.

  “To sell a photograph, you have two options,” Ellie began, picking up on Shannon’s question. “You can sell it as an original work of art—one print and one buyer. You agree to never print another copy of that digital file except in an official catalog of your sold works with the buyer’s name and reference number listed. The buyer enjoys the print while he or she owns it, and hopes to sell that photographic print to someone else in the future for a profit.”

  Ellie picked up the first three of the photos Shannon had brought in. “Selling your photographs as original works of art is an option you should certainly consider. There’s a ‘voice,’ if you will, beginning to appear in your work that makes it look like your work. That’s a very good thing to see in an artist.”

  “A voice?” Shannon said.

  “Yes. Did you notice with Charlotte’s display, how the drawings each looked similar to the others, even though there are scores of different subjects on that wall? That’s her voice—the way she draws curves, adds in details, shows movement. In a similar way, you’ve got a voice showing up in these thirty-five photographs. What’s in focus and what is not, how intricate the object is that interests you.” She picked up the top photograph. “You like the wood grain in the driftwood, and how this other piece of driftwood rocks back and forth, half in and half out of the ocean.” She selected another. “See how these waves are propelling pieces of seaweed ashore? You liked this sand crab, and this flower growing up between the rocks. Those are the choices you bring to what you see and care about. You didn’t give me a photograph with everything in focus, but rather showed me the item you cared about—that’s your developing voice, like a signature in the image.”

  “Oh.” Shannon sounded surprised. “So that’s good?”

  Ellie smiled. “Your voice is unique to you. That’s good. What your voice is doesn’t matter nearly as much as the fact you have one. In your photos, you show what has your interest, rather than give me a scene and let me choose what might interest me. You make your photographs unique by caring about something. That’s why collectors who like your works will continue to buy more of them over time. What will attract them is what you bring to the photograph. Someone else in the same place and time would have taken a different photo.” Ellie picked up another one, a redbird on a tree limb captured in song. “I love this one.”

  She looked over at Shannon. “I mentioned there are two ways of selling a photograph. Your other option is to sell it as an image. In doing so you’re selling not only the photograph but the digital file, releasing control of the copyright. You and the buyer agree on a price and what name will be listed as the photographer. The buyer now owns the image and may license the photograph or sell it as they wish. In an image sale, you’re selling both the artistic and commercial potential of the photograph. It’s more lucrative than simply selling the photograph as an original work of art. The drawback is that you lose control of what’s done with the image in the future.”

  “I didn’t realize there would be so many possibilities,” Shannon said. “I was thinking I might spend some money to print the best ones, put them in a nice frame, price them for maybe fifty dollars each, and sell them at art shows and street fairs where you can rent a booth.”

  Ellie gave a little laugh. “Shannon, you sound very much like Charlotte. There’s a reason she lets me handle the business side of her work. She has no idea how to price and sell her drawings. Charlotte wants to sketch, and the rest she leaves to me. I decide how to maximize the income from her work. Which ones to frame and sell. What price to set. When to produce a show. Charlotte has built up a strong base of loyal collectors. She still produces several hundred images a year now that she’s married, and she makes a solid six-figure income from her art. I deal with the business for her, and I’m paid a percentage of her yearly income after expenses. It works for us as friends as well as business partners.”

  Ellie neatly squared the photographs in the stack. “Let me put your mind at ease on one point. You asked for my professional opinion. Your photographs will sell. If you want it, you have a fine career ahead of you as a photographer because you do exceptional work. You have options for how to monetize your art. The questions for you are: What do you need? What do you want? Income, cash flow, recognition as an artist, the most people possible to see your photographs? Those answers influence the direction you should go.”

  “I would like . . .” Shannon paused and started over. “It’s important to me not to be dependent on my family financially. I may want to keep my anonymity—I haven’t decided that yet. And I want the freedom to continue to take pictures that interest me.”

  Ellie nodded. “That’s a good list, and quite doable. Charlotte signs her work ‘CRM’ and is rarely seen in public. Marie is never seen in public, but her latest oil painting priced at six million, so it’s not hurting sales. You should choose what name you wish to have on your photographs and use that throughout your career. Shannon Bliss if you wish to be a public figure, something else if you want to keep your privacy. As to being financially secure, how many images do you have?”

  “Conservatively, one hundred thousand. Possibly as many as triple that.”

  Ellie looked over, startled. “Well . . .” Then she laughed. “Mark that financial need off your list, Shannon. Unless your chosen lifestyle requires a fortune, you’re financially secure right now. You have money today in the form of your photographs.”

  Matthew, watching Shannon, saw the shift in her expression as she realized what Ellie had just said. Her dream of a career involving her photography had already come true.

  “Many of the images will be close duplicates,” Shannon clarified, sounding cautious, “sunrises, driftwood, ocean waves. Basically more of what’s here in these thirty-five.”

  “You’ll have a useful variety even within those categories,” Ellie reassured. “Every sunrise has been different since the beginning of time, and people still enjoy watching them appear. Those accumulated photographs give you the luxury of deciding what kind of life you wish to have.” Ellie leaned back in her chair with a smile. “Would you like me, as an art dealer, to give you the two extremes and the middle ground?”

  “I’d appreciate that, Ellie,” Shannon said, still visibly stunned at what she was hearing.

  “At one end of the spectrum, you could have a stress-free life selling a set number of photographs each year as original works of art. A gallery show in the spring and in the fall, some of your photographs for sale in a summer auction. The rest of your year is free of business concerns. You would need to limit how many images are sold each year, so that collectors can gauge how to invest in a living artist. Setting up an art trust means your estate continues releasing new images after you’re gone, keeping your name known among the next generation of collectors. The long-term merit is a legacy you can leave to your children and grandchildren. But limiting sales to around five hundred images a year can feel restrictive over time.

  “At the other end of the spectrum,” Ellie continued, “you could sell your collection for a single sum and create a nest egg for yourself. You’d start your new life with money in the bank and a clean slate for whatever you want to do, whether photography
or something else.”

  For the first time since Matthew had met her, Shannon looked truly startled. “Someone would buy the collection as it is today—unorganized digital files in stacks of memory cards?”

  Ellie reached for her bottle of iced tea. “Sure. I’d be willing to buy the entire collection of images from you, Shannon. If this is a representative sample of the work and there are one hundred thousand images, possibly significantly more, I’d pay you between one and two million today depending on the actual number of images. I’d become the owner and would license them or sell them as I choose. It’s a bird-in-the-hand decision for you, Shannon. If you wanted to put the entire collection up for sale with some preparation and organizing, I’m sure it could attract upwards of two and a half, maybe three million in a bidding war.”

  “I’m having trouble breathing,” Shannon said with a strangled laugh.

  Ellie leaned over and put her hand on Shannon’s arm, smiled. “Art can be worth good money. It’s okay to recognize that. Even if it’s yours.”

  Matthew spoke up, breaking his silence for the first time. “Did you sell that painting by Marie you priced at six million?”

  Ellie glanced over at him. “Yes. Two days after I announced it for sale.”

  “You think Shannon’s collection of photographs is worth a million or more?”

  “Even a two-million purchase price is conservatively recouped in eight years, and the images will generate income for twenty years or longer. It’s a good deal for the buyer,” Ellie replied.

  Shannon asked carefully, “Deals like this happen, Ellie? You’re not just quoting me this kind of price because I’m going to be somewhat . . . publicly known soon?”

  Ellie’s expression smoothed out. “No,” she answered, not sounding offended and quick to assuage the worry. “There would be no marketing gimmick—buy a photo taken during her missing eleven years. If I buy the photographs, it would actually be easier if you chose a pseudonym. But that decision is one only you can make, Shannon.

  “I’d do very well on the deal, I don’t mind telling you, and it would be a pleasure to handle your photographs. If you need a clean slate—a before-and-after phase for your photography—selling the collection as a whole is an option to consider.”

  Ellie finished her iced tea. “The middle ground would be for you to retain ownership of the photographs, sell some as original works of art, license others, and use that to generate an income stream. It would involve more of your time, but would defer any significant decision on how to handle the body of work.”

  “Thanks for that, Ellie, the range of options,” Shannon said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I really like the discipline of choosing the best five hundred photos to sell each year. And there’s also an enormous appeal to simply putting a bow around the last eleven years and handing this entire collection over in a single sale. I know you represent Charlotte and Marie. Whichever way I go, would you be willing to take me on as a client?”

  Ellie nodded. “I’d be happy to have you as a client in whatever capacity you’d like me to consider, Shannon. I know I’d enjoy working with you. Go talk about this, brainstorm, play what-if. It’s been a pleasure to see these and to talk with you. My offer to buy your current set of photographs isn’t about to go away.” Ellie took a last look at the photos and held them out to Shannon. “I look forward to talking with you again whenever you have a question or wish to explore any of the options.”

  “Likewise, Ellie.” Shannon stood and accepted the photos, slipped them into the box.

  Minutes later, Matthew held the gallery door open, caught Shannon’s hand as he could see the tremor in it.

  “She said one to two million,” Shannon whispered. “I didn’t hear her wrong?”

  “One to two million, for those shoeboxes of memory cards and miscellaneous cards in envelopes,” Matthew confirmed.

  “I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

  “Please, not on my watch,” he teased. He put an arm around her shoulders, gave her a hug. “I admit, it was unexpected.”

  “She’s overpaying, I’m sure of it.”

  Matthew had been thinking through the details. “No, I think she’s being very fair to both of you. Selling five hundred photos a year for five hundred dollars apiece recoups a two-million purchase price in eight years. Ellie’s calculating that she can build your images into a powerful collectors’ brand. She knows her market and her business. She was being fair to both of you.”

  “What would you do if you were me?”

  “Not my decision,” he replied firmly.

  “Please, I’m asking.”

  He drew in a long breath, let it out, decided he did want to put something on the table for her to consider. “That camera fit naturally in your hand this afternoon, Shannon. You’re not done taking pictures. You could sell what you’ve already taken to Ellie, get on about the business of taking more pictures. You’re too close to your work to evaluate which five hundred photographs are the best ones to sell each year, and you don’t need the hassle of a staff working for you. Leave the marketing of your work to an expert. That camera is your future. When you’ve got another twenty thousand photographs you think are excellent, sell her those images too.”

  Shannon’s laughter bubbled. “Oh, Matthew, you make it sound so easy. Let’s go get ice cream to celebrate.”

  Matthew loved hearing the joy in her voice. “I seem to remember I owe you an ice-cream cone,” he agreed.

  Shannon had to eat fast to keep ahead of the melting ice cream. They were perched on a picnic table outside the shop, so if her cone dripped it would fall on concrete rather than her outfit. “Would you like me more or less if I was wealthy?” she asked around a bite.

  Matthew, startled, paused mid-bite with his more pedestrian sundae. “An interesting question. A complicated one.” He sorted it out in his mind. “I would like you about the same, I think,” he decided. “Wealth means you have no debt, have a steady income from your work, can choose—within reason—a lifestyle you want. If you chose an extravagant lifestyle, I probably would like you less. I’m pretty much an upper-middle-class, stay-out-of-debt kind of guy. If you’re planning to be a photographer, do some traveling, buy the occasional nice pair of shoes, you’re still very likable. The money is some security for you, which should make it easier to relax about the day-to-day decisions of your life, and that I would also find attractive.”

  “Are you wealthy?”

  “I’m . . . comfortably well-off with the continuing ability to earn a good living,” Matthew answered, going to the heart of the matter. “I like the level I’m at, but I’ve found that college is expensive,” he added with a small laugh.

  She smiled. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing—letting Becky go away to college rather than asking her to live at home, attend one locally, be safer as well as not have the extra expense.”

  “She needs the roommate and living away from home. She needs the confidence that she really has healed to where she can make it without me. She knows that, but she needs to experience that truth for herself. And I wanted my daughter to have something better than I had, like the freedom to focus on school without worrying about the bills, not to have to work a job while trying to study and get good grades.”

  “She’s going to make you proud.”

  “She already has.”

  Shannon finished her cone. “I want a clean slate,” she said, glancing over to meet his gaze. “I didn’t realize how much I wanted that until Ellie put the option out there. What I really want to do is go get those shoeboxes and envelopes and take them back to Ellie and tell her the offer she made is fair, that she has a deal. How about you hold on to the cards in your safe while we do the paperwork?”

  Matthew looked at his watch. He wasn’t into impulsive decisions, particularly when it came to big ones, but sometimes one option was simply and obviously right. “Let’s go do that,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

&
nbsp; “You can change your mind between now and us getting back to the gallery with the photos, and I’ll be okay with that. But it does mean a clean slate, it provides a career, and it gives you financial flexibility. When God hands you what you need, say yes.” He passed over to her the last of his sundae. “Here, finish this while I drive. I don’t want good ice cream to go to waste.”

  She slid off her perch. “I’m going to be a photographer and rich—this has been one very nice day.”

  He just laughed. He thought he was seeing one of God’s gifts to her unfold. The fact she’d been able to carry a camera during those years, that her pictures had survived, had helped Shannon to endure. Now they would help her heal. God was rebuilding something very important for Shannon now by providing for her financially, but also affirming she had talent and a career she could enjoy. One of the five items on that personal list of hers was being fulfilled.

  He couldn’t be more pleased for her. Shannon was getting one bright spot in her life in the midst of what could be a crushing set of truths still to come. She needed this, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

  29

  Matthew pulled into the driveway of Jeffery’s home just before seven that evening. Someone stood on the porch, and Shannon, undoing her seat belt to get out of the car, hesitated. Her father, Matthew realized. He reached over to squeeze her hand. “You can do this. Take a deep breath, step out of the car, give him a chance to speak first. It’s going to be fine. Courage, Shannon.”

  She blinked hard, nodded, and pushed open the door. Matthew stepped out, watchful, knowing this was going to play out in ways he couldn’t predict. Shannon and her father had to find their way back or she was going to be suffering for years to come.