Brian Doben is one of those rare photographers, such as Diane Arbus or Duane Michals, who places great value on the subject rather than pure composition. He is passionate about getting to the heart of the people he photographs, prioritizing genuine conversation and honesty over a perfect set and lighting. Not to say that his images aren’t beautiful — composed joyfully and imaginatively, the photographs that comprise At Work are filled with an unmistakable human connection. Highlighting people and their careers, Doben’s upcoming book lends the same level of dignity often granted to a celebrity news anchor to a working-class farmer. There are no hierarchies or power imbalances. Almost thirteen years in the making, At Work will make viewers rethink their perceptions of professions both extraordinary and commonplace, fueling a much-needed unity. After all, no matter where we come from, we all have something to contribute.
From ranchers in Texas to a chemist in Boston, a sumo wrestler in Japan to street performers in Cuba, At Work is a collection of photographs of people from around the world “just doing their jobs”.
How long have you been a photographer and what initially drew you to the profession?
I have been a professional photographer since 1998. It’s been a beautiful journey, but it's taken its toll. I wanted to be a professional bike racer. My aspirations were to do the Tour de France, but that never panned out, which is probably a good thing.
When I was in college, I just had an instinct to pick up the camera one day. I went for a walk on a rainy day, and I saw a little rain drop on a leaf, and I thought, “Oh, that would make for a nice photograph.” I took some photos of it, went to the dark room at the school, asked them how to process, and lo and behold, I just completely fell in love with the whole romance of dark room, storytelling, etc. And so, I finished school and ended up assisting for three years, and I really was very fortunate to work with people that I really looked up to and admired. I learned so much from those experiences, and then I slowly went out on my own. Literally, as soon as I picked up the camera, I felt as though there was something there. And then it was just romance. I completely, absolutely fell head over heels in love with it. I even ended up getting hospitalized because I spent so much time in the dark room that I got oxygen poisoning!
What made you interested in photographing people in their working environments in particular?
I was a professional for maybe fifteen years already, and I was on an assignment in Nashville, photographing a country artist. I came back to my hotel room and was on the phone with my wife just talking about life and how the shoot went. She could just tell something was wrong in my voice, and so she thought something was wrong with the shoot. And I said, “No, no, there's nothing wrong with the shoot. I just don't really have a voice anymore. I don't know who I am. I feel like I just sell a product. I don't have an actual point of view or an emotional connection to these images anymore. I think I'm done with photography. I don't want to do this anymore.”
I really cherished the art and the profession, and I didn’t want to do a disservice to clients. And so, I wrote out a complete list of professions that I could do outside of photography. And every single one, my wife said no to. She’s like, “That's not it. That's not who you are. You're a photographer.” We had met in college, and she's a photographer herself, not professionally, but she's an incredibly talented photographer. And she said, “I think what you need to do is go back out and do what you used to do in college, which is just photograph people, do portraits of people. Just go out there and talk to them.”
I had lost that, because in the celebrity world, you don't really have the time to sit and have a human interaction. I never took it personal. It's just a machine. They're going from one thing to the next and they don't have time to connect with everyone. So, I extended my stay in Nashville, and I just started roaming around thinking, “What should I do? Well, let me go photograph some people that have businesses.” And I realized it was really fun, just getting to know these people, getting to know their energy and their passion. It started to fill my heart again and started giving me purpose. The photograph became secondary. What really became the primary thing was the conversation, and that's the thing that I was missing for so long.
When I looked at the images, I started to see something. Not only was my passion the same as it was when I was in college, but there was also a connection to the images. It wasn't just a pretty picture. There was a story behind each picture, and those stories meant a lot to me. It was like thinking that you'll never find love, and then going out for a walk and stumbling upon the love of your life.
Unfortunately, soon after that I was in a near death cycling accident. I was really injured and had to relearn a lot of things. I couldn't open my mouth for months. I had to do all these therapies to get the jaw muscles to relax, and I had to have teeth put in. I had no use of my hands.
Then finally, one day, when I was getting much better, I decided I want to go and pick up my camera. I wanted to see, do I still have it? I knew how to hold a camera, but I didn't know if I had that in me anymore because my brain was hit pretty bad. So, I went to New York City, where I'm from, and I met with my assistant, who I had had for well over a decade at that point, and we went to Harlem to do a photo shoot of this woman that ran a community garden in Harlem. Unfortunately, she didn't show up, but another woman was there, and she was really kind. We had the most beautiful conversation. It was such a wonderful, heart-filling experience, especially because of what I had been through just then. It wasn't about becoming a photographer again. It really just let me know that I'm still alive, and I have a lot to offer in conversation.
At the end of it, as I walked away, I noticed that the street we were on was Malcolm X Boulevard. Then I looked down at the release I just had this woman sign, and I saw the release said Shabazz, which sounded familiar. Finally, I looked on my phone and I realized she was Malcolm X's daughter.
She spoke about her childhood, her journey, her pain, never once alluding to or even saying anything about her father. And I spoke very honestly and bluntly about my journey back to where I was at that moment, from my accident and my childhood and all these things. We had the most beautiful, tearful conversation. It was just magnificent, and it really made me know that I'm okay, and that I have a lot of work to do, but I'm going to be okay.
That was a really special moment for me, and that's truthfully what the At Work project has given me over the past 13 years. It's given me so much. I can't even explain just how much power it's given me to be around people who love what they do. You learn people love what they do for so many different reasons, but never judge someone for what they do because you're not walking in their shoes.
I love that this series finds beauty in each kind of profession, from the working-class farmer to the celebrity news anchor. Do you approach both kinds of subjects in the same way?
That’s a great question. I don't think about it. I think the truth of it is, I come in bearing myself 100%. And typically, people open up right away because they feel that they're in a safe space, and so I can just talk to them and we relate on a human level. A lot of times, people think I'm there to photograph the thing they're making, and I have to sometimes pause and explain I'm there primarily for them, and I'm there to honor the person and their story.
What I've learned throughout this whole project is that we all have the same stories, just in a different dialect. We all have dreams and aspirations. It’s really about trying to get to the basics with everyone, whether they’re a celebrity or a farm worker. It's the same conversation.
I think that's so important, finding that dignity in each kind of profession. We’re all equally important in different ways, and we’re all needed for different reasons.
That’s a great point. We all have something to contribute. During my work as a commercial photographer, I would bring those same kind of principles to every set, and it makes such a difference to humanize and celebrate the most mundane moments and not make everything so spectacular.
For me, it's a really nice way of working, because it makes it that much easier for myself, too. After all these years cameras are like an extension of my hand. I don't even think about using it. It becomes second nature. When it becomes second nature is when you can be free and creative, because you're in a dream state. In sports, they call it a flow state. It just flows.
What advice do you have for other up-and-coming photographers?
You have to be honest with yourself. You have to be truthful, if to no one else but yourself. If you want to be a portrait photographer, are you someone who is comfortable having a conversation? Because conversation is crucial. A good portrait photographer is a therapist. You have to know how to take someone and guide them to the place that you want them to go to.
You have to be honest about what you want to be, what you want to do, and then you have to put in the work. You have to really find your voice. Don’t copy other people because that has a timestamp on it. You have to find who you are, and then you have to find a way of expressing that.
In my mind, every possible story has been told, but you haven't told it. That's what matters, right? Everyone could photograph the same tree, but how you do it is up to you. That, I think, is what matters, especially in today's world where there's so many photographers. We all tend to get so crippled with our insecurities and our concerns. “Is it going to be good enough?” It just has to be good enough for you, because there's always going to be someone who will attach to it.
At Work will be available this June.