Member Spotlight: Erica Reade, Founding Director

How would you describe your photography in one sentence?

At its core, my photography is about joy, love and beauty; whether couples I pass on the street or beach, landscape, summer time and the natural world, or reconnecting with my childhood roots.

What sparked the idea for Camera of the Month Club, and what need were you hoping it would fill?

At that time, I needed direction and feedback on my work, as well as a friendly community of photo friends, badly. I’d like to say that the birth of CMC was a perfect trifecta of good bad timing:

-In August 2014, I left a harsh critique at a portfolio review dejected and in tears, and I vowed to quit photography. Two weeks later, I admitted to myself that quitting wasn’t the answer, and that what I needed was creative direction, friendly but necessary feedback on my work, and community to talk to about photography.

-I was feeling really lost with my work, and most of my friends at the time weren’t photographers. I wanted to connect with like-minded photographers that were friendly and loved experimenting with different formats, whether digital, Polaroid, or alternative processes, and who also wanted to see their work and photo careers grow.

-I couldn’t justify going into more student debt for an MFA, so I figured a club might be a smarter financial decision.

All of these thoughts, events and emotions were stirring in me and after looking around at the existing camera clubs in NY at that time, none really spoke to me or felt inviting to my level of photography. So in late September that year, I used meetup.com to launch a meeting at Loreley Beer Garden in the Lower East Side and I placed a Polaroid camera on the table so people could find me. 8 people showed up and I was beside myself with excitement - they were all as excited about meeting up monthly to discuss photography and cameras, and share prints with each other. A couple of weeks later, I reached out to SohoPhoto Gallery about renting their gallery space for our monthly meetings, and our first official CMC meeting was held on the last Tuesday of October 2014. 

What’s been most meaningful to you about watching CMC grow into what it is today?

It’s hard to boil it down to just one thing - at the end of the day, I’ll always come back to the friendships and community that feel the most meaningful - especially witnessing and being a part of the camaraderie at our photo walks, annual retreat, and exhibitions. I’ve watched the evolution of an almost empty-room some months, to making it through a very rough 2020 on Zoom and socially distant photo walks, to our monumental 10-year show, and our deeply special and restorative annual retreats, all because our shared sense of community was the underlying force.

Seeing in real-time people’s confidence in their work grow, and seeing members go on to be accepted into other exhibitions, publish books, and land photo jobs, is also really fulfilling. As soon as newcomers experience a critique, I can see people’s shoulders drop with relief, that they recognize instantly that we truly are a fun, welcoming environment for photographers at all levels and places in their creative journey. The quality of the photography our members bring to the table has also grown so much over the years, in its breadth of subject matter, dedication and vulnerability. There is no sense of competition amongst our members during critiques, everyone really is there to encourage their fellow members to improve their work and follow their passions, and it’s a beautiful thing to witness.

When I think back to how insecure and directionless I felt in 2014, and now to look around the very full room each month, full of talented, excited photographers sharing their talents and dreams, I really do feel so much gratitude and pride this group has grown, and sustained me for over 11 years.

And of course, I have to say, so much of its success is also due to the hard work, friendship and dedication of my fellow co-directors, as well as so many of our longer-term members who have come back year after year, inviting new faces song the way, bringing new ideas, vision and keeping our meetings and programming fresh and relevant. Thank you to all of you too.

What’s one piece of advice you’d give to a photographer building confidence in their work?

I’m cheating with a three-part answer.

-Share your work with humans first, screens second. Of course, the online world has its merits but nothing replaces human interaction, feedback, laughter and vulnerability. Furthermore, print your work and share that printed work with your fellow humans; it goes a long way to see your outputs in your hands in a way that screens will never do. 

-Develop thicker skin and keep an open mind to (friendly, well-meaning) critique. My work never would have gotten to the place it is today without years and years of taking in critical feedback, even when it wasn’t always easy to hear. But when it comes from the right place, it has always propelled me forward. 

-Finally, have fun. If you’re not having fun, you’re taking yourself too seriously. Photographers possess the one of the greatest creative gifts that exist, and I’m so so happy that my whole life is about making imagery and have fun while doing it.

Share 5–10 images from a body of work that excites you right now. What connects them?

I’m sharing work from an ongoing series I started last summer, called ‘Just Visiting,’ around being an only child, my attachment to some favorite childhood memories and what they mean today, all while thinking about my relationship to aging parents and the place I grew up.

I don’t really have any type of artist statement yet, as I’m still working out its direction. I took these at the cottage outside of Quebec City that I grew up going to every summer, that my grandparents bought in the 1960s. It was passed down to my father once they passed and he spends his summers there alone. I visited him last summer for a longer period of time than I normally do, and I knew I had to document my time there. As my parents are getting older, I have been thinking about what it means to be an only child with aging parents in different parts of the world, and how I am dealing with that and what it means to spend more and more time in a place my relatives once lived.

My mother gave me a stack of photos of my father when they were together, and I was struck by her eye, the similarities in some of her photos to my own, and how much of their life together I have no idea about. In some ways, some of these photos are a continuation of that story. I left Canada when I was 23 and now at 42, I’m thinking about what family, roots and home really means.