In the world of photography, and maybe art in general, there are some things that make me crazy.  

Giclee Prints—Not as many people (and when I say people, I mean art sellers in galleries) push the notion of “Giclee” printing. these days.  This one makes me laugh out loud when I still see or hear it.  Giclee is a fancy-schmancy word for ink jet printing.  The word is french and it literally means “to spray.”  Now I sort of understand why an art seller would want to push the notion of giclee prints because when you are trying to get top dollar for a piece of art work, calling it an ink jet print just does not have the same caché.  Does it mean I can print art like that on my $150 printer from Staples?   Not likely, but ink jet printing did make printing more accessible and no longer required more expensive lithography.  I don’t know if ink jet printing has totally replaced lithography, but from what I know about printing, it seems likely.   Modern ink jet printers are capable of printing a very wide range of colors (gamut) and use archival ink sets and papers.  So if someone asks me about my printing, I tell them I use an Epson P800 printer and I only use Epson’s archival ink sets.  My choice of paper may vary depending on circumstances.  I am very happy with Ink Jet Art Ceramic Lustre paper and I also use Hahnemühle Photo Rag (bright white) for matte surface presentations.  

Limited Editions—I get it, everyone wants to think they bought something unique, a signed print numbered 1/100, or 99/500, whatever.  Again, it is the caché factor. As a purchaser, I am special, I snagged a limited edition print.  But what you don’t know is that if someone sells out their edition of 100, or whatever, they simply create a new edition, maybe change one thing, or adjust the size smaller or larger. Or they treat each print surface (on paper or metal or canvas) as a different edition or they denote some as “artists proofs” or they have signed and unsigned prints.   So they get to continue selling the popular image you thought had some exclusivity.  That is why I don’t number my prints.  It is a me thing. I know there are lots of reputable photographers that are scrupulous about NOT gaming the system, and kudos to them; but how do you know.
Others may choose to disagree and that is fine.  

Workshops—Lots of photographers who used to make a living shooting photographs now conduct workshops since the markets they once fulfilled collapsed.  Glossy print magazines like Life and Sports Illustrated and markets for stock photography that paid well are mostly long gone.  High end photography is more accessible. Let me be clear, I attend workshops.  There are people that attend workshops but don’t take the time to actually learn from their experiences.  Sure they come back with sometimes interesting images, sometimes even something “frame worthy” but too often they are incapable of putting into practice the skills they were supposed to have learned once on their own.  Who should get the credit for their workshop work…the experienced guide/instructor who told people what settings to use and where to stand or the tourist accompanying the camera?   Yes, I have gone on such workshops. One where the leader told users what lens to use and called out camera settings for people. I get it, the guide wants everyone to come home “successful" with a souvenir. For me it is more about the access and more often than not, I try to stand apart from the other photographers on these trips, sometimes with a spectacular fail, but other times with a nice image that I can call my own.   

Artist Statements—If a picture is worth a thousand words (as the saying goes) why is it necessary to add additional words to accompany the photo? Did Picasso or Rembrandt use artist statements? Shouldn’t the artwork say it all? If you have to explain it, I don’t think you have done your job as an artist/photographer. Is it really important what the artist was thinking?  Do  you really care about their state of mind?  Isn’t the emotion evoked by the image enough? Does it matter why I photograph, or a painter paints or a glass blower blows (there is a laugh there I think). I don’t think any of those things matter.  What matters is that the two people (creator and observer) have a relationship.  Ansel Adams said “There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer.”

That should be enough.