Chapter 2: What is a Cult? – A Neutral Framework

The definition comes from scholars Bromley and Zablocki, who describe cults as “an ideological organization held together by charismatic relationships and demanding total commitment.” This highlights both the central role of leadership and the high expectations placed on members. A common tactic I’ve observed is control of information, where leaders restrict what members can see or discuss to keep them aligned with the group’s narrative. I’ve often seen this in group chats on platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and WhatsApp, where leaders enforce strict rules about what topics are acceptable. This control often pairs with charismatic leadership, where a central figure or figures position themselves as the ultimate authority, attracting followers through charm, confidence, or claims of special knowledge and connections. In many of these groups, multiple leaders manage areas like marketing, legal, and social media to reinforce that authority.

Once inside, members face group conformity and peer pressure, which make it difficult to question rules or walk away without risking rejection. These groups also build loyalty through promises of exclusivity or insider status, convincing members that they belong to something rare and superior. Those who start asking “why” or push back against the system often get removed for failing to “toe the line.” While these traits exist in varying degrees across different organizations, together they form a framework for recognizing when a community shifts from supportive to controlling. I will admit that this is an ingenious way to monetize photographers, videographers, and models for the growth of the event organizers. But you must ask yourself: How does this benefit the individual?



Being part of a cult can, at least in the beginning, feel beneficial. Many people join because these groups provide a strong sense of belonging, community, and purpose. These are needs that psychology identifies as essential for human well-being. While that sense of belonging can feel positive, the same elements often carry hidden costs. What looks like support can quickly turn into dependence, where a person’s identity, finances, and relationships become tied to the group. For example, in my own experience, I shot a variety of work including portraits, landscapes, and macro photography. Many of the people I met at events only valued portraits, so when I posted landscapes or macro shots, those posts were ignored, even when I published them alongside portraits in the same timeframe.

Chapter 3: The Rise of Photography Event Organizers

After researching this topic, I traced the rise of photography events as far back as the 1800s. I will save that history lesson for later and jump ahead to the mid-1900s. During this time, photography evolved beyond solitary practice and gave rise to organized communities and structured learning spaces that supported creative development and critical discourse.

One of the most influential examples was the Kamoinge Workshop, founded in New York City in 1963. As one of the first collaborations between two African American photography groups, Kamoinge provided mentorship, mutual support, and artistic solidarity at a time when Black photographers were excluded from mainstream institutions. The collective encouraged members to document Black life authentically and creatively, setting a standard for community-centered artistry. Many people, myself included, only discover this part of photography history after digging deeper.



In the 21st century, the trend of styled shoots emerged as a unique tool within the photography community. These shoots, often visible on Instagram and especially around New York Fashion Week (NYFW), bring together photographers, planners, models, makeup artists, and venues to create highly curated content. Styled shoots give newcomers a way to learn, experiment, and build portfolios, while also helping photographers explore their own styles by engaging with the styles of others. Platforms like Eventbrite and Meetup host a variety of these gatherings, ranging from low-cost meetups to overpriced events. In my experience, cheaper events often provide the same value as expensive ones, apart from access to more elaborate venues. Many are promoted as learning opportunities that combine education, exhibition, and networking.

Chapter 4: Cult-Like Parallels in Photography Events

One of the most telling parallels between cults and certain photography event organizers is how these leaders position themselves as indispensable gatekeepers. They present themselves as gurus who claim to hold the keys to opportunity, access, and creative legitimacy. They attract large followings by promising visibility, collaboration, and career momentum, making participation in their events feel like the only path forward.

This dynamic reflects what sociologist Max Weber called charismatic authority. He described it as a form of leadership where followers’ loyalty rests on the leader’s perceived exceptional traits rather than tradition or structure. Weber explained that charismatic authority grows from “devotion to the exceptional sanctity, heroism or exemplary character of an individual person,” which creates a bond of personal allegiance between leader and follower. In photography circles, this path often leads to unhealthy dependency. When access to models, venues, or recognition depends on continually buying into a guru’s event ecosystem, belonging turns into obedience. Over time, questioning the leader or stepping away from events erodes access and often results in exclusion, damaging both reputation and emotional well-being. I am experiencing this firsthand.

Another cult-like trait in photography events is the creation of exclusivity. Organizers frame participation as a privilege rather than a transaction. They create inner circles, VIP tiers, or selective invitations, much like the examples I have described earlier. On the surface, exclusivity feels rewarding. Being chosen or given special access provides validation, belonging, and elevated status. It appeals to a basic psychological need for recognition. Major companies such as Apple use similar tactics with their tiered iPhone lineups like the iPhone 16, iPhone 16 Pro, and iPhone 16 Pro Max.

Organizers often use exclusivity as a tool of manipulation. Social psychologists have studied the scarcity principle, which shows that people place higher value on opportunities that appear rare or limited. Robert Cialdini explained that “opportunities seem more valuable when their availability is limited,” and people are more likely to comply when they believe access is scarce or selective (Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion, 2007). Organizers rely on this principle to market their events, packages, or VIP groups as must-have opportunities, even when the benefits fail to justify the cost.

For photographers and videographers, the danger lies in mistaking exclusivity for real advancement. Believing that inclusion in a select group guarantees success traps creatives in a cycle of paying for higher-tier experiences and chasing validation instead of building independent growth. Those left out of these so-called inner circles often feel inadequate or ostracized, reinforcing the idea that success depends on the organizer’s approval. I see this regularly with frequent attendees who rush to every event just to stay visible.

Organizers also use peer pressure to maintain control. Many photographers feel they must attend every event, praise the organizers, and avoid raising concerns to protect their place in the community. I began losing support and followers as soon as I stopped attending a particular group’s events. The decline accelerated when I ignored two leaders who asked why I left both the events and the group chat. Their actions reminded me of Solomon Asch’s conformity experiments in the 1950s. In those studies, participants gave obviously wrong answers simply because the group agreed on them. Asch concluded that “that action which appears obviously incorrect may still be chosen under group pressure” (Asch, 1951, Effects of Group Pressure upon the Modification and Distortion of Judgments). I witnessed this same effect at events where VIP ticket holders received no different treatment than general attendees, yet they accepted it without complaint.

In many photography communities I’ve joined, members hesitate to criticize events or organizers because they fear exclusion or reputational damage. Instead of open dialogue, silence dominates while exaggerated praise spreads quickly. Positive comments like “Let him or her cook!” circulate easily, while negative ones such as “You owe me more pictures” are shut down. This creates a culture where harmful practices go unchallenged, and creatives keep investing their time and money not out of genuine excitement but out of fear of being left behind or blacklisted.

A recurring pattern I’ve witnessed in these circles is the deliberate creation of financial dependence through constant upselling. Organizers lure photographers with ticket bundles, premium memberships that promise “special access,” or early-bird deals that suggest scarcity. Each tier feels like an investment in one’s career, but over time it creates a cycle where progress seems possible only by paying for the next event. I also noticed ticket prices varied by role, with different rates for photographers, models, and others. At one point, an organizer gave me a 30 percent discount code through Eventbrite and told me not to share it. Even with the discount, I didn’t feel motivated to keep attending.

This cycle ties directly to the principle of commitment and consistency described by Robert Cialdini. In Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion (2007), he explains that once people commit to a small decision, they often continue making additional purchases to stay consistent with that choice. In photography, one workshop ticket can push someone to buy memberships or sign up for more events, believing they must “see it through” to justify their initial investment.

Like mobile games that thrive on the sunk cost fallacy, financial loyalty eventually overshadows creative independence. Instead of asking whether the event truly supports their growth, photographers keep paying out of fear of missing out, losing their place in the community, or wasting what they already spent. This dependency blurs the line between growth and exploitation, leaving many drained of resources with little measurable advancement. I would have fallen into the same trap if I had not focused on building my own photography business while attending these events.

Chapter 6: Psychological and Financial Impact on Photographers

 Photography activities attract creative people because of their strong emotional appeal. One of the most common hooks is FOMO (fear of missing out). This psychological driver convinces photographers they will fall behind if they skip an event, miss a styled shoot, or fail to align with the “in” group. Social media often fuels this cycle. When organizers heavily promote an event before it happens and attendees flood platforms afterward with the content they created, it drives the “you can be part of this too” feeling.



This fear ties directly to the pressure to belong, another powerful motivator that often overwhelms critical judgment. Many attendees admit to chasing validation or the recognition that comes from being seen at these events, sharing images online, or earning public approval from the organizer and their circle. These forces keep photographers engaged long past the point of genuine benefit. This is what I call conditional support, where creators feel compelled to focus only on the areas they know the collective will reward. In my case, that meant portraits.

Financially, this cycle drains resources quickly. Repeated spending on tickets, memberships, VIP access, and travel piles up without delivering meaningful career advancement. Looking back, I know I should have invested much of that money directly into my business instead of these events. Research in behavioral economics shows that sunk-cost bias pushes people to keep spending even when returns remain low, simply because they already invested so much (Arkes & Blumer, 1985). In photography, this often means spending thousands of dollars over several years on events that grow the organizer’s brand rather than the attendee’s long-term success.

The psychological toll hits just as hard. When creatives realize their investment does not match the promises made, they often face disillusionment and burnout. You have probably heard the word “burnout” in groups, usually when people step back for a while and sometimes return later. Instead of feeling empowered, they feel exploited and manipulated, questioning their self-worth and their place in the industry. Psychologists note that environments built on conditional acceptance, where belonging depends on compliance, often raise anxiety and lower well-being (Deci & Ryan, 2000, Self-Determination Theory). For photographers, this can mean losing the passion that drew them to the craft in the first place.



Ultimately, the mix of psychological hooks and financial dependence can transform what should be a joyful, creative outlet into a draining cycle. Breaking free requires awareness of these pressures and the courage to set boundaries, even when it means losing the approval of those who profit most from your participation.

Chapter 7: Healthy vs Toxic Organizers – How to Spot the Difference

Not every organizer or photography event creates problems. Many provide real value and create spaces where creativity thrives. The challenge for photographers is learning how to recognize healthy leadership and avoid toxic practices before investing time and money.

Healthy organizers operate with transparency. They clearly outline what attendees can expect, who will participate, and what the ticket price does or does not cover. Their terms of agreement remain straightforward, with fair refund policies and clearly defined deliverables. They encourage open dialogue, welcome feedback, and practice balanced leadership, which means no single person holds untouchable authority. When unexpected issues arise, such as scheduling changes or logistical setbacks, healthy organizers communicate openly and take responsibility.

Toxic organizers, by contrast, rely on secrecy and manipulation. They often provide vague event details or withhold important information, making it difficult for attendees to know what they are paying for. Their marketing frequently overpromises benefits such as guaranteed exposure, career advancement, or insider connections, yet the results rarely match the claims. These organizers also tend to react poorly to criticism, sometimes silencing dissenting voices or shaming attendees who ask difficult questions. Instead of fostering community, they create dependency that benefits the organizer more than the creative participants.

This checklist became my personal tool for evaluating events, and it quickly changed how I approached them. Once I started applying these questions, I realized that only about one out of ten events actually delivered real benefits. The rest failed to honor their promises or created unnecessary dependency. By using this checklist, you can make clearer decisions, protect your resources, and avoid falling into cycles of disappointment.

Chapter 8: Personal Reflection

When I look back on my involvement with certain photography events, I see clearly how I fell into the cycle. At the time, I believed that attending workshops and styled shoots was the key to growth. I wanted to belong, to build connections, and to prove that I was serious about my craft. Many organizers positioned themselves as gatekeepers to opportunities I couldn’t create on my own, and like many others, I bought into the idea that persistent participation would eventually lead to recognition and advancement.

Stepping away from those who turned out to be different than I expected became the turning point. Walking away was not easy. I lost people I thought were supporters, and I had to face the uncomfortable truth that others had taken advantage of my loyalty. I feared that the few I enjoyed working with would also disappear, and sadly, many did. But in that space I rediscovered something important: my creativity does not depend on anyone else’s approval. Once I stopped chasing validation through these events, I focused on my own projects, my own clients, and the joy of photography itself. Setting boundaries gave me the freedom and clarity I had been missing, and it protected me from the burnout I saw so many others experience. That realization alone carries weight.

That experience permanently reshaped how I view photography events and community-building. I no longer value groups that demand conformity or blind loyalty. I now believe in collaboration rooted in transparency, respect, and mutual growth. This belief is why I feel more at home during solo or small photowalks with people who want friendship and who want to learn how others work. A true community should empower each photographer to find their own voice, not pressure them to follow a single leader’s vision. While I can still appreciate the role these events can play, I now approach them with a critical eye, always asking whether they serve the art and the artist or simply the organizer’s ego.

Chapter 9: Moving Forward – Building Better Communities

If toxic or cult-like organizers harm the photography world, the solution is not to abandon events altogether but to rethink how communities are built. Photographers do not need to rely on one central figure to create opportunities. They can foster spaces that stay collaborative, transparent, and supportive of genuine growth.

One alternative is the self-organized meetup. I began hosting these after I felt blacklisted and lost the conditional support I once had. These gatherings cost little or nothing and allow photographers to connect without the gatekeeping of an organizer charging high fees. Meeting in a park, walking through a city street, or renting a studio creates opportunities for practice without inflated promises. Collaborative shoots also offer value when each creative contributes something, whether that is a model, location, wardrobe, or equipment.

Another key step is empowering photographers to set boundaries. Photographers must be willing to say “no” when something feels exploitative and take the time to carefully read contracts, terms of service, and event agreements. This practice is crucial because it shows you know your value instead of handing it over to others. Understanding refund policies, ownership rights, and usage clauses protects against manipulation and prevents costly misunderstandings. The responsibility is twofold: organizers must communicate clearly, and photographers must hold themselves accountable by doing their due diligence.

Finally, a healthier photography community thrives on transparency. Organizers should state clearly what attendees will receive, invite feedback, and accept constructive criticism without hostility. Photographers can strengthen this culture by sharing honest accounts of their experiences, both positive and negative, so others can make informed choices. When transparency replaces secrecy and collaboration replaces control, the community becomes stronger and more sustainable.



At its core, photography is about connection. By moving away from cult-like dynamics and toward cooperative structures, the industry and the art form can grow in ways that remain empowering, inclusive, and genuinely rewarding for everyone involved.