What Happens to Your Photos After You Die?

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about mortality (I know, I’m such a ray of sunshine). And today, I came across David Bergman’s video that hit close to home. The question he’s answering sounds morbid on the surface, and even the subscriber who asked it thought so: What happens to a photographer’s work after they die? But to me, it wasn’t morbid at all. It’s just responsible.

So let’s talk about it.

Before we dive in, note that David is not a lawyer, and neither am I. Plus, laws differ between countries and states. Still, all of this is great general advice you can further discuss with a lawyer if you need to.

Your Copyright Doesn’t Die With You

The first thing worth understanding is that your photos a legal, transferable, even income-generating asset. Under US copyright law, you own the copyright to every image the moment you press the shutter, and there are additional benefits if you register your work with the copyright office. And the copyright protection doesn’t end when you do. It extends for 70 years after your death, meaning your work could benefit your family for two generations if you plan for it.

However, if you die without a will or trust, both your physical files and your copyright could end up in legal limbo. David points to the story of Vivian Maier, I’m sure most of our readers have heard of her. She died in 2009 without a will or known heirs. Her negatives had already been sold at auction when she couldn’t pay her storage bills. The man who bought them, John Maloof, owned the physical prints but not the copyright. What followed were years of legal battles just to figure out who actually owned the rights to her life’s work. All of that chaos, David notes, could have been avoided if Vivian had written a will.

[Related Reading: Vivian Maier’s Portfolio Faces Uncertain Future As Her Estate Enters Complicated Legal Battle]

A Will or Trust Is Non-Negotiable

If you care about what happens to your work, a will or trust is the foundation of everything else. It’s how you direct who gets what, how you protect your images from being used in ways you’d never approve of, and how you make sure whoever inherits your archive actually knows what to do with it.

David set up a revocable living trust with an estate planning attorney, explicitly including his photographic archive. He says that, unlike a will, a trust doesn’t go through probate court. This means heirs can access and manage assets much more quickly and privately. There’s a cost involved in this, but as David puts it, it costs considerably less than the legal battles your family will face without one.

You can also include specific protections in your estate documents, such as restrictions on how your work can be used, which types of clients can license it, or whether it can be used in advertising at all. Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys famously included a clause in his will prohibiting his music from being used in ads. Photographers have that same power, just make sure to tackle all the legal caveats. I’m saying this because Adam’s clause may not be valid, according to Forbes.

Name Someone Who Gets It

Even with the legal side sorted, there’s a practical problem: your beneficiary might have no idea what to do with a hard drive full of RAW files. David recommends naming a photographic executor. It’s not a formal legal title in most states, but a written designation of someone who understands photography, knows what your work is worth, and can manage or advise on your archive on behalf of your estate. Ideally another photographer, or at least someone familiar with it.

That person doesn’t have to be the copyright holder either. The proceeds can go to your heirs while someone else handles the day-to-day management of the archive. Think of it as making sure your life’s work lands in capable hands.

The Practical Stuff

Beyond the legal framework, David walks through a checklist of practical steps that are easy to overlook. Your physical drives will eventually fail, typically within 5 to 10 years, so migrating to new media regularly is a must. Cloud storage accounts stop existing the moment subscriptions lapse, so someone needs to know what’s being paid for and keep paying for it. Stock agency accounts like Getty or Shutterstock may still be generating income after you’re gone, and if no one knows about them or can access them, that income simply stops.

David also notes that you can, and should, print some of your work. A quality archival inkjet print on the right paper can last hundreds of years with no maintenance, no subscriptions, and no file formats to worry about. There’s something about a physical book or print on a shelf that communicates value in a way a hard drive never will.

And then there’s the archive itself. Culling your work down to your best images, organizing folders logically, embedding metadata and captions, flagging anything you’d want kept private: all of this makes an enormous difference for the people left to deal with it.

Have the Conversation

All the legal documents in the world won’t help if no one knows they exist. David’s most important advice is: talk to the people who will inherit your work while you’re still here to explain it. Tell them where everything is, what it might be worth, and what you want done with it. Don’t just name someone in a document and assume they’ll figure it out.

I know none of this is fun to think about, and it may even induce some anxiety. But it’s necessary to sort this out sooner or later. After all, I believe all of this really comes down to respect. Respect for yourself, your work, and for the people you’ll leave behind. But also respect for the idea that what you’ve created has value beyond your lifetime. Photography is how a lot of us make sense of the world and leave something of ourselves in it.

[What Happens to Your Photos After You Die? – Ask David Bergman | Adorama TV]

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