Sometimes it feels like the photography industry is one magnificent, well-oiled grift. It will happily sell you a two-thousand-dollar lens, the romantic illusion of being an artist, and the sweet, intoxicating hope of making a living, right up until the point when you're in your garage, on a Monday, with all the gear, no clients, and a bank account in the red. And commercial photography doesn’t have a clear front porch with polished brass numbers. It actually feels like it's an unmarked steel door at the end of a wet, dark alley that turns out to be an exclusive speakeasy. Guys in black…