Self-Inflicted Dreams

My aim and hope is that this doesn’t read like a pity-party. Just a small accounting of one’s life trajectory. One of a few articles where clicking on the publish button was a job unto itself.

There was a point in time that I’d become disillusioned with how my photographic life was going. A growing awareness I had become photographically stagnant. Having eased up off the photographic gas pedal for an extended period of time—which hadn’t actually been fully pressed to its limits in the first place.

Passive complacency was one of the culprits. Believing I had attained a level of success at a relative early age and date. Comfortable years spent freelance & staff assisting, shortly thereafter getting a staff photographer’s job at an in-house studio. The long-term goal in achieving title of “photographer.” Complete! On staff! The supposed life-long dream goal was finally here. Now what?

It ultimately felt like a false positive!

What determines pinnacles of success? I trust many photographers have their unique notions about it based on the goals they’ve laid out for themselves.

What do we see when looking at photographs of those we admire and respect? I believe that we don’t “just look” at those photographs. We consciously (or unconsciously) compare ourselves to them. Not necessarily to attain their status as a dream of our own, but an aspiration to be like them in some (or even every) way.

That’s some powerful psychology stuff! My own self inflicted dreams included.

We can observe in real-time with social media. The limitless number of photographs on Instagram that could seemingly have been taken by one photographer. A photographer idolization can be slathered with sweet visual treats of subjective unprofessed promises.

I left the photography world for three to four years. No photography. None! Just a few corporate and non-profit administrative jobs to get me through the days. A little over two years into those four, I began reevaluating where I emotionally and creatively stood regarding photography.

No longer chasing a dream, but strategizing on the road to what I believed artistry meant to, and for me.

Before that, it wasn’t specifically a creative outlet. It was more a means of survival. Making a way in the world with the skills I learned as a young adult. It was the way I was going to make a living, cash money y’all!

Immediately after a business convention in Phoenix with a non-profit, I added a few days on the back end for a weekend mini vacation. Drove to Grand Canyon National Park for a first-ever trip with an intent of reigniting a creative flow. All with a point-n-shoot camera, which I actively used more than the two pro cameras I owned. The first photographs I took at the canyon were self portraits, a proof-of-visit to the park. Does it look like a green screen photo? Sometime it does to my eyes. Taken at the canyon’s edge. I don’t remember which lookout point.

Meditating deeper on it during the trip, I didn’t remember specific thoughts or ideas I had about the photographic life I left behind. I just felt it in my bones that I had to get back to it as soon as I could.

My DNA is made of developer, stop bath, fixer, ASA/ISO, aperture, shutter, and f-stop among many other primal photographic bonds.

↑ This blurry self portrait, something I’d typically never show to anyone was intentionally included here. One of four taken, the only one where I happened to have a smile.

I thought, could it be that I was introduced to photography too early? A case could be made for that. By the same token, a case could also be made for any training given to, or lessons taught to someone at a very early age—between ten and fourteen years old.

I grabbed onto photography that early because it was a very safe space. The safest I had come across outside of familial comfort and support. A crutch? Possibly. But, who is truly thinking about long term goals at that age? I believe I was primarily searching for additional spaces of comfort.

Nothing like a walk in the park to clear one’s head.

↑ As far back as I can recall, success was thought to be in creating photographs similar to this. If I could produce a photo that sells other things, that’s got to count for some level of success. In the studio I worked day-in day-out with other photographers, there was a pecking order though. Senior photographers had years of seniority. Moving up was a scarcity since many on staff rarely left the safety and security of the job.

I don’t remember if or how I was able to verbalize the stagnation I had been feeling. When I was able to visualize it in the mind’s eye, I saw that it wasn’t self imposed, it was systemically imposed by rules set by seniority and regulations. Where barely a soul leaves such cushy and convenient a position, especially without having something else waiting for them the day after they’ve left.

↑ Learning how to type 65+ words per minute, earning a certificate in office software applications and processes, wasn’t going to cut it for the balance of life’s creative aspirations. I felt that I had to get back to being fully immersed in photography—even as a “starving artist.” It took decades, but I’m officially that starving artist that I never wished to be back in the days.

It ain’t pleasant. Had I chosen differently, I wouldn’t have the archive of photographs I’m fortunate to have today. The creativity of a photographic life in this moment, more than balances out for the doldrums of a desk job left behind.

↑ Were those first-ever days at the Grand Canyon the catalyst for living a life of personal creative freedom, daydreaming, and evolution? The inspiration was there, as for being the catalyst, I can’t confirm it with any certainty.

My self inflicted dreaming hasn’t stopped

I appreciate you taking time in your day to read this article.

Wishing you love until next time…

Buy me a caffè latte!