I’ve been taking pictures again and it feels good. I signed up for portfolio reviews but I don’t really have expectations for anything to come of it careerwise. I’m in it for the friendships and sense of community. It is lonely out here.I’m at a point where I’m looking at where I’ve been and where I’m hoping to go. I’m less interested in a thriving career as an artist, which oddly might be the secret ingredient to actually having a career in the arts. I’ve got less to prove and more to explore. 

So, I’m bumming around with a fold up camera and just taking photos of things I find interesting or, dare I say, pretty. Too much is made about making art. I suppose it is a personal problem of mine where I feel compelled to justify my actions with the business model passed down to me: does it create an income and is it practical? 

My best work is made when I don’t really think about that stuff. It’s not that it shouldn’t be a consideration but, there is no joy in it. 

So, I buy inexpensive roll film and basic printing paper. I don’t rely on luxurious materials to save my ass. 

The work is “about” or perhaps being made by someone at a period of transition in life. I’m officially middle aged. It’s strange. I have seen the elephant. I had no idea what I would look or feel like at this age and here I am.

The process might change but then again, maybe not. It doesn’t matter. I’m committing to taking pictures I like, showing them to people, and writing about things that interest me. We’ll see what happens. It is good to be at an age where curiosity is okay. Call it a second childhood.