and when do i say to myself, "this is it. this is enough. i've accomplished something." and when do i say it, and mean it?
is it enough to know that i'm doing the craft that i love to do, that i'm compelled to do, sometimes without reason? is it enough? and what is the metric of such a success?
to know no end to the images dreampt up in my head, to know no satisfaction or perfection, to never extend tat feeling of bliss that begins with a conversation, and ends with an exposure. these are the elements of my therapy.
photography being a tool for expression, exploration, reality, documentation, fantasy, memory, and on and on and on. it exists and without my interaction and execution, none of these images would be in the world.
each one beautiful in its own right, each one precious. each one necessary, and each one on purpose to some degree. it feels at times the images are scratching upon the walls of my mind begging for a release. the constant torment the catalyst for a myriad of moments of fond exertion.
blows to the eye in milliseconds. blows to the heart which linger. i wake up and see the potential of these images flicker and glitter in the sun coming through the trees. i go to sleep and see the looming apparitions of these images conjure themselves manifest in that time in between awakedness and slumber.
to have such blessed demons coaxing the very best out of you is a state indeed.
ask yourself why you make your work, why it's important to you, and why it's necessary to have your work in the world. ask yourself these questions, and know the answer.