I feel torn between several ambitious projects that are very nearly finished, but each remains stuck at their own individual indefinite cruxes. I feel like I can’t publish work because I have no idea where to begin. I don’t want to publish old work because I don’t want to misrepresent where I am at in terms of skill level (technical and artistic), but I feel as though I have not yet earned the right to publish new work because the old work is then “forgotten” in some dusty corner of yesterday. When I go to share work here I hope to have it paired with writing unless I feel that the images are powerful enough to stand on their own. Most of the time, however, it feels like I’m only offering half of the equation (by putting forth just images or just writing) because the images are as loved as the words. I have plenty of article ideas that I’m simply hoping … I don’t know, ferment over time? They’re good ideas, I just worry about whether or not they are “good enough.” I follow this by running my head into the wall of a question “is anything ever truly going to make it beyond the finish line of “good enough” to allow me to provide it the seal of completely finished?”
I faced this specific problem once before when it came to pondering “how much post production should an image go through?” — sitting here behind the computer, my heart a wet sloppy rind, I remember: the anxiety fades when I start the work; the rest always sorts itself out. This very entry didn’t know its ass from its face when I put down the first word — my hands just knew the words were present. As the great David Bowie once said “the moment you know, you know you know.”
Anxiety is my most ferocious creative clot and praxis my greatest laxative.
About the image:
This character exchanged a glance for the use of my phone. I didn’t ask him to pose (not even so much as a “hold still”); I didn’t say anything outside of the confines of what felt like normal conversation to receive this expression. Life brought it all together.
He desperately needed to make a call to his mother, who he didn’t actually end up getting a hold of and at one point the traffic of the Stater Brothers parking lot we were in built up so heavily behind him that it forced him to need to take a lap around the lot. He didn’t announce his plan and his immediate speed made my brain reflex to the idea that that was the last time I would see my phone. He finished up a call with his cousin, asked if I was interested in taking a paid photo opportunity, exchanged information with me and then sped off into the remainder of the day.
I have not heard from him since.
