All of this has come as a bit of a surprise to me, the whole photography thing. In many ways there has been a steady reluctance within that has sought to squelch the creative voice because there was a chance that it just might draw unwanted attention. There was the possibility of rejection. Friends would give a thumbs up even if to just be nice. Family would smile and nod. The masses were the ones to feared though. The ones out there who had no connection to me other that the art that I was presenting for their consideration. In the digital age there isn’t even a face to attach to the person holding out their work, no handshake, not even a bit of meaningless chatter to get things warmed up. Just acceptance or rejection. Even a silent perusal left no warmth in its wake, just another feedback statistic.
There is no real rhyme or reason to why I am doing this other than the compulsive desire to share what I have seen through the lens. Compulsive, but not intrusive, not ‘in your face’, just out there for you to take hold of and perhaps add to the wallpaper of images that cry to be refreshed as they fade from your mind. Perhaps just a snapshot slapped over the cracks with some spit on the back, but always there is the hope that even if it is to just cover a crack that it will do so in the respectability of a frame. Some sticks and glass; metal; foamcore or what-have-you to enhance its attraction and keep the edges from curling back like lips crying out to be covered yet again. The hope is there. It hangs in a frame on the wall of my mind where it covers the crack of fear that once captivated my eye.
Hope is a beautiful thing.