The truth is unavoidable. I am a procrastinator. A slacker of olympic proportion (if procrastination was an actual event, I wouldn't even make it to the stadium!). Worse still, when I start to make an effort, it's usually thinking of excuses NOT to do something. I can avoid life like no other. Well at least I used to. I'd thought maybe the last thing the 'interweb' needed was another photoblog, but perhaps it does. Either way, it would be just another excuse.
For quite some time I've had a tingling in the quiet part of my brain (the 'doing' bit), a whisper that has slowly grown into an almighty shout. Heard of the saying "You work to live, not live to work"? I used to think that was the motto of the working class. Punch in, punch out and have fun before the cycle starts again. But the tingling suggested otherwise.
I've always wanted a career that involved being creative, but I've been working solidly since the age of 18 in what have mostly been the 9-5 office environment. Hell with fluorescent lighting, where metaphorical walls are replaced by actual ones (albeit padded cubicles to prevent you from distracting yourself with life). And while it's led me to meeting some amazing people that have enriched my life, it's also led me into soul destroying bureaucracy and the most horrid facet of human nature - 'ego'. I'll move on from that unpleasant talk of management.
When 5pm had passed and my anger subsided I would allow myself to become absorbed in the lovely flashing box I call television, the abyss that is the internet or (where the anger hadn't fully subsided) the nearest violent video game to hand. All the while doing one of these I've longed to be the creator, the Ridley Scott, Akira Kurosawa or Annie Leibovitz. Though to qualify the final aspiration, I'm certain I would make an awful woman and an even worse Jew, I don't have the legs for it and you'd have to pry the bacon sandwich from my cold dead hand.
I love making pictures. I love that an image can capture a memory and emotion as well as create them. As more and more days of my life have passed and shutters closed where I made the time, I have become acutely aware that some, if not a lot of, people actually make a living from photography. The tingle had begun.
You work to live, not live to work. It's a sad thing to see that someone's work has taken over their life. Sad, unless perhaps it's something they love (no we're getting there!). I love making pictures. I'd also love to be my own boss. I think you can hide from the truth, especially if you're a world class procrastinator but at some point you I can't escape it. Now here I am, perhaps for the first time in my life unable to think of reasons to not follow my dreams. I've finally managed to escape the prison of my own making.
I've decided to write this blog to record my entry into the world of professional (i.e. paid) photography, as a way of measuring my successes as I go and also to share the journey with those interested. My hopes are that I might share my thoughts, inspirations and warning signs to those that venture on the same path. I hope that as you are reading these words, you too are following a dream.
For quite some time I've had a tingling in the quiet part of my brain (the 'doing' bit), a whisper that has slowly grown into an almighty shout. Heard of the saying "You work to live, not live to work"? I used to think that was the motto of the working class. Punch in, punch out and have fun before the cycle starts again. But the tingling suggested otherwise.
I've always wanted a career that involved being creative, but I've been working solidly since the age of 18 in what have mostly been the 9-5 office environment. Hell with fluorescent lighting, where metaphorical walls are replaced by actual ones (albeit padded cubicles to prevent you from distracting yourself with life). And while it's led me to meeting some amazing people that have enriched my life, it's also led me into soul destroying bureaucracy and the most horrid facet of human nature - 'ego'. I'll move on from that unpleasant talk of management.
When 5pm had passed and my anger subsided I would allow myself to become absorbed in the lovely flashing box I call television, the abyss that is the internet or (where the anger hadn't fully subsided) the nearest violent video game to hand. All the while doing one of these I've longed to be the creator, the Ridley Scott, Akira Kurosawa or Annie Leibovitz. Though to qualify the final aspiration, I'm certain I would make an awful woman and an even worse Jew, I don't have the legs for it and you'd have to pry the bacon sandwich from my cold dead hand.
I love making pictures. I love that an image can capture a memory and emotion as well as create them. As more and more days of my life have passed and shutters closed where I made the time, I have become acutely aware that some, if not a lot of, people actually make a living from photography. The tingle had begun.
You work to live, not live to work. It's a sad thing to see that someone's work has taken over their life. Sad, unless perhaps it's something they love (no we're getting there!). I love making pictures. I'd also love to be my own boss. I think you can hide from the truth, especially if you're a world class procrastinator but at some point you I can't escape it. Now here I am, perhaps for the first time in my life unable to think of reasons to not follow my dreams. I've finally managed to escape the prison of my own making.
I've decided to write this blog to record my entry into the world of professional (i.e. paid) photography, as a way of measuring my successes as I go and also to share the journey with those interested. My hopes are that I might share my thoughts, inspirations and warning signs to those that venture on the same path. I hope that as you are reading these words, you too are following a dream.
