Shopping with the Kids

About a year ago I was searching for an identity, a vision that would make me, me, at least in the eyes of others in terms of my work. Along the way, I found something more profound than a voice or an identity.

I found shopping.

I found the cheesy children’s toy department in Rite Aid Stores (Search for “toys” at the Rite Aid website and you get comprehensive listing of sex toys – search “children’s toys”  and you get, of all things, vitamins first, then toys. I recommend that you just go there in person).

I found the mask store in Antigua, Guatemala on one of my bike tours.

I found the housewares and glassware departments in Macy’s with a 6-month return policy.

I discovered Sephora (just for props, honest).

Then there’s Petco and CB2 and Pearl River (which I thought had closed) and the fish-mongers in Chinatown and the rubber store on Canal Street and Muji and Pylones and Lush (love the soaps, hate the fragrance) and Bed Bath and Beyond and the Lighting and Beyond store on 14th Street and, and, and…

I think only my daughter understands this.

The Three Amigos

I’ve been shooting fruits and vegetables for so many years in the studio and in Union Square and other markets, that it has produced an ongoing relationship (get it? Produce? Oh, never mind…). Richard Avedon once commented, “I’ve worked out a series of nos. No to exquisite light, no to apparent compositions, no to the seduction of poses or narrative, and all these nos force me to the yes. I have a white background. I have the person I’m interested in and the thing that happens between us.”

Somehow I’ve managed to do that with fruits and vegetables.

The Crowd

Seth Godin wrote a very short blog entry, On the Road to Mediocrity. The basic point is, “The only way to get mediocre is one step at a time.” Don’t settle. Simply a brilliant insight. Well worth reading.

In the Mirror...

In reading The Craftsman, by Richard Sennett, I was reminded of the guild hierarchy: an apprentice spent 7 years before becoming a journeyman and the journeyman, another five to ten years before earning the title of master craftsman.

After years of producing elaborate, complicated photography projects, my new style of work has become rather intuitive, natural and technically comfortable. Unconsciously, a natural perspective and a vision evolved out of years of experience. At first, however, I didn’t trust it; the process seemed too easy to me. Yet after a year of producing fun, new, portfolio images, I had to acknowledge my talent had become quite innate. I have become a master craftsman, not a charlatan wearing the Emperor’s New Clothes.

Sennett also notes that, “Masters should be pestered to explain themselves,” in a way that makes their process clear to others. That was meant in the context of training future masters, but I’d like to think it also pertains to relationships with clients. After all, everyone benefits from the dialog and the outcome is better work. And so I offer up this blog, without much pestering.

This new portfolio will never be finished. It’s a work in progress, always. Not just for the sake of marketing, but also for my own satisfaction and personal growth. I have to keep reminding myself, this portfolio took decades, not months, to develop—years spent honing technique and craft until it’s become second nature.

Now, I promise not to let this go to my head.

Or think that I’m wearing really nice clothes, when it’s just jeans and a t-shirt.