(no subject)
PHEW! I finally got to drop off the final prints to my clients this morning. They really loved them, which totally made my day. And they said they would be back in touch once the weather warms up to take some pictures of their kids! I also left one print and some business cards behind for them to pin up in the horse stable, so hopefully I get another client from that.
I have to try my hardest to get where I want to go. Even if I never make a ton of money, if this is the way I could help provide income for Kyle and I, I would be eternally happy. It's extremely satisfying to be able to create something for someone else. And to have them like it. To have them give you their hard earned money for it. It makes me realize how much pictures can mean to people and how much I want to be able to provide that service. I fell in love with photography at 15 when I took the photo elective at high school. I was finally good at something...I was never the best fine art student (drawing doesn't come easily), I was nerdy but not super smart. I was just average in so many of my adolescent endeavors. Except for this. I won competitions and people's praise. It was all so encouraging. My teacher pushed me to continue my studies in college.
Then came the three most tumultuous years of my life. Three little letters: R.I.T.
I was a dime a dozen. again. I was working so hard just to scrape by. Nothing I did came from a place of happiness and love. Nothing came from that same place it came from in high school. And I blame it on so many things. Myself being the biggest problem. I was wrapped up in awful relationships and consuming self-doubt about whether I deserved to be loved. I did hurtful things and got hurt in return. My school work and photos were the last thing on my mind for so much of my time there. I hated being locked away inside a light studio all day. I came to loathe the time I spent waiting on line at "the cage" to rent out Mamiyas, Hasselblads, Sinars. ugh. Even now those names send shivers. So I left. And I stopped taking pictures. For a long time. Craft...knitting in particular filled that big hole left by where picture use to be. I threw out tons of the stuff I did while at RIT. It's long gone, decomposing and polluting a landfill somewhere.
My way back to photography was somewhat circuitous. The long and winding way from point A to B. But I feel like I'm back. And back on the same road I was when I loved it so long ago. Maybe RIT was just a huge fatal accident on the side of the road that caused a 50 mile backup traffic jam. I felt like I was in that accident all this time but maybe I was just rubbernecking...
I have to try my hardest to get where I want to go. Even if I never make a ton of money, if this is the way I could help provide income for Kyle and I, I would be eternally happy. It's extremely satisfying to be able to create something for someone else. And to have them like it. To have them give you their hard earned money for it. It makes me realize how much pictures can mean to people and how much I want to be able to provide that service. I fell in love with photography at 15 when I took the photo elective at high school. I was finally good at something...I was never the best fine art student (drawing doesn't come easily), I was nerdy but not super smart. I was just average in so many of my adolescent endeavors. Except for this. I won competitions and people's praise. It was all so encouraging. My teacher pushed me to continue my studies in college.
Then came the three most tumultuous years of my life. Three little letters: R.I.T.
I was a dime a dozen. again. I was working so hard just to scrape by. Nothing I did came from a place of happiness and love. Nothing came from that same place it came from in high school. And I blame it on so many things. Myself being the biggest problem. I was wrapped up in awful relationships and consuming self-doubt about whether I deserved to be loved. I did hurtful things and got hurt in return. My school work and photos were the last thing on my mind for so much of my time there. I hated being locked away inside a light studio all day. I came to loathe the time I spent waiting on line at "the cage" to rent out Mamiyas, Hasselblads, Sinars. ugh. Even now those names send shivers. So I left. And I stopped taking pictures. For a long time. Craft...knitting in particular filled that big hole left by where picture use to be. I threw out tons of the stuff I did while at RIT. It's long gone, decomposing and polluting a landfill somewhere.
My way back to photography was somewhat circuitous. The long and winding way from point A to B. But I feel like I'm back. And back on the same road I was when I loved it so long ago. Maybe RIT was just a huge fatal accident on the side of the road that caused a 50 mile backup traffic jam. I felt like I was in that accident all this time but maybe I was just rubbernecking...