I travel alone often so I can indulge my acute case of incurable wanderlust. I disappear into new places and, more often than not, become hypnotized and aimless. I sleepwalk, which is when my images find me.
I was on a solo walk with camera in Taos, NM this summer, wandering about in the last minutes of streaking golden sun, when this man called me over from his porch. He offered that I may wander around his yard and take pictures if I’d like. And he told me about his porch. And how he sits on it every day. And he was very proud of his house and that he deserves to sit on his porch every day. And I noticed that he spoke in “I,” even though he wasn’t alone.
The other day I came across a Diane Arbus quote I really loved because it pointed me to the root of my drive, which I hadn’t really thought of, particularly not in this raw and primitive way. She was a sleepwalker.
“I really believe there are things nobody would see if I didn’t photograph them.” -Diane Arbus
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of the lifelong dream. And I’m finding that the ultimate one imbeds itself into your soul and cannot be abandoned, no matter what life brings you to challenge its fortitude.
I have dreamed of my own studio for 21 years, but never did that dream studio look as beautiful as the one that has actually come. My studio is the confluence of multiple paths. I know it sounds intense, and it is, but only in the sense that I am deeply happy.
Today was my fourth solid working one. All the others have been doing, fixing, ordering, running, installing, head-scratching, and cussing ones. Today I have worked for a ridiculous amount of time and maintained a focus that really surprised me. This is what passion looks like. And I like how it feels.
A dream is never too good to be true. What amazes me, though, is how it will keep tapping you on the shoulder whenever you turn away from it.
There was a crazy mid-September hail storm today, and my friend David told me it was God’s confetti sent in celebration of my new adventure. Thanks, David, for pushing me to the very edge of radical gratitude.