This was a forced entry. As was the post immediately prior to this one. Somehow the joy went out of the act of writing like air leaving a punctured tire. Pfffft. And it was gone. All gone.
I sensed it at the time. I knew there was something wrong. I did not know what it was. I did not have enough sense of myself to react, or correct, or respond. I just went Pfffft.
Photography before the accident was different. Subsequent to the accident, my relationship to photographic imagery has changed. Before the injury, I had a well defined sense of photographic style, an ideal that I strove to reflect in each image. I have no idea how this stylistic ideal originated. I expect it developed organically over a 46 year period (maybe more. My first camera was an Agfa folder found in a cupboard. After I persuaded my parents to buy me some film I was hooked by the discovery of this grainy method of capturing the transient events of life). My photographic experimentation was guided by a study of the photographic “greats,” the acknowledged masters of the medium: Frank, Brandt, Haas, Adams, Porter, Robert Capa, Eugene Smith. I discovered the greater world through their lenses. I discovered a personal world through my own.
I saw Dr D on Friday. She identified some obstacles.
She does not think this blog project will earn any money. My son works in New York. He knows a lot about money; he trades it every day. He doesn’t think this blog project will earn any money. I am the guy who needs to generate some form of income and I can’t see how this project will earn any money. The no money side wins 3-0.