Over the past few weeks…
I have taken photos ankle-deep in cow dung and then in a medical research clean room. I have photographed in an abandoned, dilapidated factory complex days after shooting in $30 million new construction. I shot an antique camera whose value lies only in the beauty of its worn leather skin and dried out bellows. Just days after, I photographed a drone that is worth more than my house, car, motorcycle and cameras combined.
I photographed several young entrepreneurs starting a new job and a gentleman at the end of his career. I shot in the pristine, made-up style of commercial photography and also in the gritty, hard realism of photojournalism.
I had impressed myself after solving an “engineering” type problem through careful thought, creativity and ingenuity. A few hours later I was cleaning up 16 ounces of coffee after forgetting to put the cup in the Keurig. I worked through assignment after assignment clearing the board of jobs piling up. I procrastinated and allowed myself to get distracted away from many more.
I helped rescue a dog someone threw away. A few days before, I photographed a kind woman whose millions will save so many from the streets. I worked in ice cold air conditioning as well and hot humid horror. I welcomed new clients and met a new friend. I had a send-off for my second favorite assistant of all time as she takes flight on a new journey at Pratt NYC. I stood in awe in the face of a beautiful, smart, ambitious 18-year-old just graduated from high school. In contrast, I stood in the face of the TV cursing in disgust at a pompous, self-centered, old, racist politician.
I had made some people happy and someone sad, someone grateful and someone mad. I had sung in the shower and screamed in my car, eyes welled up in compassion and cried in despair.
I started all this photographing a kind and giving young-hearted man of 95 years who still drives. My week ended capturing the personality of an 8-month, old soul who can’t yet walk.
And now, here I lie in my living room in the darkness of fading light. I am curled up in the fetal position on my couch, with only the sounds of Walter gently purring a foot away, and children screaming far off in the distance. I am grateful for all the diversity in my career and life, yet I dread that another week begins tomorrow.