I Hear You're Into That "PHOTOGRAPHY" Stuff!

Since I enjoy being in denial about being middle-aged, this cannot be a mid-life crisis. Instead, I like to think of the evolving adventure of photography as a developing hobby and potential source of income.

After all, it can't be a mid-life crisis if I feel like a kid playing grown-up, can it? Really?

A few weeks ago I was approached by a woman I've known for over thirty years--I grew up with her kids. "I hear you're into that photography!?" My soft response--"yes."

"Well How'd you learn?!" "I study, I mean read, a lot. And I take a lot of pictures. I practice."

Then it was my turn to ask who'd told her. She decided it must have been her daughter-in-law. I thought that made sense, because the daughter-in-law is on Facebook and has commented on my photos. I mentioned the connection.

"I hate that Facebook. It's too damn nosy!" was her proclamation, obviously disregarding the nature of her own questions.

A simple conversation, the likes of which I've often had with this woman, makes me nervous. The idea of doing something new makes my head spin a little. Saying "Photographer" when I describe myself makes me throw up in my mouth a little. Maybe a lot. Putting myself out there is terrifying. People won't choose me. There will, inevitably, be rejections. There will be comments made behind my back and maybe to my face about the quality of my work.

Perhaps my work is nothing special, except to the families and friends of the subjects. Perhaps my work is mundane, and there is nothing remarkable in the thorny beauty of a thistle edging up to a rusty barbed wire fence, both softened in the light of a setting sun. Perhaps the babies I love to photograph could be just as well served by their parents' point-and-shoot cameras and far less fuss.

Perhaps. After all, I don't know the answers to these possibilities.

Perhaps. Yes, putting myself "out there" makes me nervous. Nervousness aside, even though I feel like a kid playing grown-up, I also feel that this is a step I'm ready to take. When my camera is in my hand, the confidence chases the butterflies away. When I feel my camera resting in the small of my back, waiting patiently, I am sure, content and perfectly happy. Anything that makes me feel like that must be right.

Perhaps it is.