The last time I was in Minnesota in June of 2012, I stood on the edge of a soybean field with my amazingly observant nephew Sam. After a bit of comfortable and almost meditative silence he asked me, curiously: If you had to choose only one, would you rather be a musician or a photographer?. I was floored by the thought as is akin to asking anyone whether they would rather be deaf or blind. I suddenly was forced to dig deep into my thoughts, my joys, my disappointments, and my heart. After about ten minutes of walking through that beautifully green shin-high future-tofu I had an answer: I would be a photographer. Heres to hoping I never have to make that decision, but my reasons for said decision were quite simple: it was all ME. Sure, there is no way I could do without the help of my friends and family in both education and moral support (especially Juniana, without her cropping and color skills you would see a much weaker version of some of my best shots), but for the first time since I put down my pencil and paint brush to pick up the bass many years ago, I was the master of my creativity and my destiny. In the last two days I have witnessed again, both in the second death and the fourth rebirth of bands I love playing bass in, the endless cycle of bands beginning and ending and beginning again (taking my basslines with them) while my photography marched forward undeterred. Thankful that I have found this conduit for my creativity called photography - thankful that its a form of expression no-one can take from me.
Posted on: Mon, 31 Mar 2014 02:19:42 +0000
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