These past few months personal and professional hassle almost made me forget what I love most about photography–it is the seeing part, finding beauty where none seems to exist, seeing it and wanting to share it. I never saw the need nor ever had the desire for fancy set-ups, fancy lighting, or other things that make for a glamorous photograph. Yes, of course, I do those things; sometimes I need to, either for work or personal requests, and I find absolutely nothing wrong with it, as long as it does not make me forget what in my heart of hearts I thrive on doing, and that is shooting “junk.”  “Junk,” because nothing is ever real thrash to me, as a photographer. “Junk,” because, chances are, no one would bother to take photos of those; “junk,” because–and forgive me a little bit of ego trip here–chances are, I was the only one who saw it, or took the time to.

The hassle that nearly took me away from my gear drove me into some sort of melancholy, and the thing that arrested what could have been a downward spiral was a decision to walk alone for a while, just me and a 5D. 24/7.  The photos I am about to attach may not mean or appeal much to most of you, but to me, they will forever remind me of the day I said, “This is my art, this is my photography. I am paying for it with my time, my money, and my energy. I hope you find it in your heart to respect that, but if you don’t it’s perfectly all right.”