recognition

Recognizing Myself

I spent 25 years making other people's products better. I was good at it. But once I left - or more honestly, was left - that was it. It was done. And strangely, I barely think about it anymore. Decades of work, all but forgotten. And now we're moving to Portugal - my dog and I - to do what, exactly? Take pictures?

It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.

Photography has been the thing I turn to when everything else feels like it's dissolving. It's therapy, except I don't have to explain myself to anyone. I just go out, move the camera, and see what happens. For years, I didn't think I was particularly good at it. I enjoyed it, but "good" felt like something other people were.

That's changing.

I'm starting to recognize something in the work that feels true. Not perfect - true. The blur, the motion, the way an image can suggest a feeling without being literal about it. The way it hits people differently. Sadness, hope, fun, transformation, transition. I'm making images that pull me out of dark places, and I want to talk about that process. Not the technical stuff (there are a thousand blogs for that), but the messy, uncertain, surprisingly good parts of building a life around something you're finally willing to admit you're good at.

This image is a woven texture dissolving into something barely, but instantly, recognizable. That's what recognition feels like sometimes. Seeing something familiar but not quite solid. That's where I am right now.

So this is the blog. Photography, Portugal, the dog, the doubts, all of it. Short posts. Honest ones.

Let's see what happens.