What a ride

Looking back at these last 6 months, I can say that without a doubt, they have been some of the hardest, most challenging, and most rewarding months of my life.

The struggle to satisfy the needs placed upon me between my home life, my clients, the gallery, the guest rooms, and the photo studio has been at times more overwhelming than I care to confess, and obviously more than I could carry on my own.

And even though I knew coming into this gallery venture that the odds were against me, I still embraced the risk whole-heartedly with the admittedly naive optimism that I could simply improvise my way though it, knowing full well that my margin for error was slim to none.

In retrospect, it's easy to see the mistakes I've made and where some small changes could have possibly made some big differences. But despite the sacrifices I've made in terms of time, money, and opportunity, I would unquestionably do it all over again.

Friendships have been forged that I hope will continue to grow, and thanks in large part to my growing exposure to "wet plate", and re-connection to the inside of a photo studio, I have rediscovered a love for photography that I had previously long forgotten.

Unless a miracle happens in the next 9 days, it won't be easy walking away from what I have started. At one point I told myself that if the venture were to fail, I would feel satisfied enough by the attempt that I could then walk away as if to cross it off a list, or something equally symbolic.

For better or worse, however, I don't think it works like that. In fact, I believe now more than ever before that the desire to create and to challenge one's ability with ambition can never truly be killed, no matter the setback.

This year may have marked the beginning and end of the same chapter, but I'll be damned if there isn't a hell of a lot of book to go.

What doesn't kill you...

As if the months leading up to the gallery opening weren't exhausting enough, the last 5 weeks have been straight up, punishing.

Between the gallery, the guest rooms, my usual commercial work this time of year, my growing Daddy duties at home, and a bizarre run of pretty nasty luck, I swear to god, if I can outlast October, there's nothing I can't do when I put my mind to it.

Certainly there are days when I wonder why the hell I've chosen to bite off so much, especially with our newborn at home, but when I am reminded of the support people have shown me, and when I talk to more and more of these talented artists who feel just as left out of the gallery world as I have, I remain compelled to keep the dream alive and fight another day.

I believe that 2017 will be pretty telling, and am preparing myself mentally to give it everything I've got. Where the gallery, and my art career, stand 12 months from now will determine whether or not some dreams are worth dreaming, or whether you should be careful what you wish for.

In the meantime, I may feel a little beaten, but I'm far from out.

Afterglow

Well, the official gallery opening is a few days behind me now. The September sun is shining, and the afterglow of what was an amazing night affirms that the evening was worth it, wherever it goes from here.

There are so many people that were essential to its success, but it feels like I've thanked them in public and private ad nauseam. They, or you, know who you are and that I will be forever grateful.

Overall, I have to say that, print sales aside, the whole exhibition, and the journey leading up to it, has been everything that I hoped for, and maybe more. New friendships have been made; momentum rebuilt; talents discovered; and stakes claimed.

(I know I've had my moments of self-doubt and darkness along the way, but I believe these moments are simply part of the journey, and make the destination all the more worth it.)

Whatever form the gallery takes from here, I hope that the magic of August 27th 2016 does not become lost, and that the seeds planted this evening will grow in ways and places yet unforeseen.

I shall continue to do my part to grow a piece of the Prague photo community and remain a humble white belt in the journey that has lead me from those humble pinhole beginnings, to here and now.

No regrets

Anyone who really knows me, knows that I have been heavily influenced by samurai philosophy since my early 20's. In an era when I once felt quite lost, Miyamoto Musashi's Book of Five Rings felt like the only thing that I had to truly cling to. Not only did it show me the way when I had none, it has illuminated a path from which I have never strayed.

Within that philosophy, it is said that a samurai must imagine his death a thousand times. It is understood that to confront death, and to accept it, is to deny it the power it would otherwise hold over you.

In this light, despite my best intentions and my best efforts, I have start to imagine that this gallery venture may be more short-lived than I would like. I mean, if the odds weren't stacked against me when I signed the contract, they sure as hell are stacked against me now. At the end of the day, it's all comes down to money, and unless a miracle happens, mine had just about run out. From a financial perspective, in short, I am fucked.

Strangely, I feel remarkably at peace with it all.

Nobody wants to lose that kind of money I've already put into this place, least of all me, but even if I spend the nest 2 years paying the price of my impulses, I feel a certain peace in knowing that, whatever happens, failure won't be for a lack of trying (even if ill-conceived!).

In the meantime, however, I obviously intend to put every last ounce of effort into making this opening the best it can possibly be. Where it goes from there, is at least partially out of my hands. Simply put, if there is demand within the Prague photo community to use the space to it's full potential, then the space will live. If, however, this whole venture has been nothing more than a vanity project designed only to satisfy myself, then it will not.

Between this coming Saturday and the pending Kickstarter campaign, many questions will be answered. We shall see where it goes from there. Whatever happens, whether it's successful or not, at least I get to live without regret.

10..9...8...

So, the final count down has begun!

In 10 days, the first big question will be answered. Have I spent the last 3 months sacrificing everything I've got in terms of time, faith and money in vain, OR, will this pending gallery opening be the beginning of what may become a whole new chapter?

Of course, I try to keep a brave face, but the reality is that I am so depleted in every sense of the word, that even if everything works out as I hope, I don't know how much more I can give.

The thought that September is around the corner is both a relief - since I know the work will bring in some well needed cash - and also a little terrifying knowing that I will be walking into it without first having the ability to refresh and recharge before the next 6 week wave of heavy commitments.

In many ways it feels like, if this were a poker game, I've used every bit of savvy and luck I can borrow or muster, and bluffed my way to the final hand where I am all in, winner takes all.

I've done my part. Let's see what cards the dealer has to offer.

Ready or Not

Well, despite all the loose ends, there comes a time when you gotta' say, let's do it. For better or worse today will be the day that I at least open the doors, and see what happens.

It's a shame that I've put all my energy and resources into preparing the place, that I've put absolutely no time into promoting it, breaking one of my own golden rules. With less than 24 hours notice, we shall see who will be able to turn up to share in this personal milestone moment.

Inhale....

The Last Mile!!

I think it's been 43 days since I got the keys, and although there remains plenty of details to work out (like signage!), at least I can see that the end is in sight. Can I get a HELL YEAH!?

To say this project has become the most ambitious thing I've ever taken on doesn't do these last 6 weeks justice. I feel on the verge of absolute collapse, and there are many days when I wish I had never taken on so much with so little. Second guessing myself at this point, however, is a luxury I can neither afford, nor entertain. All I can do is keep on keeping on, and pray that all my efforts will pay off in the long run. Must stay positive...must stay positive...must stay....

The Long Haul

Day 15 of the reconstruction and the mental warfare has begun. For every moment of excitement, there are those of dread. Some days feel super productive, and others feel like 12 hours have passed without anything real to show. Money is bleeding, and although I had carefully tried to forecast the financial investment every day, unforeseen variables pop up pushing things past schedule and over budget. I'm so focused on making the space ready, I still don't even know what I'll be putting on the walls. Considering the high season is passing with every day, I simply can't open fast enough.

Walls painted. Hardwood sanded. Lights, floors, bags, ink, paper, branding, signs, chemicals, and darkroom to go. Burn out setting in.

New from old

Berlin was awesome. From a financial and time management perspective, spending 5 days away with so much to do before I take over the gallery space would seem nothing less than irresponsible, foolish, and down right crazy. But then, that seems to be the working theme these days.

I know that once the looming whirlwind begins, there will never be the truly perfect time to indulge in such an opportunity. Just like my rationale for opening the gallery is of the now-or-never variety, so was my thinking in regards to the wet plate collodion workshop.

Though the techniques themselves are so foreign to just about everything that has become modern photography, the parallels between wet plate's 160 year old processes and my fateful darkroom day some 19 years ago are not only impossible to ignore, the goosebumps remind me precisely what is was that I fell in love with in the first place.

It's amazing that something so old, can feel so new again.

A big credit and thank you to Marcin Dzieniszewski of www.tintypeberlin.com for awesome portrait, as well as the experience and hospitality that will be remembered for a lifetime.

Second thoughts

I probably shouldn't be admitting this after signing the contract, but I can't help but shake all the nagging doubts that I've made a huge mistake.

I mean, I know that, artistic urges aside, my commercial work not only provides a pretty good life for me and my family, it also gives me plenty of time to do, well, whatever I want...like spending quality time with my loved ones, travelling, wood working, or making art. So what if I only do it for the money?! That is, after all, why they call it work.

Conversely, I have to wonder to what degree the business of selling art will interfere with the process of actually making it. My hope is that, by dedicating such a large portion of my time to the gallery, I will, by default, feel more inclined towards perpetuating more artistic ventures just by being around it.

If this proves to be true, then even if I fail, I will have still gained. If, however, I become so caught up in the administration of selling that I no longer have the time to actually produce anything new, then this whole idea will have become an abysmal failure, possibly of both time and money.

These voices likely won't go any time soon, especially with so far still to go.

Signed and Sealed * gulp*

Signed the contract today.

Still can't believe what I've done. I know that however hard I try to make this work, it's true destiny very likely lays beyond what I alone can control.

I guess you could say, this is my attempt at meeting the Universe half way.

What the hell have I done?!

Now that the euphoria of "the decision" is over, so begins the hard part.

By most accounts, almost every piece of the research I have done on art galleries would suggest that I'm totally OUT OF MY FREAKING MIND for even contemplating what will very likely be a losing venture especially given how shallow my pockets will be after covering all the requisite start up costs.

(At least admitting it is the first step, right? * gulp *)

It seems even the most established galleries often struggle to make ends meet, let alone turn a meaningful profit, but I guess it all comes down to the fact that unless I try for myself I will never really know. I mean, what if I can shoot the things I love and make a living at it? Isn't this the dream of every photographer, or every artist??

Time will tell. At least heading into this thing fully conscious of the risk alleviates some degree of high expectations. Ultimately, it will either work, and I can become an example of what is possible in the face of improbable odds, or I will fail knowing that at least I gave it a shot, which is still more that most.

ALL IN!!!!!!!!

There have been a small handful of moments in my life in which I have thrown all caution to the wind and jumped with such disregard for my own well-being that they are easy to remember. May 9, 2016 is definitely one of them.

I have agreed, in principal, to opening my own art gallery without so much of a safety net to get me past the first 60 days. I have no exhibition, no name, no branding, no investors, no artists, and less than $3000 to my name. Oh yeah, and we have a new baby coming in about the time that all my funds will literally run out.

At least admitting you're crazy is the first step. But what I'm supposed to do from here, I have no f*cking clue.

...and I love it:)

Beautifully negative:)

My search for something new has lead me unsuspectingly back to my roots and beyond. Cameras, lenses, and chemical processes that date back 160 years have awoken a spark in me I haven't felt since my earliest darkroom days.

Eyes burning every night prowling eBay for long forgotten gems just waiting to be revived.

Today I shot some 75 year old Zeiss Ikon folding 6x4.5 that drives like an old James Bond car. I enjoy holding it and the process of shooting it so much I almost don't even care what comes out of it. I can't believe how smooth this thing operates.

Making the mental switch back to film is actually pretty exhilarating. I have tried to embrace the challenge of being as precise as possible while still leaving a little room for the unexpected. 

Can't wait to see the negs:)