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:)