R.I.P. 2017

The rate at which time continues to pass is nothing short of dizzying.

The bittersweet memories of the art gallery, although almost a year gone now, still linger as if it were yesterday. In many ways, it's closing remains as deeply metaphorical as it does literal.

It's hard to explain, but looking back now, it's clear a certain amount of my artistic ambition died the day those doors closed. (I know I'm supposed to brave on in the face of adversity, or at least pretend to - I am a "Man on a Mission" after all - but then why start fronting now?)

Like any good break up, it definitely took a while to reconcile, but I have largely made my peace. Strangely, it seems other people have had a harder time accepting this than I, perhaps because I knew the deal going in: give it everything I've got and either happily succeed, or fail without regret. Should it work despite the odds, then well, some dreams do come true. Should it fail, chalk up the experience and double down on pursuing more practical (read, profitable) ventures.

With 2018 now around the corner, good fortune looks poised to lead me though Southeast Asia, the Middle East, USA and back through Europe again before I return some time in late spring. Although the path may be more commercial than artistic in nature, it's pretty hard to complain about the life my camera still provides, especially when I see so many other truly talented photographers still struggling in their bubble just to get by.

And although I may secretly mourn what feels like the (temporary?) death of my fine-art aspirations, if anything, the change in direction may be the shortest distance between here and now, and realizing another one of life's greatest dreams: buying my piece of land, and building from scratch a little piece of the world I can call my own.

I wonder, besides raising a child, what greater or more fulfilling work of art is there?

R.I.P 2017. I don't know when, or if, I'll be back, but 2018, here I come.