last weekend i flew south to watch a bunch of people i'd never met (and a few i had) examine some of my babies photographs on the walls of an art gallery. i've been making photographs since i was a teenager but (except for a short period during and after college) until recently, they've been private. i'm sure i'm ready for the world to see them and i'm happy to talk about what i'm doing with my work, but in the gallery parking lot i had a ... moment. second guessing myself (you know you do it). what if? and then, in the doorway, people all over the gallery and no one looking at my stuff. deep breath. brady bunch moment - everyone in their underwear. enter gallery. it's a pretty exposed feeling to watch people examine your work and not know what they're thinking. some glance and keep walking. some stop, talk to each other for a moment and move on. others still seek you out to tell you what's on their mind or ask a question. and some purchase the work to hang in their home.
fast forward to the end of the evening and i was fine. and the reason i was fine? my work looked great. i know not everyone is going to be moved by it and i'm okay with that. really. i wasn't moved by all of other seven artists in the gallery. but i felt good about what i had hanging. the work still speaks to me and that's what matters. i was proud to say it was mine and i could defend my choices and answer the questions that were posed to me with clarity. in the end, those are the things that i took home. (i can't say that the little red 'sold' dots weren't nice too, though.)