I left off some of the black and whites I intended to show in the last post. Here they are. Busy, busy.

Does it feel like everyone who used to be interested in photography is "winding down" like an automatic wristwatch lying unworn on an old nightstand? On blogs I read it seems people have moved from the "enjoyment" of photographing to the "necessity" of archiving and preserving work they did long ago. No wonder it feels like the hobby is moribund. People are gravitating from the active fun to the passive task of preservation.

I'm resisting the call to succumb to the busy work of preparing old material for an eternity that may or may not arrive. I know my family well. They are not nostalgic and sentimental. They won't spend their days after I am gone sitting on the couch in the living room paging through old albums of my photographs. There are a small number of photographs they'd like to have after my unfortunate and catastrophic decline and passing  (it's always tragic but mostly just to ourselves...) but these are at most a hundred images of family and friends. Everything else is destined, whether I want it or not, to be tossed, recycled or abandoned. And much as you'd like to think otherwise mountains of evidence suggests this will happen to your images at well. They will, over time, be lost and gone.

But really, isn't it the enjoyment of the process, the fun of the hunt and the satisfaction of people appreciating your work in the here and now that's the important/satisfying/fun/rewarding thing about photographing? Are we really so self-centered as to believe that out of 8 billion people currently on the planet, at least 2 billion of whom are photographing relentlessly, that our photos from vacations, strolls, birthday parties and "serious landscape projects" are going to be the photographic images that rise to the top? That out of the trillions of images made every year the curators will come looking for my image of a stagnant pond at the state park to ensconce in the hallowed halls of the Fine Arts? 

If this is your mindset then you'll be lucky to eventually be quite dead and immune from having to watch the near inevitable decay and disappearance of the work you've tried so hard to preserve. 

When nostalgic and sentimental writers opine on the archival preservation of their photographic work they often couch the saddling of their younger family members with the pile of images as "giving them a gift!!!" Something they will cherish for a lifetime.  We love to look at photographs of our own children. We like to look at photographs of our own experiences. We tolerate looking at photographs of other people's families. But when we hand over the physical "treasures" we've curated for our progeny what we are really doing is burdening them both physically and also psychologically. Most of them will long to winnow down and toss much of the work that we liked. And we liked it because we worked hard to create it. But our unlucky family members are paralyzed about getting rid of what they don't need or want because they remember how important the prints and negatives seemed to us. They become trapped by their understanding of our expectations. And they, for the most part, are far less infatuated with our work than we are.

Photographs are both a visual object and a psychological conundrum. In my experience the people who slavishly hold old family images close are the ones who have unresolved issues surrounding family dynamics which they hope to resolve. And it's almost as if the saved photographs of those now dead are a key to unlocking and understanding the crucial points of their family's past.

I'm constantly involved in a version of "Swedish Death Cleaning" when it comes to the boxes and filling cabinets of my work. We used to keep just about everything in the dark ages of film when there was the promise that everything might be profitable fodder/content for stock photography sales. Now that no longer really exists. I toss a couple dozen pounds of negatives, slides, CDs, DVDs and assorted other photographic content in the trash at least once a month. I think it would be nothing short of cruel to foist a million blah, blah photographs on my son and my wife. Better to make a small folder of family images and provide them before my own ability to reason runs dry. And when I do I will include a note that says: "you are under no obligation to keep these. You will create your own memories and have your own experiences. You deserve your own space in which to enjoy them. I lived well. I don't need to preserve the work. I had a wonderful time living it.  Have more fun!"

The images I'm sharing in this particular blog have no real significance to anyone but me. I enjoyed walking around in the brisk, fresh Canadian air after a Summer of unrelenting heat in Austin. I enjoyed handling a camera that is also an iconic tool. I liked playing around with cropping and post processing. But, after we've seen the pix here, and they've augmented the written word,  I would have no compunction or hesitation in reaching over with my "mouse" and deleting the folder in which they currently exist from my hard drive, altogether. They are not precious just because they are photographs. They are like a morning swim. When it's done it's done and we move on with the rest of our day. And the rest of our lives. 

You can save all your images if you want. I have more life to live. And it's a lot more fun to be out photographing then it is sitting in the studio carefully documenting the facts and dates around my own work. I've already seen yesterday's work now I want to see what there is to see NOW and TOMMOROW. 

Obsessing with the past is like sitting in the rear of a boat and staring at the wake. Better to sit in the bow and be intrigued and fascinated by what's ahead. If we can't live in the NOW, in the moment we're blessed with,  then what's the point?