Norma Rae, Annie Hall, and Nicholson
I’ve been into photography since I got a Kodak Disc camera for my 10th birthday, but it’s really only been in the past two years that I’ve started to get more serious about it. This leaves me in the position of being 34 years old and just getting started. I look at most of my “emerging” peers, and they weren’t even born when I got my Kodak Disc. I was born under Nixon; they were born under Reagan or, Christ, even the first Bush. (I can hear S. laughing now; he was born under Hoover.)
I don’t think this really matters to me on its most basic level. Age has never been an issue for me, and you don’t have to look very far for proof of that. In many ways, I feel thankful that I’m not trying to find my voice as a photographer at the same time that I’m trying to figure out who I am as a person. I’m over that whole angst/ennui thing, and now I’m aware—very aware—of what I want to do and how little time I have to do it.
I sent Julia Dean an e-mail a couple weeks ago, thanking her for the wonderful classes she puts on at JDPW, and she replied saying that my e-mail couldn’t have come at a better time: She was just thinking that she hasn’t done enough, particularly where her nonprofit work is concerned. I haven’t yet replied, but when I do, I’ll say that no one worth her salt—and Julia’s worth her salt and then some—ever feels she’s done enough and that one lifetime isn’t adequate.
What I’m saying is, Norma Rae has osteoporosis, Annie Hall is hawking anti-aging cream on TV, and Nicholson is starting to look like a dirty old man instead of just dirty. I will blink and it’ll be over; I need to make sure I do all the things I want to do.
The result of this awareness, something that has only started to hit me in the past year or so, is that I sometimes have to pull back on the reins a bit. Case in point: Critical Mass is accepting entries, and I felt I had to do it, I had to get my work in front of those 200 reviewers, and it had to be now. I paid my $50 and started thinking about my work and which images I wanted to enter, and I realized I wasn’t ready. Not this year. Next year, maybe. But not this year. I e-mailed and withdrew and the sense of relief was incredible: I can take this at my own pace. I’m not in a race with kids still in undergrad. It doesn’t matter what anyone else was doing when she was my age.
It’s okay. And that’s the thing: When I was younger, it wouldn’t have been.
I don’t think this really matters to me on its most basic level. Age has never been an issue for me, and you don’t have to look very far for proof of that. In many ways, I feel thankful that I’m not trying to find my voice as a photographer at the same time that I’m trying to figure out who I am as a person. I’m over that whole angst/ennui thing, and now I’m aware—very aware—of what I want to do and how little time I have to do it.
I sent Julia Dean an e-mail a couple weeks ago, thanking her for the wonderful classes she puts on at JDPW, and she replied saying that my e-mail couldn’t have come at a better time: She was just thinking that she hasn’t done enough, particularly where her nonprofit work is concerned. I haven’t yet replied, but when I do, I’ll say that no one worth her salt—and Julia’s worth her salt and then some—ever feels she’s done enough and that one lifetime isn’t adequate.
What I’m saying is, Norma Rae has osteoporosis, Annie Hall is hawking anti-aging cream on TV, and Nicholson is starting to look like a dirty old man instead of just dirty. I will blink and it’ll be over; I need to make sure I do all the things I want to do.
The result of this awareness, something that has only started to hit me in the past year or so, is that I sometimes have to pull back on the reins a bit. Case in point: Critical Mass is accepting entries, and I felt I had to do it, I had to get my work in front of those 200 reviewers, and it had to be now. I paid my $50 and started thinking about my work and which images I wanted to enter, and I realized I wasn’t ready. Not this year. Next year, maybe. But not this year. I e-mailed and withdrew and the sense of relief was incredible: I can take this at my own pace. I’m not in a race with kids still in undergrad. It doesn’t matter what anyone else was doing when she was my age.
It’s okay. And that’s the thing: When I was younger, it wouldn’t have been.
Labels: actors, age, cameras, Critical Mass, Diane Keaton, Jack Nicholson, Julia Dean, Kodak Disc, portfolio reviews, S., Sally Field, teachers
posted by Liz at 5:16 PM
9 Comments:
liz,
you and i are of very like mind lately. i've been gradually stepping back for a while now, and producing better work. i've come to the realization that i started to run before i could walk, and it was a very awkward looking run at that. very forest gump.
be well.
Ben, I hear you.
Liz,
I am so moved by your posts and frankly by the speed at which you've accelerated in the short time I've known you.
Not to worry... imagine being 40 and trying to find your way. I like to think of Beatrice Wood when I feel behind schedule (whatever that means). You are making fantastic progress. Just love what you do and everything else that should follow will.
Thanks, Tia. You're always this incredibly calming force. I need to hang out with you a lot more.
Can't wait to see you up in Santa Barbara next week—and this Friday, too!
Liz, I have a lot more years than you and I can assure that there will be other points in your life where you will step back and re-assess. But you know what? I doubt that you will ever stop photographing. And isn't that what is really important.
I love your blog....the openness and sincerity. Keep it up.
Thanks, Billie! And yeah, I don't know many things for sure, but one thing I know is that I'll always be a photographer.
it's really common for women to come into their own later in life. although i felt "mature" at a young age, i didnt really feel my power, vision and most of all confidence til the last 2yrs from 35-37. while i always loved to shoot (i especially loved my polaroid one step), i didn't develop my eye til taking a high school photography class 21yrs ago. but like you, it's only been last 2yrs that i'm pursuing it in a whole new way. you are a very talented photographer and i'm inspired by how much you actually get yourself out there and shoot PLUS do great work. i look forward to seeing your growth. you only have up to go.
Thanks for the kind words, Lydia! I know what you mean.
This is a great, from-the-heart post -- thanks for this.
Of course, found you through S.'s blog.
I'm intrigued that the camera grabbed you (and, judging from comments here, others) -- and I say that because, although I use a camera and catch what I can, I don't identify as "photographer" but rather as "artist."
Not sure what the difference is.
My husband tells people I'm a photographer because when talking about hobbies, passions, etc. I forget to mention it entirely.
So...lots to think about/sit with here, about what it means when the means of creation grabs one so firmly that there's one tag to apply...
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