How do you know when it’s over?

In yet another analogy between photography and relationships, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about photo projects and how the photographer can tell when they’re over. There comes a point when you’ve invested so much time, so much energy, and so many dreams in something that the thought of walking away from it and closing the door is hard to wrap your mind around. And yet walking away may be the best thing you could possibly do.

I’ve been lucky enough to have only one truly awful relationship in my life, and I knew it was awful about three months after we moved in together. I stayed in the relationship another nine months after that. For all nine of those months, I agonized over what to do. What if things get better? What if he stops drinking? I prided myself on my loyalty and devotion and stick-to-itiveness. (Right around the time this was going on, I was listening to a lot of Tracy Chapman, and her song “Devotion”* really summed it up. I remember listening to that in the car and crying at the realization that I was that person. I stayed in it another six months.)

I never actually did get the strength to break free. Our lease expired, he bought a house, I rented a separate house, and one day he didn’t return my call. I scraped up enough pride not to call him back and two months went by. Nothing. Finally, I called him and said we needed to talk. We met at a small park. He let me say the lines of the person doing the breaking up, even though he was clearly the one who’d closed the door on the relationship first. I sobbed, he stared off in the distance. And then in the end, I stood on the sidewalk clinging to him and he had to peel me off of him and straight-arm me away.

That experience changed me in several ways, I’m sure, but the one that has always been the most obvious to me is my newfound unwillingness to stick with things that aren’t working. Whether it’s a class in grad school or a friendship or a trip, where before I would’ve stuck it out, tried to make it work, now I walk away, without regret. Obviously, it’s not all or nothing—there are still plenty of things that I stick with through difficult times, and I don’t expect things to be perfect. But I’m much more attuned now to things that have begun that permanent downward spiral, as opposed to those that are just temporarily amok.

Though there are many aspects of my In Store project that I like, it’s not working for me anymore. The problem is, I’m not sure if it’s permanent or temporary. I’m pleased with some of the work I did on it, and I feel like I cut my teeth on the experience. But I just don’t care about it the way I once did. Recently, I tried to infuse it with some enthusiasm by sending out an e-mail to friends letting them know that I was looking to photograph people who had stuff in storage, with their stored stuff, and I’ve gotten over a dozen responses from people all over the country who are eager to be part of the project, but I haven’t scheduled anything with any of them. I photographed my friend Shannon’s husband with some of his stuff, and it was okay, but nothing special.

I’m not afraid to push through things that are difficult, to work hard, to struggle. But I’ve always known, with my photography, when I was on the right path. Sometimes I’ve come back from a shoot and not been pleased with any of the photographs, but I’ve still felt excited about the project. I don’t feel that excitement anymore. I’m looking at other projects, considering the possibilities, thinking they’re more interesting. And yet, I’ve really spent a lot of time on In Store, and I don’t feel like it’s done. The question is, am I?

The solution I’ve come up with in the past thirty seconds is to choose one of my other ideas and start working on it. Maybe force myself not to do anything In Store related for a couple months. And then revisit it in April or May and see if I’ve moved on or if it grabs me again.

I appreciate the encouragement I’ve gotten from people. They say I should keep going with it, not give up. And that’s good to hear, for sure. But it doesn’t really matter if it’s a good project or if people are interested in it if I’m not passionate about the project myself. The photographs will suck if I don’t care, and I care too much to let that happen.

* “Devotion,” by Tracy Chapman

If I am right
If I can be
Constant and faithful
You’ll find me

In my devotion
In my devotion

What if you find a fault
Between my purpose and my deeds
And deem me beyond salvation
Judge me to be unworthy

Of your devotion
Of your devotion

If this be obsession deliver me
A passing infatuation deliver me
A feeling lacking in purity deliver me
A test of fidelity deliver me
Deliver me
Deliver me

What if I should find
You’re no good for me
What if I can’t be strong enough
What if I can’t break free

Of my devotion
Of my devotion