Knee socks and saddle shoes

I posted today congratulating a variety of photographers whose work I admire, respect, and in some cases love, all of whom were included in A Photo Editor’s Flickr pool. Over a thousand people submitted two images, and on the basis of these two images, Rob Haggart chose 276 people to be featured in a slide show that he’ll advertise to photo editors and buyers. Any way you look at it, it’s a great opportunity. And my congratulations to the people I mentioned, and to everyone else included, were sincere.

Here’s where I need to come clean: Sure, I’m happy for them. But as I said to S. in the parking lot of the Summerland post office today, “I’m sick of being everybody’s runner-up.”

On the drive down to L.A., I second-guessed my choice of images, and when I was done with that, I second-guessed myself. By the time I was getting off the 10 at Normandie Street, I was actually scouting locations for that cardboard box I’ll be living in someday. The refrain running through my mind: I suck.

I’m not looking to be propped up with support or “Hang in there, Liz” or “What does Haggart know?” (This is not like my mom saying, “I guess I’m just a horrible mother” so that my sisters and I would say, “No, Mom, you’re great!”) So don’t even bother with comments like that. I just want to be honest: I’m not all “Rah-rah! Go team!”, at least not all the time.

And yes, I know, it’s just one guy’s opinion. Today Cara Phillips quotes from Jezebel, where a former model says, “My shoulders, too broad for one client, will be criticized for their narrowness by another,” and that’s a good analogy for photography (and much of life). But I’m starting to feel like my shoulders aren’t to anybody’s liking except my own. Yeah, yeah, I’m the only one who matters. But let’s get serious: That’s bullshit, and we all know it. Sure, we photograph first to please ourselves, but we do it as much, if not more, for other people. Otherwise, we’d all be content to keep negatives in shoeboxes or RAW files on hard drives. And we’re not. I’m not.

I want to be on the field, not holding pom-poms on the sideline.