Writing on the Wall


It is clear to see that this project was a failure.

I’m still taking photos. But the writing has completely ceased. The drive behind the writing ceased. Honestly, I never felt any need – any reason beyond myself to write day after day. And I denied myself the truth. I deleted words I didn’t want to be on a public forum. Words I wanted to say but chose to keep inside in fear of offending some random, faceless person who might stumble upon a post.

I’ve always felt that as artists, of any medium, when we fail we simply start from scratch and try again. And again. And again. Until we are satisfied. Until we look at the end result & are like what we see.

I am not certain that will ever happen for me.

It is a waste of time to write superficially. So I can either change or quit.

Neither are appealing. But some form of action must be taken.

Most of my days are quiet & mediocre. A select few have real depth, emotion, & excitement. When I want to share, I shall go into depth & write paragraphs. But most days a few quick notes are all I find sufficient.

Perhaps it is an easier path. But I find it to be a more truthful one.

A project that is dishonest is not a project I will be satisfied with. And when this year is done, when in a few years I contemplate going for a third round, I will read this post & honestly ask myself if I’m going to do it correctly.