I was driving today, and as usual, deep in thought. I pay dangerously little attention to the road. I drove past a beautiful, big oak tree, nestled in shade. From one of its boughs hung a tire swing, slung low off its branch. The grass grew high, and it lagged in the tall blades. The composition was very, very nice. I thought about stopping to shoot it, because it was very photogenic, and that people would like it. It's something my mother would've liked to have hanging on her wall.

But, then I came to a bit of a realization: I shoot too much stuff that I don't actually like. I've grown a sort of second skin - a scab around my whole self; A sick sarcasm to my photography. I shoot things because I enjoy how predictable people's interests are. I have a fascination with taking images that I hate, that I know others will enjoy; not because I am desperate for some sort of approval, but because I enjoy smirking inwardly at how easily and consistently I can create the sort of images that people like. But it is dishonest and unhealthy.

Take, for example, the following:

[link]


It's a great photo. People like it, and I've given prints of it to a few friends. But I don't like it. I don't like it because it's saccharine. It is a very easy photo, and does not invoke the sort of sentiments that I want to explore. It is maudlin, easy-to-like bullshit. And I will not shoot or display such work anymore. So, it comes down in a week, oct. 25. If you want it, get it now, because it will not be there anymore after that.