Tuesday, 9 December 2014

I had a fit today, after a very long time, screaming in rage and frustration. The General came home from work to make sure I don't detonate. I really was incredibly angry. I get these days when I work really hard and fast and super focused on delivering twice the amount we agreed upon, just so that the client would be happy, and when the time comes to be paid, they say: yes, true, this is what we agreed upon, but we also expected this and this and that ... I am really glad that G locks away all our guns and tanks and shit, because sometimes I really understand why people blow up buildings. 

these past few days, I've spent a lot of time in thought of what photographers do. They do two different things - they either make photos or they make money. rarely, very very rarely, you get to make both, but okay, that's more of an exception. I look at photies documenting the events that are happening around me and those photos are only money. They get archived, published maybe in daily newspapers and event pamphlets and nobody cares. They mean nothing. They change nothing. Car accidents, buildings being torn down, floods, dancing, concerts, conferences, whatever. 15 hours a day of running around in the rain and a decent enough pay for this profession. 

When people look at my photos, they think: These are good photos. She's probably expensive. We'll hire somebody else. 

I don't make money very well. What I try to do is change the world. The quality of an art form I live and breathe. It breaks my heart to see myself selling myself short or being so deeply unappreciated. Either of these have made me wail crocodile tears today. I felt like I felt ten years ago, running around, fifteen hours a day, taking photos of car accidents and press conferences, being paid in pickles.

Then he said something really good to me, my husband. In a cold bedroom, because we can't afford the gas. Something that lifted the weight of the world off me. He said: I never again want you to do anything for money.

What kind of a person looks at a broken soul and says I will love you when we have nothing as long as you make what you think should be made to feel like you've done good?