Judgment. Criticism. Advice.
You know, I'm not a huge fan of any of those words. I know they are necessary, but in my happy little world, we'd all just float around on clouds, dance under cherry trees in bloom and eat chocolate, strawberries and champagne all day long.
Without these words, though, I guess we'd never become world renowned swing dancers and I bet there'd be tons of cloud collisions due to the excessive amounts of champagne consumption.
So, yeah, all right, I'll give you that. They're necessary, in small doses, especially if you find yourself strolling down an artistic path like photography. I've realized that if I want to be any good at this craft, I have to put myself out there, and open myself up to criticism. I have to take a photo that I think could be the spawn of Ansel Adams' work and then have others rip it apart. Ok, so far no one has ripped apart my work, but then again, I've only posted to have my photos critiqued a few times. It's nerve wracking! (Oh, and don't worry, I've never even humored myself enough to compare my work with Ansel Adams' photo babies).
And now for the news...
My foot image was chosen as a finalist in the We Love Feet contest on the Bloom forum. WAHOO!!! Awesome! Wonderful! Kick ass! Right? Right?! It's fabulous, isn't it?
Well... yeah, it is. But now they open it up and forum members vote for the images (gulp!). And you know what else? Everyone can see how many votes our photos get (big gulp that just won't seem to go down!). I'm so scared that I'm going to end up with only one vote. Even more humiliating would be the knowledge that the lone vote would be my own. (Help! Memories of me walking around with toilet paper hanging out of the back of my pants are flooding my mind.)
OH!!!! Don't let me ever enter a contest again!! Do you hear me?!!!
I'll never enter another contest again.
Never
Ever
Ever.
What if I fail?!!
And there it is.
If I let myself be honest with you, and with myself, I'm afraid.
It's really scary to let yourself and parts of yourself - your own creations - be so vulnerable. Photography is such a hit or miss career. The probability that I'll succeed is low. I know this going into it. I will most likely fall flat on my face - in front of everyone (because damn! I started this blog, announcing my cloud dancing high hopes to the world didn't I? Smart one, Sarah.)
The thing is, though, just imagining stopping now because I'm afraid I'll never make it is totally idiotic. And if I don't try, if I let all these thoughts of mediocrity and fear of embarrassment and failure deter me from even attempting it, I honestly feel like I'd suffocate from the inside out. (And I'm not even being just the tiniest bit melodramatic. So there!)
The contests and critiques, the judgment and criticism - these are all just precursors to what is yet to come. So I guess the only logical solution is to step down from the cloud I've been dancing on and hop into a Volvo. At least then when I collide, I'll be ready for it!
Oh, and don't worry your pretty little heads off. Sundays are still reserved for cloud surfing and champagne sipping.