<p>Back in the days… (LOL - when you get to be as old as I am, you start forcing your back-in-the-days stories on others) When I was in grad school, I was in love with photography. My “high” point was to have - briefly - a few pieces in the High Museum of Art in Atlanta, as well as “semi-permanant” shows in a couple of restaurants. I used photography to support myself through grad school and learned that no matter how much I loved doing it on my own, I <em>hated</em> commercial photography.</p>
<p>Weddings? Good grief - the pressure to get things right was way too much for me. My wife and I tried doing composites (photos and layouts) for the local modeling school, but that was so boring as to be mind-numbing. School photos? Meh… it made a few bucks.</p>
<p>I thought I might love local fashion gigs, but just a couple of jobs made me dislike that as well. Shoots would start sometimes after midnight, the client would want to supply models (BIG mistake), they’d want to see proofs 8am the next morning, you never had any control over what you were doing (the client had ideas that I didn’t necessarily agree with), and it was not a pleasant job.</p>
<p>Two thing I did like: black-and-white “mood” portraits (not the usual studio-type shots) and architectural shots of buildings. Sounds boring, but especially the facial portraits were extremely interesting to me. One day, a woman came in to get some portraits done. She was a very plain-looking person, not one who would turn heads on the street. I got her seated and the lighting set up and when I looked through the viewfinder, I couldn’t quite believe what I saw. She was beautiful in such an intriguing way that just pulled you into that photo. I lifted my head and looked again directly at her and saw the plain-Jane face, but through the viewfinder again, it was something special. And the final prints captured that specialness.</p>
<p>I took the final portraits to a friend of mine in the talent business and showed him. He got so excited and wanted to meet her and explore the possibility of setting her up to talk with others about modeling. When I brought it up to her, she refused to even consider it. Her view of herself couldn’t admit the possibility of having the inner beauty that the camera so easily captured.</p>
<p>Anyway, the moral of the story (for me) was, just because I loved to do something didn’t mean I was cut out for it as a way of making money.</p>