I’m not a very confident writer. In fact, I feel rather self-conscious about it. The more I worry and angst the worse the writing becomes. Madeleine L’Engle wrote about that (I warned you that I really like her!). “A writer may be self-conscious about his work before and after but not during the writing.”

I find the same thing to be equally true about photography. Before and after, I stare at the created image and I am torn. Is it good? Is it awful? Is it something? But during the actual shooting, if all is going well, I am outside of all that thought and angst. I just am. I am lost in the moment, in the creating. I am at play in the most “unself-conscious concentration of a child,” as L’Engle defines it, “art: prayer: love.”

I think there are many of us who have been swept up in the movement. It’s what pulls us back over and over, isn’t it? It’s the stillness that we are trying to recapture with our images: the stillness of being completely in the moment and utterly out of the way — allowing the work to do the work.