What I Do
It’s raining this morning. As the sun slowly rises I can see the bright yellow aspen groves on the flanks of Thousand Lake Mountain from my window. Soon the first light of the day will touch the crest of the red cliffs, then slowly make its way down in a beautiful display that had by now become a part of my morning ritual, along with the fresh brewed coffee and the hushed sounds of a small town slowly awakening. Tourist season is almost over and it’s quiet again. I’ve been up since 5am and so far only saw one vehicle on the road. This time of year there is more to it, though. Autumn always has that intangible feeling of quiet drama. The dark skies as the last of the monsoon storms pass through, the colorful trees, the slight chill in the air and the palpable feeling of winter’s impending arrival always put me in a contemplative mood. This is the time of year I look back upon, and forward to, in other seasons.
Later this morning I’ll go for a walk in one of the glowing groves, breathe in the rich damp air laden with the unmistakable aroma of fallen leaves and wet sagebrush, pick some ripe raspberries and wild rose hips and listen to the breeze in the canopies. When winter comes, all will be reduced to monochrome and a perfect frozen silence. There will be no scents, no sounds, no motion; just a white stillness and a long wait. The knowledge of what awaits but a few weeks away makes every sagebrush scented breath that much more meaningful as I commit every detail to memory, gathering visions and storing them in a safe place to sustain me during the cold season, like logs in a woodpile.
It’s no wonder this is also my busiest season for both teaching and personal work. There’s a joy in being outside, challenging the elements to steal another nugget of beauty, a day at a time, knowing they will eventually win but, for now, savoring these last days of bliss and color. To me, “busy” often means long lonesome drives, empty roads, not always paved, and quiet time behind the wheel as I traverse the treasured American landscape I have come to call home. These are times for thinking and examination, when new ideas are formed and old ones revisited.
It’s a strange business I’m in; one often misunderstood. In my own mind I don’t consider myself a photographer or a writer or any other “er”. There’s no real word for what I do and maybe it’s time to put a name to it. My job is to be inspired. I make my living conveying the inspiration I find to others, in various ways. I photograph, I write, I teach, I interact. What does that make me? My photography is not about making photographs; my writing is not about words; my teaching is not about facts; and my interactions are not about being social. There’s a higher ulterior purpose – the experience. Am I an experiencer?
I’ve been called a Nature Photographer, a Landscape Photographer, an Author, an Artist. In my mind I am none of those things. I know Nature Photographers. I know Travel Photographers and Adventure Photographers and Landscape Photographers. I know Writers and Authors. What they do is not what I do. I don’t make things for a living. I live for a living. I am myself for a living. I seek beauty for a living. I think and contemplate for a living. I experience for a living. Seems so easy and obvious to me, and yet there is no term for it. In our society, it seems, you have to be defined by your job title. When meeting new people I can usually count on “what do you do?” being one of their first questions as they form their perception of me. To date I believe I never repeated the same answer, nor do I feel I have given one that was readily understood. I do what I once thought was impossible and, I suspect, in most people’s minds still is.
When I try to explain, I am almost always met with skepticism. Can you make a living doing that? Well, yes. You won’t see me featured in Fortune or Forbes any time soon but when I add up my monetary income to the intangible joys of a free and inspired life, I consider myself richer than most of those who are. Livelihood may be measured in dollars and cents. Life is measured in degrees of freedom. Living is measured in meaningful experiences. Yes, I make a very good living.
Hello Guy,
quite interesting article and very nice pictures!!! Keep going – your stuff is great!
I am silenced by your writing. Honestly don’t know what to say but you are indeed living THE life!
Loved this post, Guy!
Well said. I can identify with a lot of what you’ve written. Labels just get in the way of following the heart.
How about “communicator”? I have the same dilemma when people ask me what I do, like yesterday. How do you explain what you wrote to someone who thinks you shoot weddings and senior portraits (which I don’t)? How do explain the way you see to someone who may go through life with their eyes (and mind) “closed”? We communicate through our photographs, through our writing, and through our teaching, hoping to inspire others to engage in the conversation we as photographers, writers, and artists enjoy with the world around us.
Well, after reading that, I think you can add this one to your list: wordsmith.
Another wonderful post Guy! We are indeed purveyors of inspiration and I too consider myself very fortunate to be able to share my vision with the world.
I know exactly how you feel and you’ve expressed it beautifully. How lucky we are!!!
Hey Guy
One of the best, if not the best, piece I’ve read in a long, long time. Thank you.
Cheers
Carl
Another great piece, Guy. Thank you.
Guy,
This is so well put. I hope you don’t mind me using a few of these words when givig my own explanations. Keep living the life. Pura Vida.
David Culp
Wonderful and insprational words – well done.
Hi Guy,
Lovely post. I think the label you are searching for is “human being.” We seem to have forgotten what that means. Glad you understand!
My best,
Clay
Well said. Fits exactly.
Once again, a great post.
You kind of make me want to shut up, not write another word myself, and simply spend my time reading what you have to say.
Guy – though I enjoy reading and following a number of photography blogs, very few blog posts resonate with me like the way this one has. I actually feel inspired inside. I truly do. Thank you.
Beautiful Guy!
Yes!!!
I love how you have inspired us with the faint greens of new Fall grasses creeping back across the land and a written message that is just as mildly beautiful.
I must say I’m one who likes what you do!
Wonderful Post.
Miss the campfire, the wonderful music at twilight, the spiritual mood, and the amazing sky and scenery. My favorite experience of the whole trip – sitting on top of the giant smooth rolling rock, which penetrates from out of nowhere. (slick rock bowl)Feeling the last of the days warmth deep within the amazingly smooth rock. The cooling winds blanketing around us was something I’ll never forget.
Guy – I don’t know what you do either, but hope you keep on doing it. For not being able to label what you do, you certainly do an excellent job of bringing others along for the ride.
What Mark said, times ten.
I read this post a few days ago and I have been thinking about it ever since. I find myself having to continually resist the urge to define myself as a certain kind of photographer. If I’m just a person with a camera I don’t think I bring as much baggage to a given situation, and if I’m less burdened and more open it’s easier to see what’s really important or unique in the world. Thanks for illuminating the path a bit.
I saw this while I was on the road and wish I would have read it then, as it would have been quite the inspiration! Keep on being you and whaterver ‘er you find comes from it. You are indeed wealthier than anyone I know…. lots of logs on that logpile!
I enjoyed our brief encounters during the E Sierras workshop this October. I intuited then that your creative river flows in ways that escape classification, and you verify that beautifully in the words above.
Now that I’m “retired” from the box (but don’t call me a ‘retiree’!), I enjoy the growing freedom from category. It invites exploration, and photography is but one of my vehicles. Your words reinforce my belief in my creative compass, and so it would appear, those of many others as well.
All the best,
Craig M