A Philosophical Approach
- Tom Lee
- 4 days ago
- 2 min read
As I get older, I consider myself retired from the day job of actually having to make a living from photography.
Gone are the days of endless client revisions, of taking photographs to satisfy someone else's brief, only to be sent back to do it all again. The demands of the establishment are now comfortably behind me.
When I retired, everyone asked the same question: "What will you do with all your spare time?" The answer, it seems, is work harder than ever.
The difference is that I no longer do it for profit or gain. Instead, I find myself driven by something altogether more complicated. Perhaps it is the desire to contribute. Perhaps it is the hope of being remembered. Or perhaps, if I am being honest with myself, it is the need to be acknowledged by my peers.
The question I keep returning to is this: Is that really what I am striving so hard for?
My days are filled preparing lectures, talks and workshops for those who still seek my knowledge and experience. I make photographs for my own satisfaction now, not for clients. Of course, it is gratifying when others appreciate them too, but I sometimes wonder why I still seek their approval.
I should be content. Yet there remains a small restlessness that refuses to settle.
Lately I have been trying to adopt a more philosophical approach. I find myself constantly reviewing my commitments and asking a simple question: "Do I really need to do this?"
Perhaps that is the source of my current frustration. I am forever attempting to balance my artistic impulses with an almost compulsive need to produce something. One project ends and another immediately takes its place. The hamster wheel never quite stops turning.
My quarterly art journal, Focus Quarterly, sits at the centre of it all. It is more than a publication; it has become part of who I am. It demands a great deal of time and energy, yet I cannot imagine abandoning it. It remains front and centre, and probably always will.
The challenge is not the journal itself. The challenge is everything else.
Photography still brings me joy. It feeds the journal, satisfies my curiosity and keeps those wandering brain cells occupied. When I am making photographs or working on something I genuinely care about, I rarely feel stressed. It is the spaces in-between that cause the trouble.
The quiet moments. The moments when the mind decides it should be doing something else.
Perhaps meditation is the answer. Perhaps not. What I do know is that I need to become more comfortable with stillness and less concerned with constant productivity. As I write this note from the studio, I still don't have the answer. Maybe there isn't one.
If any of this sounds familiar, then perhaps the lesson is simply this: Carry on, but keep calm. The work that matters will find its place.
And as for what my peers think of me and my photographs?
Perhaps it is finally time to stop worrying about that altogether.
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