Birds Of A Feather

I was sharing, in a lovely Eastside Austin courtyard, an oven-roasted, vegetarian-topped, thick-crusted, pizza pie with a new artist, well-groomed, early 50-something, lady friend.

She was asking me about my life interests and experiences, looking for, as you might imagine, common grounds between us.

I immediately and enthusiastically launched into my passion for photography.

It wasn’t our first time together, and not wanting to appear to be too terribly lopsided, I exaggerated a bit about my other interests-reading, cooking, fashion, sports, travel, early Christianity, humanism, movies, music, etc.

The volume and vigor at which I spoke about these other interests, wasn’t nearly as compelling and engrossing as my previous mentions and citations about photography. No surprise.

Being an artist herself, she read right through my disguise and pegged me for exactly who I was-a a hard-core, intense, zealous, all-in photographer.

I blushed and looked away. She was right. I admitted it.

I am a bit unbalanced, skewed, uneven when it comes to my beloved photography.

It has always been like this for and with me.

And it is not just the admiration of the product of photography, but the participation of the process in photography, that stimulates and animates me.

The first time I put a camera in my hands, a Minolta SRT 101, in 1975, the spark was born.

Now, almost 45 years later, that spark is a roaring, blazing, all-consuming, out-of-control fire.

(Side note: No one ever wants me as a partner in Trivial Pursuit.

My general knowledge-base is too limited)

Having this one-track mind has given me all the impulsion, incitement, inducement, inspiration that I’ve ever needed to master the art and science of photography. The journey continues.

Yes, in some circles, and in some conversations, this commitment to a single discipline, appears to be partial, preferential, limiting.

Yes, in other circles, it’s the key to unlocking photography’s true mysteries and magic.

As my earlier conversation turned out, my new friend is a painter.

She understands well the attitude of artistic fixation, compulsion, and obsession.

Birds of a feather flock together



Jack Hollingsworth