It was one of those days that felt like a gift—beautiful skies, perfect temperature, sunshine that didn’t feel oppressive but just… right. The kind of day that reminds you why you keep moving forward.
After coffee and a couple breakfast Tacos (come on man, I live in Austin) I hopped on my bike, rode around the lake, and halfway through, I sprawled out on the grass and let the world be. No schedule. No agenda. Just the rhythm of my own breath and the feeling of the earth holding me up.
On the All-Work-And-No Play Spectrum, this was…all play.
Glorious
I needed yesterday.
I needed a break from the rat race.
I needed a break from my overthinking of life, love, and learning.
Ahhhhh.
Zilker Park therapy.
Before heading home, I stopped at HEB to grab some meds. That’s when I saw it—the goddamn label.
“Take as directed.”
I hate that phrase. You have no idea how I hate this phrase.
It reminds me, unlike many of you, of course, of my well-meaning parents, neighbors, and family friends who offered me advice that had nothing to do with anything.
It triggers something in me.
Who the hell decided they got to be in charge? Who died and made them boss?
Sorry. Breathe, Jack. You’re good.
My mood shifted from relaxed to irritated, just like that. And then, to make matters worse, I picked up some multivitamins, and there it was again: “Use as directed.”
My irritation turned to a full-blown miff.
WTF.
Why is everyone, everywhere, trying to tell us, even insist, how to run and manage our lives.
Listen, and it should be pretty obvious, I don’t like being told what to do. Never have. Probably never will. It’s not about arrogance; it’s about knowing myself. Knowing what I need. Knowing what makes me tick. Knowing when to break the so-called rules and carve my own way. Yep
On a more calm and introspective note, maybe that’s why photography has always felt like home to me. Over the last four decades, I’ve seen too many photo colleagues, in this field “take as directed.” They follow the trends. They obey the algorithms. They shoot what sells, what’s safe, what’s expected.
Not me. Fuck that. It’s just not me. Again, I know me. And I’m guessing, you know…you.
As a photographer, I shoot what I want. How I want. Where I want, When I want. Even why I want. Because I know what I like. I know what moves me. I know what stirs me. I know what stops me in my tracks and makes me hit the shutter. And I’ll be damned if I let someone else dictate what that should look like.
This isn’t just about photography. It’s about living. It’s about waking up every day and choosing your own path—not the one society, industry, or convention tells you to take.
That’s the spirit of James Dean. That’s the spirit of every artist, every maverick, every wild soul who refuses to be boxed in.
I don’t take as directed. I don’t use as directed.
I live as directed—by me.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Fuck off.
Click.
Jack
