There are so many things in life we do out of routine, habit, or necessity. We learn them along the way—not necessarily because we have an innate talent for them, but because life requires us to adapt. We drive, we cook, we pay bills, we navigate responsibilities, all without ever questioning whether these actions align with who we truly are.
But then, there are the things we do that feel different. The ones that don’t just occupy space in our days but take root in our very being.
As a coach’s kid, I remember sitting around the dinner table listening to my dad talk to my mom about certain football players who had “natural gifts.” There was always something in his voice—a quiet reverence for those few athletes who weren’t just skilled, but instinctual. The ones who didn’t just play the game but embodied it.
I’ve come to believe photography is much the same way. It’s a skill, sure—one that can be learned, practiced, and perfected. But for some, it’s more than that. It’s a habit so deeply ingrained that it feels less like something acquired and more like something that has always been there, waiting to be uncovered.
I was just a teenager in 1975 when I held my first camera—a shiny new Minolta SRT 101. From the moment it rested in my hands, it felt like home. The weight, the mechanics, the way the light danced through the lens—it all felt natural, like an extension of myself. And when I pressed the shutter for the first time, something inside me clicked into place, too.
Click.
Looking back, I don’t know exactly where that initial spark came from. I only know that it did. And that it never left.
Photography has been the most natural thing I’ve ever done and, quite possibly, ever will do. It has shaped how I see the world, how I move through it, and how I connect with others. It has transformed the way I experience light, shadow, space, and time. More than anything, it has completed me in ways I never expected.
Some people spend years searching for their gift. Others stumble upon it by accident. And then there are those, like me, who feel as though the gift was always there, patiently waiting to be discovered.
I don’t take that for granted. Not for a second.
Because when something feels this natural—when it doesn’t just fill your life but fulfills it—you know it’s more than just skill. It’s a calling. And for that, I am endlessly grateful.
Click.
Jack.
