I remember well, growing up in Reading, my parents asking me at the Saturday morning breakfast table where I had gone the night before.
“Nowhere,” I’d say.
Not because I was trying to hide anything, but because I wanted to savor the memory myself, privately. Some moments felt too good, too personal, too alive to be retold. They weren’t meant to be summarized, explained, or shared—they were meant to be kept.
Maybe that’s why, in my earliest days as a photographer, I felt an almost opposite pull—to share, to show, to prove. I was young, eager, and searching for affirmation. When I took a photo I loved, I couldn’t wait to put it in front of someone else. Do you see what I see? Do you feel what I felt? I was looking for encouragement, for proof that I was on the right track. And that was okay. It’s a natural part of the creative journey.
Fast forward five decades, and I shoot from the heart, for the heart. I no longer need validation the way I once did. Not because I don’t care, but because I’ve learned that the deepest fulfillment in photography—and in life—comes from the act itself, not from the reaction it receives.
The older I get, the less I enjoy broadcasting my accomplishments. It’s hard to explain, but sometimes just talking about them seems to shrink their meaning. Photography, for me, is sacred. It’s how I see the world, how I make sense of it. I don’t want to dilute that by turning every frame into something that needs likes, comments, or approval.
That’s not to say sharing is wrong. Far from it. If putting your work out into the world brings you joy, then share widely, even wildly. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your art to be seen, to connect with others, to be a conversation rather than a monologue.
But there’s another path, too. One that doesn’t rely on public validation. A path where the act of creation is enough. I want to encourage people to create for creation’s sake—to take a photo, write a poem, paint a canvas—not because it needs to be shared, but because the process itself is meaningful.
We are artists, and artists are born to create. That alone is enough.
I know some might be wondering, But Jack, you share plenty of photos on Facebook. How does that fit into all this?
Fair question.
The difference now is that I don’t share because I have to—I share because I want to. I no longer feel the compulsion to post every good shot I take. And paradoxically, that freedom makes the photos I do share more intentional, more personal, more meaningful. Some of my favorite images will never be posted anywhere. They don’t need to be. They exist for me, and that’s enough.
So if you ever feel that pull—the feeling that a moment, a memory, a creation is too special to share—honor that. Let it be yours. Some things don’t need an audience. Some things are best kept close to the heart. And in that quiet, you may just find the deepest joy of all.
So the next time someone asks you where you’ve been…” nowhere”, or what your shot…”nothing”:)
Click.
Jack.
