True Artistry. Fuck yes!

From the very outset of my journey through photography, since 1975, I’ve always approached it, the best I could, through thick and thin, with a heart full of emotion. Yet, as time went on, the demands of commercial photography, and the necessities of paying bills, led me down a path where technical precision and mechanical prowess took precedence.

I found myself constantly immersed, assignment after assignment, client after client, paycheck after paycheck, in the intricacies of lenses, apertures, shutter speeds, and camera technicalities, while the raw, emotional essence of my art and vision seemed to slowly chip away, relegated to the sidelines like a forgotten memory. This wasn’t at all the plan, but an unfortunate reality. Commerce trumped creativity.

Many a time, throughout those early years, in the quiet times of day and night, I would whisper to myself, “I know you are out there, photography, where did you go? Show yourself to me? Be kind to my inclinations and seeking heart. I want to be an artist”.

Then, more recently, after decades of prioritizing the trade and merchant side of the business of photography, life dealt its hand, and I found myself standing at the precipice of a second divorce. Fuck, it really hurt bad-more than you can even imagine. I failed, again, and failed hard. Big time. Sigh. Shit. When will I ever learn?
Amidst the turmoil and heartache of separation, something within me snapped—quite literally. Suddenly, I was thrust back to the beginning of my photographic odyssey, clutching my trusty iPhone in hand, ready to dive headfirst into the ethereal realms of artistry once more. I needed this connection. I needed to rediscover the art side of me. I needed to find love and imagination again.

Looking back, again, with a revisionist lens, photography got me through this stage in my life…with flying colors. Click.

In the aftermath of my personal upheaval, I, often with great kicking and screaming, rediscovered the sheer joy of photography as an emotional outlet.

No longer bound by the constraints of technical perfection, I embraced the imperfections, the flaws, and the irregularities that make each moment unique. Gone were the days of obsessing over pixel-peeping and image sharpness; instead, I found solace, with iPhine in hand, in the intangible qualities of mood, light, color, and design-the very magic and mystery I remembered well from back when I first held a new camera in my hands for the very first time. True artistry. Click.

Critics, curators, and publishers may scoff at what they perceive as a disregard for “objective image quality.” But to me, such concerns feel trivial in comparison to the profound emotional resonance that my photographs now possess. Each image is infused with a piece of my soul, capturing not just what the eye can see, but what the heart can feel.

Fuck yes! We live. We die. We click and tick, in between. Carpe diem. I am alive again.

It’s as if I’ve stumbled upon a newfound love affair—with photography itself. And unlike the complexities of human relationships, this love knows no rules, no conditions, no expectations. It’s a love that allows me to express myself freely, to create without inhibition, to see the world through the lens of an artist and a poet.

Photography, I’ve come to realize, is not merely a technical craft; it’s an art form, a means of storytelling, a conduit for emotions too vast and profound to be contained within the confines of pixels and megapixels. It’s a language that transcends barriers, speaking directly to the heart of the viewer, evoking feelings that words alone cannot express.

In this newfound chapter of my photographic journey, I embrace the impermanence of life, the fleeting beauty of each moment, and the endless possibilities that lie within the realm of art. For me, photography is not just a passion—it’s a way of life, a source of inspiration, and a reminder that true artistry lies not in technical perfection, but in the raw, unfiltered expression of the human experience.



Jack Hollingsworth