Wednesday marked two weeks since my youngest daughter went back to the Philippines.
Since October of last year, her well-being has dominated a huge part of my mind. We worried she showed signs of autism—there, I said it, I’m no longer skirting around it with vagueries like developmental concerns. That was our worry. The signs were all there, so we planned to move back to the UK where the healthcare and support networks are in place for children like Izzy. We sold all our belongings, I spent all my savings, and we moved halfway around the world.
I then spent the next several months setting up doctor appointments, health visitor assessments, and audiology assessments, and pushing my finances to the limit paying for a nursery placement to ensure Izzy got the structure that all the professionals—and my own sister, who has worked in childcare for over 25 years—said was essential.
Slowly, we started to see improvements: less tantrums, more interaction, more confidence. All that effort, all that sacrifice, and ultimately, it has been futile for reasons I can’t go into here.
So, in the last two weeks, I’ve really been struggling to produce any content for the website, or even pick up a camera with any meaning or intention. I’ll just be honest: I feel pretty flat and numb. Sofia is still here with me, and I know that I need to work, so after multiple attempts to get out with various cameras, I turned to the ones I often do when I hit creative ruts.
The Small-Camera Crutch
You see, it’s the smaller cameras—the ones that aren’t meant to be professional-level gear—that I tend to turn to when I want to remove all pressure to produce images of any note. My OM-3 is the epitome of this: it’s beautiful, small, lightweight, and still highly capable, but I can give myself the excuse that if I don’t produce anything decent, it wasn’t me, it’s partly the camera.
I know for a fact it is absolutely not the camera, but it’s a small mental crutch that often alleviates any sense of pressure and allows me to break out of creative ruts. It works either by simply relieving my own self-inflicted pressure to perform, or by having features like computational modes that spur me on to try shots I otherwise wouldn’t with heavier systems.
This week, I’ve been out with a camera several times. On Monday, I managed to get one shot that I had the confidence in to publish in my OM-3 and Nikon Zf article comparing the black-and-white modes.
Then on Wednesday, I went out with that same mindset for a walk in a beautiful location with my mum and the OM-1 Mark II: just enjoy the walk, the scenery, and the fresh air, and if you get any shots, great.
I failed miserably.
I had the 12-40mm f/2.8 II lens mounted—a good lens, still lightweight, so easy to carry. I was actively looking for shots, playing with the built-in ND filter mode, and yet, when I came home and looked at the photos, I honestly thought: I’m not publishing those, they’re rubbish.
Sitting Under the Dark Cloud
It’s now Friday, and unfortunately, my brain has completely failed me—not only in producing any photos, but even in thinking of a topic I can muster the interest to write about. A pretty heavy dark cloud is currently sitting over me in terms of inspiration and motivation to get out and work.
But I’m not going to let that stop me.
After years of pretty consistent stress, maybe I just need a bit of time to process everything, get used to the new circumstances, and let the creative process and inspiration slowly come back to me. If I keep getting out there, keep taking a camera through habit, and just keep looking, seeing, and pressing the shutter button, it will return.
Why am I writing this article now? Because it’s the most honest thing that I have to say right now. Out there, maybe some of you also deal with creative ruts, and perhaps by sharing this, it will help someone push through just as I have done in the past.
This one may take a bit more effort to come out the other side of, but I will. And when I do, I’ll be waiting here in Scotland, with Sofia, building something safe, secure, and welcoming for the day that Izzy returns.
And here are some of the photos I took this week. I guess it’s good to show them just to fight against the perfection we see projected everywhere these days. Failing is part of succeeding, and I definitely failed this week.
Update: I’m still trying to push through this period and got an image that I was happy with in a recent article.
