Years of This
When I look into this man's eyes, I see a sullen reflection of myself. I see a man that has toiled his entire life to become the very best he can be with his god-given talents.
An unexpected turn in the busy city of Istanbul lead me to his modest door. A humble store where this gentleman has hand-crafted shoes for longer than he cares to remember.
His products are nothing short of stunning, made with skill and love rarely seen in our busy world focused on the next big thing. The fleeting success that always seems to be moving at the speed of light, wreaking havoc on all who take a moment to ponder before disappearing just as fast as it arrived.
Amongst this chaos we call progress, this Artisan slowly selects, cuts, stitches, and creates what can only be considered bespoke pieces of art.
Yet as I sat in silent appreciation of his skill, I could not help but feel a heaviness in his heart. As if what he loved, what he was born to do was no longer needed. As if his very essence, the service he offered for the lucky few, the love and dedication that made his heart full was now the very thing that weighed him down. As if he was now passing time, watching the clock, waiting for the end.
I have seen this before, closer to home than I care to admit, yet too blinded by the abundance of youth to understand. I believe that I have witnessed this happening to friends and mentors. Talented, gifted individuals who helped me forward in my career. Yet when this soul-crushing weight fell upon their shoulders, I found it too immense to confront, so I did what seemed socially acceptable; I moved on, leaving what scared me most, the inevitability of the system, in my wake.
But time catches up to us all and I am starting to believe my time is now. I'm beginning to wonder if the view I see approaching is the same fate as the man I photographed all those years before.
It's not an easy thing to talk about in a world that seems to reward confidence above experience, popularity above skill, success above kindness. Yet, it is a conversation I am having with myself more and more, as the writing on the wall becomes impossible to ignore. Everyone I know has suggestions, get out there, pivot, manifest, the self-help copied from the latest book read list goes on.
Valid yet largely unsolicited advice that, in the end, confirms what you are trying to outrun. So just like the man who lovingly crafts shoes that nobody wants anymore, I also have a skill set, a lifetime in the making, that for all intents and purpose seem redundant.
However, unlike my friend, the shoemaker, I am not giving in to a weight that at times seems unbearable. Instead, I have chosen a path, a sliver of hope doing precisely what I believe is missing for me. Indulging in images that make me feel alive, accompanying them with stories that confirm we all have hope if we follow a path to a future we genuinely believe in.