As I stared at window after window on my computer screen, my eyes started to ache and I had to pull away. The fall is one of my busiest seasons, and I could sense in that moment in front of my laptop, spending another hour in my office that I was beginning to lose it. No, not my mind, although it sometimes feels like that. But instead losing the spark that makes me love what I do - the inspiration.
So, I lit a candle, brewed my favorite coffee, and looked through early 1900s photos that my grandmother had just sent to me. As I perused the sepia photos and searched for the glass negatives to match, my eyes still ached. Why wasn't this working? "Come on, inspiration" I kept telling myself.
After about half an hour, I packed the box of photos back up, and I had to get on with work and the day's events. I headed downtown to the barre studio where I work out for a class and decided to bump up a session to happen before class. It was for one of the instructors. As I talked with her, felt the energy of people around me, and cleaned up after a hard class for another meeting, I felt it - inspiration.
It wasn't found in some ritual or quiet moments, I found it in connecting with people - getting out of myself for long enough to see others. For my usually introverted self, this kind of shocked me at first. This isn't what I am supposed to be like. But in that moment, for whatever reason, I let that go.
I always love hearing how artists found their muse. How did they create so well? What inspired them? The funny thing is, it's never the same. Each has had their own and had to find it themselves.
And I shouldn't be surprised that connecting with people, at this time brought about inspiration. After all, isn't that the thing I love most about photography? The connections?
Who's to say where or how inspiration will strike next. But I hope I won't be so set on it looking a certain way that when it passes me by, I miss it entirely.