Color is my friend and my enemy. Most of the time, I want my art, my home, and my photos drenched in color, but when I see white rooms filled with ivories, creams, and bones; or look at monochrome photos; or get treated to art that is subdued, quiet, and understated, I sometimes think that I need to change my ways.
Then I stop and remind myself that those people-pleasing days are over.
Yet.
As the note I just found in an old journal admonishes:
Will it be good enough? Yes and no. Nothing is ever good enough in my eyes, and yet my work would amount to nothing if I wasn’t adept at reminding myself that I’ve done my best, considering the time and circumstances. So yes, it’s good enough.
That note (on a yellow Post-It stuck to the inside cover of the journal) is followed by another that says:
You’re not writing it for anyone but yourself, whether or not that sounds selfish or immaterial. I don’t know my audience, or if I even have one. Therefore, I need to substitute myself—it’s the only way it works.
So, today, I’ve chosen to rework one of my old pictures, after finding a strange sort of inspiration in the work of Sally Mann.