Throughout my life I’ve heard the adage that confidence isn’t a pre-condition to doing something–it’s a by-product. In other words, you gain confidence as you do something. You don’t somehow build confidence simply by thinking about doing something and thereby turn yourself into an expert. A recent article from Russ Finkelstein reminded me of this.
And although I’ve heard it for a long time, I didn’t really learn what it meant until the past few years when I began a photography (addiction) hobby in the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic.
But first some background:
In 2019, I decided I wanted to change how I approached work, and the role that work played in my life. I’d been out of grad school (Hoya Saxa!) for about 20 years, and realized I wanted to move away from the idea that I lived to work, and would rather work to live. This meant deciding to make consulting–and eventually coaching–my new profession. Or at least the things that allowed me to earn an income and brought me real fulfillment.
It wasn’t until early 2021 that I jumped from full-time work (I was the COO of the Roosevelt Institute) into the world of consulting. I also enrolled in a program so I could get trained as a professional coach, and eventually get credentialed and certified.
It was all an adjustment of course. It’s different to be a consultant who is giving advice and recommendations, after holding leadership positions where I was often the final decision-maker. Going to coach training school reminded me what it was like to be the one in the room without any answers or power. I was there to learn and observe. I loved it, after a few weeks of feeling out of place in the class.
And, thankfully, I was able to kick off my creative pursuits as well. At first I thought that that would mostly involve writing, but I quickly fell in love with photography and bought a “real” camera (i.e., not my iPhone) in the Fall of 2020. It was my way to get outside and away from screens and 2020’s never-ending stream of weird–and very often bad–news.
After working for 20 years in the field for which I was trained (politics and public policy), I was suddenly a newbie in many respects. Consulting and coaching–as mentioned above–required some adjusting, but it was really photography that pushed me outside of my comfort zone.
I am not formally trained in photography, and besides an active iPhone and Instagram game, I didn’t do much with it until 2020. I quickly built a (very) modest Instagram following of people who were not my actual friends or Mother yet who somehow still liked my work. People asked if they could buy my photos, which I thought was…funny. Who would want to buy this stuff?
Then my friends Mark and Bob who own Botanica in Provincetown asked me in late 2021 if I was interested in selling some of my work in their shop. I immediately said yes, but then started to panic about what that meant.
This was at the peak of the Omicron COVID variant, so life was still pretty locked down, which meant I had to figure things out on my own. YouTube helped me learn how to hinge-matte and backboard a photo. Google searching helped me find a good supplier of things like mattes, backboards, hinge tape, and display bags. I read a bunch of “artist statements” of painters and other photographers to figure out what I should say about my work.
I matted, boarded, and bagged about 25 different photos in early 2022 for Botanica to start selling. I was nervous! First, why would anyone want to buy my stuff? Second, even if they did, they'd likely want to return it once they got home and saw it on their walls. As I was titling and signing the mattes of each photo, I was deliberately making my already messy signature even moreso, hoping to obscure my identity (yes, I’ve talked to my therapist about this!).
Despite my fears, people bought my work at Botanica–and didn’t return it. Some reached out to me on social media to say how much they liked it.
Today, although I’m not a wildly successful photographer whose work hangs in the finest museums of the world, I do actually often like–and sometimes love–the work and what I create. And not just the fact that it’s a good reason to get outside and away from screens (and the still never-ending rush of news, good and bad). I mean that I think I create nice things, whether they’re just posted on Instagram or if I sell them at Botanica or through my website. I know I can–and will–get better with time and practice and through my slowly growing community of fellow photographers here on the Outer Cape.
But I now sign my photos as legibly as is possible for someone with atrocious handwriting. And I am proud of my work and confident in it. Had I waited to do it until I felt confident doing it, well, I’d never have done it. Never!
I’ve learned that if there is something I genuinely want to do, I should do it. I should not listen to the gremlins in my head that tell me I’ll fail or get criticized. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.
The more important thing to remember is that I might actually be good at the thing and enjoy it, and maybe–just maybe–other people will take something good from it too. That’s the real reason why I create (or coach, consult, or…fill in the blank).
That kind of positive human connection and impact, I find, is important in a world that can feel isolated and divisive. And, I believe, these little moments of human engagement are what can move us closer to a time and place where the common good is a widely shared goal, and we better understand what it takes to get there.
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