It's not all about me.

A year and a half ago I had invested in printing, mat-boarding and framing a number of photographs. The purpose of that was to setup a booth at some of the art markets around town and sell my photos there. This was far from my ideal situation of what I would consider as a successful step in my career and progress as a photographer, but I had to make ends meet somehow and, at least, I was not stuck in a depressing office, being a pencil pusher. This seemed like a good idea and I wanted to give it a try.



Working a booth at an outdoor market and trying to sell products to passer-bys had its pros and cons. I was out in the open, I spent my day socializing and meeting people, I would get to talk about my photos and my adventures... Unfortunately, the biggest disadvantage was a crucial one. Sales were not going as well as I hoped for. I managed to push some pieces, but not enough for me to have a sufficient income that would justify this "business" venture. Due to that, I had no choice but to stop doing the market booths and get a full time job instead.

Fast forward to today (well, 3-4 days ago) and I am stuck with a pretty big stock of prints, mat-boarded and/or framed. You see, I began my venture very ambitiously and didn't even consider the possibility that my work may not be as commercially appealing as I anticipated... I thought of organizing some sort of an artistic yard sale and try to give all remaining pieces away for whatever prices people were willing to pay. Unfortunately, that takes time and has absolutely zero guarantees (mainly given the fact that if it's not a cute, cheesy shirt for $3, people won't buy it at a yard sale).

Instead of desperately trying to make some money back from my investment, I decided to cut my losses and donate all my work to a worthwhile cause. I I looked around Austin, trying to find a non-profit that does fundraising auctions and after a brief search, I picked the Austin Humane Society, a shelter for abandoned dogs and cats. I contacted them, they said it would be a huge help to them, so that's how it was going to be.


(This is Seamus. He already has a home, but is adorable enough to earn a mention in a dog-shelter-related post.)

A couple of days later, I found myself loading up dozens of framed photographs into my car. I only kept a few that I are already on the walls of my apartment and some more that I wanted to give to friends as gifts. As I loaded all those frames in the car, I couldn't help thinking I had partially failed. I tried selling my art and I failed. I felt disappointed with myself and did not like the idea of giving up. At the same time, I knew at this point I had no choice, so I tried suppressing all those feelings and just cut my losses.

Soon after, I found myself at the administration office of the Humane Society and that's when it all suddenly changed. I saw the impressively maintained facilities they have, the numerous passionate volunteers working on-site and the excitement and gratitude with which the lady at the office received my photographs. Thanks to all this, I felt good about myself again. I may not be making any monetary profit out of those art pieces, but it doesn't matter. I donated them towards a cause I believe in and I know they will make a difference. In the end, they did serve a purpose far more important than getting a few extra bucks in my pocket. I could just have them sitting in my spare room, hoping that one day an Arab tycoon would knock on my door asking to purchase all my artwork. Instead, they will now make their way towards various homes in and around Austin and the proceeds will assist people who devote a lot of their time and energy in a cause they believe in but don't get anything in return.

This thought made it all worthwhile. Maybe it is slightly egoistic. Maybe I feel better about not having made any profit out of those simply because I now feel good about myself. Or perhaps, I am genuinely excited by the thought that items that could not provide me with what I needed have now become someone else's treasure. The circle of life of an inanimate object. Whatever the case, it doesn't matter. This feels right and nothing bad can come out of it. Reasoning and hypothetical scenarios have no place in one's joy.

M.