I lost access to my whole intimate portrait library.
It was in no way an expansive or definitive collection, but it was years of careful collaboration and earnest work that I am never getting back. And I am in no way assigning blame on any sort of cosmic conspiracy. The fault is entirely mine, and not in the stars.
As the images were of a sensitive nature, I placed them in a separate encrypted and password-protected catalog. I remembered to export the certificate that would allow me to decrypt the pictures and access them on a different computer in the event that my system would crash. What I failed to do was back that very certificate to a secondary off-site location, so it was essentially a disaster waiting to happen. Which it did as the hard drive it was on blinked out of oblivion together with the motherboard it had shared a home with for the past six years or so.
And just like that it was gone.
I went through the whole gamut of emotions that would succinctly define such a loss — from utter denial to bittersweet acceptance. I stopped working on my intimate portraiture for a few months. It felt like I was scaling a mountain and just as I was making significant progress, I slipped and slid back down to its base. I contemplated giving up altogether, but the fall was a blessing in disguise as it allowed me to look at the mountain from a different perspective. I was able to rest and clarify my vision; finally finding a different path up the summit. One that I hope will take me farther up.
And so the journey continues…
Above is a picture of a print that I made from my first intimate portrait shoot since the fateful day that my computer crashed. It finally feels like I’m on the path that I should have been on in the first place.