While continuing to throw things out, I came across the receipt for my first print sale which was, almost to the day, ten years ago. That print now hangs in my friends house in Belgium (Marsh). I also came across old handwritten journals from long ago. Here is one excerpt:
I'm moving closer to making photography a career - which is to say - trying to have more time for it. I'm convinced that the effort should go into making the best fine art print that I can, not sparing any expense or hardship. And that the rest will unfold naturally - as it has already.
A few days more until I leave for Yosemite. One week's vacation. That is perverse. How desperately I am looking forward to this ONE week. That proves how mixed-up my life has become - and I have become a slave again. All these years later - a slave to responsibility. Oh - I am just so responsible. That is a burden to be tossed away.
Hard to believe. Bernie [my boss at the time] walks into my office and gives me a $4000 raise. They keep giving me more money. How can I give this up even if I am so unhappy?
Well it goes on like that for a while - and then I had a severe attack with what turned out to be Chrons disease. This brought me to a crisis - where I thought perhaps I might die. And you know, you get to that point and begin asking questions about what you would be unhappy with if you did pass on. And while losing weight, and trying to find a comfortable position for myself in bed - I came to the conclusion that the tension between the artistic and the money was just too much for me and that I would have to have some help, at which point I began seeing a psychiatrist. Six months later - I was out of the computer world, the Chrons disease was [and still is] under control, and I was launched into a new career.