I can still hear Junhee’s admonishment from when we made the Wes Anderson trend for an IG reel about the photo tips we would give others who (constantly) ask us which camera to buy: “Patience, Sanders! You know it’s all about waiting for the best photo, right?”
For context, we stood in the North End in the Ciao Roma plaza where the waiters have to walk up into the street from the basement kitchen to deliver their plates to the hungry people at the restaurant next door. It made this perfect scene where steamy-plates of pasta would ascend from the stairs coming up from nowhere. All things carbohydrates and nostalgia. I remember seeing this happen and telling Junhee how that would have made a perfect photo. He said, “Then why don’t we just stake out right here and wait for it to happen again?”
Unparalleled wisdom. I ran the math, it was probable. But waiting around? Not the move, or the speed of my photography. I don’t like it. But we did wait, and sure enough, another waiter with ready-food was ascending up the basement steps into the street — except this time lots of people crowded our view.
So we waited again, determined. Then we found ourselves being chided by a stranger for taking photos. Something-something about how we weren’t supposed to be there. It was time to go, and we never got “the shot”.
what does it mean to miss your shot?
It probably doesn’t mean anything. If you miss your shot, you can just take the next one. Take the next train. My photography philosophy has always been quantity-based. Take as much as possible, you’ll find a keeper. Cull through the thousands. This is why we have Photo Mechanic, it doesn’t matter. Better to have too much instead of not enough. And yet, patience is teaching me that there’s a difference between taking a thousand photos in a flash, and knowing you’ll get something you can work with, versus having a vision and waiting for it. To wait is intentionally risking not getting your shot. What would it look like to be open for opportunity, or abundant with opportunity? What would it mean to risk the once-in-an-eternal moment shot? Or as Steinbeck says in Grapes of Wrath: “And don't worry about losing. If it is right, it happens — the main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.”
The General Counsel1 says that we must keep our heads down, work hard, not wait for Hemingway-dust to glitter-bomb us into inspiration, and practice, practice, practice. It’s about discipline and everything else Steven Pressfield writes about in The War of Art. The point is, nothing is instant. Patience is the most active thing we can do. We wait our whole lives for the right shot to find us — but we have to stake out the corners of places that hold our interest. We have to live life on the scene, and in the scene, always.
patience as virtue
I’ve been realizing that patience and generosity are closely linked. Patience is a way of life, it asks to be looked at, to slow down, to not let emotion override an interruption. Generosity looks at interruptions as invitations. It fills the space with unexpected beauty when patience is present. Generosity looks at life as a renewable resource — renewable energy. Impatience operates under scarcity.
Art often finds us in the generous moments. There’s something to being expectantly, actively, patiently waiting for your art to make itself known. Patience requires a generosity of spirit and a generosity of time. There is no fear in generosity.
Once, I asked my (locally-renowned) baker of a mother what her advice is for learning to bake. She said without missing a beat “patience” and gave me the side-eye as only mother’s can do knowing full well that her third child (me) often lacks such patience.
I guess I’m writing this to say that there is power in virtue — there is a steadfastness accompanying the ordinary times. It’s the ingredient for good baking, for photo-making and relationships and meaning-finding. Artist J. Ashton Leigh writes: “Patience has to be cultivated. Perhaps the entire creative process can be viewed as a patience builder.” The building imagery is good. A very much non-artist William Kimball also writes: “Good art is nothing more than infinite patience.”
Perhaps in this Ordinary Time a very ordinary reminder to have patience is called for. There is beauty to be found, if we’re willing to wait for it.
summer shenanigans
My friend Rebecca has a substack now and it’s bringing me joy. She’s written a little about our time in Spain and her new ventures in Nashville inspire me to embrace the slow and let the art come to me. Follow her work and enrich your soul.
If you like great phone photography or aesthetic golf shots be sure to follow Junhee on Instagram. He’s either always cooking something delicious or going on travel adventures with his wife; I appreciate his creative presence so much.
This NYT opinion piece on affirmative action — a thoughtful look at how layered and tricky the issue really is. Affirmative action, student loan forgiveness, creative llc vs. elenis (this one feels like the most winning-win one to me) — the highest court in the land has been busy ruffling feathers to literally no one’s surprise.
Speaking of admirable patience, Zuckerberg has patiently waited to pounce on the Twitter with a copy-cat launch of Threads. Knowing how much IG censors already, I’m doubtful the New Twitter will be a “safe space” for communities in general. I’m with Elon Musk when he said: “It is infinitely preferable to be attacked by strangers on Twitter, than indulge in the false happiness of hide-the-pain Instagram.” This NYT article spells it out for us. While I don’t plan to download the app anytime soon (the privacy policy also has some strict contingencies) my hope is that the filler-content-only people will start Threading so Instagram can go back to being a primarily pictures app.
I don’t know who this is, I just like imagining a General Counsel exists at all times.
So relevant and beautifully written!