The Hardest Words

Elton John once mused that "sorry" seems to be the hardest word. I would argue that it is "thank you" (yes, yes, I know that is two words.)

As I've written before, I often question my photography. Imposter syndrome is a real thing. Believing that my work is worthy of sharing, let alone exhibiting or selling, is a constant challenge for me. So when someone pays me a simple compliment like "Your work is really good", my standard response is usually self-deprecating..."Oh, I just press a button." Or "I was just in the right place at the right time." To say thank you would, in my mind, be me saying my work is good. But I've been working hard at mastering those two words. I'm happy to report that I am getting there.

I've been taking photos for many years. It used to be that to share photographic art, work would have to be submitted to magazines or competitions. Rejection was common, so you would have to be confident that any work submitted was of a calibre worthy of consideration. The advent of the internet, particularly the rise of social platforms over the last couple of decades, has made it infinitely easier to share photos, whether they are good or not. There are thousands of great photographers out there, and significantly many more not-so-great photographers, all jostling for attention in a very crowded market. I'm often unsure in which camp I fall. But if I am to stand a chance, I need to develop my confidence.

To do so, at our most recent art fair last week I promised myself that I would say "thank you" to each compliment. As if to test me, it was a very busy art fair with lots of visitors passing through. Many stopped to look at my displayed photos. And they paid compliments. Of course, the doubtful devil on my shoulder asked whether they were simply being polite. But I blocked that out as best as I could, and each time I received praise, I would reply with a clear "thank you". And it felt good. And right.

I told a friend of this intention a while back and his response was "That's great. Now the next thing to add is 'I love what I do.'" At the time I thought "I struggle to even acknowledge the praise with a simple 'thank you.'" But you know what? I even managed to add that to my thank you a couple of times on the day!

Yet, for all the visitors, and the praise, and the ticking over of greeting cards and small pieces, selling larger prints is always challenging. All the compliments in the world struggle to overcome the doubts that creep into your mind when the works that represent what you consider the cream of your artistic endeavour worthy of exhibiting remain unsold. I get that it is pretty much a lottery: I need the person who resonates with my creative vision, who is also the decision maker, blessed with the right amount of disposable cash, with the right size available space in their home with a décor complimentary to my piece, and the ability to take it with them on the day. Finding someone who fits all of those considerations is akin to winning Lotto. As for all the business cards taken on the day, often with a promise to get in touch once they have spoken to partners, and checked what walls are available at home, I remain doubtful because, hey, they're just being polite, right? Why would someone want one of my photographs to feature on a wall in their home?

Well, Sunday morning I received a phone call from a lady who wanted to buy a print that her son had seen, loved, and reported back on from the art show! He had taken my business card, and she checked it out on my website. I drove to her house to deliver it. She loved its poignancy, she said, the cloud and the rainbow capturing sadness and joy with such simplicity. I drew her attention to the tiny gull suspended in the rainbow. I explained how I had waited at least half an hour for that image to come together, for the cloud to slowly sail into frame and for the rainbow to make one of its intermittent appearances, hoping for the two not to dissipate before converging. The gull was a bonus, flying into the rainbow, and I pressed the shutter button.

She looked at me and said "Your work is really good".

I said "Thank you. It helps when you love what you do."

So, if you suffer from imposter syndrome, try this: next time someone says "Your work is really good", start off by saying "thank you" in reply. Better still, look them in the eye when you say it, and believe it too.