In New York City, I hate associating myself with Dallas. I live in the FORT WORTH of the Dallas-Fort Worth, but Dallas is all people know or wish to know…not sure. But I can’t identify with Fort Worth, either. I have proudly served in the Dallas area for my career nearly my entire adult life. I have no issue identifying with DFW. I just take issue with the D which has to come first. But why? What makes Fort Worth feel so different—at least to me?
Yesterday, I would take my friend to the Rangers game in Arlington, which only makes the identification of the larger metroplex area even more complicated, sorry Arlington residents. For those of you who do not have access to a map, the city of Arlington sits comfortably between the two larger cities of Fort Worth and Dallas. Fort Worth is to the left and Dallas to the east. It roughly takes thirty minutes to drive from my home of North Fort Worth to Arlington. If I were to drive to Dallas, from my home, the drive would actually be an hour and a half. And that’s only getting to Dallas. Dallas itself is a very large city.
The game at Globe Life Field was amazing. The last time I had been to a baseball game in Arlington had to have been twenty-five years ago at the old Ballpark next door. I was so discombobulated as a fan, I literally brought sun tan lotion thinking my poor skin would have to fight the sun all day. This would not be the case as Globe Life Field is all air-conditioned. Although the stadium was not packed, I still got my snaps. I just couldn’t wait to commemorate the Red, White, and Blue for our nation’s 250th focusing on the actual colors of red, white, and blue. Call me old-fashioned.
Waking up this morning, back in Fort Worth, I am reviewing my photography from my photo feed and that thing, the one word I could not articulate while consumed in a sea of chaos, honking, broken up by sudden bits of enlightenment called the NYC streets, suddenly comes to mind.
The same morning before the game I photographed a rabbit in my yard, a Hummingbird feeding from my transplanted Yucca, and Blue Jays canvassing the yard for peanuts set out by my wife. Fast forward through my photography feed there are shots of Globe Life Field. Scrolling a little more I can now see the fans in full celebratory action. Then it hit me. My exuberance during the day was rekindled not for the day itself, but for the fact I had returned to my home in Fort Worth! I, living in Fort Worth, found myself honored to have the gift of perspective.
Early in my photography side hustle I made it a point to travel to New York City every year with photography samples in hand for critique. For you late millennials and Gen Zers out there, critique is having a mentor or someone better than you review your work and absolutely shitting on it. And yes, one pays for the criticism session. But I digress. I could tell that the session was not going well as my mentor, a prominent Texas photographer appeared bored. “Move closer, step back, why do you have to be so perfectly level with the horizon line?” He would say while shuffling through my portfolio which I had spent hours if not days preparing for. “Do you have anything more?” He inquired.
I took out my phone savagely scrolling through my photo feed. “Wait!” The artist gestured for my phone and then started scrolling through the feed. “This! This is good!” He pointed to an iPhone photo of my first Northern Cardinal—captured through my camera’s viewfinder. The photo was captured with an old iPhone to make matters worse. That day I remember going back to my hotel confused and devastated. I should have never had handed over my iPhone I remembered thinking.
But it changed the rest of my photographic life that is for sure. It took me a while to understand that I was not in love with making the photograph as much as I was capturing the subject matter. I had no interest capturing the fleeting sun at Zion park as much as I would have capturing local people enjoying my local park. Everything in my artistic bones loved home. Criticism and art gallery showings for the years to follow would help me perfect my craft.
I sit in my chair this morning thinking back to all of it scrolling through a days worth of photos and the past ten years of my photography development slaps me on the head. I’m not just looking at a photograph anymore. I am enjoying where I live! I love the fact that I don’t have to reside in Dallas landlocked in a sea of highways and concrete, and I especially enjoy the fact that I don’t have to look out my window in Arlington to a view of people like myself coming and going for work or leisure. I enjoy my mornings of feeling the heat from a sun rise against my shoulder while listening to a crescendo of Mockingbird and Dove calls. I am fortunate to have what I do and honored to share my perspective with all of you. That is what photography is all about, isn’t it?
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