I was walking through a museum recently looking at artwork from someone I had never heard of, and I started thinking about how interesting it is that somebody can create something, put it into the world, and years later a complete stranger can experience it without knowing anything about the person who made it.

Then I went through a library with over a hundred photography books, and funny enough, some of the first books I picked up barely had photographs in them. Mostly words, which I thought was pretty interesting considering I was looking for photography.

But it made me think about my own work because I have over three terabytes of photographs and creative material sitting between Lightroom and my external hard drives. Years of people, food, restaurants, events, traveling, and random things I found interesting enough to photograph.

And most of it has never been seen by anybody.

So I’m starting to wonder why I’ve spent so much time creating things without giving them more opportunities to exist outside of my computer.

I’ve been a photographer for years, and through all the different things I’ve done professionally, photography has probably been one of the most consistent parts of my life.

But I think I’ve spent so much time trying to figure out how to make money from photography that I sometimes forget there’s another part of the process.

Actually sharing the work.

Earlier this year, I finished my first Dire Needs book and published it on Amazon, which is still pretty interesting to me because something that originally existed entirely in my head can now be found and read by somebody I’ve never met.

And I don’t know whether that person will love it, hate it, or completely misunderstand what I was trying to say.

But it exists.

I think that’s becoming more satisfying to me than it used to be because I’ve spent a lot of my life measuring progress through financial success, and while I still care about that, I’m starting to understand there’s value in simply creating something and allowing it to have a life outside of me.

Recently I photographed food at Kani Ka Pila, and one of my favorite parts was getting the opportunity to go into the kitchen and watch the chef preparing some of the dishes.

I always take the opportunity to mention that I’m also a chef because it’s a subtle moment, but I think it creates a different level of understanding between us. Watching the miso-glazed island catch being torched to get that nice crispy surface was fantastic, and because I understand the culinary process, I’m not just looking at the finished plate. I’m paying attention to everything that went into making it.

That’s something I appreciate about having different creative interests because they aren’t necessarily competing with each other. Sometimes they actually make each other better. Photography lets me document food in a way that culinary training helps me understand, and writing gives me another way to explain the things I’m seeing. Maybe I’ve been trying too hard to separate everything when it’s all coming from the same place anyway.

Getting the Work in Front of People This week I also finished delivering photographs from the Hawaiʻi Jazz Getaway, which was a $1,000 assignment. I photographed the event, went through roughly 2,500 images, and narrowed them down to a gallery of 140 photographs for the client to choose from.

And while getting paid is obviously important, one of the things I’ve been appreciating lately is that more people are actually visiting my website and being introduced to my work. For years I relied heavily on Instagram, and my follow-ups weren’t always the best. Now I’m reaching out to businesses, sending emails, following up, delivering galleries, and slowly creating opportunities for people to discover what I do. That feels different.

Because I can take the greatest photograph in the world, but if it never leaves my hard drive, nobody has an opportunity to experience it. And apparently I’ve been doing that with three terabytes of material. Which is a ridiculous amount of work to keep to myself.

I keep coming back to this idea that art is basically a diary entry. When I write Dire Needs, I’m exploring grief, memory, family, addiction, and things I’m still trying to understand about my own life. When I photograph food, I’m documenting something I understand from years of working in kitchens. When I’m teaching about cannabis, I’m trying to make something misunderstood easier for people to understand. Different subjects, but the same curiosity. And I think that’s what I’ve been trying to build with The Hidden Creation, even when I didn’t completely know how to explain it.

I don’t want everything I create to need a business plan before it deserves to exist. Obviously, I still want to make money. My rent has not suddenly developed an appreciation for artistic expression. But I also want to make more books, publish more photographs, write more stories, and give people opportunities to experience what I’ve been creating all these years. I don’t know whether any of those things will become successful.

And honestly, I’m becoming more comfortable with that. Because somebody made the artwork I saw in that museum, and years later I walked in and found something meaningful in it. They didn’t need to be standing there explaining why it mattered. The work was already there. And I think it’s time I started letting more of mine exist that way too.

Resources Photography & Portfolio: The Hidden Creation

Dire Needs: My independently published science-fiction series, available on Ebook or Amazon.

Cannabis Recipe Book: The Hidden Creation Cannabis Recipe Book.

YouTube: @thehiddencreation — food culture, photography, and cannabis education.

Your Turn: Do you have something you’ve spent years creating that nobody has really seen? What would happen if you finally put it out there?