Above the Clouds: Perspective on the Ebbs and Flows of the Creative Journey
It’s been one of those weeks—up and down, the kind I’m sure most of us know well.
After six strong months, I’ve decided to let my fine art photography exhibit at Art Box Gallery in St. Augustine come to its natural close. It was a meaningful run, and I’m grateful for every visitor who paused in front of the prints. Still, it means a noticeable drop in local exposure and potential sales once the work comes down. A few days later, I received word that my application for an exhibit at La Casa Studios wasn’t selected. I had high hopes for it, so that one landed with a quiet sting.
On the writing side, book sales for the month have doubled compared to last month. That’s genuinely encouraging—something worth celebrating. Yet even with decent numbers moving, the reviews have been almost nonexistent. It’s hard not to let the silence creep in and make me second-guess the quality of the work itself.
These ebbs and flows are part of the path. They test patience and commitment in ways steady progress never could. What keeps me steady is the same discipline I learned in earlier chapters of life: show up, observe, prepare, and trust that the right moments will align when they’re ready.
Lately that discipline looks like long beach walks with my pups, camera slung over my shoulder. There’s something restorative about the rhythm of the waves, the salt air, and the ever-changing sky. The image above was captured during one of those recent walks—a vast, textured sea of clouds that reminded me how beautiful even the “in-between” moments can be. From ground level the week felt heavy; from a little altitude the whole picture shifted. The light was still there, just waiting for the right angle.
Photography has always been my way of staying present. It’s a practice in noticing what’s actually there instead of forcing what isn’t. The same patience that once served long missions now serves long exposures and quiet observations along the coast. The creative life demands the same quiet professionalism: keep moving, keep watching, keep believing the work will find its people.
I remain fully committed to this journey—both behind the lens and on the page. My hope is that these prints and stories continue to connect with collectors, locals, and visitors who find something of themselves in the stillness I try to capture. In the meantime, I’ll keep walking the beach, chasing the light, and creating from a place of gratitude rather than pressure.
Thank you for walking this path with me.