I sometimes forget the reason why I photograph. It has no meaning anymore. And then I stop or I go on, but only because it is already a custom.

I used to have a photography bug a few years ago. But then I had a shitty camera. Now I have a better camera, some more experience, I can organize a project, but I lost that enthusiasm.

But then again, I can’t stop. I think it is because taking pictures has become part of my identity, of the way I perceive myself and I represent myself to the world. I think it happens to many people. Certain experiences, meanings, relations wear off, but you continue them, because they define you and you don’t know how to define yourself outside these parameters.

What is truly mysterious and great to me are the people that are able to keep their enthusiasm for a long time. Maybe it is possible because they keep discovering new things about that certain aspect.

Maybe it is precisely this capacity of understanding that the enthusiasm can wear off and that you have to find by yourself, consciously sometimes, new sides to the issue.

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These are some lines I wrote a few days ago in Vama Veche, after a period of not taking pictures, pressure because of that and then shame about feeling guilty and under pressure for such a thing.

However, writing this was pretty helpful and that afternoon I was able to stroll along the beach and enjoy watching people. And taking some pictures of them.

I guess I just have to remember that photography is always a mix of fun, pressure, conscious effort and some grace (but only very seldom).