Why I Print

I love print.

I even love print on print action, and sometimes even print on print on print action. Printing forces you to apply critical thought and focus toward your work, and THAT my friends, family and foes, always makes for a better photographer. As many of you know, the “Print is Dead” war mongers have been running the halls of injustice, for YEARS, trying to quell the paper insurrection, which I have to admit is really damn funny. These toads are the same toads who ran the halls in 1997, 2001, 2003, 2006, 2009, 2011 and even today claiming “Film is dead!” while developing more actions and filters to mimic….ah, film. And yes, I just saw ANOTHER print ad with a photographer claiming they finally found a digital paper that looks and feels like….well…..analog paper. For the LOVE OF GOD people can we put this dead horse to bed?? Proof that if you pay photographers or give them something for free they will say just about ANY damn thing. All that matters is that you actually print.

I’m not really sure why anything has to be dead. I look back on the Toyota’s of the early 1980’s and frankly I wish we had those back. They were insanely good. Just because a new cloth interior was introduced didn’t mean I ran around the Road and Track test facility yelling “Kill it, kill that Corolla!” Luckily, print isn’t dead and why this is so great is that printing is so great. Printing is fun. Printing can be insanely challenging (the darkroom) or effortless (FTP to local lab) and like I said before, it makes you a better photographer. We clearly don’t want to pay for things we don’t need or want, so when you approach your work with print in mind it forces you to make choices. Which of my images is good? Which ones are REALLY good, and then finally, which ones are good enough to print?
You see where I’m going here. EDITING.

Good grief has our collective editing ability been blown to bits. It has. There is no denying this. Sure, some of you out there, like me, relish the edit and understand that editing AND sequencing is an art form(one where my ability fluctuates). But the editing elite is a tiny minority in a world of bulging “select” folders.

It’s not uncommon for someone to come to me looking for photo advice. It’s not uncommon for people to come with tens of thousands of images. Now, I’ve never had anyone attempt to show me quite this many, but I have had more than a few come attempt to show me far too many images. Now, if someone is starting out, rabid and so excited because they think that everything they shot is incredible, I’m okay with this to some degree because enthusiasm can translate to POTENTIAL. If you are going to be a great photographer you need to want it more than anything you have ever wanted.
What I’ve noticed is there is no perceived penalty in the digital space. So leave it in, no big deal. Maybe I’ll show the reviewer all four or five of these and get their opinion. This really doesn’t happen with print. Print forces you to study your similars and understand which is the best and ONLY that image survives to print. Reviewers have great appreciation for this.

I’ve noticed I have a very different feelings when someone approaches me with an iPad and someone else approaches with a box of prints. Now, there are exceptions to this rule. I’ve had people open their box of prints and haul out a STACK of a hundred plus images, and I’ve had someone turn on their iPad and show me ten images. However, MOST of the time, the reverse happens. iPad or laptop portfolios contain FAR too many images and print portfolios tend to have less fat and are more thought out.
Recently I met with someone who asked me to look at their work, which is what prompted this post. This person was starting out and was very enthusiastic, so consequently they get a total pass. But I told them, “Print the best twenty images.” And just so you know, their project contained tens of thousands of images. No exaggeration. Editing from 20,000 to 20 is no easy task, but the sooner you realize this is what it takes to really be a photographer the better off you will be. Remember, it’s supposed to be fun. You are focusing your work, making it tighter and thus more impactful. Fun people, fun.

And I want to emphasize again this process is extremely entertaining. Those boxes you see in the top image were made as I went along, during those time frames and projects, and those images were printed really just for me. I can’t remember the last time anyone opened those boxes, but the projects feel complete because I went through the process, made my tight edit and made the prints, one agonizing image at a time.
Also, the PRINT is HUGELY important in the history of photography. The print is the final chance you have at putting your fingerprints on an image because prints range in color, density, tone, texture, etc and should reflect YOUR work. If your prints look like everyone else’s then you might want to work on that. And technically perfect does NOT make a great print. Great prints have feel and mood. A few years ago I was at a festival and a very good photographer was having prints made at one of the vendors who sold printers. They accidentally printed his images with the wrong profile, which gave all the images a gold fringe in the shadows. The technicians apologized and said “Sorry man, we’ll reprint them.” The photographer said “No, that is exactly what I want.” The technicians said “Ya but that isn’t right and those aren’t technically correct.” Photographer said “Who cares, look at the print, it’s beautiful and what I am looking for.”

The images I have on the wall at home are all prints made by photographers who not only make distinctive images they make distinctive PRINTS. I’ve got tintypes, Cibachromes and even silver prints where the photographer is a master of printing in only the bottom half of the grayscale. I would venture to say that fifty percent of what makes these photographers so special is their printing ability.


It is not uncommon these days for me to run into a “photographer” who has never printed a single image. No, I’m not making this up, and I don’t mean in a darkroom. I mean they have never printed an image, period, with any method. I always feel bad because I feel they are missing out on half the fun. My advice, just play. Try a half dozen different methods or flavors and see what sticks. Each technique you employ will typically have a method of print that best suits your needs. TRI-X prints really well and easy in the darkroom, but TMAX 3200 is a nightmare for me. However, TMAX printed digitally looks insanely good. This took me a lot of hours and a lot of frustration to figure out. See, I just saved you a few weeks of you life. Book, print, color copy, wet plate, I don’t care. Any of them. All of them.

Go forth. Print.

Natural Selection

Could you do it? Boil it all down to this? The time, the effort, the drudgery, the rejection, the fatigue, illness, confusion, love, fire, drive, focus, fame, connections, collections, pursuits, ideas, failures, choices, concepts and luck? Could you?


Could you bare it all? Expose it all? Reduce it? Leave it out? Throw it away? Tie it off? Cut it down or simply ignore it? I could. And I have and I will again. But just for fun people, just for fun.

What do you like about Los Angeles they ask? “Oh, I don’t know, it’s easy.” “The weather is nice.” Well, I say f%$# that. F$#@ easy.

What if I said “you aren’t special.” “You are normal, just like everyone else.” Is that a slight? No. It’s a fact. Normal people make incredible things every second of every day. There is no special promise, no promise of the career that materializes without effort, even with connections or money or the strategic last name.

There is absolute, pure beauty almost everywhere, you just need the right pair of eyes. Beauty in death and destruction. Beauty in despair and beauty in the almighty struggle.

It’s SO easy to write this from an office on Sunset. So easy to think we all have it figured out. A big production, a big budget and a sense of security but underneath nature waits to take back what is hers. Ever been on the freeway, a sea of concrete, and see a weed sneaking up through the cracks in the foundation? Yep, that is what I’m talking about.

It’s exciting.

“Do I need it?”

If you had to ask then you already knew the answer. But we are trained to ask even though we probably aren’t listening to the answer.

Wait, what was that you said?

“Forget it, I can’t remember.”

Culling has been controversial, always. But most agree it is necessary. I say enjoy the hunt. You are taking a visual life when the bolt slams home and the primer is white hot, but that is the life cycle and who are we to disturb it? Everything faces the end, so why not find a peace with it.

Your assignment is to narrow it all down. All of what you ask? Whatever. Makes no difference. See what happens. What else is there to do? Tick, tock, tick tock.

Peru in Print Form

Practicing what I preach….the first Peru prints are beginning to surface. I LOVE talking print, especially with “modern” photographers. You see, many people choose not to print, or they never have. We look to the future and see glowing screens and suddenly we want to write off the entire history of our medium. We look at things like an iPad and say, “Well, clearly that is the future, print is dead people.” Me, I no like so much. I simply don’t believe this. Yes, the screen is a great thing, but it ain’t the only thing. See, I like it all, appreciate it all and don’t feel the need to draw that imaginary line in the sand. Why? What is the point? (I’m sitting in my office with one tower, two laptops, an iPad and an iPhone)
I’ll tell you why I make these small prints. They make me think. They make me consider. They force me to edit, to think critically and to sequence. They allow me to dream. Like a puzzle with multiple ways of assembling. No right, no wrong, just endless choices.

I’ve never had anyone enter my house and say, “Hey, can I look at your work on the iPad.” What I HAVE had happen is people come over and ask “Hey, you have any prints from Peru?” Again, nothing wrong with perusing this stuff via iPad, iPhone, iMac, iWhatever, prints are just another flavor of candy.

The cool thing is to put these small prints on the floor and consider them at a distance. You can almost blur your vision and see them as an amalgam of one, continuous flow of color. Your eyes will play tricks on you but your eyes will also lead you to the promised land. What goes where? React and you will see. Forget what you know and just feel. Seems a little guru-ish but don’t take me that seriously. Just try it.

Questions from a Reader: About Process

A reader wrote me a note and asked me to write about my projects. I was thrilled to get this request because doing projects is what I enjoy the most. Most of the time, these days, I get questions regarding primarily three things, three things which might surprise you.

I get questions about legal issues. I get questions about technology. And I get questions about business. But questions about actual photography, or process-hang on to this word-really don’t come around all that often. This might surprise you because it surely surprises me.

I find it very strange to speak to a class of college photo students and not get one question regarding process or the actual photography, but get bombarded with legal questions regarding model releases, property releases, usage and how to avoid legal matters when it comes to their imagery. I find it odd that young photographers are so enamored with technology, and in many cases feel like their education, or basic knowledge of photography, is in fact tied to this technology. I also find it rather odd that it APPEARS that young photographers are spending more time marketing and advertising their work then they are actually creating it.

At some point I want to discuss these things further, and the idea that once you make a decision to make your living with photography, in this day and age, everything changes.

But let me get back to that “P” word. Process.

In the past few days I’ve had no less than eight meetings with photographers, gallery folks, magazine folks, book folks and educator folks. I’m exploring, as usual, snooping around, gathering creative intel and trying to keep the learning process going. The idea of “process” has popped up several times, and each time it gave me a buzz.

As a young photographer, attending college, I would head to the stacks at the school and dig through every photo-related publication I could. This was pre everything electronic, so doing this required a bike ride or hike, of several miles, in 100-degree temps. I would arrive at the tidy office, soaked in sweat, then have to sit in the hallway until I stopped dripping. Upon further inspection the woman behind the desk would say, “Okay, you can go in now.” This was my escape, digging through these magazines. At the time, “News Photographer” was my favorite. It was very different than it is now, and I couldn’t get enough. The school I attended had years of this pub, each in it’s own plastic holder, sorted by year. I memorized those pages. If you asked about the feature regarding the Miami Herald photographer who did the project on street gangs, I could tell you which issue it was in. If you asked about the photographers getting shot at in El Salvador I could tell you that too. The school also had all the European magazines, which in my mind, were far superior to our editions. They did not have limits on what they could run, and the Euro’s knew how to design and lay out a real spread. French Photo was grand, really grand, at that time.

What drove me to these publications was the idea of learning how someone else went about their business(work). Where did the idea come from? How did you pull it off? What was your mindset? And most importantly, what was the experience like in the field?

My questions were about process, not about legal, technical or business aspects of the work. But, at that time, the business of photography was very different, and the industry today perhaps requires a different form of passion and direction. Photographers, working photographers, from around the world, would come to the school, speak and show their work. I remember asking one of these people, “What was the ultimate reason you felt you had to get into Haiti at that time?” And, “What was the feeling on the plane on the way in?” I remember my fellow students asking things like, “What was your typical day like in Haiti?” and “Was your skin color ever an issue?” The photographer spoke about her relationship with the Haitian people, and she showed images of specific people and how they had become close. She spoke about how long it took to make the images, sometimes years, and when things went so wrong during the fighting how she managed to get out, make her pictures and then get back again. She spoke about editing, about searching for those missing pictures that would help explain to the world what was really happening in this tiny, island nation.

I was hooked. I was enamored. I couldn’t sleep at night, thinking about what I was going to try to do. I wondered how I could make such an impact, impression or difference. I had yet to figure out my own process. That would not come until years down the line, long after I realized that process is a fluid situation, changing its colors, shedding its skin. Let me repeat this for all those young eyes out there. My process, really figuring out what I wanted and how I needed to do it didn’t come until YEARS down the road, long after I had begun making my living with photography. Sometimes today I see that photo-cart miles ahead of the photo-horse, and this folks will only get you so far.

So, a few weeks ago someone wrote with specific questions regarding process and I thought I would give it go in terms of explaining myself. These questions are copied straight out of an email. I’ll try to explain and show examples. But before I go any further, I need to preface this list, and this endeavor. This is MY process. It might be of interest to you, or not. It might work for you, or not. It might be a good process, or a crumby one. I don’t know. When I look at modern photography I always have more questions than answers.

– Once you come up with your subject matter do you just take time to go out and shoot with that in mind
or is it a more organized and planned effort?

Yes. All the above. Coming up with the subject matter is an art in itself. I keep a list, both in physical form and in my head, in regards to what I’m working on now and what I want to do in the future. I could work every day for the rest of my life and not get to all the ideas on the list. The list is growing on a daily basis. I try to keep multiple stories going at the same time, both close to home and those further away. I can’t go for long periods and not work on a project. I get depressed, unhappy, lost, etc, just doing “commercial” work. And when I say “commercial” I mean what makes me money. Commercial work is fine, but often times it is a compromise and it just doesn’t feed my inner fire. I wish I had more of a passion for money and for things, but my drug is experience.
Once I’ve settled on a project it typically becomes about time and money, or resources. How much time can I afford to spend on this story? This is why I keep several things going at once. I currently have a story done entirely at my house in California. I don’t have to go anywhere. I can literally shoot from where I’m sitting right now. This is simply about producing work, new work, which is CRITICAL for me. In today’s world it is easy to do a body of work, then spend years trying to find it a home. I used to think this way, or operate this way, but stopped doing this about five years ago. I think modern photography is very fickle, and in many cases, a waste of time trying to engage. So I take the time, energy and money required to sell work, and put it back into doing new projects. People can sort it out when I’m dead.
When I undertake a major project there is a lot of planning involved. When I go into the field, the research is basically giving me the best chance to produce. With limited time and resources you don’t want to waste time. However, from time to time, I’ll just go, with no research at all, just to see what happens. Did this last week. 2000 miles in the car, shot 2.5 rolls total. But, explored an area I had never been, and learned a lot. Later in the year I will work on this particular project again, and I’m researching specific events and locations where I KNOW I can make pictures. This is a very broad, wide ranging story based on a simple idea. So, when I’m there shooting one thing, I meet people, or see things that lead me in new directions and I just have to go with it.

Image from the series shot at my house. This book is almost near completion, titled “Homework” and will be an edition of 25 books total, each with a print included.

– Do you brainstorm by making specific shot lists [with the idea of remaining open to serendipity] or do you
shoot more once you get there and are reacting to your subject matter?

Well, I plan as much as I can, in SOME ways. Checking on a specific event, contacting specific people, but I never try to plan the images. I learned at the newspaper that visualizing imagery before you actually saw it was certain death. Nothing was as I thought it would be. And really, that is what is so great. I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly, I’m just reacting. The idea is to put yourself in the right place, at the right time, in the right LIGHT and react. Serendipity is everything. But here is a HUGELY important point. I’m shooting REAL moments. I’m not posing, staging, or doing a portrait series, most of the time. Images like this are so frickin rare I can’t tell you. Great images I mean. Think about it. Right place, right time, right light and good enough to capture something that is happening once, in a split second, and then is gone forever. It is the ultimate challenge and you have to be mentally prepared to NOT get it, and then have the drive to go back again and try again.

Working New York City and just stumbling upon this guy in a tunnel while walking to another shoot. Serendipity. Random image. By the way, I asked him to shoot this image. When I see a guy with a gun and wad of cash, I’m feeling him out before engaging. He just nodded.

– Before you shoot have you decided on the lenses you are going to use or wait for the subject matter to
dictate this? [I do realize since your direction is usually documentary in style that you do tend to shoot with
your 35mm & 50mm when shooting with your Leica.].

I decide on the look I want before I do the project. The content dictates what I will use. I have 6×6 projects and 35mm projects, and occasionally a 6×9 project. I also choose color or black and white. With the 6×6 I own two lenses, but I choose one for each project. With 35mm I own two lenses total, and with 6×9 I only own one lens. So, not many choices to make. Recently I taught a workshop in Peru and I broke my rule of working. I used both the 6×6 and 35mm, and I shot both color and black and black and white. I won’t do this again. Too many options. Too many choices. Not enough depth with either. For me, I need simplicity. To get the depth I need, I can’t use more than one style. Now the book I produce from Peru will look good, it really will, and it will be different from anything I have ever done. And, most importantly, I learned what NOT to do the next time around. In a nutshell, if you are thinking about your gear, you are failing. Period, end of story. I see so many young photographers completely at the mercy of their hyper-complex dslr. And then subsequently, at the mercy of their hyper-complex software. I actually feel kinda sorry. And now we are adding sound and motion. This is why most of what I see from the new media looks like one person doing three things at once. That is such an unfair burden to have to work under. I’ve used the same cameras for so long I don’t have to think about anything but what is front of me. This is a very liberating feeling.
Also, different gear provokes different reactions. You walk into a small town with a dslr and 70-200 and everyone in town knows “the photographer” has arrived. I can’t stand this happening. I walk in with my Leica and nobody pays me any attention. This is critical to making real photos and also being able to keep people at ease. Last week I walked into a small cafe, in a very small town, in an area of the country that is experiencing some difficulties. There were three men in the cafe, all local cowboys, all Latino, and all speaking Spanish. I sat five feet away and made pictures without ever saying a word. Everything was established with eye contact, head nods and a mutual understanding(and I speak Spanish well enough to work). I shot with the Leica and 50mm. Had I walked in with my Hasselblad, or a 5d Mark II, it would have been different.

My double down work from Peru. Don’t get me wrong, there are images I like from each style, but ultimately I’m looking for work that is above my head, beyond what I’ve done before, and to do that, I need to simplify and establish an understanding and a bond that goes far beyond the temporary and superficial.

– Do you shoot till you’ve exhausted your ideas or do you have in mind a rough estimate of the amount of
images it will take to cover your subject they way you want?

I never predict image count. My “Homework” book has twenty five images total and I’m done with the project. My ongoing, larger project will force me to shoot thousands of images over the next two years or so. I will edit down to say fifty images with the intention of doing a book. Remember, Robert Frank shot something like 27,000 images while he was making “The Americans” and edited 53 images total for the book. This is how it works.

An image from a six picture package from San Diego.

– After each shoot [I’m sure you look at what you have, edit etc..] do you then regroup and figure out what
holes exist in the work, with the intention of going back to get shots that fill in the holes.

Yes, exactly. I shoot, edit, make prints, add them to the overall take. Then, periodically I look at the entire project and try to find that theme, see what is missing. I work on an island, and don’t really show anyone my work. Recently, I made my first magazine, an 88-page issue with a certain theme. The issue has seven chapters, the last of which is my latest project, in it’s infancy. I’ve shown this magazine to about ten people, and each time that new project has prompted many questions and suggestions. It has been interesting for me because I’m normally not getting any feedback at all in regards to my documentary work. I’m not sure I’m going to do this in the future, but it has been interesting. I also have to figure out what text I need. How much help does the viewer need in putting this all together? Can I get away with just image titles, or captions or do I need an essay?
Also, it is critical to live with the work before you make major decisions. If you are shooting and looking at your work right away, personally, I think that is a huge mistake. It takes a while to figure out what you have and what it means. I was in Peru months ago, and I’m still editing and looking at those contact sheets. I recently found an image from a shoot I did back in 2000. I missed it all those years, and then suddenly there it was. Today everyone is in a rush. Instant gratification is the rule of the day, and then we wonder why the quality bar has fallen so low. We shouldn’t be so shocked. I had a curator tell me recently, “Art projects need to be produced very quickly these days.” Well, okay, but don’t complain about the quality of projects you are reviewing. There is NO substitute for time and access.

My long lost friend, first made in 2000, but not found until 2010. A lesson to anyone deleting images in the field, or on the computer once back at home base.

– What would you say are your common themes amongst your varied subject matter?
The only thing I can think of is people. The vast majority of my work is about people, which complicates things to a tremendous degree. I see a lot of the urban, abstract landscape style documentary projects that are popular right now, and I’m sometimes envious of the detachment. You just wander and shoot. No talk. No discussion. No working your way in. But that work just doesn’t do it for me. I find it cold, sterile and temporary. But again, I’m in the minority here. That work has dominated modern documentary photography for the past five years. This work is based on the work from the 1970’s and 1980’s, so it is not like this is original, it is just experiencing a second or third life. A lot of people like this work. I’ve seen countless shows over the past five years made in this way, so there must be something about it that hits home with folks. My work seems to be like pulling teeth, so much so I don’t really think about time anymore. I’ll finish when I finish. Not like there is anyone waiting for it!
I recently had a book publisher ask about my latest project and about seeing it. I thought to myself, “Well, okay, let’s talk in two years.”

Douglass Kirkland photographing me photographing him. Even when I’m not working, I’m photographing people.

– Do you work as a fly on the wall or are there times you set things up and direct your subjects: being animal,
vegetable or mineral..

This depends on the project. Most of the time, fly on the wall. But if I need to shoot a portrait, I’ll do it. Working in the classic documentary tradition is the most difficult, thus the most rewarding when I get something good. Like a chess board with pieces moving and you need to be five or ten moves ahead to anticipate what is possible. I’ve done portrait projects, but more as an experiment than anything else. Speaking of animals, I’ve done a bunch of projects regarding our great beasts. They can’t talk back or tell me, “Hey, you can’t shoot here.”

From “Dogs Can’t Read” a project detailing dogs and graffiti in four cities around the world. This was from Tijuana, and I did not set it up. Sparky here was napping in the middle of this frame shop.

– What are you mostly trying to do or say? Make people think, see and/or feel or…all 3.

Good question. I’m selfish. I’m doing this work for me, not for anyone else. I’m doing it for the experience, and I’m not really trying to say anything, other than, “Hey, take a look at this,” or “What do you think about this?” Most people don’t really care about photography. If photography disappeared tomorrow the world would not skip a beat. We need to be aware of this as photographers and if you have an ego, do the public a favor and rid yourself of it. I think another point to make is I’m not making images for other photographers or editors. They are in the minority and are VERY unlike the general public in their view of imagery. I often ask younger photographers, “Who are you shooting for?” If you are shooting for an editor, or to win a contest, it will dictate what you do. There is a huge difference between shooting for the editor of a news magazine, and the person subscribing to the magazine. I’ve seen a huge disconnect on this front in the past ten years, and this disconnect is reflected in the number of publications going out of business. Sometime we get wrapped up in our own heads, our ego, and our goals of fame, fortune and perhaps acknowledgment. Misguided in my mind. Hey, I’ve been guilty of this many times. Trying to learn from it.

Heaven for me. In the midst of the mayhem, alone, one small camera and getting as close as I can without disturbing the scene. Who will see it? Who will publish it? I don’t really care.

– What parameters do you set up for yourself if any?

Learn. Have fun. Treat people with respect. Don’t quit. Don’t take the easy route. Don’t shoot the same images. Don’t settle. Don’t be content. Forget everything I know and just feel and experience what is front of me. Think. React. Predict. Prepare for success. Prepare for failure. Realize what I’m doing is mostly inconsequential. Realize how lucky I am. Don’t set things up. Don’t influence if possible. Lean forward not back. Keep my promises. Send work(don’t be an asshole and promise then not do it.) Write everything down. Don’t rush. Realize that having cheese puffs in the car when traveling is as essential as gasoline.
Realize I have a problem with cheese puffs. Realize there is nothing I can do about this problem. Wipe cheese puff residue off hands before grabbing camera.

Me putting an absolute beat down on my nephew while fishing, which is far more important than anything I’ll ever do with a camera. I have to do this now, while he is little, before he turns the table on me.

So what did we learn? I’m selfish. I love cheese puffs. I’m a loaner. I’ll probably never be a well-known photographer.

What else should you know?

I feel like I haven’t started yet. There is so much to learn, and so many images to make. I’m very, very happy being a STILL photographer and currently have ZERO interest in carrying sound gear or motion gear and joining the masses being told this is my future. I also think I can disappear. I do. I know, it sounds silly. But when you are in harmony with your surroundings, you can make yourself disappear and get those images you could only get if nobody knew you were there. Do this work long enough and you will know what I mean. I also think you can FEEL images coming on. There is an energy, sometimes good, sometimes bad, that hits like a roundhouse punch, alerting you to the fact something beyond your control is on the way. Sometimes you get it, sometimes you get run over.

I am never without my camera. I take flack, which I love, for carrying my “man bag.” I call it a purse. And if wearing a dress would help me get images, I’m a size medium, bring it on.

I wake up in the morning thinking about these projects, and I fall asleep at night with the same thoughts in my head. It is a curse, a real curse that takes over my life.

I could reduce my entire photographic life to ten images, something I try not to ever forget.

I find my inspiration in music and literature, not art and photography.

I can see someday in the near future, when I no longer work as a photographer. I can see this being an insanely liberating relief.

I feel like I’ve completed a major chapter in my life, with nothing but blank pages ahead of me, and the only way to find the words will be to walk out that door, close it behind me and never look back.