The Night I Became a Photographer – the each other’s dream exhibit

I had no idea that the commitment I made to travel to Ghana and work in a small village would have any other impacts outside of the choice I made to sponsor one child’s tuition to high school.

So I went and I did what I do whenever I travel (or go to the store, or go anyplace that may turn out to be slightly interesting)…I took pictures. Lots of them. For my own personal photo-diary and enjoyment.

I had no idea that a picture I took simply because it was interesting and cool and deep would turn out to be good enough to be displayed on a wall in a real live art gallery. I am a writer, I’ve long-since decided. I am not a photographer. A crazy picture-taker, yes. But a crafter of pictures, no.

But alas, here I am…with something I created being called art and within an hour of the reception opening that picture sold and it has me rethinking my place on this planet. Am I a writer…without a doubt. ┬áBut perhaps I am more than that. Perhaps I am a creative contributor to life and writing may not be the only medium I get to experiment with (come to think of it, I did go through this crazy painting phase once). Yeah…I think I like the idea of that…bouncing around this planet and just creating whatever I am inspired to create whether it be with a pen, a pencil, a crayon or a camera. And Hey! Whatever I create just may end up on somebody’s wall.

Thank you Ghana for that gift. Thank you Ghana for opening up another version of me …bold and wild and free within this world.