Overcoming Inertia

In 1991 I was walking through a park in Mexico City where a group of artists were showing and selling their work. I saw a piece that I absolutely fell in love with, but walked on, thinking that I should see what else was available before deciding to buy. Of course, by the time I returned the piece had already been sold. Then and there I made myself a promise: when there is opportunity, act; do not wait, because it only leads to disappointment.

It is a promise I have broken hundreds and hundreds of time.

Chalk it up to inertia, that is, my own resistance to changing my state and acting. These days it usually happens when I see someone I want to photograph. I make dozens of excuses to myself because inertia freezes me up. You know, excuses like, "She's probably in a hurry," "The lighting isn't very good," "There's too many people in the way," "The sidewalk is too narrow." You get the idea.

Yesterday, I had one of those moments. Passing a barber shop, I spotted an incredible-looking young woman through the window: attractive, slender, in a buttoned up white shirt and loud bow tie, and, best of all, without hair. I immediately manufactured excuses: I'll have to set up the 8x10, she's working and won't have time, we're walking over to another part of town and we're losing the light, and on and on... Stupidly I ignored my rule, allowed inertia to carry me on, and figured I had lost the picture.

Apparently, the photo gods decided to give me a break. Because when the other side of town didn't pan out, I retraced my steps, and, when passing the barber shop once more, there she was, seated outside and talking on her cell.

The rest of the details are not important. The fact that she reappeared was a sign to make her photo no matter what. It is viewable below; the bonus was the back story that she wrote to go along with the image. Perhaps after this, I will follow my Mexico City rule without ever hesitating.

Eva