These 360 books weigh 396kg. At this point, I was happy that my table was holding up. All of them individually signed and wrapped, and everyone here at home had chipped in to prepare and pack in just one day. The next morning we drove two full cars to the postal center to bulk ship everything.
Things went really smooth... and these were just the pre-orders for May 1st. Needless to say I'm ecstatic. Hopefully this third edition of YAKUZA will go the same way as the previous ones.
Seeing all this weight on my table reminded me of something else too. The feeling that over the past years my focus has slowly been drifting into "taking care of the things that I have", versus focusing on "making new work".
What's on my table now (the projects that I've completed), versus what's on my horizon tomorrow (the projects that I'm embarking upon). I know there's tremendous value and importance to taking care of each of them... and personally I couldn't function adequately without either one. It's a case of grass greener on the other side: whenever you're on one side, you tend to long for the other side.
A part of me wishes it could stand up and boldly claim "I'm one hundred percent focused on tomorrow", and I guess, in a way, it's true: always looking for new opportunities, remembering things that catch your eye, things that you care about and want to talk about, things that happen along the way. I've got folders and notebooks full of opportunities to be taken. That's fine, and they're a treasure.
But it's the part that comes right after: shaping the idea so that it becomes a project, becomes possible, becomes reality, leaping out from a thought in your mind to something that's actually happening, and that people will be interested to see, hear, or read about.
On top of that, the landscape of storytelling has changed so much in the last few years, the language of photography completely being rewritten as we speak, it's not a case anymore of what we - as visual storytellers - can or cannot do. It's become a case of how much we are willing to adapt, unlearn old things and learn new things along the way.
Alongside all that daily struggle of adapting and making happen and moving forward, there's just one thing we must always do: keep our horizons distant.
It's hard to maintain that balance. 99 percent of the time you probably must look close, take care of the day to day, the realities that are in front of you NOW. Adapt. Make it happen. Move. But every once in a while, you need to climb a tree or a little hill and look into the distance, at your horizon. Enjoy the moment. Is it still far. Is it still like a dream. And don't forget to look back also, see how far you've come. It's always much further than you think. Plus it kinda puts things into perspective.
And then climb back down, adjust course if necessary, continue.... and enjoy. It's all about the journey after all.
In a way I feel very much that now after 5 years I've only just started out, just traveled enough to consider myself actually starting out – if you know what I mean. I used to climb up my tree, look out and only stare forward in the distance and dream and look at an horizon so far and vague that I could barely make out what it was. Recently I started looking back as well. Perspective. Makes me realise that it's all worth it.
The horizon's still far, but that's okay. Horizons always look so good. I guess they're meant to be.
I had an hour long interview on Belgian national radio (vrt - Klara) last week about my life and my projects, and how I approach both of them. Talking about jumping, insecurities, doubt, luck, happiness, working hard. I'm sorry, it's in Dutch...
Enjoy jour day today,