The Next Ascent

The season of ennui arrives quietly, coasting in months after my 41st birthday. I am halfway there. The climb toward the apex of existence has been tumultuous. I can almost make out my obituary from this peak. It’s also here that I can see the choices unmade scattered along the path behind me. A quick pivot forward reveals a more uncertain direction. What does this back half of my life look like? Endless routes, all leading one temporal direction, and my calves burn at the thought of the next ascent.

A convertible or motorcycle isn’t what I am craving at this point. Fulfillment doesn’t sound like the rev of a two-wheel engine or feel like my greying hair slapping around in the wind of a topless car. This middle point is less material and more existential. It feels more like alignment. How I affected those around me. What it meant to be good rather than simply remembered as good. When I imagine a life well lived, I think of my existence and how best to document my time in this fragile carbon suit.

In May 2025, my mom shipped me her old Nikon D3000. She saw that I had been shooting photos on my iPhone for decades and hadn’t touched the Nikon in just as long. That camera changed my trajectory. Not professionally. Not toward acclaim. Instead, it altered my belief that I could create something that makes sense of the world around me. What arrived that day wasn’t just a camera but a confidence I hadn’t known before. A steadiness that no bot or troll farm can wrench away from me. I carried it for weeks and ran headlong into its limitations. After research and budget considerations, I settled on the D7500. That carried me another few months before I began looking into film. Something that returned me to high school darkrooms where tactile stimulus meant presence.

Today, I am 45 rolls of film deep in three months (late November 2025 – late February 2026). I haven’t been chasing keepers or algorithmic candy. I have been desiring an understanding. Slowing down. Testing different stocks. Studying light. Studying midtones. Understanding exposure and restraint. Most importantly, learning to treat failure as information rather than indictment. Becoming comfortable with the value of the beginner’s mind. Especially for a perfectionist and harsh critic of himself. A lesson that has seeped into my career and relationship.

What does it all matter? What is it all for? I am only a more evolved caveman who is leaving behind contemporary cave paintings. Instead of my depictions of the world as I see it remaining in the parietal folds of my cortex, they will rest in the zippered binders containing my negatives. Images I’ve stood over in the kitchen, agitating in a Paterson tank, and hanging to dry in my walk-in closet.

You can find me on Instagram or TikTok for more frames and ramblings.

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