How the hell did I miss that?

Sometimes we can only see in others what we’re ready to see in ourselves.

“How the hell did I miss that?” I say to myself, editing through images. “What was I thinking ten times ago that I’m not thinking now? What was I afraid to see?”

I’ve been at this for hours, looking through the images from a shoot, forty-six years ago with Jackie Kee, a model from the Troyanne Ross Institute of Modeling. The shoot was simple enough, a white seamless background, sidelight from a Speedotron strobe pumping 400 watts through a white umbrella.

I can feel my stomach tightening, yet an excitement as I’m seeing the shoot with fresh eyes. Editing is when my emotions take hold. I feel alive, on edge, taking deep measured breaths as if I’m holding the camera again, my elbow jammed into my ribs, holding the lens steady.

Then I see the image, frame 13. I zoom in - yes, in focus. I see a few dust specks that I can repair in Photoshop, no problem.

Sometimes we can only see in others what we’re ready to see in ourselves.

I’m scared, nervous, as I click the “Post” button. Not because I might be wrong about the image — but because I know I’ll look back in another year and wonder what else I’m missing right now.

After forty-six years years, I’m still discovering images I was too blind to see the first time.