10,000
Malcom Gladwell wrote it takes 10,000 hours of intense practice to become an expert at something. I have no idea how many hours I have spent working on my photography, and of course I haven't spent an hour on each photo, but I thought it was an interesting milestone to highlight the 10,000th photo in my Lightroom catalog.
On a slow stroll on the San Francisco Embarcadero last spring with Jill and the kids, I had my Leica and a roll of black and white film. It was just a day trip with the family, a snapshot here, snapshot there. I got home, developed the film, scanned it, and slipped the negatives into the archival sleeves where they have sat on the shelf, untouched.
Not one photo was a keeper. Nothing worth printing. Boring. I scratched some of the film after developing, trying to wipe off the water spots. It wasn't until I thought to look up my 10,000th photo in my catalog and realized the photo was contained in this roll of film.
My 10,000th photo was of a flock of pelicans flying overhead. I only took one photo of them. The rest of the roll of film was photos of the ferry building, the boats, the Bay Bridge, just touristy photos. But now this photo has become special to me, for many reasons. Of course I didn't consciously take the photo knowing it would be my 10,000th, how could I have known. But looking back, it feels fitting that this photo marked a creative milestone for me. I'm glad I was with my wife and kids on an easy stroll through the city. It was just a quick snapshot in time and place. My time and my place. And besides, I've joked with Jill that the pelican is my spirit animal.
The composition and timing are off. The Rodinal on the TMax 3200p film exaggerated the grain in a way I don't care for. On all accounts, the photo sucks. If Gladwell thinks that after 10,000 attempts at a task I should be an expert, well I think we can all agree he wasn't talking about me.
Still, I'm proud of it and what it means for me. For my 10,000th photo, I was looking up to the sky. I was admiring the natural world and the community of a flock. I was out in the world with my family in arm's reach. And the technical failures of the photo remind me to be humble and grateful for the experience to learn. I guess in those ways, I couldn't have hoped for a better photo.