Blind but not Blind

As someone on the cusp of complete blindness, I’ve found joy and frustration in equal measure within the vibrant online communities for the blind and visually impaired.  Social media groups buzz with stories of adaptation, innovation, and triumphs over adversity, reminders that we are not defined by our lack of sight but rather our spirit.  This morning, whilst scrolling through my feed, I stumbled upon a post from Blind New World that caught my attention.  It linked to an article in Amateur Photographer titled, “How Can a blind photographer take such great photos? Find out here.”  As a photographer who’s been chasing light and shadow for nearly 40 years, selling prints and services for two decades of that time, any whisper of a fellow blind photographer pulls me in like a moth to a flame.

I double tapped the link, settled back, and let VoiceOver voice paint the words across my mind.  At first, a smile tugged at my lips.  Here was someone like me, turning limitation into art.  But as the article unfolded, that smile faded into a thoughtful frown.  The photographer in question, Gary, isn’t blind, he’s visually impaired, navigating the world through a haze of blurriness that, while challenging, still grants him glimpses of clarity I can envy.  Don’t get me wrong, I am genuinely thrilled for Gary.  His work is remarkable, a testament to persistence and creativity in the face of adversity. 

Yet, I could not shake a quiet pang of disappointment.  The title’s promise of a “blind” photographer felt like a gentle sleight of hand, one that blurred the lines between our experiences in a way that left me feeling a tad unseen.  It’s a small thing, perhaps, but it highlights a broader truth I’ve pondered often: visibility in the photography world, especially for those of us with disabilities, often hinges on connections, contexts, and sometimes, a certain alignment with the cultural and political currents.

From my own perspective, I’ve watched patterns emerge in the stories that break through and get attention.  Time and again, the blind photographs who grace magazine pages or TED stages seem to hail from he art world or carry a progressive left wing banner.  It’s an observation born of countless hours of reading articles and being involved in photography for decades.  These individuals often arrive at photography with a pre-existing platform, galleries whispering their name or networks amplifying their voice through he lense of activism.  In an industry where “edgy” and “avant-garde” can open doors, a narrative laced with political fervor for the left or artistic pedigree travels far.  It’s the old adage of “it’s not just what you, but who you know”.

I write all of this not with bitterness, but with humility and the hope that one day I will get recognized for my work, not for a political stance.  I’ve captured deserts that whisper of ancient secrets, canyons where rivers carve stories in stone, and everyday moments in parks.  Like Gary, I shoot in black and white and love contrast.  My work doesn’t sell.  I have done everything possible to get my work out amongst the public, but it hasn’t caught the eye of a sponsor or a spotlight article. 

The gentleman in this article says that he can’t use film cameras any more.  That’s a choice.  My vision is far worse than his, and I still shoot film and develop it at home.  It’s not easy, but I do it because I love it.

What do you think?  Have you encountered a “blind” story that din’t match the label?

New Year, New Hope

2024 began with a heavy sense of despair and overwhelming shock as I discovered that I am going blind far faster than I had anticipated. After the initial shock wore off, I managed to regain my footing in both work and daily life, we made the important decision to sell our beloved home while the market was still favorable. We decided to take a much-needed break in April to celebrate our anniversary, which allowed us to recharge our spirits and get back to work with renewed energy. It took a little while, but eventually, we successfully sold our home and embarked on the long, exciting journey across the country to the magnificent and sun-soaked state of Arizona.

Traveling across country in a Subaru with three dogs and a trailer was an adventure. We had a great time crossing the states, seeing parts of the US I had never seen before. We stopped in Oklahoma to spend Independence Day with family. That was an amazing week. My hope for our country and our people was renewed. We decided to set up home in Payson, Arizona, an amazing little mountain town in central Arizona. The natives here don’t usually say, Y’all or drink sweet tea like they do in my home state of South Carolina, but they are so similar. Folks here love and practice the Second Amendment. They wear cowboy hats and boots. A lot of men wear sidearms. It is a great little town, but due to being surrounded by National Forest and migration from California and rich people from the Valley, housing prices are extremely high. The housing market in Payson is higher than the majority of the state.

We were hoping the the housing prices would come down more than they have, but due to reasons already noted, prices are not going down. There is a limited supply and the wealthy retirement community do not want any more houses being built here. I have been preliminarily offered a job in Cottonwood, AZ, so we are moving there in a few months. We love Payson, but Cottonwood is an amazing town as well. The people and culture are very similar to Payson, and it is closer to the breathtakingly beautiful areas of Sedona and Prescott. The fantastic benefit is that housing is cheaper in Cottonwood and Camp Verde. Also, fires will not be an ever-present threat. Even though we are in the throws of winter in Payson, we still have a major fire nearby. There are possibilities of fires to the west in Camp Verde and Cottonwood, but the likelihood is rare.

The incredible amount of great people we have encountered in our journey moving to this beautiful place is truly uncountable. We have forged some amazing friendships here through our church and work, and each connection adds a vibrant thread to the fabric of our lives. The greatest resource in America is not just its land, oil, or coal, but rather its people, who are full of warmth and character. The vast majority of Americans are deeply patriotic and possess a profound love for our country. Spending cherished time with my family in Oklahoma taught me so much about our nation and the enduring love and respect that we should all strive to have for it.

Whether you agree or not, the surprising election victory of Donald Trump revealed to me that the people still have a powerful voice, and we indeed possess the ability to effect meaningful change in our society. It also filled me with a renewed sense of hope that the old adage, “If you work hard, you can have anything,” continues to hold true for the most part. There truly is hope. There is always hope, even in the most unexpected places. I never imagined that I would ever find someone who would love me, much less marry me; yet here I am, happily sitting at my desk across from my beautiful wife, Deana, who is currently engrossed in her scrapbooking project. You can read more about her scrapbooking, bible journaling, and life on her blog linked here.

It is with great excitement that I approach this new year. 2025 will be a great year, one for the books. We will be moving, starting life anew, and making even more friends. We the people will have a new president as of January 20th. The housing market is projected to transition to a buyers market this year. Companies will invest more with the hope of lower taxes. That, along with less regulation, will help us all and improve the economy.

This new year also provides a great opportunity to photograph more than I did this year. There were several months in 2024 that I didn’t get to photograph due to packing up, moving, and then unpacking, so I am exciting about starting new projects and restarting the zine once we get settled. What are you excited about in 2025?