I do a thing, but I am not a thing.
My identity is not defined by what I do, but by who I am.
I am not a DJ. But I do DJ. Well, I did.
But now I don’t. So almost every remnant of my former DJ existence is leaving the building. I have little time or space for just in case.
To be honest, I would regret keeping it more than I will miss it.
And as of this morning, it feels the same with my photography gear.
I picked up a digital camera over twenty years ago to take pictures of details that glossy press shots would never show.
It turns out I was pretty good at it.
Over the years, my work has been on magazine covers, websites, and keynotes. Yes, those keynotes.
But now I don’t need to make lush imagery. My skills in this field are something that I will not pitch in the future.
So as I continue to empty my studio of DJ stuff, the photography gear gets moved around without any future plans.
So I think it has to go too. I can always hire if someone wants my skills.
Honestly, I find that I thrive when limited. I’m more excited by what can be done with an iPhone than what I could do with a Hasselblad.
It’s just another part of my understanding of identity. Many put so much into being a thing — they buy the gear, wear the clothes, speak the language.
But I feel like I am myself more than I am a thing. I’m Mark who writes, not Mark the writer.
Perhaps it’s because I’m a very adept jack of all trades — if I want or need to do something, I learn how to do it, and usually get very good at it too. But I don’t become it.
Whatever I choose to do, I am still me underneath it all. And I have no need to own turntables or lenses I’ll never use again to feel like me.
I’ll sleep on it for a while, but I suspect that my time behind the lens will go the same way as my desire to mix music.
And I’ll still be me. Just doing other things. But think of it as clearing space for new things rather than locking the door on old ones.
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