The goon in Blade Runner was right. There is nothing worse than an itch you can’t scratch. Trouble is, I had an itch for 17 years.
In 1993, I picked up my old 50-year-old Leica camera and took a few shots while I was a private in the Calgary Highlanders, a land reserve infantry unit for the Canadian Armed Forces. The photos were surprisingly good, but nothing ever came of it.
Years passed. Then a decade fell away, and all I ever did was take the occasional peak at the several dozen prints I had taken and my half-baked idea. In each aging photo I could see the outline of a truly interesting project. But the photos were always slipped timidly back into their folder.
I knew something was missing. I knew this project wasn’t over. The trouble was I didn’t have the foggiest idea of how to make money by completing the series.
Going back to the Calgary Highlanders would mean starting from scratch. It would mean a whole year of shooting. It would cost thousands of dollars, include long hours and there would be nothing in return. Because let’s face it, there are no Life magazines around willing to spend $30,000 on a year-long project. Today photojournalism is a “shoot and scoot,” affair full of head shots and hockey games. As for the art world, I knew well enough that my sense of irony had not yet reached the all-consuming heights deemed a prerequisite.
Still ... there it was. The people, the unit and the images would creep back into my mind. It was like a lost friend I had left behind with misgivings.
I really don’t know when I cracked and why I cracked. But one day, I packed all the old photos up, wandered down to the armoury and popped the question. “Could I photograph the Calgary Highlanders for a year?” I asked the commanding officer. Oddly, he said “yes.”
And that was it. My itch was gone. A year-and-a-half later, I am much, much poorer, and I’ve only earned just over $500, which doesn’t quite offset the $10,000 in my expenses. But was it worth it, you ask? Definitely – because I scratched the itch.
Trust me, if you have an itch, pay the money, spend the time and scratch it. You will never sleep better than the day you say, “Ahhh ... you know, what? I think it’s done.”
