If life isn't a constant spiritual challenge...

...then what's the point?

I ask this because I've recently undertaken a project, largely in connection with this blog: to broaden my horizons as a photographer. The results of this project can be viewed on my Flickr account.

There are actually two projects, both of which are germane to this blog. The easy one is that I'm introducing two of my children to digital photography. (The oldest is better than I am; I bought her a good film camera, a 35mm SRL, when she was 12 and she incorporated it into her own considerable artistic ability.) It's been a thrill to go out with Boh and Charlie and see the results, in all their 10.2 megapixel glory, of their initial photographic efforts. And it's been fun to go for photo safaris with them. A day spent in the Japanese garden with your two creative children, helping them look into secret places and capture unique viewpoints of their day, is about as good as it gets.

But.

As I began surfing Flickr for other interesting photographers, looking for techniques and inspiration, two things began to happen. First, I started making friends. No surprise there; I've been making friends on line since the late 1980s. And these friends form an online community which does the wonderful stuff that all online communities do—support each other, cheer each other on, console and encourage and in general just look out for each other.

The other thing that began to happen, though, is that I began to notice that some people were able to reach something different in their photos—something that just isn't there in my nicely composed shots of flowers, cats and scenery.

And it dawned on me that the ones who seemed to imbue their photographs most deeply with this unique quality... were the ones who posted self-portraits.

Uh-uh, I thought. No way. Not me. Nobody wants to look at a hairy, middle-aged fat guy. Step AWAY from the Nikon and no one will be hurt.

But something keeps drawing me to their photographs. I recently commented to an online friend that I've reached a decision point: either I can turn the lens on myself and start down that journey into the unknown country, or I can admit that I'm afraid of it and keep taking pictures of my neighbors' irises or my cats.

Which is all well and good, but as I told Sarah, I was taking nicely framed pictures of cats, flowers and race cars in the Seventies. Nothing new to be gained there.

And that raises the question, which is perhaps the underlying question for this blog and its subject: what's the point of taking on an art form if you're not willing to undertake the spiritual, personal challenge that goes along with it?

Or is that, dare I say it, the fundamental difference between an art and a craft?

I have a passable handle on the craft of photography. (And the craft of writing, for that matter.)

But what else is possible?