One of the things I love about my photography is that for the first time in my life, I feel like I am on the way to making some art, or at least trying to.

In this photo of the excellent Maria, the true artist, I thought her image was quiet, lonely, and beautiful. It touched me.

This is why I grabbed my Leica and took a shot of it.

It is not precisely, of course, the color I saw in the original black and white monochrome; it was my idea of her; I wanted the viewer to see her at the center of this cluttered room in our messy hours, alone in her world, as she so often is. That is, in itself, art to me.

In many ways, this piece is about what I have learned from loving, listening to, and watching Maria, my gateway to the world of art.

I was excited by the original black and white.

So I got out my masking brush and touched her up in a pale red, the color of the shirt she was wearing. This one took a fair amount of detail. I like it very much.

I know some people will not like the color or the change; others will. Okay, by me.

I am learning that art is not about what other people want or would do. Art is what the artist likes and wants to do. Some people will get it; some won’t.

Just because I did it and like it doesn’t mean it’s any good; just becoming someone else dislikes it and wouldn’t do it doesn’t make it wrong.

I cannot imagine sending any artist a note about a painting or photo and saying, “this is no good. Change it.” I would never do that; it seems so arrogant and presumptuous.

Thoreau stated he wished to make his own mistakes and learn his lessons when he wrote Walden. I’ve read the book a dozen times. He didn’t want to know what anybody else thought, not because he was arrogant (he was), but because he wanted to be able to think.

I learned a lot from him. You cannot write well, think well, meditate well or paint well with a thousand other opinions and ideas and your head. Creativity takes up a lot of space, and this is why I reject everybody’s unwanted advice. I need space to think.

And in our world, there is a lot of competition for the space in one’s head. There are three billion people on Facebook alone.

In our world, we are taught this meddling with the minds of others is friendship and understandable concern. Lots of people can’t imagine why it bothers me. For the creative space in my head, it’s a matter of life and death.

I meditate and seek solitude so I can think. If I can’t think, I can’t write, nor can I create anything worthwhile or enjoyable or imagine a new kind of photo.

Solitude, quiet, and respect are not always the world I live in, so it’s my job to adjust. I want to be in the real world.

This is not a dilemma that will ever be resolved, but I am learning to get on top of it and keep my own identity without surrendering pieces of me to the outside world. All of us can reach one another all the time; all we can hope for is that we get thinking about it.

From talking to writers and artists, I know how big a challenge this is for many of them and how frightening it is for them to deal with.

This has silenced a lot of writers and artists and run them off of their work. I get messages every day from people telling me they would be terrified to share their life openly online.

It always makes me sad; we can’t know what we are losing and killing. It won’t kill me.

Art must be done alone; it is not a communal experience. Survival might be done in conjunction with other people in our world.

That is the truth of it. It’s a high-wire creative balancing act.

If I don’t like something an artist does, I look at someone else.

Because I wouldn’t say I like it, I don’t have the right to tell them it’s no good. I am glad I don’t need to tell them about it.

They don’t need that, and I don’t need to say anything unless asked; I can move on.

I started taking photos a decade ago and have taken tens of thousands of them. I sold hundreds a while back and then decided it was better for me to give them away to anyone who wants one.

I didn’t want money to affect the photos I took. That was an excellent decision.

I’m not great, but I’m getting better all the time. Sometimes I score, sometimes I do not. Photo painting allows me to learn more, experiment more, and go to the next level.

People tell me all day now that they love my pictures, and I would be lying if I didn’t say I like to hear that. Creative people often have to live on that.

My path was to brace myself, and I resolved that I would do what I wished and liked and hoped other people liked it, but since nobody but me is paying for it, and I give it away for free, what I like counts, period.

I don’t need to defend it. I need to do it.

That is, to me, the pathway to being a true artist. Or, for that matter, a good writer. I just had to have faith in myself and take the leap at some point. It is never easy to put one’s work out there where many strangers can see it.

I didn’t want to bring money into it because that would distort and shape the kinds of photos I took and what I did with them. You create for the money, not the art. And people who pay for things often want to have a say in how they are made.

I was told all my life what to say by editors and marketers, and I so love being free to write what I want and take whatever photos I like. How sweet.

So I made my money from books and blogging and kept the photos clear.

Apart from money, the other danger is the unsought opinions of millions, now billions potentially, of strangers. They can mess up your head, even if you aren’t or weren’t mentally ill.

I’m with Thoreau. The more ideas other people put into your head, the fewer good ones you are apt to have. For better or worse, my creation has to be mine.

This is, of course, a controversial and somewhat unpopular attitude, especially on social media, which is much about people lying to make themselves look good and telling other people what to do and other people dying to make others look bad.

There are many good and kind people caught in the middle.

It’s a volatile mix, especially for a nut case like me,  a life-long book writer who worked alone and was encouraged by my doomed editors to write for myself and be careful not to be polluted by the unrestrained opinions of others.

I battled with this for some years and have come to a good place, at long last. Thanks for your patience.

I’m weary of nastiness and negativity, so I ban or delete it.

No more fighting back, no more enabling; I am strong enough inside of me to brush it off now or laugh it off. There’s enough shit out there without me adding to the pile.

It took me a good while, but I got there with some help.

The process has strengthened my sense of identity and paved the way to take my photos for me, not for anyone else.

I am thrilled when other people like my work – many do – but increasingly disinterested when strangers don’t. It’s just life.

I have some influential teachers and gurus and guides in my life, and they criticize me bluntly and honestly.

But more and more, I understand that making art is a very personal thing. Maria has taught me a great deal about that, and I am grateful.

She loves it when people love her work, but when she makes it, there is no one else in the world – even me – whose opinion she seeks or cares about.

That is a real artist, I think.

I am very excited by this new photo work and am working hard to learn it. I have another lesson this week.

I am coming to understand that art is very individual and personal – for me and the people reading it.

There is a sort of ingrained rudeness and insensitivity on social media that is infectious and has become an accepted form of communication.

People don’t say they don’t like something; they say it is no good and should be discarded or changed.

Emerson wrote that the most significant achievement in life is not to permit other people to change you, and I have come to take that to heart.

I’ve stayed true to myself and what I believe in my writing and pictures.

I have a lot to learn and change, but that is between the people I trust and me, not strangers I will never see or meet.

I am amazed at the range of opinions my work is provoking, negative and positive. That is what art is supposed to do.

My natural impulse is to tell snarky critics to piss off, or as I have learned from my friend Julz to say, blow it out of your ass.

But that is not the correct response for me.

You don’t fight rudeness by being rude. You can’t fight unhinged people by coming unhinged.

The correct answer is to do what my other friend Sue Silverstein taught me her aunt taught here: bow my head and say “thank you” twice. And get on with your business.

When I change the color in the photo, it unnerves people who say the color isn’t right or realistic. But for me, that is the point. Digital photography is all about being literal, and painting is about art.

Only the artist knows what he is trying to do or what it means.

No two people see any piece of art in the same way.

That is the beauty of it. So this is a long-winded introduction to this photo painting, a small thing in a busy and troubled world, but a big thing to me. It captured something very special to me.

I hope you like it and you get it, it’s quite all right if you don’t.