Having spent a considerable part of my life in editing, both photography and text, I do believe in the grueling necessity of it. This obviously includes my own photography. The editing may be even more important than taking the images in the first place. I am convinced that no matter how good you may be, if you choose the wrong images, the result will be mediocre at best. Hence, although I have edited roughly two million images of other people over the past ten years, I don’t ever do the final edit of my own work – you just can’t edit your own images with a 100 percent success rate. But you can choose people who are good at it (and avoid those who are not).
All this, unfortunately, also means that I’m not going to publish some really nasty observations from my plane trip back to New York. I had already written them up in great, germ dripping detail. While I have, at times, a weak spot for observations concerning the abysses of human behavior, my poor copy editor now thinks she can’t eat for a couple of days, after reading the draft of what I still consider to be a very noteworthy blog entry about the passenger on seat 24 D on an undisclosed flight to New York this past Sunday. Well.
Meanwhile, I’m working on nearly two gigabytes of raw files from the Italian Alps. I’m trying to chase these through Photoshop before the virus that I probably caught on that plane gets me… but I say no more.
The complete new series soon, here, I hope…