Creativity as a Life Jacket
(Or: Why I’ve Been Taking Thousands of Photos While Everything Burns)
Is the world on fire? It seems it’s on fire. Every time I go to social media: something is on fire. Police cars, the planet, people—it’s a freaking lot. LIKE SERIOUSLY A LOT.
And in the middle of that chaos, I’ve been out there with my camera, taking an absurd number of photos. Like, thousands. I’m out of control. (The following video are the shots from one day - just one!).
But it’s a lifeline.
I’ve been throwing myself into these random little photography projects. No pressure or expectations - just me and a camera and the gravel country roads of Nebraska, Iowa, Missouri, South Dakota, Kansas and Minnesota.
“Hey, brain! It sucks in here. Let’s go for a trip.”
So I grab a camera and head out.
This Really Helps!
Picture this. I’m in a field and there are birds singing… a light breeze makes the leaves rustle on an old cottonwood tree. The sky is a calming blue, you notice the pops of white, green, yellow and gold throughout the scene.
Nevermind don’t imagine it. Here it is:
For a moment, if you let it - you can let this scene wash away a little fear and anxiety.
And me? These moments are transformational.
(Like this quiet moment in Nebraska:)
Apparently There’s Science, Too
Not to get all academic, but I’ve read that creativity actually helps with stress and mental health. (I know. Shocking.)
And being outside is a double win. Nature and creativity are like a calming tag team for your nervous system.
So no, this isn’t just a random hobby I’m clinging to—it’s a coping mechanism. And a pretty effective one, honestly.
Don’t Take It Too Seriously…
Here’s the thing: I’m not talking about deep, life-changing art here. I’m talking about simple, manageable excuses to get outside and make something.
Some recent that I developed just off my own and travels in the midwest:
Tanks in Parks. This project is all about taking photos of… you guessed it… parks in tanks. I think it’s weird. Is it weird? I don’t know, but I’m fascinated:
Rural Insanity. I’m not sure what to do with this one because I don’t want to be offensive. But… we’ve got some problems in rural America.
My Mom’s Garden. I mostly ignored my mom’s garden throughout my life. That’s a shame, because it’s beautiful.
It’s the process that matters!
Sometimes the results are cool. Sometimes they’re not. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m doing something. Something that isn’t reading bad news or staring into the void.
Keep these photos though. Back them up. Tag them and save them. The photographs you take during times of stress could be important to your journey as a photographer!
You might want to do something with these later!
What Makes a Good Project?
Dude, don’t even mess with me with that question.
Any idea is a good one. What do you love? What do you care about?
GO AND TAKE PHOTOS OF THOSE THINGS!
Seriously - it’s all about being curious, or interested, or just mad enough to get out of the house and take photographs.
Maybe you have a favorite restaurant, one that has a “farm-to-table” process, where they work with local famers and markets to use for all their food. The food is fantastically fresh and interesting, and it supports the local economy.
So… introduce yourself. Tell them you want to take photos of them, and then they’ll (VERY LIKELY) say “OH MY GOD YES PLEASE” and then it’s on. You have a project.
I did this years ago with a local restaurant for no real reason at all. I even gave them all the photos to use for their social media. It was a win-win for everyone.
But I kept the project going. I continued to find local farms that work with restaurants like Kitchen Table (pictured above) and I started to photograph the farms.
Pretty soon I made lifelong friends like farmers Abbey and Gio, and I keep coming back to visit (my wife and I even photographed their wedding).
What Can We DO With a Photo Project?
After working on these photos for a while (the period of time is up to you - photography projects can last a few minutes or lifetimes), you could consider (if this project were yours):
1 - an art show using your work. Invite all the vendors involved. Ask them to bring a sampling of their foods and turn it into a big deal. This is easier than you think. Just call local coffee shops and they’ll likely just set up a month for you to show!
2 - use these photos to get more work. If you love doing this - why not turn it into something you can do more of, and maybe get some income? You now have awesome photos you can share with other restaurants to see if they might want to hire you.
3 - make a book. Call it “Nebraska Farm to Table” and populate it with the photos from your project. See if those local businesses who were part of the project want to get involved and sell some of the books at their business.
4 - do nothing with them. Photography really CAN be for yourself. You can just take these photos and keep them, using the experience itself to enhance your life, meet new people and be curious.
That’s cool. You don’t have to share, or show our work, or sell anything.
**I do still think it’s almost criminal if you don’t share your work with the world! Your viewpoint - your art - your world is important, and sharing it can be awesome!
Let This Be Your Nudge
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, stuck, anxious, or just vaguely annoyed with everything, consider this permission.
Go make something.
Write! Take photos! Whatever!
And yes, the world is on fire.
I feel a little guilty sometimes for focusing on art instead of all the things I “should” be doing to battle the idiots running the government. But here’s the truth:
Sometimes the most helpful thing you can do for others is take care of yourself. (My therapist told me to tell you that).
So… GET OUT OF THE HOUSE.
Even for a walk. Even to sit in the sun. Even to take one dumb photo of a mailbox.
Let this post be your reminder that creativity isn’t just cute and fun—it’s survival super fuel.
Want to do this with me?
Join my (free) community here: MegapixelRoadCommunity.
—
Jerred
I love all the photos - but that last shot of the mailbox on the dirt road. Iconic!
You're an amazing artist and human being, Jerred. Out of the tidal wave of texts and emails I receive every day, yours are true gifts. If I ever move to Omaha (as I hope to one day do), I'd love to tag along with you on one of your photographic quests. Your words and images speak of a photographer who sees Nebraska much as I do: as an ever-changing canvas of the ineffable, where megapixels are anointed and spiritually upgraded to be able to record and preserve that which is evanescent, and where, as in no other place on Earth, one can actually photograph a feeling. If a photograph can help us get through this distressing time in world history, it is you, Jerred, who will capture that image. You will be in Nebraska when that happens, and it will be God who will tell you—speaking to your heart through your lens—just the right time to release your shutter.