I am wary of falling into the same trap with this blog that I did with my photography, namely, letting the product spoil the process.  Several years ago, when I decided to try to sell my photos, I found I enjoyed shooting less and less.  My outings became more about creating product than creating art.  Before a shot, I would ask myself, “Would someone buy this and hang it on their wall?”  Most of the time I would answer “no” and then walk away.  Eventually, I shot about as many photos as I sold, which is very few.  I’m “taking a break” from photography now, to see if I can get back some of my eye and my enthusiasm.

Turning to this blog, I am well aware that only a handful of people read what I write here.  Face it, this isn’t Facebook.  On the one hand, I question whether it is time well-spent doing something that floats off into nowhere, seen by no one.  On the other, do I really want this to be about building and maintaining readership?  I’m afraid that if I impose some measure of success or economic goal onto this effort, I’ll kill it.

There’s a tension here.  I enjoy the process of writing but take more pleasure in sharing and interacting.  One is an avenue to the other.  I’m not the kind of person who could, say, put an easel and paint and canvas in a studio and spend years in isolation working to find his muse and perfect his art.  For me, not shared is about the same as not done.

I’m not one to quote the Bible (or Shakespeare or Nietzsche either) but this sums up my views on human creative effort: “Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but upon a candlestick, that it may shine to all that are in the house.”  I need to focus on keeping the candle lit and stop counting how many people are in the house.

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Today, March 27, is the last day of free access to the online edition of the New York Times.  As of tomorrow, casual readers will be able to view only 20 articles a month, and full access to the website will cost $15 a month.

I understand that a newspaper needs to make money to survive, and I do like the quality* of the New York Times.  But I’m also trying to trim our expenses: I plan to scale down our DirecTV service and I’m about ready to hand in my rarely-used cellphone.  I don’t need to add another monthly payment to the list without cutting somewhere else.

So I plan to go cold turkey with The Times.  (This just became a bit easier to do, now that Frank Rich is no longer writing his Sunday column.)  We’ll see how it goes.

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* Except for the Style Section.  I won’t miss the Style Section.
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We regretfully return to one of my least favorite topics: Sarah Palin, what she says and what she stands for.  In this episode, we find Queen Sarah speaking to a business group in Long Island.  At one point in her talk, Sarah’s mysterial muse inspires her to make a joke about breast-feeding:

“It’s no wonder Michelle Obama is telling everybody you better breastfeed your baby–yeah, you better–because the price of milk is so high right now!”

Sigh.  Not only politically incorrect but factually wrong.  The chart below shows how the price of a gallon of milk has risen vs the general rate of inflation over the last ten years:

Milk CPI

Since 2001, prices in general (CPI) have risen 26 percent, while milk has risen 18 percent.  Sarah can’t let the truth get in the way when a snarky remark can be made at the expense of those she opposes.

Why does she bother me so much, that I would take time to fact-check the price of milk?  It is not just her political stance (though that’s a good start).  She also triggers my distaste for celebrity, or more accurately, the legitimacy that our culture confers on celebrity.  It is beyond me why a celebrity’s fashion should be copied, why a celebrity’s opinions should have more value than others, why a celebrity’s life should matter to complete strangers.  One can argue that Sarah Palin is our first political celebrity, someone who is famous for being famous rather than for any real accomplishment.

Sarah embraces her celebrity, as she should.  It provides great cover for her incoherence.

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