A couple of years ago, a small disaster took place. Or so I thought. I had issued a "call for work" for pictures themed around museums, to create one of our "Baker's Dozen" readers' pictures portfolios. As the pictures came in, I'd sneak glances at some of them on my phone or in passing. I have a very good visual memory, and many of the ones I sneaked a peek at, I remembered.
A while later, I got around to beginning to edit the portfolio—and discovered to my distress that a number of the submissions I remembered were missing.
I moved the rest to a different folder, for safeguarding, but I was mystified as to what happened to the others. I searched the inbox all kinds of ways but they didn't show up. I even went so far as to look through huge swaths of my inbox manually.
Every time I returned to the diminished group of submissions, I'd get sidetracked by feeling troubled about what I had somehow done wrong.
Part of this was sensitization. Periodically throughout my life I've suffered various disasters caused by my inability to stay organized. A new one reminds me of all the others, like a fresh wound that also opens old ones.
On Friday, I briefly put up two posts, one that apologized for never having completed the "In the Museum" set, the other that announced a new call for work. The first several responses were very critical of me, enough so that I took those two posts down again.
Once again I resolved to complete the original task, and once again I returned to the folder with the partial group of submissions in it. Then, almost absentmindedly, I went back to search the inbox again. But I periodically move old emails to an archive folder; by now, all the "BDMuseum" emails had been moved to the archive folder. So of course a search of the current inbox turned up nothing at all.
That's when the little light bulb above my head finally turned on.
I think what happened was that at some point after asking for the submissions, I moved a whole pile of emails to the archive folder, and the pile happened to include some of the earlier submissions. Then when I searched the inbox to begin the editing process, the ones I had moved were of course gone.
It just didn't occur to me what I had done, at the time.
This time, however, it took about three seconds for me to realize where they all were, once I tried searching the inbox. When I searched the archive folder for the keyword, "BDMuseum," there they all were—hundreds of submissions, including the ones I once thought I had lost.
Simple, once I figured it out. But it didn't occur to me two years ago.
Others
Clearly the idea of "In the Museum" resonated with you, because this was the largest group of submissions I've ever had to winnow down to 13. There were many more good ones than the ones I chose. "Honorable mentions" of pictures that almost made the cut include (but this is not a complete list): Jim Arthur, Yann Pouiol, Paul Braverman, John Dana, Don Seymour, Hans Berkout, Charles Rozier, Michael Wall, Tom Hassler, Richard Conolly, Carlos Quijano Altamirano, the four I mentioned in the post, Roy Feldman (I think I have a sort of sympatico with Roy's work because I always like his pictures), Max Cottrell, Siddhartha Chaudhuri, Jayanand Govindaraj, Martin E. Rich, Kyle Batson, John Bour, Barry Prager, Peter Barker, James Morauta, Nicolas Vincent, Ned Bunnell, Mike Bigalke, Phil Thomas, Bruce Reeve, and a good two dozen others. Lots of good stuff.
A touch of criticism: I noticed a fair number of the submissions had too much of an approximate, "snapshotty" quality, as if the photographer expected the subject to do a little too much of the work. Another fault was that a few of the pictures just didn't telegraph "museum" enough...they were taken at one, but might not have been.
Curiously, almost all of the submissions came from men. Maggie Osterberg, the lone woman chosen, no longer reads TOP (people do come and go—she was one of the ones who said goodbye). I hope the next Baker's Dozen call for work (coming up soon now, that is if I haven't "cried wolf" with this one) will inspire more participation from the women among our readers.
Anyway, it stretched my editing skills. It was difficult to bring a single set into focus. Catch me on a different day, and I'll bet some of my selections might have been different.
Shadow
In retrospect I'm actually grateful for those harsh comments on Friday that shamed me into attempting the task yet again. If that hadn't happened I might still not know how I screwed up two years ago.
Anyway, this sets a record for the longest interval between intention and result in TOP's existence, and I hope 856 days is a record that will never be broken. Again, I apologize for the SNAFU. My screwups don't often end happily, so I'm glad this one did.
Happy ending or not, I'm glad this is over and put to bed at long last so we can move on. The past has too much of a hold on me; it often casts too much of a shadow on the future, and that's no good.
And if you haven't seen it yet, scroll down to the next post and see "In the Museum"!
Mike
Product o' the Week:
Fingertip Pulse Oximeter. The link is from TOP to Amazon. This relates to health, not photography—it replaces one of the advanced functions on the latest Apple Watch. Takes your pulse and measures your blood oxygen. For heart monitoring, checking for COVID (low blood oxygen is an early warning sign) and slow heartbeat. I'm learning to correlate the way I feel with the readings. Works with iOS and Android. Nifty little device, super easy to use, and cheap.
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