There I sat, in awe of the guy who invented The Terminator and pretty much inspired my love for science fiction and post-apocalyptic stories and movies.

Cameron eschewed the typical pharmaceutical keynote (pretend you know something about drugs) and focused on managing risk and pushing boundaries.When I think of James Cameron and I think of a master of motion pictures. What I never realized was he really only has a handful of movies under his belt, but everyone of those films took the film industry to the next level.

With Terminator he made a cyborg actually move without looking like a stop-motion creature, with The Abyss he pretty much created computer-generated graphics, and who can forget the molten-lava T-1000 in Terminator 2.

“If we failed on Abyss, we lost a scene. If we failed on Terminator 2, we lost a movie,” I’m paraphrasing, but that’s pretty close to what he said.

With every movie he’s made he pushed state-of-the-art technology and then blew the door right open. He takes major risks, and everyone of them have paid of with dividends.

After Terminator 2, he created the concept of Avatar, but realized that the technology wasn’t where he needed it to be to actually pull off the movie. So he put the concept on the shelf and made a small film called Titanic (not a favorite).

A decade or so later, Avatar is a reality. Rather than wait for 3D technology to get to where it needed to be, he actually made it himself (just like with T2 and Abyss). He gambled big time that it wouldn’t look silly on the big screen, and once again succeeded.

What’s this have to do with photography? I don’t know. I think this is more of a personal rant about my own fears and risks I’m taking with GLK Creative.

The speech was refreshing and made me realize just how important it is to take risks in everything we do. If you don’t try to step up to a challenge or choose to stay steady with the safe and the familiar, you’ll never advance or move to the next level.

For the past few months, I’ve been babbling to Allison about the fear I have of just jumping feet first into photography with no parachute. I have faith in my skills as a photographer and a business man, but there’s still that unnerving fear that I might fail. Rather than tell me to play it safe, she’s pushed me as hard as she can to embrace the risk, shrug off the fear, look at what others do, and improve on it.

Ten years ago, she told me to stop working at Sam Goody and take a gamble on a short-term maternity leave position at the local newspaper. I took advice and spent the next decade working my way up the food chain to a dream job as a news editor in New York. Today, I’m on that cliff again, looking at a new career that I am just as passionate about, and about jump. Whether the gamble will pay off is still up in the air, but if I don’t try, I’ll never know. Luckily, I tend to land on my feet.

As an addendum, one of my favorite photographers Chase Jarvis just posted the first of a series of videos about Risk that are just as inspiring to me as Cameron’s speech. Definitely worth a peak if you have a few minutes.

Self Portrait

I had a pretty awful day today. Around noon, I ran downstairs and found out that my new neighbor had side swapped my beloved Ford Focus with her rented Penske moving truck. The damage could have been worse, but the truck did hit my driver-side tire, which jutted out just far enough for my alignment to go completely out of whack. I’m not even going to mention the new yellow paint job my car is now sporting in the gouges left by the truck. Just my luck, right? She was kind enough to tell me that she did it (though it would have been tough to notice that the new yellow pin striping on my car matched the truck sitting in the street all day), and we exchanged info and some pleasantries. Welcome to the neighborhood, just be careful of the narrow streets.

The rest of the day was spent pondering how much insurance entanglement I was going to be in for. I’ve never been in a car accident before, and I count my blessings for that every time I strap on my seat belt. Hopefully we’ll figure it out and my car will be back to it’s previous glory. What bothered me more was how much of my day was spent worrying about how much it would cost to fix it, and whether her insurance would skyrocket, and general petty sorrow. I tend to bring that upon myself when I’m down. I know I shouldn’t, and it wasn’t even my fault, but I tend to get sad over silly things.

Roger Ebert, Photo by Ethan Hill

I mean things could be so much worse, right? Any time I get glum these days I just pick up the new Esquire and re-read the feature story about Roger Ebert. If you haven’t read it yet, please do so now. Chris Jones explains where the legendary movie critic has been these last few years and tells us why we haven’t heard a word from him. I knew that he had some form of mouth cancer, but I had heard rumors for months that he would be back on TV good as new. Where had those magic thumbs gone?

I’m a huge fan of Ebert and At the Movies, even though I generally side with Richard Roeper’s movie selections. The show had been staple in my life for decades, and when it ended abruptly, last year, I was left wondering what happened to Ebert and Roeper. A few weeks back I discovered that Roeper had found his voice on the Internet, recording short-form movie reviews in his home on what appears to be a handicam. But where was Ebert? It turns out he lost his real voice for good, as well as ability to eat and drink through his mouth. Jones goes into detail about Ebert’s fight with cancer, the loss of his bottom jaw, having to speak through post-it notes, and the discomfort he feels sitting through multiple movies. Roger Ebert has been fighting the good fight on his blog and is mentally strong as ever, but what is most striking are photographer Ethan Hill’s haunting photos of Ebert without his bottom jaw.

The first time I saw the shots, I was horrified and sad. Gone was the pudgy man I watched every Sunday afternoon. He was replaced with this slack-jawed person that would have frightened me as a child. But then I read Jones’ words I realized that Ebert doesn’t ask for pity and my fear is ignorance. He isn’t fighting for his life, he is simply struggling to regain his voice. He is a survivor and someone I am truly inspired by. Jones and Hill told Ebert’s story so perfectly that it’s hard for me to really be depressed—anything I’m going through is petty compared to what Ebert is going through. Anyone wondering just how powerful a photo can be, just needs to look at the photo above and then read the article—I promise you, it will move you. I know I’m no longer upset about a stupid car.

If you want to read more about Ethan Hill, check out a great look at the making of this photo at A Photo Editor.

I spoke to soon. Looks like Ebert might get his voice back after all, or at least some semblance of it. Check out the video below. (via Engadget)