This weekend we spent a three-day weekend in Brigantine, NJ for some well-deserved beach and family time.  I debated taking my whole camera bag, supposing that my purse-sized Lumix would do the trick.  In the end, though, I almost always end up packing all my gear in case I should be overcome by a sudden urge to take pictures that require Camera Raw, 10 megapixels, off-camera lighting, or a tripod.

Nothing like a relaxing weekend at the beach, enjoying the company of six people crammed into a two-bedroom bungalow.  Oh, and some ambitious photography projects on the side.

Predictably, I was somewhat disappointed in myself when I returned home with no pictures, but I'm left to wonder: do I beat up on myself too much?  Like in every other aspect of my life, do my high standards hinder me more than they help?

In college, I had a professor who firmly believed visual art -- and painting in particular -- should be our whole lives.  Unless we walked/ate/slept/dreamed painting, we could not call ourselves true artists.  This mentality dealt the final blow to my enthusiasm for a visual arts degree in large part because I gave up on some big dreams earlier in life because I couldn't bear the thought of that fierce intellectual monogamy.  Now someone was trying to force it on me, something I just couldn't swallow.

The bottom line is photography will never be my whole life.  Nor will writing or music or sewing curtains for the spare bedroom.  Sometimes a walk on the Atlantic City boardwalk is just that, a walk on the boardwalk.  No analysis, no careful and particular observation, no being left behind because no one wanted to wait for me to create the perfect shot.  There will be weekends for that.  I can plan a whole series of work around the Jersey Shore, allot entire weekends to my images.

Maybe it's also okay for me to come home from a weekend at the beach with no photography to show for it.  Maybe, for this weekend, I was defined by my place in my family as opposed to my place behind the camera.  While I sometimes envy people whose cameras are a permanent part of them, even they go through dry spells.  I'll never be shooting constantly, but I hit a pretty good rhythm with consistency.   Some days other pursuits just take precedence, and that's an important part of how I live and work.

This isn't something I should feel guilty about.  I am not a single-minded person with a perfectly crystallized identity and direction to my life.  I am a grazer who wanders through and past just about everything.  I used to beat myself up over this part of myself, but I've come to know its unique pleasures and advantages as well.

Even if to the outside world it looks like I'll never get my act together.