Finding that little nugget of information propelled me to dig deeper.  I found an article written about photographer Harry Shepherd circa 1899. 

"Within the last decade he has arisen from almost obscurity to the position of the leading and most popular photographer of the city…  He is a genius; and, like most geniuses, he is somewhat erratic and is not fully understood even by his best friends and when an idea takes possession of him he follows it with rapidity that absolutely takes away the breath of his plodding contemporaries." 

Along with those words were numerous samples of Shepherd's work – photographs of black, white and native american people all embracing Shepherd capturing them in their everyday life – the humble beginnings of modern day photojournalism.

Hearing about these triumphs achieved by people whose names are preceded by "born free" makes me even more determined not to let the freedom and opportunities afforded me to go to waste.

I’ve been in Phoenix for almost thirty years now, and I'm convinced the longer I stay the fewer become the degrees of separation between me and my fellow Phoenicians.  Each time I experience an I-know-someone-who-knows-you moment, I just have to chuckle.  Case in point… in discussing via email the details of an upcoming shoot with a new client the other day, I got this: 

“Sidebar: We're in need of a photographer at my day job and I was talking with some of my colleagues a week or so ago. I said, 'I have the perfect person in mind! Her work is amazing.' As I was saying your name, my colleague knew what I was going to say and he said it too. Then he told me he's worked with you on a shoot. How funny is that?!”

Turns out my new client’s colleague and I had done a shoot together about three years ago.  Phoenix is such a small fish bowl.  You never know with whom you’ll bump fins.