The Slow Period

There are stretches in long-term work where progress is real, but hard to point to. This winter has been one of those stretches for Portraits of Adventure. Less time spent producing finished portraits, more time spent in conversations, planning, and building relationships without a camera present. From the outside, it can look like very little is happening, even when the work itself is very much underway.

This phase has made me more aware of how easily progress gets measured by deliverables alone. Images made. Projects completed. Outcomes that fit neatly into a timeline. Those markers are familiar and comforting, especially when momentum feels slow. But they don’t fully account for the kind of work this project depends on.

The portraits only work if they come from trust. Trust doesn’t form on a schedule, and it can’t be rushed into existence. It develops through showing up without an agenda, listening carefully, and allowing people and places to reveal themselves without pressure. Much of that effort leaves no visible artifacts in the moment.

Because of that, this stage can look deceptively quiet. Sometimes it takes the form of conversations that don’t immediately lead anywhere. Sometimes it looks like waiting, or choosing not to move forward yet. What I’m learning is that this stage isn’t separate from the project. It’s structural. The work depends on it.

Winter makes this easier to see. The pace slows whether I want it to or not, and the absence of visible output exposes how much of the work happens beneath the surface. Groundwork, patience, and care are easy to mistake for delays, but they’re often what allow the work to hold meaning later. I’m trying to let this period be what it is, not a pause or a setback, but part of the rhythm of building something meant to last.