When I was still a young and emerging photographer, a friend of mine knew many Paris galleries and invited me to France to present my portfolio to some of them. That was a big deal to me. Just printing out the samples was a huge undertaking. I was extremely anxious and excited. A prestigious gallery was located not far from my friend’s beautiful home, run by a venerable lady of a dignified age. We went in there, and since the whole conversation was in French, I didn’t immediately understand what was being said. There is no more stupid situation where you stand like a little boy with your photos between two arguing French and not understanding what they are talking about. A friend later told me what had happened. 

After the usual courtesies, my friend told the gallerist that he had a photographer friend from Estonia visiting and hoped the gallerist could look over his pictures. At that moment, this lady changed into a completely different person and said she does not watch anything she has not chosen. At this moment, my friend got angry and asked how she could be a gallerist if she wasn’t curious. What followed was a mutual spattering between the French, which lasted for some time. At the end of which, my friend, with all his eloquence, had led the lady to a point where she agreed to see my pictures. After a short break, she threw the photos on the table and said that there was nothing to see: “You show me pictures of people – color and black-and-white, happy and sad – decide what you want to do! We have one artist who only photographs chocolate!”. That was the end of this visit.

I was traumatized by this experience, and although it happened in 2012, this experience will never disappear from my mind. This scar has become a part of me. The most important thing I learned from this is that I will not change anything! This woman is not a judge who decides how and what you must do. What your inner voice tells you to do is your only judgment. You should refrain from going and starting to make the art that someone demands. This is the death of art and the artist.