This is the final excerpt I am publishing from my book “Born Again.” It’s from the fifth chapter, which is called Reborn. If you’ve not yet read the previous installments, you can find them here: First | Second | Third | Fourth | Fifth | Sixth | Seventh
Today is my birthday! And I just realized (after counting on the calendar) that it’s also only a few days shy of what’s considered a “full-term pregnancy” since September 6th of last year, which is the day I finished Born Again and sent the files to the printer. So this seems like an appropriate time to publish the final excerpt from the book. I hope you enjoy it.
Please note: The climactic photos of the shoot with Sohan Sam that are featured in this chapter will ONLY be published in the Born Again book, not here on Substack, because they are what is known as “NSFW.” They are not scandalous or p*rn*graphic, but they are fully revealing. I’m not ashamed of them, and I’m genuinely not doing this to be a tease, but I don’t want to run the risk of hitting email sp*m filters, or of somehow having my Substack page be reported or blacklisted.
I am offering a FREE copy of Born Again to all new Annual paid subscribers to this newsletter! This is a $20 value—and I’ll even cover the cost of standard shipping. Offer ends May 31st.
Reborn
A dear friend who’s known me since I was a teenager reached out a few months ago, after reviewing some of my recent school projects, and observed:
“I feel like you are stretching and growing parts of you that have always been there, but are waking up.”
Maybe that’s more what is happening. Perhaps I’m not being reborn as much as simply waking up.
…
When I began my master’s program [in November 2022], each student had to present his or her portfolio, and then the others would dissect it and offer feedback and criticism. I watched as my classmates presented glamorous fashion photography, artful nudes, and a short film featuring a girl sprawling on a concrete floor while wrapping her hair and lipstick-smeared mouth with tape.
My presentation was…a little different than that. The portfolio I had submitted with my application materials included (among other things) photos of mountains, a garden, a deserted swimming pool, a black cat, and a bush. I also included screenshots of a bunch of my corporate marketing work, as well as some of my published freelance writing work. But no fashion, no nudes, and definitely no indie films.
When I finished, my instructor smiled a little and said, not unkindly, “Michael, you are a mess! It makes me think of minestrone soup. There are many kinds of vegetables in minestrone, but you cannot put ALL the vegetables in or it will be a mess. Some of these pictures are beautiful photography, but I cannot tell from this who you are. Who is Michael TenBrink?”
Months later, a couple of my classmates mentioned to me that when they’d first seen my portfolio, they didn’t “get it” either, but that after hearing stories about my background, some of my photographs finally made sense to them—especially shots such as these (which were always some of my personal favorites):
As I reflected on the conversation later that evening, I realized that I had also not understood what I’d been subconsciously saying through much of my previous work. But I saw then that I’d simply been trying to express how I’d often felt: separated, isolated, lonely, and alone.
.....
A few weeks after school started, I wrote:
At 18, I escaped that small world [I was raised in] and created a new life, first in Chicago, then Nashville, then San Francisco. I clawed my way out of the closet and eventually met and married the love of my life. And now, after almost a quarter-century career in corporate marketing, I have blown up much of my life as I knew it and am forcing myself to become someone new, in a new city and a new country, on a new continent. It’s exhilarating and disorienting. I don’t know who I’ll be by the time we present our final projects next September, but I’m good with that; it goes with the territory.”
Fast-forward through 10 months of art school unraveling. “Next September” has arrived, and this is the end of my final project. It’s a strange feeling to contemplate leaving behind a past that has been so omnipresent for my entire adult life. I have, quite literally, no real idea what I will write about, or what I will photograph, if I do not keep drawing from the well of the past. I’m not sure who I will be—not only as an artist, but as a person, a husband, a brother, a son, a friend—if I walk into this unfamiliar terrain. But I can’t let that stop me from trying.
Of course, this doesn’t mean I won’t ever again revisit my past, but it does mean I am very aware that it is time for me to turn the page and explore what’s next.
George Eliot once wrote, “It is never too late to be what you might have been.”
Here’s to that becoming.
“The ‘old is gone and new has come’ mentality can lead a person to believe that change and transformation happens as a miraculous or climatic occurrence at a specific moment in time, rather than a vigorous process over time of doing one’s personal/inner work, taking responsibility for cultivating a life of wholeness and wellbeing, and possibly seeking professional help and support in areas where we cannot seem to make progress or to adequately address on our own.”
When I was nearing completion on this project, I spent two nights in an Airbnb near Lake Como. Just before I checked out, I wrote:
I’d say the 43-hour writer’s retreat was a huge success. The little studio I booked was the perfect setting; I just wrote, and wrote, and wrote, then cut, then wrote some more. A lot of very hard things were covered, things I’ve rarely if ever talked about to anyone, but it felt healing, and I think this project will be a pivotal point in my life.
I am not completely done, but about 8:00 this morning I reached a good stopping place, so I grabbed my suit and headed to the beach for a quick swim. I was the only person there. I don’t like to be cold, never have, so I was my usual hesitant self about getting in. But I decided to be ritualistic about it: I counted to 51, one for each year of my life so far, and then I walked right in without pausing. For 15 minutes, I paddled and dove under and climbed on the raft and jumped off and floated on my back just looking up at the sky, so grateful to be alive. I got out reluctantly, only so I could come back and pack up to head home. I felt...new. You might call it a born-again experience.
Thanks for coming on this journey with me! I would love to know what you’ve thought of the excerpts—or the full book, if you’ve already read it—so please leave a comment (or hit Reply if you’re on my email list, which I hope you are!) and let me know what you think.
I intend for the foreseeable future for my posts to remain free, including the excerpts from Born Again. But if you’d like the full book, you have two options:
You can purchase it directly from Blurb by clicking the blue button below.
Or—through May 31st—I am offering a FREE copy to all new Annual subscribers to this newsletter! This is a $20 value, and I’ll even cover the cost of standard shipping.
(Note: The Substack back-end tech appears to be unable to accommodate the logistics of this offer, so I will reach out to you directly after you subscribe to get your shipping details and then place the book order for you myself.)
