We recently connected with George Jonathan and have shared our conversation below.
George , appreciate you joining us today. Who is your hero and why? What lessons have you learned from them and how have they influenced your journey?
Heroes don’t exist, not really. What we have are people who leave imprints, like fossils in soft clay. My family – they’re the ones who’ve shaped the landscape of my being.
My mother: a girl, really, when she had me. Her courage wasn’t loud or boastful; it was in her trembling hands as she cradled me, in the way she faced each day with a mixture of fear and determination that I’m only now beginning to understand.
My grandfather stepped into the void left by an absent father. He didn’t teach with words so much as with the quiet rhythm of his days. Wake up, work hard, come home, repeat. His lessons were in callused hands and bright smiles, in the way he showed up, always, without fanfare or expectation.
Grandmother: a pillar of salt turned flesh. Her strength wasn’t in what she said, but in what she didn’t say. In the set of her jaw as she weathered storms I couldn’t see. In the way she moved through the world, all action and consequence, no need for the frivolity of words.
My aunt, a strange, glowing creature. Her kindness isn’t something you see; it’s something you feel, like walking into a room warmed by sunlight you didn’t know was there. She touches lives like a stone skipping across water – light, quick, but the ripples spread far beyond her reach.
And my son. Oh, my son. He loves with a ferocity that terrifies me. He forgives with an ease I envy. He laughs in the face of my seriousness, reminding me that life – this strange, painful, beautiful thing – isn’t meant to be carried like a burden, but worn like a loose garment.
These are my heroes, if such a word can be used. Not perfect, not larger than life, but present. Real. Flawed and human and achingly familiar. They’ve shaped me not through grand gestures or profound wisdom, but through the quiet, relentless force of their being. And isn’t that, in the end, the most heroic thing of all?
George , love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?
Life has a funny way of nudging you down paths you never knew existed. One day, you’re walking one way, sure of your destination, and the next, you’re somewhere else entirely, wondering how you got there but strangely relieved that you did.
That’s how I stumbled into this industry. I was chasing another dream, or maybe it was chasing me, when I applied for an internship at a photo studio. It was a whim, a shot in the dark. And then Nick, with his quiet belief and his willingness to take a chance on someone who didn’t know what they were doing. I owe him a debt I can’t repay.
After that, it was like falling down a rabbit hole. Jason at the grip house, teaching me the bones of the business, the sinew and muscle of the technical aspects. Those years of assisting and shooting – they were like learning a new language. I didn’t go to school for this, didn’t have a piece of paper telling me I was qualified. But I had hands that learned, eyes that saw, and a mind that absorbed everything.
People ask what sets me apart. It’s a strange question, isn’t it? As if we’re all products on a shelf, each with our unique selling points. I don’t look at what others are doing. I can’t. It’s like trying to see your own eyes without a mirror. I just do what I do, and if it resonates with someone, if it clicks into place like a key in a lock, then maybe we make something together. Maybe we don’t. Either way, the world keeps turning.
I offer my perspective, my way of seeing. It’s not better or worse than anyone else’s. It’s just mine. And if a client sees something in it that speaks to them, well, that’s when the magic happens.
Proud? No, I don’t think I’m proud. Pride feels too solid, too certain. I’m grateful, though. Grateful for the chance to pick up a camera, to frame a moment, to capture a sliver of time that would otherwise slip away unnoticed. It’s a strange gift, this ability to freeze light. I don’t take it for granted.
Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.
There’s a peculiar madness to creativity, a sort of beautiful delirium that non-creatives might struggle to comprehend.
We live in a world of potential, where every shadow could be a story, every overheard conversation a screenplay. It’s exhilarating and exhausting in equal measure. We’re constantly chasing the next idea, the next project, driven by an insatiable hunger to create something that didn’t exist before.
But here’s the kicker: we’re also plagued by doubt. It clings to us like a second skin, whispering that we’re frauds, that our next creation will be our last good one. We pour our souls into our work, knowing full well it might be met with indifference or criticism. Yet we do it anyway, because the alternative – not creating – is unthinkable.
It’s a journey of contradictions. We crave solitude to create, yet yearn for connection through our work. We seek validation, but fear it might stifle our authenticity. We’re simultaneously confident and insecure, passionate and apathetic, driven and lost.
But oh, the joy when it all comes together! When the planets align and the muse sings and suddenly, there it is – your creation, alive and breathing. It’s a high like no other, a moment of pure magic that makes all the struggle worthwhile.
So to the non-creatives, I say this: our journey isn’t always pretty or logical or sane. But it’s ours, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
What do you think is the goal or mission that drives your creative journey?
God. It’s a heavy word, isn’t it? Three letters that carry the weight of millennia, of hope and despair, of fervent belief and crushing doubt. And yet, here I am, stumbling towards it, camera in hand like some modern-day pilgrim.
Is it unpopular to admit this? Maybe. We’re supposed to be driven by passion or ambition or the relentless pursuit of self-expression. But the truth – my truth, anyway – is messier.
I’m chasing something I can’t see or touch or fully understand. Call it God, call it purpose, call it the nagging feeling that I’ve been given something I don’t deserve and now I’ve got to figure out what to do with it.
It’s not about fame or fortune – those are fleeting illusions that crumble like sand castles against the tide of time. No, this is about fulfilling a cosmic obligation, about honoring the talents that have been entrusted to me by forces beyond my comprehension.
I don’t know what it looks like. Success? Fulfillment? Some grand revelation that makes everything click into place? I’m not holding my breath. The path is unclear, shrouded in mist and uncertainty. I stumble often, lose my way in the labyrinth of doubt and fear. But to turn back, to ignore this calling – that would be a betrayal of the worst kind.
This is my truth, my mission. It may not be fashionable, may not resonate with the masses. But it burns within me, an unquenchable fire that drives me forward.
So I keep at it, this strange, frustrating, occasionally transcendent pursuit. Not because I’m virtuous or disciplined, but because the alternative is unbearable. Because maybe, just maybe, in the act of creating, I’ll stumble upon something divine. Or at least, something true.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.georgejphoto.com
