People always want to know about that dissected frog image from the cover of the self-promo piece and why I think an icon like that represents my work. ‘Straordinary, really. Asking a photographer or AD/writer who spends his life creating imagery to show off his personal work; such a clear metaphor. You'd think a simple apology would be in good form. But no-o-o, apparently not.

It's all personal. Intimate, even. It's your work, your guts, your motivo per vivere. And you willingly lay out the lot on a table (okay, so maybe you're reading this on a screen; do the leap) for close inspection by any number of inquiring sensibilities.

That's all well and good to keep in mind when your work is splayed flat, waiting patiently for people to poke through, well, everything. "Oh, so you're the guy who did that? [Poke.] This shot, too?" [Poke. Poke.] (Ow. Yes, that's mine. Yes, that one too. Mind the spleen, please.)

The truth is, you spend most of your waking hours creating these artificial pearls for, um, really nice people. Then, if you win any awards, they'll hate you for it. If you don't win awards, they'll dump you for someone who does. Ultimately this will drive you to addiction or drink, ending up as a curio in a numbered jar preserved for biology class.

Unless, you're able to achieve a healthy perspective on how you function.

Like those herds of enormous toads in Costa Rica that gallop along the mountain roads at night, defiantly challenging any speeding car to swerve and miss. The only trouble is that most of those roads are crusty day-old pudding at best, and often treacherous when wet. They're gambling with being displayed as an organic pancake, an embedded radiator ornament, or worse (remember what JiffyPop sounds like?). You'll actually see them draw the proverbial line in the mud and wait for your comment.

So one way or another, the general message is, "Here's my stuff."