Holding fast to who you are as you are becomes a massive, agonizing mountain to climb. Because others don't see the world the way you see it. You believe you're right, but others don't think so. When those others are the majority, you either have to constantly fight, make a cowardly compromise and resign yourself, or blend in with the crowd.

This is the choice you must make as you live this life. It's a matter of being yourself or belonging to the pack. Usually, people choose to belong to the pack. There are many kinds of packs in this world. If people share the same interests, forming a pack is standard. It gives people security and a sense of belonging. That's how we were educated.

In Pink Floyd's song "Another Brick in the Wall," there are lyrics like this: "We don't need no education. We don't need no thought control. No dark sarcasm in the classroom. Teachers leave them kids alone."

This was like a brilliant piece of theater brought to life in musical form by two young artists—wildly talented, though not yet wise. Namely, David Gilmour and Roger Waters.

It was Waters' lyrics, Gilmour's music.

Waters claims everything was his idea. Gilmour recognized the importance of the name Pink Floyd and went along with it. Even now, after all these years, their argument still draws attention.

I tend to lean toward Gilmour's side, because his guitar playing makes me weep. Music is the only art form that evokes that kind of reaction in me—where the pounding of my heart eventually erupts into tears.

Something from Gilmour's psyche feels transferred straight into my heart. Flowing out from his gentle presence, transmitted through the movement of his fingers and his amp, it dismantles my soul. Even at eighty, he is still making new music. Now, his wife writes the lyrics.

Ideas and words are a dime a dozen. What matters is whether you turn your ideas into reality and how you do it. Waters had great ideas, and Gilmour made them real. Together, they created something unearthly and wondrous. But Waters' arrogance scattered the even greater art that lay ahead.

Now in their eighties, past the harsh words traded long ago, Waters comes across like a megalomaniac, while Gilmour lives contentedly as a legend, still bringing to life the new musical thoughts inside his head.

There are so many sides to the story of their feud that you almost have to pick a side just to stay sane. But to me, Gilmour is so magnificent that Waters feels like nothing more than a brick in the wall. Gilmour had a beautiful face, an unreal voice, and the demeanor of an English gentleman. Enduring the battles with Waters must have been hell, but he stayed remarkably calm through the storm and ultimately won the lawsuit. He held out to the end so that the work of his life would retain its meaning.

I'm not trying to diminish the value of Waters' lyrics and concepts, but as I said before, words are a dime a dozen. A concept is just a concept until it's brought into reality.

If arrogance hadn't gotten in the way of their lives and they'd kept creating together, the results would have been staggering. What a shame!

More than fifty years have passed since they achieved fame—a stretch of time that mirrors my own career in photography. Even if my inner voice tells me I'm greater, that's as close as I'll ever get to their talent. That, right there, must be arrogance.