Welcome to my photography blog, a place where I share not only portraits but other aspects of my photography.
The Joys of the Family Photo
A lot of family picture taking goes on this time of year in preparation for Christmas cards and gifts for grandparents. And a lot of frustration on the part of parents can accompany those photo sessions. That’s because the family photo seems like a simple concept. Everyone puts on their best clothes, stands still for five minutes, smiles and makes a little magic. And yet, it rarely happens that smoothly.
Pinterest and other social media sites make it look so easy. Do a Pinterest search for “family photo”, and you’ll find dozens of beautiful images of families in perfect poses amid amber waves of wheat with golden sunlight sparkling in their hair. But Pinterest is a liar. Photographers and others put their best foot forward on social media, so those pins are “best of” images. The truth is most families find photo sessions trying because kids are wiggly, some adults are there under duress and most people don’t like having their picture taken.
Most sessions are scheduled by moms because they recognize the future value of images taken at various stages of life. Moms deserve credit for making those photos happen despite protests from their family members. More than once I’ve taken family photos at a wedding or other event, and months later a grandparent or other relative in those images died. The value of those images cannot be understated, so all that work to herd your kids or force Aunt Bessie to get in the picture is worth it. And don’t worry if things don’t happen the way you want it to because here’s some truth.
If your young child has ever had a cry-in-the-floor, red-faced, need-a-nap meltdown at a photo shoot, your family is normal.
If your uncle Earl has ever declared that he hates to have his picture taken and refused to smile throughout the entire family session your family is normal.
If your child has fallen and bruised his forehead two days before a photo shoot, your family is normal.
If your newborn has pooped, peed or thrown up on the props and photographer during a photo shoot, your family is normal.
If you’ve ever had to bribe your children, spouse or adult relatives to get them to cooperate for ten minutes at a photo shoot, your family is normal.
If you’ve ever had to threaten your children, spouse or adult relatives to get them to cooperate for ten minutes at a photo shoot, your family is normal.
If your teenager has been surly throughout a photo shoot because he/she is just “too old for this kind of thing”, your family is normal.
If you have ever wrapped up a family photo shoot and felt as if you needed a Tylenol and a large glass of merlot, your family is normal.
Lower your expectations. Don’t worry if things aren’t perfect. People aren’t perfect. They have fuzzy hair, cowlicks, acne breakouts and toddler fits. Family is messy. They argue and grumble at each other and can be a hot mess. But they are your hot mess, and years from now, when some of the people in those pictures are long gone, you’re going to treasure those pictures, regardless of how many people are smiling, how many cowlicks there are and how imperfect they’re standing. In fact, you’re probably going to laugh for years at that picture in which your cousin is hitting his sister over the head. Take the picture, and don’t worry about the photographer. Inside we’re smiling, because when you say things like, “I’m sure you’ve never had to deal with this before” we’re thinking, “Yes, yes, I do, all of the time.” In fact, we kind of expect it.
New York City
New York City. She charms me, she amuses me and she beckons me back the minute I leave.
I love the pace.
The kitsch.
The old.
And the new.
The streets above.
And the tracks below.
I soak up her history.
Including the parts that make me cry.
And I love how she shines.
Reconnecting
The older I get, the more important it becomes for me to reconnect with the places and traditions of my childhood. Perhaps, it's a way of better understanding myself or maybe it's a way to pump the brakes on the stresses of middle age by reaching back to the days when I didn't have to worry about bills or taking care of elderly parents.
Picking fruit always reminds me of gathering, canning and freezing produce with mama when I was growing up. It seemed like such a chore back then. All of that washing, blanching and slicing. The heat of the kitchen when those jars were boiling on the stove and the endless bean snapping was miserable to a kid who would rather be roaming the countryside on a bicycle or playing in the shade. The year mama made enough homemade kraut to feed all of Massac County was almost my breaking point. My actual breaking point was passing out from the heat in the midst of some blackberry bushes and getting eaten up by chiggers while sitting in the grass waiting to feel well enough to walk back to the house. I stomped back into the house declaring that I would NEVER EVER pick blackberries again.
I'm glad for those experiences, now, and for the knowlege that I can make jellies and relishes and store garden tomatoes for chili and soups. Picking berries today is a way of remembering where I come from and reconnecting with those memories, and that's what I was thinking about yesterday morning while picking blackberries at Quint's in Massac County. The smell of the produce in my hands, the sweat on my neck and the sounds of nature brought back lots of childhood summer memories.
And Mr. Quint? He was one of my elementary school teachers. Reconnecting is good for the soul.
Thanks to the Quints for being so gracious and letting me take photos.
Nashvegas
While Nashville has several diverse neighborhoods, lower Broadway reminds me of Las Vegas. It's a rich soup of the hopeful and the hopeless; those chasing dreams and those chasing the next drink. It's bright and shiny and fun to visit, but if you hang around long enough and look closely enough, you start to see both sides. Underneath the exterior of optimism and wild success is a layer of people living in disappointment. It fascinates me, and I can spend hours slipping among the crowds, in and out of bars, with a camera.
Back to School
When wandering around in old buildings, there is always a story forming in my head about the people who used to inhabit those buildings. In fact, a photographer friend of mine jokes that I ALWAYS have a story for each location we visit and photograph. Old buildings give me inspiration and fuel my imagination, but as it turns out, that imagination wasn’t necessary on my last outing. That’s because I visited a school that my husband attended for a couple of years as a child. He loved that school, and when I told him where I had been, he started telling stories about his time there. He described every corner in great detail, bringing to life for me the building that now sits in disrepair. As he talked of lunch in the basement cafeteria, and Cousin Mary Lee’s loving role as head cook there, and playing in the upstairs gym, it was like turning black and white pages in my mind into colorful stories that jumped out of a book. It helped to soften the sadness I felt for a building that will eventually be torn down or lost to the elements of Mother Nature. Thankfully, it will live on in the memories of its former students and teachers.
