Here we go.

My first post. I didn't think it would be this hard. After all, I blog almost every day, what's another post? Turns out that blogging in the company of all these amazing women brought out the "Am I Good Enoughs". What if that's stupid? What if I suck? What if that only makes sense to me? So ideas get deleted; and inspiration evaporates. Then this morning, I passed by these wonderful self portraits, done by my nieces last year. I have children's art displayed all over my house, and love the boldness of it. Kids don't judge themselves. They just jump in and feel their way through. It doesn't even occur to them that they don't "know how" to do something, or that it won't be good enough. It was a great reminder that progress is in the doing. Success is in the doing. And this goes for photography, as much as in anything else. There are books to read, endless websites to learn from. But when it comes down to it, it's always about just getting in and feeling your way through. So, off we go!

A Few Common Threads

I was immediately drawn to the color of this grapefruit and so of course, I had to get some photos of it. My poor kids, waiting for me to shoot pictures of their breakfast before they can eat. What kind of mother am I?

As I lay it on the table and shoot across the top, I found myself drawn beyond the color, to the curve of the glorious circle that the round fruit boasts. I feel that this is what I must capture; even if it’s just enough of the shape to lead your eye around it as your mind fills in the blank.

I was reminded of a few other images in my everyday life collection. Looking through these photos, I recognize a trend. How curious that there are so many similarities in what I am choosing to capture and then how I compose my shots.

So tell me, do you find a common thread among some of your photos? What is it that you are compelled to capture?

To stalk souls like rare birds

In yoga, at the very beginning, you get centred. You stand still, hands at your sides. A soft voice reminds you to be attuned to your feet pressing onto smooth wood, to gravity, to breathing in and breathing out. This is awareness, that wholesome kind of physical hum that comes from time well spent.

This is the stuff that keeps you young, sane and grateful no matter what maelstrom surrounds you.

Photography generates the same hum, don't you find?

With a camera in hand you walk softly. A camera demands consciousness, asks that you quiet yourself to note the light, beauty, pain, sorrow or joy in front of your lens in that moment.

For the record, count me among the pointers and shooters. The equipmentally challenged, the chronic cheapskates (by choice or by circumstance) who still want — regardless of technical proficiency — to take not just snapshots but interesting photographs that evoke feeling and memory and scent and wistfulness and hopes and dreams and all the rest.

There it is, how I love him, right there. The curve of his cheek, that smear of peanut butter. The way he looks at the sky, skeptical, when the clouds are fat with grey and weather. His boots, crunching on fresh snow. His hair, scruffing out from under the brim of his hat.

In yoga, at the very end, you return to the centre, lying still. A soft voice reminds you to be attuned to the effort you've made. And not to reflect on the perfection of movement, but on the trying of it.