Exploring the Details

I do not travel to follow itineraries. I travel to see whatever I happen to see. All it takes is a willingness to wander, to make mistakes, to ask for help, to observe, to follow my instincts, to face fears and step outside my comfort zone. -Ordinary Sparkling Moments

Whenever anyone asks me what I do for a living, I always smile and say, “I am an artist”. Questions then follow about the kind of work I do and what inspires me, and while all of these exchanges are among the most pleasant for me (I mean really, I get to say I’m an artist...an artist!) I have lately been wondering if I should toss all formalities aside and try to express the more fundamental truth of what I do. More than being an artist, a writer or anything else, I am a wanderer, a dreamer, and an explorer. Whether I am on a journey across the Pacific or sitting in my studio pondering my place in the world, my fierce passion for explorations of any kind is what feeds my creative work more than anything else, and it is the tiniest of details in these wanderings that give me the deepest sense of delight.

I have been incredibly blessed to have traveled to many beautiful parts of the world, and on every excursion, there are two items that are always with me: my journal and my camera. I have been known to write journal entries as I’m walking down cracked sidewalks in Havana and as a woman obsessed with graffiti art in Buenos Aires. I am constantly writing, sketching, photographing and observing, trying to capture all the minutiae of new cities, unfamiliar neighborhoods and foreign cultures. Then when I arrive back home, notes, images and doodles in hand, I let all these bits and pieces spill forth so that I can re-assemble them in an entirely new way. I use my photography to express all the subtleties I saw, sensed and experienced in places where I could not understand the language yet still perhaps felt strangely at home.

To allow yourself to dive deep into the tiniest of details in any environment is to open yourself up to colors, images and textures that might go unnoticed if you’re always looking up at the skyscrapers, so to speak. There is so much to see and admire on the ground, in a drugstore window, in the layers of paint on an old building. I find that the more I let my eyes stay focused on one small area, the more I comprehend the real flavor of a city and a culture. In Tokyo, the artful details of their manhole covers helped me understand their appreciation for beauty. In Havana, the peeled paint, broken windows and piles of rubble let any visitor know this was a city lost in time. In Buenos Aires, the political nature of their graffiti gave me a glimpse of the tension still deeply felt by a city with a dark, complicated past. The personality, history and passions of any city, town or neighborhood can be found in its details, by looking in the most minuscule of spaces and letting that take up your entire field of vision.

You don’t need to travel across the globe to explore life’s details. This is a technique you can use anywhere, anytime, even in your own home. What if you took an afternoon to explore the details of your home with your camera? What would those images say about you, your family, your routines, your likes and dislikes? Giving time and attention to the smaller corners of your own living space with your camera can help hone the muscle that notices tiny sparkles in unexpected places. Then you can use those skills to capture all the peculiar, radiant, mysterious charms of any location, near or far, at any time of the year in any part of the world.

Take your time. Observe. Look closer. Let yourself get lost in the details.

Photo and guest post courtesy of artist extraordinaire Christine Mason Miller (aka Swirly Girl). Christine has graciously offered a copy of her book Ordinary Sparkling Moments to one lucky reader. If you want in on the action leave a comment here to be included in the drawing. 

Congratulations to Bridge of Ride the Waves of Life the winner of the wonderful offerings from Jen Lemen.

the beauty of food

Food. We all interact with it every day. It fills and nourishes our bodies and (usually!) tastes good.

But beyond fuel and taste, food has a powerful aesthetic that, over the past few years, I’ve come to appreciate. Food is beautiful. I’ll admit, before I had a food blog I didn’t think much about how food looked. Sure, once in a while I noticed that something I was eating was beautiful. But that usually happened at a fancy restaurant, when the edibles were dressed to the nines.

Taking photos of food day in and day out has helped me develop an appreciation for the inherent, natural beauty of food. Chopping brown onions makes me happy, despite the tears. A bowl of blueberries stops me in my tracks. And pastries lining the windows of Paris? Ooo la la!

As I’ve contemplated my experience photographing food, I’ve realized it’s had an impact on all of my photography. I now look at life through a macro lens. To capture the essence of the food I photograph, I have to really focus on the details. This focus has expanded to other photos I take, no matter the subject. Portraits of my kids tend to be close-ups. I naturally gravitate to details, a candle rather than the whole cathedral. I see the world in a different way, with a smaller yet somehow larger perspective. Yes, I need to remind myself occasionally to step back and take in the whole picture, but I like this new view of the world that my daily photographic study of food has inspired.

Does the aesthetic of food inspire you? Do you like to capture the smallest of details with your lens?

 Pictures and words courtesy of Honorary Sister/Guest Blogger Jane Maynard of  This Week for Dinner.

Self-Portrait Challenge from Kelly Rae Roberts

Mixed media artist extraordinaire Kelly Rae Roberts crosses over to photography today with this delightful self-portrait challenge. Let's give her a warm Shutter Sisters welcome...

I love the idea of capturing images of ourselves in the company of the earth. Today's challenge is simple: go outside. Hold your camera down a bit and capture a shot of yourself with the sky as your backdrop. Then point your camera down and capture your feet on the ground. Put the images together to create a lovely diptych that reveals a small, telling moment in your day.

I love what these kinds of images say about where we are. about our physical surroundings, the season, and even about what we're wearing. And it's so fun to capture our shoes, the earth, and the motion of a day lived well. I so hope you will join me...cloudy skies and all.

Learning to Speak Again

'Do you remember this?' My dad asked me, as we stood in my driveway, gathered around his open car boot.

He pulled a piece of card from a book and handed it to me. It was one of those pieces of card that they put in stocking packets, upon which was drawn a castle, set among trees, beneath a rainbow. The scene was faded, though possibly not as much as one would have expected, after twenty years.

'Who did that?' One of my girls asked, reaching for it. 'Your mother did, when she was ten,' my dad said smiling, 'and I still have it now.'

I didn't remember creating the drawing, though I did remember the days when I drew castles, almost obsessively, trying to place each line right so that it would look like it really was made of stone blocks. I loved to draw, to write, on any available canvas.

Other things happened, that tenth year of my childhood. Things that changed all of us forever, that quietened my creative voice and dulled the senses of those who had once listened to it. Like that tree that crashes in the forest without anyone around to hear it, there was only silence.

As I grew, occasionally I could hear the voice stir within me, but it was always quickly drowned out by life's cacophony. The serious act of growing up, becoming more than I was. The loving, the wedding, the birthing, growing and educating of those four precious girls. Be quiet voice, I have no time, no money, no energy, just leave me alone.

I fooled myself into thinking I'd rather listen to the creative voices of others, than speak my own. I was no stranger to the power of a photographic image. The ability a single picture has to touch the souls of those who view it, without regard for age or race, education or orientation. I'd experienced first-hand the effect of certain pictures, as they embraced, lifted into the air, twirled and spun me, before dropping me back to earth with a thud that left me breathless and altered. Yes, I knew only too well.

Then one day, someone asked me about my camera. It was a capable point and shoot, which I had affectionately named, Mr Fuji. I told them, and they replied that they would have to go out and buy one, because my pictures were amazing. Amazing? My pictures? These pictures? What crazy talk was this?

But my voice had been awakened, and within months I was the proud and excited owner of my very first DSLR camera. My creative voice was speaking, and people were listening. I was connecting with people all over the world through my images, my art. Every time someone emailed me to tell me how one of my pics had brought them to tears, or touched something deep within them, my voice grew stronger, louder.

These days, I'm still finding my voice. At times it cracks and becomes barely a whisper, or disappears altogether for a while. But I don't fear losing it again, because nurturing it, setting it free, was the greatest gift I have ever given myself, and I know now, that silence isn't always golden.

Photograph and words courtesy of Honorary Shutter Sister/Guest Blogger Just Hay who can also be found Flickring or Photoblogging at Hay's Fauxtography.

Seeing is Everything

I wait for the waves to come swirling around my feet and when they do, I gasp. The northwestern Pacific Ocean waters are cold, so cold. Gorgeous but unapologetically frigid. Enough to send me running for the blanket, which I immediately sprawl out on. Ava refuses to let the cold water stop her. She wades bravely out into the ocean and I watch as her body takes on soft undulations, I watch as the waves slap unevenly against her skin. She calls out to me and I know what she wants. She wants me to join her. Too cold, I yell back. But she pleads with me, she wears me down. Reluctantly, I grab the Nikon, the Argus Seventy-Five (with the wacky cardboard contraption attached) and make my way towards the water. I look into the viewfinder of the old camera and find Ava. She fills the frame of the tiny glass square and I see her with new eyes. I point the lens of my Nikon into the cardboard device attached to the Argus and I begin to shoot. And I forget about the temperature of the water. My feet are numb but I am oblivious. I can't stop looking, can't stop shooting.

I first read about the Through The Viewfinder technique (aka TtV) back in 2006. I followed a link to a link to another link and before I knew it, I was constructing my first device out of an old cereal box. Through the Viewfinder photography is the using of one camera to take a picture of an image in another camera's viewfinder. In essence, using the second camera's viewfinder as a lens. Two years later and I have come to look at it as my secret weapon. When I am stuck in a photographic rut, I reach for my Nikon/Argus/Duaflex combination and hit the streets. I look down through the viewfinder and my framing changes, I see things so differently. I realize this can be said for most photographic techniques but something about TtV excites me in totally different way. It's the perfect combination of old and new. Simple but complicated. And so accessible. It's the next best thing to loading the camera up with film. And while it will never replace shooting with film, it comes in a very close second. I'll admit, I'm hooked. I'm riding high and waving the TtV flag. I'm not too proud to wave the flag.

And I'm converting sisters along the way. If this interests you, I've written a lengthier breakdown (which will lead you to a whole mess of TtV linkage) over on my blog. Enough to get you started, enough to get your feet wet. And I recommend getting your feet wet. Whether it's with TtV or something else. Whatever takes you out of your comfort zone and plops you right down in the middle of someplace new, whatever forces you to see the world differently, whatever that is for you. Wade out into the cold, unknown waters. It's the only way.

Picture and words courtesy of honorary sister/guess blogger Andrea Jenkins perhaps better known as Hula, woman extraordinaire behind Hula Seventy & girlhula a la Flickr.