for the love of processing

I love taking pictures….. and I love processing. In fact, I would say it's a LOVE-LOVE scenario. 

It's a process for me. I imagine a photo, set up the 'scene', click the pic….then off to my computer to finish the vision. I may do just a few tweaks, or I might take it even further….edit, effect, texture, and even type. This is my way of making art…without using my paints and brushes.

I dove into photography and photoshop at the same time. I took my first few photos, then moved immediately into photoshop. I wanted to apply textures to my images. In fact it was because of the textured images I was admiring online that I picked up my camera in the first place. It seems a little backwards when I think of it now. Eventually I began to learn the other pieces of photoshop and grew to love everything about processing.

A few years later, along came Lightroom! It's been life-changing... at least creatively speaking. I often wonder what I ever did without it. Thanks to Lightroom's catalog feature my images are now organized and easily accessible; something I thought may never happen. I can crop, edit and so much more; quickly and efficiently on several images at once. It's quick, painless and completely non-destructive. Lightroom also works beautifully with photoshop/elements. It really is an incredible program. 

Where do YOU fit in all of this? Lightroom, Photoshop, another editing program….or no thank you; editings not for me? Share with us today.

Today we are giving away a space in my new Lightroom class, Round Trip - from Lightroom to Photoshop and back again. The next session begins on January 15th. To enter, simply leave a comment under this post before Thursday at midnight EST for your chance to win a complimentary space in the Round Trip Class. Even better, double your chances by joining our mailing list. The winner will be announced on Friday. Good luck!

Coming home to my camera

Over the past year or so, my DSLR has been gathering dust. It hasn’t been intentional. I have just gotten more and more accustomed to using my iPhone for all of my daily photography. Easy, efficient, and synched to Instagram, I have found the convenience of my phone camera beyond sufficient to satisfy my creative cravings. That was until the past week or so. I can’t really explain it but I have been feeling a little photographically parched. To try to quench my thirst I decided to pull out the DSLR and play over the weekend.

I totally forgot what I had been missing.

Minutes turned into hours as I lost myself in my photography process. Light—click—aperture—click lenses, focus, the feel of the big camera in my hand—click click click. It felt so good. The featured shot above came straight out of the camera. It was the first of that day and it’s my favorite. I felt so at home and so happy. This doesn’t surprise me. I know my artistic rhythm calls for a new muse time and again. Who knew that the muse I needed next was in my camera bag, just waiting for me to return?

What’s your muse these days? What’s beckoning you?

trusting inspiration

 

I picked up the camera so many times and looked through the viewfinder.  Maybe fired off a couple of frames half-heartedly.  Sometimes I deleted them in the camera, but there are hundreds more sitting on my hard drive, unedited, unviewed.  The light stopped speaking to me.  The camera body no longer fit my hands like a beloved tool.

If I can’t see images, how can I think of myself as a photographer?  Worse yet, what does it say about the way I’ve filled my life, if it doesn’t inspire so much as a snapshot?

It was a long way to fall.  I finished a 365 project last October, totally inspired, totally proud of myself, totally grateful.  It is a powerful exercise to keep your eye and heart attuned to the beautiful and the remarkable in the midst of your everyday life.  To have a photographic record of your progress over a year.  To begin to see yourself as an artist.

But with the year up, I stopped shooting every day.  I stopped being so mindful.  I bought myself a fancy new camera but immediately lost my courage.  It is a Serious Camera.  In my head this camera deserved to shoot Serious Things instead of my everyday life.  I shot less.  I felt it as a little death, this loss of a fledgling creative life.  It’s not the sort of thing you hold a wake for though.  No one brings you red wine and casseroles while you wonder why your eyes don’t work anymore.  There was grief but it was mine alone.

But recently I’ve started to notice shadows again.  There is the color of autumn leaves.  There are long eyelashes and kids in mismatched prints and wet dog noses.  My eyes are hungry.  My hands are a little itchy for the heavy camera body, even though it still feels awkward in my grip sometimes.  I’ve started carrying it with me again, so I’m ready when it calls to me.

I’m starting to understand that it wasn’t a death after all.  It was just the change of seasons.  I’m starting to believe that just as I know that autumn always follows summer, I can trust inspiration and vision to return.

Have you ever had a dry spell?  How did you work your way out of it?  What inspired you to start again?

Image and words courtesy of the wonderful Corinna Robbins of Bird Wanna Whistle.

inside outside upside down

How we view the world through our camera lens often helps us shape the world we experience in our day to day life. One of my favorite photographic perspectives is the simple act of reflection and inversion. This post processing "flip" lets my world become the abstract surrealist version of life that I often perceive in my imagination.

The morning I saw this image in the puddle reflection, we were both feeling something in the space between mother and son. It was a hug and a tug of parenthood and childhood. We were bridging a gap and it conjured up memories and old stories long forgotten. I wanted to document the feeling of this morning in a way that didn't show a particular expression, but instead, painted a picture of how I felt from our conversation.

Since I have a camera with me absolutely everywhere I go, my son is used to this fact even in his rebellion of it. I now find myself explaining my process to my son, as he is often the witness to my creative spark (and with reluctance to have his photograph taken these days) I hear myself telling him, "I'm focusing on your shoes, the details of your face with be lost in this puddle reflection." By talking outloud to him about my process it puts him at ease that I won't try to sneak in a picture of him unwillingly. This also gives him the ability to be part of it the process. So, when we view the final image, perhaps he carries that vision with him as he ventures out into his world. And the next time I see him gazing into puddles looking for another dimension, I will smile to myself at the future he might hold in his own imagination.

Do you seek reflections? Abstractions? Do you flip your images to create an optical illusion to wrinkle your brow with a millisecond of confusion? Show us how you play with photography by sharing your images in the comments below.

Stumbling Upon Kindness

What this world needs is a new kind of army - the army of the kind. ~Cleveland Amory

I recently shared an Instagram image of my husband and I standing on a street corner in NYC near a chalk-drawn heart at our feet.  A friend asked on the feed, “Did you bring your own chalk?” The comment made me laugh. It sounds like me actually, to do something like that but in this instance, it was someone else who brought the chalk. In fact, it was what I would consider a random act of kindness. We found a number of these chalk hearts along our walk around the city that evening.

Sometimes when we engage ourselves in activities like leaving hope notes, or sidewalk messages, we forget that others might be doing the same. To stumble across gestures of kindness from strangers is nothing short of wonderful. It reminds me that we are all called to be a part of “the army of the kind”.

Today, share a story that expresses the power (and beauty) of kindness.