In Pursuit of Light

In a forum such as this one where people gather and connect about their shared love for photography it’s no wonder to me that there’s a running conversation about the value of light. As photographers it’s what we do. We search for light and we seek to capture any bit of it that enchants us. Sometimes it’s about replicating a feeling or documenting a moment and other times it’s about creating a new one. However you view your photography, your camera may be the brush, but it’s the light that you mix on your pallet.

Some people I know, are moved by melody; others by prose. More still, by taste, style or sense of place. Of course any combination of these in the right dose and application hold meaning for me, but nothing touches my soul like the sun. My love affair with the stuff (and consequently my roller coaster relationship with darkness) started before I ever picked up a camera, though. 

Every door I walk through, the first thing I see is how the light enters the space. If I'm coming to visit you, don't waste your  time cleaning up, just draw open the blinds. The corner of a room where sunlight gets caught fascinates me, and golden glowing edges of cheekbones or jars are the things of my dreams.

I know exactly where the sun falls on my sofa at every hour during every season and nothing makes me more melancholy than august evenings when the light begins to fade and I know what lies ahead.

Scientifically it’s a thing—this need for the ultraviolet. For those of us who are afflicted, there’s a piece missing and we are at risk during winter’s shorter days. Here’s where the camera comes in for me.  I’ve learned to get through those darker days by absorbing every ounce of sunlight I possibly can and drawing it up to the surface when I feel the weight bear down. 

I collect the light with my camera. It exists in my computer and in print for me to inject directly into my mood as needed. I walk through days of usual and ordinary and I see things that are anything but. Light becomes a commodity and it takes on shapes and forms that can brighten even the darkest days. 

I know I'm not alone in this need for light. Those of us who make photographs, we feed on it. Vitamins, light therapy, yoga, antidepressants. None ever really helped before. Who knew that a camera might be the thing that could actually do the most good?

And so, as the sun streams through my kitchen window later into the evenings now, the feeling of weightlessness is palpable. The emotional hatches, tightly battened down sometime early last fall, have been removed and I am liberated. 

Do you have a favorite photograph that is all about the light? Share the link below!

Image and words courtesy of guest shutter sister Amy Drucker. You can find Amy on her blog, at Flickr and on Instagram at @amy_druck.

My Medicine

Last weekend, my son had and allergic reaction and went into anaphlyaxis.  I rushed him to the hospital where I was quickly pushed aside while an ER team immediately began working on him and ultimately, putting him on a ventilator. Once it was done and I could see even the doctor give a sigh of relief, my husband and I then awaited the arrival of the critical care team from our local children's hospital to transport him.  It was then that I began to document what was happening in photos.  I needed to.  I've said many times that my camera has been my saving grace. I couldn't do anything else at that time and it was the only thing I felt I had any control over. 

Fortunately, my son made a quick and complete recovery and once we were home, I uploaded my photos into a set on Flickr.  I wanted to share them and I was hesitant at first because I wasn't sure how people would respond to the rawness of the photos, but I wanted, needed, for others to see, to understand.   I then shared them on a Facebook allergy page that I follow regularly.  The owner of the page contacted me and asked if she could share them with others because she thought it was important to do so.  I said yes and didn't give it another thought. 

Immediately my inbox began filling up with messages from people all over the country that I did not know.  Some shared their similar stories with me, others just wanted to tell me that they were glad everything had turned out okay, but all of them thanked me for sharing my photos with them.  It was at that moment that I knew I did the right thing.  As of this writing, those 10 photos have been viewed over 4500 times. 

How many times have you taken a photo that really didn't mean much to you but to someone else it meant so much more?  How many times have you heard, Oh my gosh, I love that photo!  Can I have it?!  I've said many times that I believe everyone brings their own medicine to this world.  Next time one of your photos touches someone, take a moment and realize that perhaps your photography is your medicine, too. 

Today, share those photos that have may have been your medicine...to you or to someone else.

spring's spark

Coming fresh off of Easter weekend, I am feeling ignited by a surge of spring's spark. From blossoms to blooms, sweet treats to Easter eggs, family to festivities, it seems that everyone was savoring a little piece of this season.

Although I captured a number of pictures this past week, for my Best Shot Monday, I have chosen to share something that spoke of tenderness, courage and hope. Capturing the intimate intricacies of something like this tiny peach blossom with my new Olloclip (which has a macro option for my iPhone) makes me swoon. I do believe I have found yet another creative muse!

Now it's your turn to share your Best Shot today. We can't wait to see what captured your spirit (and your lens) this week.

space to shine

Clockwise from top left - Empire State Building in NYC, Nelson's Column in London, Water towers on the Highline NYC, Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.

Sometimes the way to make a subject sparkle is to give the space to shine.

Using negative space to draw attention your subject can be really fun. When I approach a well known landmark, I like to mix it up a little, by using the negative space around it and have the subject peeking into the frame. The subject is still recognisable it’s just composed in a different way.

How about you? Maybe you'd like to create some space for your subject to shine? Do you ever play with negative space?... please share with us today.

Prompted

You don’t see it right away, but it’s there. The straw in its mouth, the one it must gather for home; for the nest. It symbolizes a continues gathering until woven pieces can finally hold things together. It is an amazing labor of love. It is much like our work in everything we care for. We labor with love and gather what is needed for the home, for our nest. The home where we live in, with its kitchen and rooms, and the home in our hearts; the place where we gather strength and courage; the place where we gather our dreams and make them real.

What is curious about this moment is its pause. I was witness to it; it was a pretty long one. This maya bird took a moment to perhaps gather its breath; as if to take whatever was in sight all in. A little bird marveling at the world.

I watch these birds every morning now. They teach me how to pause, to breathe, and take in a bit of the world outside my window. I feel like a little bird marveling at the world. There is work to be done, but I shall marvel at the world.

The beautiful, beautiful gift that photography has given me is a voice. A voice for the words in my heart. I think I kept on looking for a way to find a place for all that. I knew I could write, but I wasn’t sure what I could give to the world. I knew I needed to give back something and I thought, why would the world be interested in my love letters? And then it stretches further to, why would the world be interested in my confusion and heart ache? How would the world benefit from all that? I couldn’t figure it out until there were these ‘prompts’ – you take a photo based on a concept, a word, and you could write about it if you want, or leave it to speak for itself. I am drawn to writing about it because when I capture something, I am certainly capturing a moment. And most of the time I like to paint that moment with words, too. What I have realized is that every moment contains a gift. Yes, every moment. Can you imagine how many gifts there are? Certainly enough to give back to the world.

‘Prompts’ are like inspiration, except I think when we just rely on inspiration, we tend to wait for it to come. That’s fine, but we shouldn’t just wait. And wait. And wait. Because maybe we don’t even know what exactly we’re waiting for; a magic feeling? Pixie dust? Nah. It doesn’t really work that way. I think we have to commit to something. It doesn’t even have to be big. So, if you’re prompted, let’s say with a word, you’re given a direction; a kind of path to follow, a way for your eyes to see or find something that’s already there. Somehow inspiration is everywhere; all you have to do is capture it. *insert magic feeling and pixie dust here*

What have you been prompted to notice, see, or capture lately?

Words and image courtesy of Guest Blogger Jennifer Hagendorn Dizon. She can found at Instragram as @beautifulnothing, on flickr as Creative Jen or on her blog The Divine in Everything.