from the ground up

 I love how a picture can tell a story.  When I'm photographing something, I make a point to photograph not just the people, but those things that will help tell the story.   Last Sunday was my son's drumline competition and as I walked around getting photos from all angles, I made a point to shoot from the ground up.  Out of all of my photos from that shoot, this is my favorite.  To me, this photo epitomizes the whole day. Be it a pair of dancing shoes, sock encased baby feet or an intimate moment between a bride and groom, the story is all right there, no faces needed. 

Today, share with us your photos of an object or something other than a face that tells a story.  We'd love to see them. 

Heaven

Image shot with a Lensbaby.

On the first day of spring, we braved the cold Portland rain, threw our suitcases in the back of the car and headed for the airport. I couldn't help but feel giddy. Giddy to be leaving it all behind for a couple of days. And when our little plane finally landed in Palm Springs four hours later and we stepped out onto the tarmac, out into blinding bright sunshine and wide open blue skies, I wanted to cry. Giddy is maybe not even the word. This trip to Palm Springs had been in the works for months. The fine folks at the Ace Hotel & Swim Club had invited me down all the way back in August but due to circumstances beyond my control, I wasn't actually able to take them up on the offer for a good six months. I know now that the timing was perfect, that the whole thing had come to fruition at exactly the right moment and as our cab pulled into the driveway of the Ace, I felt my shoulders relax. I looked at my sweet friend Nataly (who I'd invited along for the ride) and I think maybe I squealed, I don't know. 

When it comes to traveling, I am notorious for over-planning. I get excited about new cities, new places and want to learn everything I possibly can so that I can plan extraordinary experiences. I try to leave room for things to just happen but more often than not, we are rushing from one thing to the next. With Palm Springs, I let all that go. My only plan for our 48 hours was to just let things unfold. To raise my camera when it felt right. To wholly surrender to the experience. And for 48 hours, that's exactly what we did. We wandered the grounds and lounged in hammocks. We laid in bed and listened to records. We drank mexican coke in white flannel robes by the patio fireplace and ordered room service. We hopped in and out of the photobooth (and then in and out again) and borrowed bikes from the Ace to ride into town. We floated on our backs in the swimming pool and looked up at the stars. We sat in the quiet of the diner and talked. Sometimes I picked my camera up, sometimes I didn't. 

It was exquisite. 

I didn't want to leave. Ever. I wanted to send for my husband and children and maybe a few of our things. I wanted to start a new life in room 237. But when the time finally came to leave, I felt rested and ready to go, ready to take on the real world and a hundred other little things. And as our cab pulled away, my mind jumped ahead to October. I couldn't help but feel excited about Shutter Sisters Oasis. And I couldn't imagine a more perfect place for it. 

Today, share with us a time when you just let it all go, relaxed into life, and allowed it to unfold.

***Just a reminder: Registration for Oasis opens today, at 9am Pacific Standard Time. We do hope you can join us!***

Life Through My Lens

The word trickled through my core group of girlfriends, my tribe, that there was a diagnosis of breast cancer.  We have all been friends since high school, some of us even longer, and the majority of us are still here in California while our sweet friend who had just been diagnosed lives out of state. When something like this happens, the first people you want and need is your family. Like most of us, her family is here in California as well.  We knew that even though she was trying to be brave, she needed them. The decision to fly her in to be with her family was a simple one, so we put her on a plane and brought her home.

After we picked her up at the airport, we took her to lunch where we talked about high school and old crushes and who was still married and who had divorced.  And we laughed.  A lot.  Then finally, in a quiet and safe moment, her eyes filled with tears.  Letting go of the false bravado, she let all of her fears come to the surface and spill over while us, her tribe, did what we do best: we surrounded her with all the love, faith and hope we could give her.  It was at that moment that I picked up my camera and took this photo. 

I've taken hundreds of those happy photos we all take of babies and families and people.  I'm a photographer.  It's what I do.  But life is so much more than that, and that's what I tend to photograph: life in all it's glorious, raw beauty.  It's also what I tend to do when I can't really put what I'm feeling into words so I let my camera do the speaking for me.  When my grandma was at the end of her days, I documented it with my camera.  When my son was critically ill and there was nothing I could do but wait and hope and pray, my camera was my saving grace.  So while this photo isn't your basic posed and happy photo, the love in that photo is undeniable and that, my friends, is everything.  It's what life is all about.

Share with us today your photos depicting life. Tell us a story. We're listening.

intimacy

    

The thing I remember loving the most about my years as a portrait photographer was the ability to capture moments rarely noticed by anyone else. Moments of connection, family life, love, laughter. I made it my mission to seek out the nuances that often got overlooked; the things, that when distilled through my lens felt like magic.

Of all the wonderful things I've been privileged to witness, the ones I feel most honored to share have been the moments of intimacy. The pauses in between the expected shots. The quick glance, the exhale, the gentle touch, the subtle gesture, the contemplative expression, the comfort, the ease.

Perhaps this is why I like to get in close to my subjects. Getting in close means you have to deliberately choose only a few  details amongst the bigger picture that you want to frame in your shot.  It means you're really looking, noticing, honoring that person, that moment, that intimate view into something or someone as if somehow been allowed in to be a part of something rare and wonderful.

Today, show us your version of getting up-close and personal with your subject, whatever or whoever it may be.

wonderland

"This is what a Utah winter looks like," she told me as she drove me from Salt Lake City up to Park City, Utah. I marveled from the passenger side as huge snowflakes poured out of the vast bucket sky.

Click, click, click.

Through the windshield I snapped image after image of the landscape that surrounded us. Amazed by what I saw. It had rained all day until all of the sudden, it turned to snow. And minutes later, a total transformation from all gray to winter white. I don't recall ever seeing anything quite like it. We could have been on the moon for all I knew.

It was a long and harrowing drive for most of the people on the road that afternoon but not for her. And even if it was, she wouldn't let on. Apologizing all over myself for the amount of time I was stealing from her day and for the traffic and for the weather, she urged, "This is the magic, Tracey. I wasn't going to let you miss the magic."

And I didn't. Those 24 hours were filled with picturesque views, real winter weather, my camera, big boots, bright lights, warmth, inspiration, and friendship. In a word; magic.

Share with us today your wonderland. When you gaze outside your window, what magic awaits you? Let's see the landscape that surrounds you today.