clandestine at little nest

Saying it was always some form of self-preservation.

Listen—if we’d had children in Vancouver, we would not be skiing until midnight and paddling every weekend and spending every paycheque at the Granville Island Brewery and Mountain Equipment Co-op. Parenthood in Vancouver would be about the same as parenthood in rural Nova Scotia—at home, up to our knees in cheerios—so we may as well be here and be able to have a little sailboat and a little house and a lot of help. We’re not missing anything.

So here’s the trouble. Back in Vancouver a couple of weeks ago for an autonomous, mama-only/girl-only/career-only getaway, a friend, her daughter and I wandered Commercial Drive looking for lunch.

I know exactly where we’ll go, she said. Little Nest.

We opened the door and hit a wall of Hip. But not Snooty Hip, nor Stuffy Hip, nor Footloose and Fancy Free Hip. It was Mama-Daddy Hip.

Little Nest is the kitchen of the mama-friend you wish you had. Bashed-in wood floors, mismatched chairs anchored by a trestle table for twenty, vintage Fisher Price, tepid hot chocolate for little misses and misters in proper china cups, the aroma of fresh baked cinnamon and icing sugar and pistachio, homemade fig jam and a gourmet-everyday menu that transforms scrambled eggs into heaven.

I’d like to be a parent here. I’d like to walk here on a Tuesday morning and spread out and run wild, and laugh and talk and commiserate with these people while the sun shines through that window.

And so much to my chagrin, despite my eastern contentedness, I discover yet another reason to envy these citizens of lotusland.

Sipping cooling tea and dragging bread around an empty plate to sop up the remains of roasted portobello and goat cheese, I stole a few moments to bring home. Unable to peel my eyes away from her and not sure why. Smiling at the two of them, or rather, the four of them, the very picture of sisterhood. Noting the kid-ammended interior design. Coveting the personal style of those who make motherhood look so cool, and yet so welcoming.

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This Monday, show and tell us about photos you’ve snuck of people or things wholly unconnected to you, but that left an impression you couldn’t leave without.

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.

Not Afraid to Hope

We were sitting in a coffee shop talking about the upcoming birth of her second child, when I saw a sweet light start to fill her face.  Without giving it a second thought, I picked up my camera and started shooting.  Keep talking, I told her.  This is good.

We've been friends for so long, she didn't mind, and I clicked my heart away until I got this shot--the moment in the conversation where she told me her heart's deepest wish for this birth:  that this baby girl would be born in the water and gathered up immediately in her open arms.  Wouldn't that be great?  she told me.

I leaned over to show her the shot in the little screen and watched her face brighten some more.  This is what you look like, I said, when you're not afraid to hope.

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Do you have a photo that captures a conversation that you or the subject want to never forget?  Share your links and stories in the comments below.

discovery

I spend lots of time thinking about what I want to teach her. I want to tell her that the older you get, the greyer life gets, and it's always hard in one way or another. But it's also beautiful, so don't become jaded and worn. Continue to look for what settles you. And It's okay if people aren't happy with you, as long as you're being your own best friend. And if you get married, make sure he has social skills because you won't want to baby-sit him at parties. And there's a God who's really big, who has your best interest in mind, so try to spend time with him. And it's okay to ask the pedicurist when was the last time that she sanitized that bowl. And on and on. And then I worry and worry. And worry more. Because I'm afraid I might not be doing it "right".  

Then I see a photograph like this. It was a surprise to me, until I downloaded it. This little moment of her, right before she blew out three whole candles on her birthday cake. I marveled when I found it. Her little life. She's circled the sun just three times. Yet she looks like she carries secrets to the universe in her pocket. And then I realize that for everything I want to tell her, teach her, show her...the exchange will be mutual. And I'm happy to be humbled.

What about you? Download any surprises recently? 

Seeing Beyond My View

I recently wrote an article that’s up at PBS Parents about how to get kids into photography. It’s a topic near and dear to my photo mama heart. It has been such fun for me to see both of my daughters as they have grown into little shutter sisters.

I watch as my 5-year-old haphazardly shoots away at anything that catches her eye with little thought or regard of how the photo is going to come out, if it even comes out at all. She’s all about being in the moment and isn’t too concerned about the future result. It works for her. Mistakes and accidents photographically speaking can make for some pretty artistic imagery. My 10-year-old on the other hand just recently spent her own money on her own camera, and what she is doing with her handy new little red point and shoot is quite inspiring. I notice her becoming more aware of her surroundings, more mindful with her camera and how she creates a photograph. Her images are much more deliberate now and they are awesome.

While camping over the summer, she snapped this shot of me using a cool panorama feature her camera offers.

Put your hands on your hips Mom.

*click

See mom, this is MY perspective—showing the photo—Pretty cool, huh?”

Pretty cool indeed. It’s one of my all time favorite shots from her to date.

Looking at myself (er, my bust line) surrounded by that surreal landscape among all the tents in the middle of the Amish country of upstate NY will always take me back to our summer adventure. And this particular picture reminds me of how much I don’t see. How impossible it is to see life through someone else’s eyes it and how important it is to try sometimes.

Have you been inspired lately by a photo someone else took that helped you see the world with fresh eyes? Celebrate someone else’s vision today by leading us to a photo that has moved you. It can be from a child, a friend, found on a blog or at Flickr. Any image at all that helps give you a new perspective.

And if you happen to have a little shutterbug at your house, you are encouraged to join the Flickr Group A Little Perspective—it was created just for clicks from the younger set. I’ll be hosting the Little Perspective Day this Friday at Mother May I too, if you want to join us over there.