Lens on Life: a non-profit with much to give

If you would have tugged me to your side and whispered that I might travel to Rwanda, Tanzania, and Nepal and be blessed to document incredible wealth found in the poorest conditions a little more than two years ago, I wouldn't have believed you. I would have been intoxicated by the idea and curious about the flutter in my heart, but no, I wouldn't have believed you.

But it happened. Winning the Name Your Dream Assignment photography competition with Jen in May 2009 and having the opportunity to execute our Picture Hope assignment forever changed me in very profound ways. It stretched, cracked, blessed, opened, flattened, and pushed me to look at my life through a different lens. And it inspired me to create Lens on Life with support from these special people.

Lens on Life is a non-profit organization with a mission to reveal and illuminate a visual voice for the unseen, particularly children living in impoverished conditions around the world. Our first program is scheduled to launch in April with students from Koseli School in Kathmandu, Nepal. Jen and I are excited to return Nepal to teach the art of iPhoneography to these kids. I hope you'll take a few minutes to watch this video to learn about our students, join the Lens on Life Founders Circle to share the experience with us, and put your old iPhone to good use by donating it to our camera bag for the students.

Grateful for you, Shutter Sisters, and your support.

Toward the Light

He slipped in silently and went about his work. Dusting away the spider webs. Sweeping with a brush made of sticks. An assignment. He caught my eye. In spite of his swift movement toward the light, I could feel the weight of his task. Pokhara, Nepal

Give Epic Thanks

It's not often enough that we take the time to pause and embrace gratitude – to reflect on all that we are and all that we have at this moment. To set aside the wants and wishes of tomorrow and focus on the gifts that sustain us today. Love. Joy. Trust. Courage. Compassion. Peace. Hope. Gifts found within each of us and intended to be shared with others.

This young girl in Nepal was sent away from her home to work and earn a place to live and food to eat out of necessity. When I met her that day, she was eager to share her gifts of joy, peace, trust, and courage with me. I watched her laugh with her friends while she washed dishes outside the restaurant and peeked over my shoulder to admire images of herself. She trusted me to make her image. And I felt the strength of her courage as she moved confidently in her surroundings. But I'm most grateful to have shared this moment with her. She gave me a good look at hope. A hopeful heart is not always connected to a smiling face. Embedded deep within hope you'll find longing. A longing that just might propel you in ways you never dreamed possible one day.

I'm beginning to realize that the best way to help keep the light of hope thriving in a child is to give them an opportunity to learn. To support the work of changemakers like Subhash Ghimire, founder of Sarswati Peace School in Nepal, and Mama Lucy Kamptoni, founder of Shepherds Junior School in Tanzania.

Shutter Sisters, I hope you will join us in supporting EpicThanks today – a global celebration of gratitude and giving that honors inspirational changemakers (including Subhash and Mama Lucy) who create hope in our world. No gift is too small. We're grateful for you.

What We Possess

When I followed the young boy (one of Renu's students from Koseli School) into his home in Kathmandu, Nepal, I didn't find things like a chest of drawers stuffed with clothes or a closet full of toys. I didn't see a shelf for books or trophies. There was no kitchen or bathroom in this home. Just two small beds and a handful of possessions including this bicycle. It spoke to me.

Each time I visit a new friend's home in a place far from mine on this Picture Hope journey, I question the quantity and value of my own possessions bit by bit. I sketch imaginary circles around "needs" and "wants" with a shaky hand. I carry a dose of guilt and shame when I let my mind wonder how I let myself get so caught up in superficial things. Stuff. I struggle with the idea of letting things go and figuring out the best way to teach my children that the value of our lives should not be measured by what we possess. Sure, I can say it, but I don't know how to demonstrate that yet. I don't know how to embrace it and really live it. But maybe this is where it starts... when someone like this young boy opens up his heart and his home to share a bit of his wisdom, and a view of his bike, with someone like me.

Enlighten us today. What are your images teaching you?

How It Is

It was our second day in Nepal. Jen and I placed ourselves in the hands of our friend Renu Bagaria. We said things like, "Take us where we need to go. Tell us what we need to hear. Show us what we need to see." This is how it is when we land in a new country for Picture Hope. We move in the moment. We trust our friends, and we trust our instincts. So when Renu said that she'd like to take us into some of the largest slums in Kathmandu to give us an opportunity to meet some of her students and their families in their homes, naturally, we were eager to follow her.

Laxmi welcomed us into her home with "namaste," introduced her children, and stood quietly beside the family bed. We exchanged a handful of eager smiles and heartfelt words through Mukesh, Renu's previous student and now right-hand man at Koseli School. Our time was short. The space was dimly lit. Laxmi seemed a little unsure about what to do in our presence. But I remember feeling blessed at this moment – to just stand there with my camera and the desire to share the light of such a strong and beautiful woman in her home. To watch the way her son looked up at her. To see her daughter reach for her brother's hands. To witness love and get a good glimpse of hope.

As a documentary photographer, I strive to blend in with my surroundings – to give myself ample time and space to make my way past the barrier of a new connection, and establish a level of trust with my subjects so they feel comfortable in my presence. Like a scientist, my desire is to conduct a thorough study of who they are by watching their expressions, listening to their stories, and following the moves they make in a variety of spaces and scenarios. In fact, it's best if they don't even look at me. But more often than not, there is no such thing as ample time and space. I might only have five precious minutes (as I did here) to establish a strong-enough connection with the individuals beyond my lens before I grant myself permission to click. It's just how it is.

Do you require a connection with your subjects? How do you make that connection? What can you do to make someone feel comfortable in your presence and at ease before your lens when time is of the essence? There might be tricks of trade, but I've discovered that the only thing I know how to do is to just be myself (not the photographer I think I need to be, but the woman I am) and hope they do the same.