summer reading

 

From the Impassable Wilderness of Wildwood to the pristine and proper home of Miss Aunt Polly of Beldingsville, Vermont in the classic Pollyanna, our summer reading list seems to take us places. I find
myself swept away, trudging along the Pacific Crest Trail via Wild (by Cheryl Strayed) here and there as time allows, sitting poolside or as I drop into bed rivited & resonating.  We don’t mind tucking into the
tent early after a full day playing in the lake when we can close our eyes and experience all that Trenton Lee Stewart has to offer by way of Nicolas Benedict in The Mysterious Benedict Series.  There is an
ever changing list of opportunity and possible travel by way of a good book, but there is one book that will forever be a favorite. One kept on hand for every expedition as our faithful guide & inspiration, not
only just of the mind: the Atlas. (Road trip anyone?)

What have you been reading? Or should I say, where have you been going? Share your images of summer reading today and tag them #sselevate.

Image and words courtesy of Sarah Swanson-Dexel.

On finding your own way

 

In my bio you won’t find the words “I’ve had a camera in my hand since I was a child.” You won’t find the words “I’ve been an artist all my life.”

Because I haven’t.

At school I couldn’t draw or paint or stitch and if you’d asked me three years ago, when I was still working as a stockbroker, I would have told you that I wasn’t creative in the slightest. So when I decided, at the age of 32, to quit my job and go to art school to study photography it was as much of a surprise to me as it was to everyone around me.

But something was calling to me. Quietly at first, and then insistently. I was being drawn towards something that I couldn’t yet understand.

I adored being an art student, but I felt like a fraud. Still, I would try my best and hope for the extraordinary to happen. And happen it did.

One day, while sitting in the library pouring over late 19th century children’s book illustrations and lamenting my lack of ability to produce anything as wonderful, I began to wonder if I could create my own “photo illustrations.” Why couldn’t I use my camera to tell imaginary stories? Stories that had no beginning or end, but just a middle. Just a moment frozen in time, leaving the viewer to put the story in context, to create their own story.

This was the moment my series, “Tales from the Moors Country,” came into being. I took as my starting point the local myths and legends of Northern England and I created a series of silent and still stories that I submitted as my final portfolio piece.

They were all self portraits because I found that I just worked better when there was no one else around. Something I’d been waiting my whole life to share was finding its way to the surface and I couldn’t explain it to anyone else. But, more than that, I didn’t want to share it. It was such an incredible release of energy and I wanted to absorb every second of it.

Although my tutors found the work fascinating, I really think that they didn’t know what to do with me. No one could give me any advice on what to do with my work beyond suggesting I might try fashion photography, which was not an avenue I felt confident pursuing.

So I just started selling prints of my work at a local artists market. And then I added a line of greetings cards. Uplifted by the joy of seeing people respond to my work, I gained confidence and approached some local galleries. Then I tried entering some juried shows. And now, before I really know how it happened, I am a self portrait photographer.

That’s not something that any school careers counsellor would have recommended and it’s not something I could have chosen for myself when I quit my financial services career. It’s one of those magical things that happens when you just let go and allow the story to have an ending you didn’t envision.

So believe in happy endings. Believe in magic. Believe in hard work, dedication and the delicious joy of finding that thing you can’t not do. Believe in your dream. Because If a hopeless “non-creative” like me can find her own way, then I promise you, so can you.

Let's all share images today that remind us to believe in all these things and more....

Words and images courtesy of special guest Nicola Taylor. She can be found at www.nicolataylorphotographer.com, on Facebook, and on Twitter as @ZennicPhoto

The Doing

"But the biggest mistake I made is one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."

-Anna Quindlen

I often find myself pushing onto the next thing. Dinner, bath, book, bed. Or now that my kids are a little older-- homework, dinner, shower, bed. Seems like it's my job to keep things running at an even pace, to make sure things get done. There's a rhythm to this sort of living and all too often, we lock into it and POOF. Another day, week, month, gone. The truth is that mindful living takes some practice. Photography helps. But only if our minds are in the right place. It's easy to fire off a hundred shots and think: Done. Moment sufficiently captured. The key is to shoot thoughtfully, mindfully. To know when to pick the camera up and when to put it down. To drink in the whole scene while you're shooting, not just the visuals.

I'm not going to lie, friends. I'm guilty of mindless shooting. But I'm working on it, I am always working in it. When I shoot mindfully, the images I come away with feel like so much more than just images. I look at this photograph of my son Ezra and I remember everything about that day, that night. I remember how we laid on the trampoline, looked up at the sky and talked about the moon. I remember the way the evergreen trees looked, how the air smelled sweet like pine needles. I remember how our hair stood up on end from the trampoline's static electricity, I remember the way he laughed. I remember how the light changed from gold to blue, how he grabbed my hand as we walked back inside. I remember the mexican we had for dinner that night, the smudge of salsa on his cheek. I look at this photograph and I remember everything.

Which photograph of yours captures a moment just the way it was? And when you look at it, how much do you remember? Please, do share an image and a few words with us today. 

magic sand dollar

Do you have anything that holds magic?

I use the term loosely when I say “magic”. I mean something that inspires you, something that makes you feel better or something that you treasure. The magical items in our lives often come as gifts from someone or are items that we have found. They are things that have been kept for a long time, by ourselves or by others. They are often old, but not always. They can be jewelry, fabric, art or handwritten letters.

Recently, when digging through my boxes of stuff, I came across this sand dollar. I remembered that it had been given to me by a traveling stranger that I met one night at a coffee shop that I frequented while I was in college. I couldn’t remember very much else, so I dug through my drawer of journals until I found an entry from January 1996 in which I had written down the details of the encounter.

The traveling stranger was named Julian and he had picked up the sand dollar on a beach in San Quintin, Baja. He told me that my power was to see the truth and he told me a Lakota story of the Four Directions; the West is black and represents voice, the East is red and represents land, the South is yellow and represents the mind and body and the North is white and represents togetherness.

Now, the younger, naive version of me was enthralled by this story and took it at face value. The older, wiser version of me went straight to the Internet to fact check. I was able to find out that there is a Lakota story of the Four Directions. Many Native Americans tell the story differently, with different colors and attributes ascribed to each direction, but the essence of the story remains the same. It is about balance. I was also able to confirm that you can find sand dollars on the beach in San Quintin, Baja California and they look exactly like this one, small and without the five key holes that are typical of sand dollars. It seems this mysterious stranger was not just giving me lines.

I feel very lucky to have received these gifts, the story and the sand dollar, all those years ago. It was at a time in my life when I was seeking direction and I needed some guidance. I think it is fitting and appropriate that I am now a photographer. I am so glad that I kept the sand dollar and that I wrote down the details of the encounter with Julian, in a way they mean even more to me now.

I keep the sand dollar wrapped in tissue paper and tucked into a glass jar on my shelf. It is delicate and needs protecting. Every time I take it out to look at it, sand falls out of the hole in the back. It sparkles and makes me think of the pixie dust in Peter Pan. The sand dollar is full of lines and the flower-like imprint on the front is amazing. I try to put as much sand as I can back inside when I put it away. A little bit is lost each time though, falling into my lap or stuck on my fingers. It is the price paid for a little inspiration.

When I hold this magical item now, I am inspired to tell stories and to take pictures. I am inspired to share the truth of what I see and experience with others. I remember the unusual person that gave it to me and I wonder where he is now and what he is doing. I imagine he is still telling stories and sharing his wisdom with the world. I think of him as an ancient medicine man, traveling the world, looking for people to heal and inspire. I hope that I can be as wise and generous with others as he was with me.

Today, I would love to see pictures of your magic items, those things in your life that are comforting and special, and to hear the story of how it came into your possession, how long you have had it, and what it means to you.

Image and words courtesy of guest blogger, photographer and artist Leslie Fandrich.

Best Shot Monday

 

Many moons ago I wrote a blog on website for moms called Club Mom (now called Café Mom). It was called Picture This. I met a number of you from that blog. Remember? Well, I sure do.  It’s where I first began this chapter of my life…of gathering with other women online. Women who loved photography and who (like me) wanted to share images and words about what mattered most to us. Who knew that the chapter at Picture This would turn into a novel which led to sequels and spin off stories such as my personal blog, the Picture Series and Shutter Sisters.

Every once in a while I muse about those days. I remember not really understanding what a blog was. I recall why I began a blog in the first place. I remember things I wrote about, pictures I shared and ways I enjoyed engaging with the women that found each other and came together. I can't help but ruminate on all the things that have changed since then; like digital photography becoming mainstream, photo editing becoming a part of the process and how shooting photos with your phone is totally normal (I never saw that one coming).  But a lot of things stayed the same. We’re all still here. Together. Gathering in a space where our stories, our photographs, our passions matter and are honored. It makes me really happy. I don’t know where I’d be without it. Without you.

The thing about looking back is that you remember things you miss about the old days. One of those things came to me recently in a quick flash. Best Shot Monday. I wonder if anyone else remembers that. I used to host it each Monday at Picture This and then on my personal blog. It was a place to share a weekly shot that you held dear. The one shot, above all others that you celebrated that week. No theme, no rules, no restrictions. Just an image you loved. Your Best Shot.

My featured image today is my Best Shot from this week. Maybe it’s because I used a brand new photo app to process it (hello Snapseed!) or maybe it’s the whimsical subject matter or maybe it’s because I captured it at the Instagram meetup where I spent time strolling and shooting with some awesome sisters on a picture perfect sunny Southern California day. Probably a little of all of these things but it really doesn’t matter. I just love it. And that’s what a Best Shot Monday should be about. A photograph that you took, that you love.

Today, let’s look through last week’s archives and pull something out that makes your heart sing. Share today, your Best Shot with all of us! I can think of no better way to start the week than by celebrating our shots!