Coming Together to Picture Hope: A Book in the Works

Photo by Shutter Sister Maile Wilson. One of the images featured in our "Picture Hope: An Invitation to the Journey" Blurb book to launch this month.

As a follow up to Jen's last post, we are really excited to share some Picture Hope plans with you all. Our first trip to Tanzania and Rwanda is scheduled to kick off in several weeks, following the BlogHer conference this month. We've finalized all of the contest paperwork with Lenovo and now move to solidifying our travel arrangements, storycatching equipment, communication devices, packing lists and Daddy-do lists. Both Jen and I have received all of our vaccinations for Hepatitis A & B, Yellow Fever, Polio, Tetanus, Meningococcal Meningitis, and Typhoid Fever, a handful of prescriptions to avoid Malaria, the Flu, and (gulp) a myriad of potential digestive complications. (I can hear Jen laughing at me now ;-)

But one of the more important and exciting plans we've made is to publish a photo book "Picture Hope: An Invitation to the Journey" with support from Blurb as an opportunity to honor you, our Shutter Sisters, and to give back to the individuals we'll meet and feature in our images, videos and words on this journey. All proceeds from the sale of this book will be contributed to our storytellers.

Since April 1st, we've been collecting images of hope from you in the Picture Hope flickr group to produce an image libary of printed hope notes to take on our journey. Taking this concept one step further, we selected more than 60 images from you talented women and captured a handful of hope quotes from our Facebook fans to create an amazing book set to launch in the Shutter Suite at BlogHer. The book will be available for sale online. I hope you'll like it. And we sincerely appreciate you being a part of it.

On Storycatching: An Update from Rwanda

Jen sends us a post from Rwanda where she's scouting out stories and preparing to return with Stephanie for the August launch of Picture Hope. This is Devota, the housegirl who cooks and cleans for Odette's daughters. She is exactly the kind of young woman who Jen would like to see directly benefit from her photo and her story. Read on.

I'm trying my hand at actually talking and writing and being in Rwanda at the same time, no small feat let me tell you. The last time I was here I was rendered speechless early on and spent most of my days in a state of bliss while this or that person led me by the hand and went on and on in a language I didn't yet know.

This time I have a vocabulary any respectable two year old could be proud of and my listening comprehension is much better. I can make out, for instance, what one guy on the street said when I took out my camera. If you're going to take my picture, you should pay me some money. Just because the Rwandanese are some of the most hospitable, generous, loving populations in Africa, does not mean they are fools; they know, living in one of the most densely populated countries in Africa with very little besides tea and the gorillas to keep them going, that they themselves are their greatest natural resource. If you like what you see, then respect the gift I'm giving you. Value it. Put your money where your mouth is. This is reasoning we as Americans live by. Why shouldn't people here operate the exact same way? Especially when we come here clicking away like we're on a people safari and leave no discernible contribution in our wake?

I put my camera away and walk the rest of the dusty way back to the little house where I'm staying, sober and wondering what it would mean for me to be truly fair as Stephanie and I travel the world with Picture Hope. Is there a way to build a partnership between the subject and the photographer, so that we share the benefits of the stories we tell together? How can we collaborate so that the stories we create reflect the truth of the experience? What would happen to world news in general if the story tellers and story catchers equally shared the power over what stories are told and how?

Getting to the real story isn't easy—no matter where you find yourself in the listening/telling equation. It takes time to make sense of what happened. It takes more time to find someone who really wants to hear what you want to say, someone who won't ask too many questions before you get the whole thing out from start to finish. When time is short and the story still needs telling or if you're worried the listener can't really hear you, you'll tell the short version. I am an orphan. My father left us. I survived the genocide. You tell the story that has a category, especially if that's the quickest way to a payoff, and save the real story for another day, another person. Someone who can hear everything that went right along the way or the thing that hurt much more than the big thing, or that tiny act of courage that made you who you are today.

Story catchers sell ourselves short, too. Go for the easy shot; capture the quick summary. We need something to tell, something to show, so we race to our finish line, too, without always taking the time to make sure we're revealing the truth of the matter. We worry, just like story tellers do, that no one will have patience for the messiness that's inevitable when you hold the truth up to the lens and try to capture the beauty in all its complexities.

I hope to hear the real stories while I'm here in Rwanda. Better yet, Stephanie and I are looking for a real way to tell them when we return to launch Picture Hope in August—a way that makes sense out of the collaboration between listener and teller. A way that honors the ways that stories are the resources of our very lives, whether you're the girl in the picture or the girl behind the camera. This is our focus as we continue to Picture Hope and more than anything else, we'd love this community's input about how we might honor and respect the people and subjects we meet along the way.

Hope Has You Covered

First, there was a nest and an egg.  And then these two amazing little creatures.

I don't know what makes me more hopeful--the way that these tiny birds continue to thrive each day or the fact that they have each other for this delicate part of the journey.

Who's got you covered as you gain the strength and confidence you need to believe you can fly?  Who's there for you with just what you need when you need it the most?  Show us your portraits of kindness and courage today.  Let's remind each other we're not in this alone.

It Takes Time

Nobody sees a flower, really, it is so small. We haven't time - and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time. ---Georgia O'Keeffe

We're in the throes of planning for our Dream Assignment, and everyday in between phone calls and meetings and researching leads to stories of hope around the world, all I can think of is this quote and the tiny field full of buttercups staring back at me from the other side of the driveway out my backdoor.

It takes time, a still quiet voice tells me from the deepest place inside.

Time?? my monkey mind chatters. I want to hop on a plane now!

But my beginner's mind knows better.  For every prize winning rose bush and sensational lead, there is a meadow of buttercups and a hopeful story waiting to be unearthed. A story as simple and as certain as a buttercup in May.  A deep and honest story that can only be seen when I make time to really pay attention to what's happening around me.  When I'm willing to stop.  When I'm willing to listen.

Breathe, my better self advises.  Everyday things are coming together, little by little--exactly as they should.

And so I walk to the grassy knoll on the other side of the driveway, and gather up my yellow treasures in a little bouquet, each one reminding me that hope endures, that it can be seen in the smallest ways, in the tiniest places, if I have the courage to let the stories come to me, one simple yellow flower at a time.

What are you waiting for today?  Show us what you're taking the time to see right now as you look through that hope-full lens.

Because You Have to Trust and Let Go

It's great that I was outside when Jen called to share the news of our Dream Assignment win on Friday morning, because I screamed. Really loudly. Then we laughed. And I began to cry. And I had a difficult time finding words because I was completely lost in a state of gratitude.

Shortly after we hung up, I began to float (tethered virtually to my family and friends) until around 2:30pm when I left the house to pick up my children from school. Beaming with excitement, I couldn't wait to share the news. I needed hugs. Afterall, I'd been home alone all morning, with not a soul in sight. So as they dropped their backpacks and climbed into their seats, I turned and shouted, "Guess what?!"

For a moment they looked puzzled, then my girl said in a quiet voice, "You won."

"YES! Can you believe it! We won!"

(silence)

"But, that means you're gonna leave us," she said.

"How long are you gonna be gone?" my boy asked in frustration.

And so a heartfelt dialog began about hope. And faith. And love. And I'm thankful for that because they need to learn that to give, you have to trust and let go.

* * *

There are just four days left to contribute your visions of hope for this month's One Word Project! Please continue to share your images in the Picture Hope flickr group to have them featured in our collection of hope notes to travel with us across the globe on the journey. We promise to share more details on our travel plans soon.