This business is tough. Really tough. And it’d be silly of me to pretend I haven’t had help getting to where(ever it is that) I currently am. I’ve been so blessed – both in real life and over the Internets – to know so many wonderful and amazing photographers who have shared their wisdom – their mistakes – their triumphs – and all of the in-betweens with me. They’ve allowed me to learn from them – and to learn with them. Speaking of internet friends – I came upon Jasmine Star before I was even a photographer. It was nearly four years ago – and I blog stalked that girl like a crazy lunatic person. Luckily for me, Jasmine is incredibly down to earth and kind, and she didn’t mind my stalking -or my frantic, panicky emails. So when she launched her magazine I jumped at the chance to support...
April | A Month Without
March was…..an incredible month. For so many reasons. It was incredibly and remarkably difficult to give up sugar, you guys. I’m not going to lie, it freaking sucked! I like sweets. A lot, actually. And in the interest of honesty and full disclosure, I didn’t make it the entire month. But not for the reasons you might think. I stopped giving up sugar on Sunday, March 24th, as I headed to Denver on my way to a photography workshop. I knew part of the take-away from it would be the experience itself and I didn’t want to go into it with this giant “NO!” staring me in the face if I was presented with any sort of candy or dessert. I didn’t want to not experience everything about this workshop. So I decided my Month Without could fall by the wayside for three days. But then something happened. In the...
embracing imperfection | a post about mom guilt
It happened the instant Elena was born. The second she was placed on my chest, pink and wrinkled and barely crying, it was there. That nagging, tugging, wretched self-deprecating voice in the back of my mind known as Mom Guilt started speaking. It worsened the day Stella was born. Along with my midsection and my ass, it grew substantially. And like my wobbly bits, it’ll likely be with me for the whole of forever. It, like stretch marks, snot in your hair, the inability to take a shower by yourself, and countless other joys, is simply a part of the parenthood package. And we live in a culture hell bent on making it worse. I read this post on Facebook this morning, and I couldn’t agree with the author more. We as a culture spend so much time criticizing, judging, pointing fingers, name-calling, pigeon-holing, and misunderstanding that we forget to be...
wanderer, there is no road. the road is made by walking.
This time last week I was in Seattle. I was walking the streets of a city that was voraciously burrowing itself into my soul. This place is surreal – beautiful, ethereal, cloaked in mist and cloud and mountains and sound. I was there for work (cube farm not camera) and I managed to take a few frames of this wondrous city. In hindsight, I didn’t take nearly enough images of Seattle. I was terrified so often of looking like a tourist, and now, as I post these few frames, I realize how silly that is. How ridiculous it is to not do something simply because of my fear as to how I might appear to others. I need to own my heart a little bit more. I need to own my soul and my inspiration and my gut feelings. And I need to follow them. Always. I can’t keep waiting...
