there's no place like home

“During the times we think we’re being “unproductive,” the seeds of new worlds are germinating within us, and they need peace to grow.” ~ Martha Beck

On the advice of photographer I admire (david carol), I spent the better part of 2013 photographing. In hindsight, I had a lot of expectations that I’d magically “come to” some great awareness. That I’d understand how to choose the right pictures to present & a handle on a workflow.

Instead I was overwhelmed with a dizzying collection of photographs that when heaped on top of an already un-curated pile pictures taken over many years led to a feeling of getting the wind knocked out of me.  

While the hardest part of anything is the starting, the doing - especially when the doing feels difficult - I felt there was a lot at stake and painful as it was, I got into the doing. Not just dealing with the photographs from last year, but every picture I’d taken over the past five years....

bird by bird, folder by folder, picture by picture

Though a deflating process, insights surfaced; patience persevered & gems appeared in photographs I’d over looked the first time around. It was a process that I lingered on and through, giving each photograph the respect of time and care. I began to choose with a more selective eye with choices that formed little collections ... added to larger collections and further refined.

Three months & thousands of pictures later, I felt tighter, saner, clearer and eager to share, but when I refreshed my website at the time with all that was new, instead of being elated, I felt let down - like something was missing.

And another truth surfaced.

The mishmash of websites I’d had were in large part a result of what I thought I had to have - others views, others vision. So at this point - i felt it was time to start over, to refresh, to reboot. Even though it meant letting go of everything I’ve created online before; being ok with expired bookmarks, links, and pictures.

But it felt right.

And so I did - in a new space that feels like home; one i've longed for and earned as it fills me with more inspiration than I can possibly articulate. Similar to finding my own way through curating a collection I’m proud of, I feel I’ve created a little space here that fits my photographs like a little black dress.

While the means to arrive where I’ve landed was an unknown, I’m humbled; and mindful of the shift. All along I’ve wanted to be taken seriously; painfully aware that until now, I hadn’t made that leap in my mind. But here I am. On the other side of another beginning.

snow & sailboats

month two with a collective called ignite - a creative discovery of art & the first photograph in a new website.  one that feels like a snow-globe you'd shake in your hand. yet one that has been very real for those of us who live in new england. this is what we've seen on more days than not. but what gives me hope here is that sailboat in the window as we are but one full moon away from the official turn into the season of spring.

snow, books & boy | salem, ma 2014

to see the rest of the photographs, i invite you onward...to one who amazes me with her concepts: Susan Gietka, Susan Grace Photography, Hammonton NJ, Fine Art Photography.

twelve portraits ~ february

my portrait this month is one i’ve longed to create since i first saw this dazzling display of dreadlocks & i’ve been patient in waiting for the right time to ask … for a time when i felt strong and courageous – when that spirit inside couldn’t be contained. so today, it was a feather lovingly placed in a beautiful nest of long locks twisted around in loops of half shape hearts that spoke and i answered. and with that, the grace of meeting hillary … a dancer who creates with fire. (no joke – she’s a fire dancer). so for this month, i decided to pair her portrait with hearts strung on a window looking out on snowflakes. sort of a metaphor of dreams…for in another time & place and with another head of hair… i’d have layers like hers to create with.

next….always a beautiful surprise with Ginger Haddock in Casper, WY.