Posted on December 13, 2018
14. Have you ever sat down on a yoga mat (or meditation cushion, or tree stump, or forest floor) closed your eyes to the stillness, and realized immediately that you’ve been holding your breath since you don’t know when? Do this now: sit up tall, lay your hands in a little pool in your lap, feel their connection, how touch is a form of coming home. Close your eyes, relax your shoulders, relax the eyeballs behind your lids, relax your tongue, relax your jaw and breathe in….10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1. Suspend your breath. 1,2,3. Breathe out….10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1.
You’ve opened your eyes to read this. What did you feel? Unless you are someone who I have never met and walk around centered all day, you felt an awareness. You were just, 23 seconds ago, holding your breath, clenching your jaw, furrowing your brow, narrowing your eyes, spinning out on one or twenty thoughts. Let that be fine. That is fine. That is human, especially in our world assaulted with noises, devices, and real and perceived needs and to-do’s. Just let that little check-in be a window into what you are carrying with you all day long, every day, until you circle back to your simple, crucial, breath.
So check in often. Maybe every five minutes, maybe every hour, maybe once a day. Reconnect with yourself when it occurs to you, and it will then occur to you more often.
The more you do, the more I’ll notice your beautiful centered being walking down the street. And I’ll smile and wonder….”where did she get that?”
Posted on December 12, 2018
13. Four years. Six drives across this country. Across lakes, rivers, oceans, tears, dreams, devastation, inspiration.
Twenty stones, gathered by the same hand in the lapping water. Sand muddy between toes. The unknown. Unpacking my few remaining possessions into my new home. The one that is mine, that will be mine, for years to come. Twenty stones. I don’t remember where they came from, but I know why I picked them up.
Posted on December 11, 2018
12. The year I shot these beautiful girls was when I learned to “pose” kids. Not overly pose them, but put them into positions that were more engaged, more connected. As my business ages, so do my clients, and as kids grow, they can actually respond to what I ask them to do. So I have to ask them to do things that make sense, that are accurate to who they are.
But that’s not what this is about. This shoot was compelled because their mother, in the last trimester of pregnancy with their little sister, was diagnosed with stage four cancer. This shoot was an hour long prayer. It was near silent, it was soft, it was meditative, it was connected. All four growing beings were consumed with acute awareness of the weighted unknown of their near futures. The baby, was, well, a cherub. Still connected to both worlds, slipping with time closer to this one.
This shoot, the tears in my eyes as I trained my lens on Mom as she watched her growing girls play, as she gazed at her newborn, on Dad as he watched her, this shoot will never fade. I can feel it as if it were yesterday.
Miracles upon miracles, Katie contacted me last year and asked me to do another shoot. Years had past. The newborn is now a fire-ball of spirit at 6 years old, and Katie has beaten all odds. She undoubtedly walked between those worlds in that massive struggle, but is solidly in this one now.
Posted on December 10, 2018
11. How can we we walk through the world surrounded by people and feel alone? Sam, another Seattle-ite, called into the radio station KEXP last night and said “I’m in need of music tonight because I’m so sick of being lonely”. It was the most pure truth spoken honestly. Singing voices could fill the void for him, momentarily.
I see that in this image I shot in London years ago. The woman in the backseat looks to me lost in thought, lonely. But I have a vision of this amazing contrast – her heading off to a party, full of sparkle and wit in her fur coat as she presents a bottle of champagne to the host. Or maybe she’s going to the hospital to visit her ailing mother. I don’t know. There’s just a separation between her and her driver that strikes me as so universal. Isolated in the company of others. Maybe content, maybe bored, maybe lonely. But alone in the world of our minds.
Posted on December 7, 2018
10. This is Amelia. She has pica, and a lazy eye. The pica was of great concern to her family, her grandfather Don Juan, and grandmother Dona Daria. Her big brothers Eustacio and Jacinto loved her so much. She sweetly and quietly would hang onto moms apron as she milled the corn and made the days tortillas, her dad farmed the plot, her brothers shepherded the sheep over acres, and her 86 year old grandparents sat in the cold mountain sun.
For over two years, I lived across the dirt road from Amelia and her family, on the top of an 11,000 foot mountain plateau in a very remote range in northwest Guatemala. It was one of the most intact and supportive communities I have experience in, here in the States or elsewhere. But also where poverty and the adage “it takes a village to raise a child” live side by side in a gritty, beautiful harmony.
I consider this to be the first photo I ever took. Although I had learned to shoot years earlier, this is the first that was mine, uniquely in the world. When I opened that sacred packet of prints and developed film from the lab, my heart caught a little and I thought: Yup. That’s Amelia.
She must now be 20 years old.
Posted on December 7, 2018
9. My dad always told me “never put your camera back into your bag until you are in your car driving away from the shoot”. I’m so glad I listen to my Dad’s advice, because otherwise I would have missed this. It doesn’t all come together with effort. Sometimes it just comes together.
Posted on December 6, 2018
8. That word, fierce, feels like a strange adjective to describe a three year old. Yet that’s what I see in this image. There is a directness, a bravery about her looking straight through that huge black lens and directly into my eye. It is very rare that I work with kids, or adults for that matter, who can make this connection when being photographed. When it happens, it is usually just a single frame where the self-protective layer, the ego, is stripped away and they are fully committing to being seen.
In life, we are each graced with and challenged by glimpses of bravery, fearlessness, directness and purpose. When there is that magic working in our favor and shining a clear-as-day spotlight on what is actually possible, it’s usually there for just a split second. And that’s the true test: feel it, see it, act on it, and let your self-protective layer take a back seat. Get out of your own way and the whole world will open up.