Tuesday, April 27, 2010
I guess it becomes less and less important where we sleep if we are used to sleeping wherever, whenever, with whomever. As a sufferer of chronic nightmares, I have always feared the darkness that seems to swallow me whole. To me, where we sleep makes all the difference.
In five weeks, I do not know where I will be. I don't know what kind of accommodations I will have. I won't have this house anymore, or this bed. I am afraid to fall asleep with the same insecurity that has plagued me before, and I am afraid of what the morning brings. To have this uncertain relationship with sleep deeply complicates my daily life. No doubt the uncertainty in general makes me want to hide my head under the covers for an eternity.
It is no surprise that each day I step further into adulthood, I miss my grandma tucking me in to bed, singing me Bible songs, and I miss the goodbye kiss in the morning from my dad before he left for work, and I miss the bed across the room that was my sister's where I would retreat in the midst of a nightmare. Wherever I will be in a few week's time, I hope the arms of sleep are kind, forgiving, and comforting. I could really use a good night's rest.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sometimes when I want an interesting blog title, I just scroll through the song titles in my iTunes until something seems to fit. I scrolled about two seconds before landing on this song from Simon and Garfunkel. For so many reasons, it is perfect.
Thanks to Paul Simon, who keeps making unexpected cameo appearances in my daily life, and thanks to Emily, the model, for being so beautiful and so strong despite her current struggles. So far this quarter, my heart has not fully committed itself to photography. But I'm getting getting getting there. Here is a glimpse of one of my last (but not least) fashion series. On with the show.
And when I awoke
And felt you warm and near
I kissed your honey hair
With my grateful tears
Oh, I love you girl
Oh, I love you
Monday, April 12, 2010
I have been thinking about permanence a lot lately. When you're young, I suppose, you treat relationships poorly. Maybe you always do this. I have tried earnestly to set my life right, to make clear my feelings and intentions, but even I have been careless in showing true love and appreciation. You fight with your parents. You are unfair to your friends. You are painfully casual with your lovers. You hold back. You take love for granted... and other people, because, at times, it is less messy to just cut everyone out. It feels like an accomplishment to go it alone. And you do this because, I guess, you assume you have time to come back around and, say, fix it all, or at least tell everyone how you really feel... what they really mean. Maybe we do have time to sort everything out. Maybe we don't.
I hate saying goodbye to love. I am scared to be alone. Most people will not admit this to you. And most people will say: "You start over. You meet new people. You'll be fine." I guess those statements bother me because they seem to establish people as temporary accessories to our lives. And though temporary is the mode of life, I don't want to treat other people that way.
I can make all of the most beautiful photographs in the world... and that can be my sort of permanence. As photographers, we treasure moments and capture whatever moves our hearts. And there aren't any rules. Most of the time, we make these photographs for ourselves. But what inspires us to keep going? Who do we look to to see the world in a new way? I think one of the only things that has kept me going through it is love... and falling in love has filled my life with beautiful photographs. I have a life that has been, in the past year especially, heavily documented. These photographs remind me that, even on a bad day, someone thought I was special enough to take my picture. I look through this blog. I've only had it a year. Most of my photographs are of the same few people. Maybe that is all I've really seen. Maybe, more than the flowers and the birds and the sweeping landscapes of Southeast Ohio, that is all I've really cared about.
I think I might've lost the point of photography if it isn't to share love. If your goal is to tell a story, what about the story of your own life? I didn't really have a point of view until I started really seeing what was right in front of me. The world is beautiful. Dare I say, it is people who make it so.
I am here. At some uncertain time in the world, I won't be. "If you love someone... never let them go," you say. I realize that an online blog hardly seems like the place for this, but why not? Why do we take these photographs? And what is our point in sharing them? What do we hope for, in our own lives, by taking pictures? I look at photo blogs everyday. Now, perhaps, you're looking at mine.
Maybe I have found comfort in the photographs beyond what they really are. I am young. Life is in flux. But I am someone... I have something to offer. These photographs are the stories of the people that I love. That, beyond whatever my education and skills profess, is what matters to me. It has defined me. I absolutely could go nowhere without love to give me all of my reasons. No matter my eventual profession, I care about using my craft and my gift as a communicator, in whatever form, to share and experience something so rare, yet so profound, it stops me... wherever I am, whatever my worries.
Monday, April 5, 2010
"That's how the light gets in." - Leonard Cohen
Something to remember when we fall down the mountain and kiss the dirt, to quote another favorite song of mine.
It is the beginning of my last quarter of college. No doubt I will be despondent, confused, angry, sleepy, and obnoxiously achy during particular days in the next ten weeks... most of the time, I will be in need of helpful reminders because I am a slave to reassurance. Despite my fears of growing up, I believe that something extraordinary is possible. I have been truly blessed. It isn't everyday that we are able to see the world with new eyes... new inspiration... through the lens of someone we love. Even in troubled times, I will keep looking for the light.