bits of awesome

This isn't quite full-blown enough to qualify as a Wednesday wonderfulness post, I'm afraid. I just haven't had time to collect the content for one of those. So here is some stuff that's currently rattling around in my brain.
There was something else, but I forgot. :/


project 52, week 15

project 52, week 15

I am afraid that if you know me at all, you know my blackberry. Much to the dismay of my friends and family, it's my constant little companion, and if I get bored AT ALL I pull it out. I'm not proud of this. However, when they need something googled, who do you think they ask?
But I must confess: I'm thinking about switching to a Droid of some sort. I love the OS, and the keyboard could be a tiny bit bigger than the ones on the blackberry, which is key (since I've been without internet for a month, much of my typing of client emails has been done on the crackberry). But then again I really want an iPhone....


in which I ramble

I'm sitting in Starbucks typing this. Yesterday I crashed hard, after finishing shooting my first full-length (7 looks!) editorial for publication. Yes, it's online. No, I'm not getting paid for that one. Do I care? Absolutely not. I'm checking a goal off my list, and that, for me, is enough.
Pause here. Can I just say how much I love that little "goals 2010" link at the top of my blog? I'm pretty sure I would forget most of those and drift through my year without having that up there prodding me.
Anyway. So you'll hopefully see the images from that shoot soon; I'll be sure to share them. Can you believe it's been a year since the angels and demons shoot? Yowza. I've grown a lot as a photographer since then, I think. Can I also mention what an amazing stylist my sister is? I tried shooting without her and the images are just....flat. She pushes me. Hard. And much as I want to kick her in the teeth sometimes, she does push me to be better. 
Anyway, two more things before I end this caffeine-fueled rambling. 
One: in conjunction with the editorial I had the opportunity to email Deanna Raybourn and her response, in addition to being incredibly gracious, included "if you're ever down this way, let me know! I'd love to meet you in person." GULP. Um, of course, awesome person! Anyway, that completely made my day. (Thank you for indulging my abject groveling.)
Two: currently on my left wrist is a random bracelet that was left at Starbucks and we appropriated. It reads:
Go beyond good. Be amazing.

I like that. And that is all. 


update on the white tshirt project

Remember these photos? Well, when I took them I never intended for them to be online only. So last week I finally started putting the project together. Yep, there's more room on there. Yep, I have more people to add.


project 52, week 14

I'm going to apologize for the dearth of posting around here; top of my list today is "call comcast and be VERY STERN about how awful they are." But until then, here's the latest in the self-portrait project

project 52, week 14

There are moments when people have said "you have such a glamorous life!" These moments usually happen when I'm at an art show, working a crowd, or perhaps heading off to a wedding in some far-off city and during them, I'm always ALWAYS wearing heels. I try to protest, try to explain that those are high points, and people think I'm being modest.
They don't see me at the end of a shoot, covered in sweat, wrinkled, barefoot, filthy, with my makeup worn off and dark circles forming under my eyes, too tired to sit up. They don't see me in the planning stages for those shoots, sorting through piles of random accessories and racks of slightly musty clothes at the thrift store, looking for the perfect piece. They don't see me at the end of twelve hours of wedding coverage when I'm so tired and hungry it's all I can do to hang on to my camera and I have to pull together just one more family shot. They don't see me when I'm sitting at my desk at two in the morning, trying to finish and album, or silently swearing at a shoot that just wasn't as good as I wanted it to be. They don't see the times when I'm so frustrated I could cry, or discouraged and sure I'll never produce a decent shot again, and my indefatigable cheering section kicks my butt and tells me to get on with my work.
It's ok that people don't see me at those times. I prefer it that way, I think.
But trust me when I say: my life isn't glamorous, but it is so so worth it. Yes, I work hard, and yes, I work all the time, and no, I don't remember what it's like to have a vacation. But I'm ok with that. I love what I do, and I know how fortunate I am to be able to say that.


project 52, week 13


this project is way harder than it seemed starting out, for the record.)
This picture is momentous: I shot myself in profile. To the best of my knowledge it's the first one I've allowed to be posted like that, because, you see, I'm the klutz of the family. I have more broken bones and trips to the ER than the rest of them combined. (Counting both things separately. I KNOW.) I also hate milk, used to hate all dairy products, and love caffeine. So basically I'm screwed.
And that is related to my profile how? Because I've broken my nose twice. First time I tripped over my own feet and landed face down on a tile floor, smushing my nose. We pushed it back into place and I went on my way. The second time it happened I was wrestling with my younger brother and he stood up suddenly and smashed his head into my nose. Which broke. (He also did that to my mom when he was three. He has a VERY hard head.) The best part about it was that we were having our pictures taken for our parents that night as a Christmas gift. So we put concealer over the bruising and I have a very lumpy nose in that photo. (The swelling went down in a couple of days.)
So my favorite part of this story is at the time I had shorter, layered, streaky blond hair that I kept saying made me look like Owen Wilson minus the broken nose. Three days later? Yep. Broken nose. Moral of the story: don't joke about broken bones.


self-portrait self-sunday


My mother is an army brat. Her dad worked at the pentagon, her four brothers were in various branches of the military, her family bleeds red white and blue.
My father, on the other hand, was raised Mennonite, which means he comes from a long line of pacifists. My grandfather was a conscientious objector during World War Two, when such things were considered traitorous. He tells stories of taking food to Poland when they were starving, immediately after the war ended.
And then there's me. My sisters and I have all dated military guys, yet I wonder how to align government-sanctioned killing with my religious beliefs. I don't know. I struggle. All I know is this: I'm grateful for our country, grateful for our freedom, and grateful for a holiday that involves exploding things. Also I know this:
"It is the soldier, not the reporter, Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet, Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the organizer, Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier, Who salutes the flag, Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag, Who allows the protestor to burn the flag."

- Father Dennis Edward O'Brian, USMC

Happy Independence Day


please watch this

it will inspire you, I promise.

And what I have to, sort of keep telling myself when I get really psyched out about that, is, don't be afraid. Don't be daunted. Just do your job. Continue to show up for your piece of it, whatever that might be. If your job is to dance, do your dance. If the divine, cockeyed genius assigned to your case decides to let some sort of wonderment be glimpsed, for just one moment through your efforts, then "Ole!" And if not, do your dance anyhow. And "Ole!" to you, nonetheless. I believe this and I feel that we must teach it. "Ole!" to you, nonetheless, just for having the sheer human love and stubbornness to keep showing up.