*Hang with me until the end even if you aren’t a photographer. I think it could apply to all of us… Just read something today that’s not an email or the info on your tv’s guide.
“Signs” are an asshole. Mostly because I think people ignore them until they’re in crisis. For example… A couple months ago, that big beautiful rainbow stretching in front of the car is simply the product of rain and sun. But when you’re ready for a sign, that same big beautiful rainbow is a message from you dearly-departed Nana telling you to take the damn leap.
It’s all about acting when ready because that’s exactly when you’ll experience the most from your life.
Photography always comes into my life when it’s most useful and necessary. When my boys were younger, it was my way to reconcile the endless boring/frustrating/messy bits of life with two small children, a full time job, a side gig, and relationships. It’s hard to manage those areas, but you’re expected to skillfully juggle everything. Photography made me see my life. To accept it. To appreciate it. To make it into art. Sure, I’d hit ruts. But it was easy to climb out. Experiencing my children’s newness towards life. Navigate Firsts and document the journey with my camera.
And then they grew up… It’s hard, Folks. Not because they’re getting older (teenage years are gnashing their teeth as I type), but it’s personally harder when you’ve created a hobby of documenting your early days.
Oh I see a hand up from a young mother teetering a baby on her hip and wrangling a toddler… Yes?
“But you love photography. They’re still cute. I plan on photographing mine forever. It’s my passion.”
Imagine that I’ve morphed into the old woman sitting at the end of the bar at 11:30 a.m., sipping a warm White Zin while taking a long slow drag off my Pall Mall. “Oh sweetie. Aren’t you precious? How about this…? I’ll keep this ratty seat warm and we’ll talk in ten years. And please for the love of the lens do not suggest I become a family photographer. It’s different and you know it. Another round, Stan. She’s buying. ”
It’s hard. I’ve been photographing and using social media long before FB (shit there was no iPhone when I started. Instagram? Not even on the radar) exploded with images. I’ve used it and been rewarded. I’ve been silent and perfectly content. I’ve felt hurt by a newly created title by pro-photographer: “Momtog”. I’ve been using tags before they were Hashtags. I’ve seen millions of tricycles shot from behind with precious pigtails flapping in the dust. I’ve seen hundred of dozens (is that even a thing?) of messy floured faces eating cookie dough. Pouty but adorable time out scenes? Millionth Check! I’m seasoned in this arena only because my kids grew up on screens and my camera’s LCD. I grew up with dozens of other photographers’ kids too.
But how about scenes from middle schoolers doing homework? A few and they aren’t super cute because it’s NOT (no disrespect to the photographer just not a cute scene). How about them naturally laughing with their friends? Occasionally. A couple times a year, I’ll wonder where a photographer went. I’ll text a friend and ask “What happen to So-and-So?” And then I’ll see a random post of a kid’s face and I realize it’s lost all the baby fat. Oh yeah… Everyone’s gotten older and it’s gotten harder to maintain the old hobby. It has to evolve just like your children. Just like you. It’s unfair for me to expect anything else. Before it was easy. Now it’s changed and more difficult. But we evolve. If not, we wither despite our rants and desire.
I swear this isn’t me being bitchy/jealous/defeatist. It just is. I knew years ago, photographing my children was going to change. Out of respect for them, it has to change. And the scenes are drastically different. Heads are more in screens and less wrapped around my legs. Is that a plus or is it a con? Depends on if you ask the Mom in me or the Photographer in me. But ask any photographer who has relentlessly documented her children through the years. Find one if they’re still active on FB. I’d be shocked if she disagrees. So trust me and all the other’s who’ve stopped blogging, it’s hard.
But then I got some signs because I was ready:
- Light was crisp and dewy again. “Where the fuck is my camera?” started popping back into my head.
- Even though I knew I wouldn’t use it, I still brought my camera on vacation.
- A birth client shared a line from a book she was reading. It was about accepting the one life you’ve got. Oh… Oh.. Yeah, that’s the key.
- A friend said, “This is when you should be photographing things. How come you aren’t? You’re good at this.” Paraphrased but you get the point. The missing camera was recognized by more than one person.
- And then a damn bird kept showing up at my window. For a week, the boys mentioned it. I’d think “Stupid bird. Just don’t die flying into the window…” One day I was sitting on my couch, I heard this tapping. I swore a neighbor was in our backyard trying to get my attention. But when I looked up, there was a bight lime green bird hovering like a Hummingbird. But it was so much larger. After I stopped almost shitting my pants, it flew away. I went closer and it came back. Tapped and hovered for a minute. It happened again and that’s when I realized I should probably start paying attention again.
I know one way to shoot. It’s to force myself, but only when I’m ready. I’m ready. So it’s 365 time again. I wasn’t going to make this one public. “This one will be for me.” But every single one has been for me. This one is no different. My rules are simple… Photograph something once a day. Don’t aim for perfection, aim for life. Accept there are going to be dull days/weeks. No black & whites. My life is in color. Miss a day? So I missed a day? Is it going to be harder with older children? Duh. Might be lots of cat/food pictures. Don’t finish? Don’t care.
But this is it: this is my life right now. I can wrap myself in excuses or I can get to work. You want to deal with anything? You accept it. And then you work with it. Not against. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It means you care enough even when it’s hard. You settle into the discomfort to experience growth and change. You get ready and then you fucking work it.
Enough with the signs.
Keep your deranged birds. It get it.
It’s time to get back to work.
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