Shutter Sisters Cross Post: Thank You Note

Coming out of hiding to let you all know I have a post up on Shutter Sisters today.  And since it has to do with gratitude, and since I'm thankful for anyone who would peruse my blog, this one's for you too.

+++++++++++++++

As I ponder on Gratitude, our One Word for November, I can't help but think about all the wonderful photographers I'm surrounded by here in the Shutter Sisters community.  When I became a contributor almost two years ago, I didn't realize how much I would grow as a person and as a photographer as a result.  Every time I look through our collective body of work, I'm amazed and humbled.

What a gift it is to be party of a community that supports and encouragees you, challenges you to grow, shares in your joys and sorrows. 

So today, I want to thank all of you, my fellow photographers and photography lovers who have taught me so much about not just how to take a good picture but also about friendship and generosity and sisterhood.

*****

P.S. If you leave a comment on my post on Shutter Sisters, you will be entered into a random drawing to win one of 5 free Memolio albums being given away today.

Shutter Sisters Crosspost: Comfort Zone

This is from a series of photos I thought I had lost.  They mysteriously reappeared on an SD card I happened to pop in my camera a few days ago.  I'm glad, too.  It was a beautiful night, and I was alone on the beach soaking in the uncharacteristically chilly August air.  I noticed this couple walking slowly, hand in hand, on the very edge of the water, and I thought for a moment that I was inside a movie. 

And the following is my post on Shutter Sisters today:

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Once in a great while, I find myself with some free time, in my car, with my camera, and no husband or child to direct my path.  It's usually at night after I've met with friends.  If the stars align just right and the weather cooperates, I more likely than not will feel a magnetic pull to a certain beach about a mile east of our home.

I have a history with the beaches of Chicago's Northside at night.  It's where I've gone on so many other nights during a particularly tumultuous time in my life.  The sound of the waves gently lapping against the shore, again and again, creates a cadence so calming and comforting to me, a sound so primally familiar like the sounds of the womb.  Lake Michigan stretches as far as the eye can see, a black expanse holding up an equally black sky, the sequins of stars dimly visible in the urban haze.  The wind whips my hair to an fro, and I hug myself for warmth, legs dangling over the breakwater.  I breathe deeply and slowly and let the universe wash over me with all the love and tenderness and wisdom I'm able to hold in my empty hands. 

I often feel like I need to push myself out of my comfort zone, to do something Fresh!  Original!  Conceptual!  Challenging!  Scary!  It's an important learning experience, for sure, to be able to step out into unknown territory.  Lately, however, I am realizing the gift of knowing where my comfort lies, and feeling free to return there to rest and wallow in the contentedness of familiarity, whether it's simply listening to an old 80's song or watching my daughter play.  This little beach at night is a symbol of that familiar place within me, and I return to it as often as I can.

Shutter Sisters Cross Post: Into the Unknown

When I first saw this photo of Jen Lee and her Diana camera, it was love at first sight. A couple months later, I got my own for my birthday. I quickly shot two rolls on 120 film, but had a hard time finding a place that would develop and scan slide film who was also open during hours when I wasn't tied to my desk at work. The two rolls sat in a drawer, and the camera became just another pretty decoration.

Lucky for me, I met THE Jen Lee in the Shutter Suite last weekend at BlogHer, and when I told her how I had a Diana too and that I've been neglecting my already exposed film, she told me that I just HAD to get it developed. And for some reason, hearing that from Jen gave me the impetus I needed to do just that. Or maybe it was being transported in time perusing her Flickr stream and her beautiful new book. Whatever it was, I'm excited about the possibilities now that I've actually seen what you can get from a little toy camera.

I still don't know quite what I'm doing, but that's half the thrill, knowing that I'm stepping into the unknown, that when I click the shutter, there is no instant gratification lighting up on a LCD screen. No, I have to wait and hope for and imagine what images will appear after the whole roll has been shot and developed. Seeing those photos for the first time, though, is like opening up an old scrapbook and being transported back to when the memories were created.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A version of this post appears today on Shutter Sisters.

For Jen Lemen and Stephanie Roberts

For my dear Shutter Sisters Jen and Stephanie, as you embark on a voyage, an adventure, a leap of faith, love and hope.  We are with you always and send you as ambassadors of hope.  Go and give it all away.

xoxo

To follow Jen and Stephanie on their Picture Hope travels, please click here.

Three Jens and a Superhero

Hanging out in the Shutter Suite, having a grand ol' time.  I can't believe this was my first time meeting these fabulous ladies in the flesh.

Shutter Sisters Crosspost: Memento

She was sitting with her family on a blanket towards the edge of the great lawn next to The Bean. The first thing I noticed about her was the pretty floral kerchief pulling her dark brown hair back from her face. The next thing I noticed was that she was nursing her child who was probably at least 2-and-a-half. I smiled at her when our eyes met, and the corners of her mouth turned upward just slightly, as if she were not sure that my smile was actually intended for her. I wanted to tell her that I had nursed mine until she was way past toddlerhood, and how much that relationship meant to both me and my daughter, but shyness prevented me from offering more than my smile and bashful looks of admiration. I quietly applauded her casual openness in nursing amongst thousands of people without any sign of self-consciousness or awkwardness or preemptive defiance aimed at anyone around her who might be judging her. If you had never seen a woman nursing an older toddler, and you saw her as I did that evening, you would think it was the most natural thing in the world, and a comfort to witness as well.

Later, when she stood up to play with her two small children, I saw that she was wearing a long flowy snow-white skirt that looked like a graceful billowy cloud floating above the grass. Again I admired her, for that is probably the last thing I would have worn were I the mother of two small children on a picnic, for I know too well my tendency to leave traces of my meal on whatever I happen to be wearing, not to mention Cadence's habit of using me as a napkin. Then I noticed her adorable dark blue denim sneakers peeking out from underneath her skirt, and I knew I just had to get a photo.

I'm about as nostaligic as they come, and this one photo is my memento of those warm feelings I had for a total stranger whom I observed and admired during the course of a free family concert on a lovely summer evening. It is also my unspoken blessing over her and her family for the simple joy and comfort I received in just being near their quiet contentment. This small token of a photo is the key to memories that I've already placed carefully and lovingly in the altar space of my heart.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A version of this post appears today on Shutter Sisters.

Shutter Sisters Crosspost: Flashdance

shutter speed: 1/5 sec; ISO: 400; aperture: f/5.0

After years of turning up my nose in the general direction of my flash--built-in and speedlight alike--I've come to a strange realization: I. Love. My. Flash. There, I've said it. Why the change of heart, you ask? I've got four little words for you: slow sync flash mode. Google it, y'all, and prepare to be amazed at the images you'll find.

So what exactly is slow sync flash? It's basically dragging the shutter (which Tracey enlightened us about a while back) WITH flash. In other words, it's using your flash with a slow shutter speed. I'm sure most of your cameras have a setting for your flash that's either called SLOW (a.k.a. front curtain flash sync) or REAR (a.k.a. rear curtain flash sync). Both are types of slow sync, the difference being when the flash fires (beginning of exposure for simple slow and at the end of the exposure for rear). Most cameras will automatically set the shutter speed at 1/60 or faster when you turn your flash on, and that enables you to freeze a specific image blur-free. Setting the flash to one of the slow sync modes, however, changes the shutter speed to something that's usually slower than 1/30th of a second. Using a slower shutter speed in ADDITION to flash enables you to freeze the image at the point the flash fired with the added bonus of what I call the ghost trail, or the blur of action that occurs during the entire exposure either before or after the flash fired.

The cool thing about slow sync mode is that it looks cool with just your built in camera flash if you don't use a speedlight. It's great for parties where there's a lot of action such as dancing, especially when there are funky lights that make swirly patterns depending on how you move the camera during the slow shutter exposure. So the next time you find yourself and your camera at a dimly lit party wishing they would crank the lights so you can get some decent shots, set your flash to slow sync or rear curtain, set your ISO at 200 or below, your aperture at f/4ish or narrower, your shutter at 1/15th of a second or slower, and click away! Try experiementing with different shutter speeds or by giving the camera a little shake or twist or what have you during the exposure. Remember to avoid overexposure by adjusting your ISO down or making your aperture narrower if you slow down your shutter speed.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A version of this post appears today on Shutter Sisters.

Shutter Sisters Crosspost: Getting It "Just Right"

I just finished reading Everyone Is Beautiful by the lovely Katherine Center a few days ago. I thoroughly enjoyed it and could relate to the main character on so many levels, but one pleasant surprise I got from the book was a peek inside the process of old-school film photography. I'd say this coincided quite nicely with my recent foray into the world of plastic toy cameras.

And that got me thinking about the courage it takes to click the shutter on a film camera, lacking the instant feedback of an LCD screen. I realized that with digital, I can look at a photo I'd just taken, and if it's approximately what I was going for, I just tell myself I'll "fix it" at home in Lightroom--crop it, change the angle, etc.

When I took the photo above, I decided to try to get it "just right" then and there. Now, "just right" happens to be a pretty subjective matter when it comes to photography, and that's something we each have to decide for ourselves. For this specific photo, I knew exactly how I wanted it framed and at what angle, and instead of taking one or two shots that were merely useable, I took the time to concentrate on what I wanted in that photo, and after several tries, I got the exact composition I was looking for.

I believe there is a time to Just Shoot It, and I also love to Shoot From the Hip. Now, however, especially since I'm going to be working with film some of the time, I would like to work on more mindful shutter clicking. This will probably be difficult for a shutter-happy individual like myself.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A version of this post appeared today on Shutter Sisters.

Let's Beckon Some Lovely

I have a post up on Shutter Sisters today about The Beckoning of Lovely.  I love that phrase, "Beckoning of Lovely."  Somebody should write a song.  To me, it pretty accurately describes what I feel like I do a lot of the time as a photographer.

I had a lovely time photographing The Beckoning of Lovely event in Chicago yesterday.  I had no idea what to expect except that it would be lovely, and I was quite right.

And speaking of all things lovely, my dear friend Amy joined me for the event.  Here are her lovely feet and legs, and isn't the hem of her dress just lovely too?  Plus it's fair trade!  She came straight from working at the Green Festival on behalf of Chicago Fair Trade.

When I get through all the photos from the evening, it'll make sense why I'm posting just ambulatory body parts.

Obama Socks

I have a post up on Shutter Sisters today on street photography.  In case you haven't noticed, this is one of my favorite genres in photography.  I took the photo above while on vacation in Portland last fall.  Obama was definitely all the rage, and I thought it curious that this artist had set up shop underneath the sign advertising Obama socks right outside the Red Light Clothing Exchange.

When I travel, I don't buy very many souvenirs.  The photos I take serve that purpose.  Looking at the photo above takes me back to that very moment--the warm late afternoon in downtown Portland, the sound of traffic, the record store I where I had just bought Damien Jurado's new album, how I chuckled to myself when I read that sign and tried to imagine what Obama socks might look like, wondering what that guy was drawing and why he chose that spot.  All that is pretty much encapsulated in one image for me.  This is why I love photography so much.

Searching for Hope--Raw and Real

(Posted today on Shutter Sisters)

Around this time every year, something in my brain flicks a switch.  Just like the bud of a newly forming leaf is triggered by enrivonmental and genetic cues, these same signals and accompanying consequences--the emergence from winter darkness, spring rains, blossoms shooting up overnight, the cheerful chatter and melodies of songbirds--rouse in my subconscious an homage to and remembrance of one of the most significant experiences of my life.

Seven years ago, almost to the day, I received news that my father was dying of inoperable pancreatic cancer.  One month later, the day after his 64th birthday, he was gone.  During those short final weeks of my dad's life, I developed an intimate relationship with my then-new digital camera.  Perhaps it was the shock of imminent loss that opened my eyes in a new way and motivated me to search for the hope I so desperately needed wherever I went. 

It was during this time that I developed a deep and abiding love for wandering the streets of my city, camera in hand.  Much of what caught my eye back then wouldn't be considered beautiful in the Condé Nast sense of the word.  In fact, I found myself often drawn to the weathered, beat-up and forgotten images that most people would rush by without a second thought (or even a first).  Maybe it was because I was feeling somewhat weathered and beat-up and forgotten myself that I was trying to comfort my soon-to-be-crushed inner daddy's girl by gathering up these overlooked mementos and treasuring them, savoring the moment in which I found them.  It was as if I needed to know that I could find light in the midst of darkness and decay and even death, because if I could, then I would be able to find hope no matter how dreary the circumstances.

I find it quite timely that now, when my thoughts and emotions are conjuring up the memories and feelings from that month of watching my father succumb to cancer, our Shutter Sisters have embarked on this voyage to Picture Hope.  I am thrilled because I know the power of images to stir our hearts and minds and to plant hope in the midst of dispair.  I think Stacey Monk said it quite eloquently in her comment, "Hope is the most beautiful direction in which a lens can be pointed."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

What I don't mention in the Shutter Sisters post is how deep and raw the pain still feels after 7 years.  When I say that something in my brain flicks a switch, it literally feels like my innermost being brings me back to those moments of watching my dad waste away to skin and bones, jaundiced, helpless, even childlike.  The past couple weeks, I've felt the familiar urges to wander with my camera, to go to shows (the only escape for me that month my father was dying was to go to live shows, and I went to a LOT), to brood.  I'm sure I'll be reading Douglas Coupland's Life After God and listening to old Denison Witmer CDs before too long...

Signs of Spring

I think Chicago's caught spring fever.  I'm seeing little signs popping up everywhere, including this lovely blue bicycle with basket.  It's really the basket that says spring to me.  I see hardcore cyclists biking 365 days a year around town, but when the pretty cruisers with the wicker baskets show up, you know that warm times are a'coming.

Never mind that Wednesday is forecast to be cold and rainy...

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

And speaking of signs, look for signs of hope coming to Shutter Sisters.  Stay tuned; join in!