silhouettes create stories

A photograph has the power to pull a story from the nothingness that is light and dark. Certain images can blend well with an overactive imagination, leaving the mind to embellish the details of a story untold. I find this intriguing, and especially true of silhouetted photographs.

What I find most curious is how the image makes me feel. What it stirs in my mind. Due to the facelessness, my mind is left a blank canvas on which to dream up a storyline equally as captivating.

Join me at shutter sisters today for a look at light and dark.

head chatter

i didn’t know i had it in me. i never know, until i’m in it. dropped into a space, an environment, a view

…

this photo could quite possibly sum up the optical illusion of where i go in my head to write. many people i know in life are trying to quiet the voices but here i am welcoming them. meredith, this is your mother speaking. brisk and to the point. it’s as if i’ve done something wrong, reverting back to my teenage self i push her away and try to concentrate on what i was doing before i was so rudely interrupted. what was i doing? laying on my bed staring up at the ceiling? her voice raises over the mundane unimportance, she speaks over things. she knocks again and something in me bolts upright and pays attention.

this is a gift. these voices. now i invite them in, begging them to follow me to the end of this dock and sit with me awhile. we can look out at the edge of the water where it meets the land. you can talk. and i will listen.

sometimes i set out with an intention for something. a plan, a forethought, a seed i want to grow. and it’s in space like this that i am kicked and come up bloody {toothless yet grinning} always too late that i remember writing doesn’t work that way. you can’t ask someone to speak a certain story. you know, the perfect one that makes you all chipper. you can’t dictate what an environment or space or view will bring to mind. and for me, it is often the opposite of what i had hoped for. not knowing the truth is more beautiful than the dreamy half created illusion.

when i lived in colorado it was a man’s voice that perched on my shoulder as i walked through the painting that was my real life. i still don’t know who he was. but he spoke eloquently. i rode as a passenger and caught only pieces of words scribbled on memo pads. starts and stops. because back then i didn’t have the brain cells to rub together. no spark of sentence would fan into a flame of story. not then. i’m sorry now, i whisper my apologies to that man in his patience who gave me his story and i left it untold.

for a long time the voices scattered and then finally the haze cleared. then it was only my own voice that i heard. i learned to hear. it did not come naturally. i learned to recognize it above the others. that was a hard chore i beat into myself. who am i who am i who am i.

and now. just days ago. moments really. years in the making, she finally spoke. i know her story but i don’t know who she is. and i try not to wonder how long i will be along for the ride. i try not to look directly into the voice and tone. out of my mother’s superstition that act of eye contact would cause it to disappear forever. so we have a peripheral vision relationship, me never catching a full glance at her. always sideways with the music blasting and dinner on the stove and a five year old in my pocket. i nod my recognition in her direction. her voice is stronger than the rest, i know that now. and i want to promise her i’ll listen. as long as she’s talking, i promise i’ll listen.

…

to see more photography from my 28 hours in space, check out my slideshow.

creative goodness

al·che·my

noun \ˈal-kə-mē\

a power or process of transforming something common into something special

there’s something amazing brewing down in the word cellar and i hope you will go explore it, let your heart lead the way. you’ll find yourself at home, surrounded by others just like you (just like me) full of story and inspiration.

“The Word Cellar is a place where left brain meets right brain,
where whimsy shakes hands with practicality,
and communication is considered a sacred science and time-honored art.”

Alchemy, the online writing course, is coming up soon, so i encourage you to join in! it’s exactly where i want to be writing and i’m honored to be a guest on this six week journey. in jenna’s own words, she describes: “Alchemy: The Art and Craft of Writing is a doorway into a magical world where practical tips and craft lessons ignite your inspiration and help you bloom as a writer.I’ll share some of my most effective tips and techniques for turning everyday words into beautiful pieces of writing. There will be craft lessons, writing exercises, and invitations to inspiration. We’ll also have a private online community where we can share our work and share the experience of living the writing life.”

a love list

it caught my eye, how could it not? love sprayed in bold red paint across a favorite coffeeshop wall. this caused me to take an immediate right turn and hop out of my car. i know how you feel. you, whoever shouted this testament of love. not just i love you. but i love you so much. it’s just so good that it stirred up all sorts of lovelies in my mind.

things i love so much today:

1. crickets in my backyard

2. barefeet in dewy grass

3. the gentlest of rain that changes the weather

4. my muse that insists on staying and making herself welcome

5. the sweetest pair of brown corduroy pants from the thrift store

what things are you loving so much today?

around the house

when these photos spilled out of my camera from a weekend spent at home, they made me smile.
i like this, how they collectively tell a story of who we are at home.

a lego game scavenger hunt, a mac, and a favorite book by ee cummings.

expressive photography

a brown box sat at my door on friday. something i’ve been waiting for, and as i held it in my hands that first moment, my heart was so full of love for all these women, that my eyes filled up with tears. and i must say this happened repeatedly throughout the day. tears of pure happiness and hearts full of life make the best sort of days.

on friday, twitter was overflowing with the giddy chatter of books arriving. the love was pouring in, dripping off the pages onto our fingertips. friday was a very good day. one of remembering purpose and passion, and realizing that none of us are ever alone in our dreams.

and dreams come true.

this book is amazing. and words can’t really describe it. but the pages come alive! if there’s a photography book that i would recommend, it’d be this one. it’s a book after my own heart, seeking out expressive photography and shooting from the heart. for me, it’s what life is all about.

today i have fallen in love all over again with my shutter sisters, i feel so proud of these women i call friends who devoted so much of their heart and skills into the making of this book. i am beyond honored to be a part of this sisterhood.

please check it out! go see for yourself, take a peek and feel the love between these pages. you’ll be glad you did.

peace like a river

see my slideshow of photographs from this mornings sunrise bike ride!

taking dictation

there it is again. it comes with music and hovers like a cloud while i scoop ice cream to self medicate. after a hard day, strewn with hateful words and tearful goodbyes, i scoop ice cream and methodically reach for a pen. moving to the table now i find a blank page and guage my handwritten font to the size of the scrapped paper.

in me. within me. without me.

i move my pen and hear the words bounce in my head and see the words for what they are, ink on paper, and nod a little bit and tap my foot to keep it all going within me and without me. this is me trying to listen and not listen at the same time. just getting the words down. it’s self talk, that’s what it sounds like.  but someone else’s voice. someone stronger than me. someone just ahead of me on the path, someone i could possibly want to be. i move my pen across paper. i want to believe the talk. i want to believe. and someday i will. but for now i am my own secretary just taking dictation.

when the cloud has dissipated. when the paper has run out. i leave the memo on the kitchen table and reach for the melted ice cream drippy with chocolate.

a friend of mine emailed me earlier in the day, before the explosion, she commented on how the universe puts stuff in her path. today it was words. graffiti to be exact, seen while stuck in traffic sitting on the bridge over the colorado river. she told me she thought of me and wondered if i had photographed that spot.

i smiled because i hadn’t.
so i got in the car and stood before the words willing them into my heart.
once again taking dictation.

……

it is much much later i read my own scrawl. with bleary eyes and crows feet landed firmly on my face. it’s true. i am old and tired. you tossed those words to me like rotting meat to a hungry cat. i kicked them away because i don’t have to eat what you throw out to me anymore, but your words were strong and left me with their stench.

it is not mine to carry any longer.  this weight.  this negativity for what was lost. we must adapt to carrying this weight, this misunderstanding, this whatever this is that comes between us.

we must learn to juggle it and shift it lightly with respect between us.
to simply let it be.

lives come together, they travel, they split, and new lives are formed. lives intersect as they always do continuously throughout all of time. it’s in how we handle it that reveals our character.  today i was not me.  you were not you.  but we were both who we are when the fire is lit.

we are spontaneous combustion of love and anger, pride and hurt.
let us accept this about ourselves.
and move on.