Sunday, April 12, 2015

My First Wedding.

On Friday, I had the privilege of shooting a wedding. The very first "I'm the photographer" wedding. I have shot other weddings, but as a back-up. This was the real deal. I started to read up on tips and tricks. They did nothing but freak me out. (What if your camera fails? What if you don't have enough space? This is the most important day of their life...What if? What if? What if?) I stopped reading.

I employed the help of my friend Heather and we were on our way.

Now, granted, I was not-so-stressed and quite laid back about it all because the bride is the friend of one of my sisters. She was very laissez faire about the entire thing; I felt that disappointing her would be very difficult. Cate was amazing to photograph, not only because she is a natural beauty, but because she let me complete my vision. The ideal situation for my first wedding.

Lessons were learned; challenges were overcome.

Turns out, Heather and I make the perfect photography team. I did close-up, she did wide-angle. We have a similar vision, but different ways of achieving it. Perfection.

Shooting this wedding is exactly why my psyche needed. My camera and I were on a trial separation because I was feeling uncreative, unmotivated, and stagnant. This wedding opened up my eyes and my mind.

I hope that Cate & Timmy have a lifetime of love. I hope that when they've been married for 20 years, they will look back on the snippets of time that Heather & I captured with our cameras and vividly remember the day that they were married. I hope that when they look at these memories, they will easily remember the time when they were simply "Cate and Timmy," not some one's parents, not some one's grandparents. The time when they solely belong to each other and their married life is a wondrous mystery ahead.  

Saturday, March 28, 2015

Almost Three Years.

I haven't written a blog in almost three years. Lately I've had an urge to write. I have nothing profound to say right now, but I am just writing to get started. I feel like the first blog in almost three years should be amazing. But it's not. It's a small start.

Monday, August 27, 2012

16 Years Ago.

Sixteen years ago today my dad's dad died. He had a massive heart attack and was gone before he hit the bedroom floor. He was born in and died in the same house.

Yesterday I took some photographs from my mom's house. Photos of my dad's side of the family. Theoretically, I should give these to my dad, but there are two problems with that: 1. I am not speaking to my father and 2. In all honesty, they will just end up in my hands anyhow after my dad dies. Morbid? Yes. True? Yes.

So these photo...
Images of my dad when he was a baby. Even a few photos of my grandmother pregnant which is something very cool to see. The baby pictures of my dad are nice, but I start to get sad when I see the older pictures of him; the photos when you can start to see the sadness in his eyes. But, that is a story for another blog, or really, a therapy session or three.

My absolute favorite photos are the ones of my grandfather. The ones of him serving in the war. Photos from Paris, images of him in his uniform. This is my favorite picture of him, oddly enough he wrote a little note on the back of this picture to his mother, "I don't like this one much. What do you think?"

He used to tell me stories about the war, censored stories, I'm sure. But I used to love to imagine these places and people. Sadly, I don't really remember any details. I see fleeting visions that I concocted in my mind as he spoke: him sitting in a canoe opening a metal box with cigarettes, ham sandwiches, and m&ms. Now, I am fairly certain that none of those pieces fit together correctly and are just a byproduct of my childhood imagination, but they are there. They are imprinted in my memory and therefore, associated with my grandfather and his kindness.

I also found some postcards from my grandfather to my grandmother:

Hello Honey,
I'm enjoying myself by drinking and thinking of you. I can't wait until we are together and tell you all the things I saw and did. Darling I love you and hope to be with you soon. 
Always your Honey, Joe
P.S. I got some picture made in Paris. They will send them to me in two weeks.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Parenthood: The Shit No One Tells You.

1. When another kid is mean to your kid; not just bratty, but outright, sociopathically cruel to your child. You must fight ever urge not to punch, kick in the face, or gouge out the eyes of the sociopathic child. I never realized it was possible to hate a child. No one tells you... it is possible.

2. You will doubt yourself every day. Every. Single. Day. "Should I have yelled at her for that?" "Maybe it's not really a big deal." Etc.

3. I have screamed curse words at my daughter. The words, "Who the FUCK do you think you are?!" have actually left my lips, and were immediately inserted into my guilt bank. I confess. I have said "fuck" when screaming at my daughter. I dislike myself for it and I hate my lack of self-control, but sometimes, it's better than smacking her across the face when she tells you, "I hate you!" "Shut your mouth!" "Don't you talk to me that way!" I am sad to admit that, but no one else admits it, so I will.

Monday, July 30, 2012

Decisions, decisions.

We are going to redo our bathroom. And our kitchen too! I just need a steady income first, so ya know, whatever year that happens...

In the meantime we are "redoing" our dining room. By that I mean painting, and taking out the IKEA furniture.

So, we want to brighten up the room since it only has one window that really only gets late afternoon sun. I was leaning towards an orange-y color. Then a yellow-y color. Neither of them were very "bright."

Waiting on the verdict of the bright yellow sample I just painted today. I think my favorite is the golden yellow on the left, it's called "Autumnal."
Autumnal/ Fun Yellow/ Copper Harbor
FYI: The room will be the same color above and below the chair rail. (The beige & red are what we are getting rid of!)

The orange, my daughter's favorite is called "Copper Harbor," but on the wall looks more, "Kraft Macaroni & Cheese." The bright yellow, which I know will brighten the room is called "Fun Yellow." It is bright, but I'm not loving it, apparently I'm a much more muted color person.

Fun Yellow/ Copper Harbor/ Autumnal

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Ars Gratia Artis.

I was in a World Literature college course when I first heard the explanation of ars gratia artis. Art for art's sake.

I have been out of college for over a decade and just finally have I been able to apply it to myself. I always have had a need to make things. To create things. I have been very frustrated with the whole task. I think, after years of pondering, that I know the root of my frustration.

My whole life I have been told to try to make money with my talents/skills. That was always, ALWAYS the underlying motivation. And that is shit. Complete and total shit. "Ooh, you could sell that." "Yeah, I'd buy that." That is the problem. I have been making and creating for others. Not for myself. Not to satisfy my inner need to create. When you stop caring what others think, when you stop looking for feedback, that is when you can just exist as an artist. And I feel overly dramatic and lofty to even call myself an artist, but ya know what? Fuck it. I make art. I am an artist.

So, I have been painting, specifically, water color. I have made at least a painting a day for about four days, yesterday I did two. And I'm proud of them. They won't be on museum walls, they won't even be on my walls, but I made them and I love them. And it feels so good to just make art because I want to; because I need to.

I don't know how to express my drive without sounding ridiculous. But this drive, this need has been with me since I was a child. And just now, at age 35 have I finally discovered how to satisfy it. It's silly, really. It's so obvious, but when you're constantly told that something "should" be one way, you don't even think of it any other way. This applies to many of areas of my life. In some areas, I have cracked the code: I no longer blindly follow my religious upbringing, and I am doing my best to eat intuitively. But when it comes to self expression, the most challenging area for me, it is just that; challenging.

I feel like the few times that I have put myself out there with photography, with words, it's often edited; and therefore, false, not completely false, just, shall we say, a mental reservation.

In my water color paintings, there is truth because, while they are simply still life; mostly fruit, today I did a flower, they are truthful because they are how I want them to be, not how I think they should be for acceptance. 

Thursday, July 26, 2012

A Few Non-Related Things.

1. Instagram annoys me. I like the idea of it. What I don't like is how now all of a sudden, everyone is a photographic genius. Not that I am. By any means! But, when I age my photos, I work hard at it. I spend time with it. I work in layers and textures, various gradient maps. Now there's an app for that and I find it annoying.

2. I gave in and purchased the second and third books of The Hunger Games trilogy. Unfortunately, I left the second book at my aunt's shore house. Now I am thoroughly annoyed at myself.

3. In light of #2, I had nothing to read when I took my daughter to our swim club, but I could not swim due to my own personal "red tent" issue. I scanned my bookcase for something to read. I picked up the little book of short stories by Nick Hornby that came with my Ben Folds' CD Lonely Avenue. Nick Hornby is a fantastic writer. Very real, very common man, very enjoyable. I think I will pick up About a Boy since I loved the movie; actually, it's one of my favorites. My theory, I loved the movie, so the book must be amazing! And really, how can you not love this scene!? Seriously. Watch it. Do it right now. You're welcome.