Pictures of the gone world

I had a nice weekend.  Did you?  Were you caught outside in the thunderstorms?  

I kind of like being caught outside in a storm (except for that whole chance-of-lightning-strike thing.  that's lame.)

We had a nice weekend because we celebrated something special: the birthdays of my two little ones.  They are growing and growing.  I can't really even believe the time has passed.

You know the old saying about how the cobbler's children have no shoes?  Well, the poor children of photographers are usually the most photographed people on the planet, perhaps with the exception of the cast of Jersey Shore.

This time, I tried (very hard!) to put the camera DOWN.  This is counter to my very nature.  CAMERA MUST BE UP.  But no, camera down, have fun, enjoy the day.  We threw little F and H a big surprise party (they had no idea it was coming--so cute to see their shocked/ecstatic faces).  My darling Daddy took most of the shots, but if you have seen my work at all, I think you will see the point in the photo set where I picked up the camera and did what I had to do--I took pictures.

Wishing you a surprise party (and all the fun that goes with being both surprised and celebrated in one sweet space)--  xo

Lovingkindness

Today I had the pleasure of taking lots of pictures of adorable 3- to 5-year-olds.  The adorableness nearly killed me.  It was such fun to see their quirky, shining, cute, stubborn faces through my lens.  There is no better way to start the day off than with little children in a good mood.

I photograph children almost exclusively.  Yet, I do not have a squeaky toy or funny hat to wear as their photographer (don't you remember the yearbook photographers from your past?).  I don't tell knock-knock jokes--and I usually don't have very long to spend with each child.  However, I find that something I do well is getting them to SMILE.  Or LAUGH.  Or just turn their faces to me with trust and openness.  

How do I do it?

I'll tell you my secrets:

First, I ask them what they had for breakfast.  I hear "cereal!" quite often.  Then I tell them I like lasagna and cotton candy for breakfast (or something similarly silly).  They either laugh and smile (WIN!) or they look puzzled.  If they look puzzled, I proceed to--

Telling them NOT TO SMILE.  I tell them that the rules are quite clear: no laughing, smiling, giggling, chuckling, AND ESPECIALLY NO FUN whilst I am around.  This usually brings down the house.  However, if that fails, I proceed to--

Asking them what they like to do with Mama or Daddy.  This never, ever fails to bring lightness and joy to their faces.  Just saying those powerful words, the names of their dearest, most beloved parents, always gives me the look that I have been searching for on their sweet little countenance.  

I wonder if parents realize how powerful their love and strength and attachment is to these little people.  Those children relax, they breathe, they smile, they look lifted and lightened just when I say two small words.  

Mama.  Daddy.  

I want to shout it from the rooftops sometimes: parents, your lovingkindness MATTERS.  It MATTERS.  It shows.  I see it in your children's faces.  It's a gift to be able to see that brightness in your children.  Thank you for allowing me to capture it--but briefly--on film.

Photos de Racines

There's a lot of debate in current photography critique about gimmicks, authority, and art.

I can honestly say: I don't care.  Not that I don't care about philosophy, art, skill, culture, etc.  It's a matter of choosing my investment in a conflict.  I don't care whether you take photographs with toy cameras or large format behemoths or with your sister's cousin's wife's cameraphone.  I'm just...unconcerned.  I'm much more concerned with the light and shade and composition and feeling that your image transmits.

I find myself looking at my many nikon and canon and polaroid and argus and holga and iphone bodies and lenses and seeing the same thing: apparatus for a common language, but a language with many dialects.  I'm not really concerned with your accent, I suppose, just the fact that we have a discourse.  My technical photography--my medium--is my idiosyncratic entrance into the discussion; my images are the message perhaps even in spite of my medium (sorry, Marshall McLuhan).

Meandering thoughts now put aside, here are some shots I took with a lowly camera phone and a hacky (but fun) application to finish them with.  Regardless of your opinion on high- and low-culture images and imagery, I challenge you not to see children enjoying a tree, some shade, and a small swing that made them fantastically happy.

Wishing you a sunny day and a swing to enjoy it with. xo

All Creatures Great and Small

Walking through mud is fun (given the right footwear, and my wellies are simply perfect for strutting through the goo).  I had a lovely time shooting my little ones on a field trip with their adorable classmates to a local farm.  We wore wellies, we held hands, and I looked for little moments to steal with my trusty Nikon.

Speaking of the Nikon--sometimes I find that nostalgia is a more powerful lens than I like to admit.  I remember visiting that farm with an old friend who has moved on, moved away, moved past...us.  I took pictures that had a tinge of sweetness and sadness to them, I think.  My mood definitely changes how I shoot, and how I anticipate and frame my shots.  Lenses are fun to play with, but maybe I should start wearing a mood ring--just to see how I'm feeling, as it will change what I see more than the lenses I peer through.

Hope you are all having a sweet Memorial Day.  xo

Remembrance of Things Past

One of my favorite images to capture is a mother holding her child.  That's an easy pick--who doesn't love a snuggly mama/baby photo?--but it's more than that for me.

I lost my mother a few years ago.  She was a mother, but that was not the only thing that defined her; she was a mentor, a guide, a friend, a sassy smartypants, a bright and shining light, a philosopher, a challenge, a woman of faith.  I look at the mothers I photograph and see a reflection of what I shared with own my mama for 27 years.

I see warmth and loyalty and unconditional love in all of these beautiful women, and it's a swirly-kind-of-Proust-ish moment to realize that my mother held me in the same way so many years ago.  I drop out of the immediate present and feel like I did in the past.  It's not the 31-year-old Brianna that clicks the shutter in that split second, it's 10-year-old Brianna who loves the love shared by mother and child, and is so excited to capture that moment for someone else.

(Thank goodness 10-year-old Brianna is a decent photographer--otherwise we'd be in trouble :)