black and white

Easter Sunday

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Sweet little Easter eggs, just waiting to be made into something magical…

Today is Easter Sunday.

It’s one of my favorite days of the year. Or…it used to be.

There is something so magical about this time of year. Flowers blooming. Gardens changing. Easter baskets. Egg hunts. Brunches with mimosas and family. And the symbolism of rebirth is all around us. It’s just very special to me.

But lately - especially this year - I am spending Easter Sunday a bit differently. My son is grown and at a concert this weekend. My fiance is spending time with his aging parents today. My best friend is on a European adventure. And the rest of my family is…well…doing their own thing I guess.

One thing spring harkens is that change is evident. Always. And nothing shows this phenomonon better than Easter. Expect the unexpected is the clear message we get on this day. Miracles abound. But somehow, today has felt less than miraculous and a little more regular and mundane.

So I am spending the afternoon looking for a different kind of magic. I am searching for small miracles. Messages from my son saying he’s fine and on the way home. New plants growing out in the garden. And the bluebirds that have been hanging around my yard today singing songs of joy. It’s a sunny, clear, gorgeous day that I can only be thankful for - despite all the changes that have settled in.

And all I hear in my heart now is this clear and vibrant message: “Life is right here outside your door, my love. It’s playing a game of hide and seek with you. Come out and play.”

Calming those stormy seas.

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I set out to write a lot this month. A blog post, journal entry or social media post each day was the goal. Writing is very cathartic for me in so many ways. It helps me process and organize the wild thoughts churning around in my stormy mind.

Come to find out, the universe had some other plans for me.

Stomach bugs, hospital visits, and other life emergencies really just grabbed me by the throat this year. A mega force tightened around my jugular shoving my back against the wall so I was unable to move. I felt controlled by a bully so much larger than me all I could do was surrender.

So I leaned into it. I waved the white flag. Healing myself and being there for what and who I could was the only option. Perhaps this wasn’t bullying at all. Perhaps this was the universe demanding I take some downtime to focus on myself and those that I love. And pleading with me to just give my brain a little space and time to figure a few things out.

I have been running on high anxiety for a while now. You’d never know it if you met me or had a regular conversation with me. I fake it all pretty well. But the slightest thing goes out of balance and my insides begin to collapse like a wild avalanche. Its a daily practice for me to manage this level of worry. I have a pretty good recipe of good nutrition, rest, breathing, meditation, walking…the list goes on. But the feelings are always there - just below the surface - waiting to bury me alive.

It’s been a week of this virus that refuses to release it’s grip on me. But I can finally see the light. Fever free and calming down. The tight, jugular-squeezing grip loosening ever more each day.

Over the past few weeks, I have had some time to think and clear my head. I have learned that all of the worrying and angsting I am doing (and have done my entire life) is pretty much for nothing. Nothing gets solved. Nothing changes or gets better. It just makes the present so much harder.

I set a goal for the year - or if I am being fully transparent, a goal for the rest of my LIFE. I am going to quell the storm inside me. I want to deprogram that flight response…even just a little bit. I want to let my inner child know she’s safe and doesn’t have to drive this ship anymore. It’s not her responsibility anymore. It’s mine. And I’ve got this shit.

I have never felt worse at the start of a new year. I have also never felt better. There are other things at play here…things I’ll get into at a later date. But right now, despite this rough and stormy start, I somehow feel that things are gonna be okay in the end…kinda like when you see catch that sunset right after a storm blows through.

So if you need me, you can find me where that sun sets after that storm. That’s where I will be resting.


The in-betweens

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If you ask me, I think we all need to lean into those in-betweens a little more.

This shot was from a recent session with a sweet family I knew casually. I met this little angel (literally, she is the SWEETEST child I have EVER met) a few years back. She had a matter-of-factness about her. Calm, collected, and confident…at 2. I kid you not.

I post this because it’s a classic moment for me on a shoot. These moments are what I call the “in-betweens.” The moments you don’t ask for as a client, but give me a larger story to tell. Most people trust my judgment and let me do my thing. But sometimes I run across clients that have a specific “shot list” and want to stick to it. Sure, we get the family group shots and the portraits. But this time, as we were photographing a portrait of her, I noticed those MEGA lovely lashes and asked mom if I could take a few shots like this. She obliged and I was thrilled.

The problem with sticking to structure - both in photography AND in life - is that you could miss these moments…these in-between the planned parts where life flows a little more freely. If we aren’t careful and stay too structured, we won’t get to swim around in these deeper and delicious moments that I know now are the times we remember best.

The best times in my life with my son (who is now 20) were the in between moments - the times we spent taking road trips, sitting side by side in carpool line, or just randomly going to the beach on a Tuesday evening. They are the times I haven’t forgotten. Our conversations were honest and vulnerable. The moments were never staged or forced. It was a natural. He trusted me in those quiet, spaces - leaning in and letting go of the fact that neither one of us had an expectation. It was usually the times when we were alone, nothing was forced or scheduled like the rest of his teenage life. Just easeful moments letting us both just relax into each other.

I think I need to take more clues from these in-betweens - both as a human and as a photographer. I somewhere lost trust in this very easy moment and sometimes try to please too much instead of shooting and acting like I want to…not like what’s expected of me. I need to trust the flow more and lean into the moments I write blog posts in my PJs with half a cup of coffee in hand about a little girls eyelashes…trust the flow of what comes out because magic happens JUST EXACTLY when I let go of what something should be and let it become what it needs to be.

Practice.

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Look! That’s me! And my sweetie pie!

I’ll admit, the first moment I saw this photo, I was triggered. Triggered by an old story in my head and an image of who I thought I SHOULD be for the world. In this photo, all I saw is who I thought I was on the outside. Old. Fat. Tired… just not good enough in anyway.

I let these thoughts seep into my soul slowly over a few days until I had a full on melt down. Tears and all. My life has come to a point and in so many ways this is NOT where I thought I would land. (I mean…is it EVER?!?!)

But the craziest part is when this photo was taken, I was so unbelievably happy! I was full of joy and freedom on this night. I was being taken out to a lovely, special dinner by the man I love. I was at a peaceful crossroads when we took this cocktail in hand, love in my heart, sunset at my back. And yet still in the beauty and bliss of this perfect evening, the dark cloud of self doubt began to creep in, making me question parts of me that I have long since laid to rest.

As I considered all of this, I realized the maybe I wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. Maybe my insecurities were being shaken up by the many other parts of me that were feeling off balance. I have been holding up all these buckets of responsibility for so long - buckets of navigating motherhood, self employment, life changes, my future, medical concerns. The list is endless. And burdensome.

While most of my life seems fairly well managed, perhaps putting down my worries for the day - actually tapping into joy - was what triggered me. I feel safe with this man. Protected. Loved - as I am, where I am. Maybe THAT was the vulnerability I was feeling. After all, how could someone like me even deserve someone like that?

This isn’t a cry for help. It’s not a desperate attempt to garner a compliment from someone. It’s the reality of being human and having emotions. it’s a direct result of ALL OF THE PIECES of my life at once. The good and the bad. It all adds up to one big emotion - at least for me.

Our hearts are frail and complex. And life is hard. No matter who you are or where you are going. Adversity can affect us in so many ways.

My only advice in this space is this: Practice love. Practice Acceptance. Practice forgiveness. And listen to yourself. Your voice is the most frequent one you hear. The practice is where the perfection lies.

Inside Out

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LL wedding-5.jpg

How do you see yourself?

Do you see what you truly are…not just physically, but the whole you? Do you see the parts of you on the inside and on the outside.

When I photograph people, sometimes they tell me “can you make me…?” which is always followed by something we are insecure about…”Taller.” “Thinner.” “Less bald.” “Bigger boobs.” “Cover my butt.” “Only from the waist up please.” “I hate my arms.”

But wouldn’t it be better if we looked at someone and said “can you capture who I am on the inside. Not just on the outside. I want the world to see all of me…not just what I look like.” Show our insides on our outsides. Show us inside out. Not just outside out.

I struggle to be in front of the camera for all the reasons I am stating here. I am insecure about how I look sometimes. But I never look at other people this way. I only see who they are in a photograph. I try to approach my photography this way…from my heart. I do it so I can see all of the subject. Not just what someone looks like on the outside, but who they really are…their character and their humanity. Their vulnerability and their strength.

So next time you get your picture taken, ask that photographer to take your photo inside-out and see what they say. You might be surprised at the result…

Robbed.

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This was not the senior post I wanted to do…

These seniors have been robbed of memories and experiences they will never get back. No more lunch room laughs. No more proms. No graduation ceremony. It's gone...with a virus that has changed our lives forever.

Movies have been made about what it's like to be a senior in high school....TV shows written.... Books penned. We all remember these days. I can still recall what it was like to graduate that day in the hot, Charleston May sun - white dress and flowers laid across my lap, a small audience of people fanning themselves with programs.

This boy has spent so much time working so hard on so many things these past 4 years. He has transformed himself - mind and body. He took his grades from okay to straight As over the course of a month and never looked back. He became a shy rugby player to a fit and stong captain of his team. He became confident and capable and trustworthy of friends, teachers, and adults with parents of his friends calling on him in confidence more than once to help find answers. He became a leader – someone to rely on, strong and kind, empathetic and level-headed. A rare combination in a teenage boy.

I am so sad for my child. While I join you in your grief that school is done for the year here, it is not for the same reasons of despising homeschooling or feeling trapped in my home with kids. Instead, I will be mourning the loss of innocence and experience that comes with these final weeks of school for my boy...no graduation, no prom, no final match. I will hurt along side him over the friends and teachers he will never get to high five in the halls again, relationships that disappear to circumstance rather than choice. And I will mourn the loss of seeing him lead his rugby team this season on the pitch, something he worked so hard for that was taken away far too soon.

There’s more to his story of loss and strength than what I have written here. He has seen things that have changed him completely and done things adults I know haven’t even faced. He is wise beyond his years and experienced beyond fair measure for a child this age.

I know he will go on to do great things. He already has and it's inside of him. But to be honest, I am tired of his innocence being taken away over and over again too early. I am tired of his story having to accommodate the world rather that to world accommodating his kind, huge heart, and strong, loving soul.

To all the seniors, you are loved and we are all so proud. I am sorry this is your story.

Now let's all go out and change the ending to this chapter.

I am ready

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A quick story.

On a visit to the upstate, we were coming back from a quick grocery store trip and I suddenly yelled to my sweet, obliging driver “PULL OVER!”

“Really?”

“Yes. I want to take a picture.”

This is a repeated story in my life. Only, up until a few months ago, I didn’t really do it. I just wanted to.

I have spent most of my life trying to live small. I was afraid - afraid of inconveniencing everyone around me, afraid of being too high maintenance, afraid of having needs and wants.

I am not sure what to attribute to this newfound confidence and voice. Is it a new relationship that has me seeing things differently - including myself (or rather, especially myself)? Is it my ripening age? Or is it that I have finally had it with putting my life on hold? Whatever the reasons, I am happy to speak my needs and shout out for the opportunities that have so often passed me by fields on a country backroad.

So many things whiz by you when you don’t speak up. Jobs. Love. Even simple photos of old, decaying barns that perhaps I just want. Living small is just not worth it. I have paused my life for so many people and I am ready, finally, to live for myself.

I am ready…finally.

Touch

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Touch.

Perhaps the most often overlooked of the 5 senses, but on so many levels, the most necessary. Physical touch is crucial to survival. It helps things like healing, development and overall wellness. There have been studies to show that babies, if left in orphanages unheld and unconnected, suffer from physical and emotional development problems that can take a lifetime to unravel.

It is as essential as the air we breathe, the water we drink. And yet, we deprive ourselves…starving our souls of this important need.

Touch becomes such a part of the fabric of our days, it often gets overlooked or unnoticed. Wet hair. Slippery soap. Silky sheets. Velvety doggy ears. Creamy, wet clay. Pokey grass under our bare feet. They are all a part of something we take for granted as we navigate a busy day. We pass by kids and lovers with a pat on the head or tousle of the hair not realizing the impact of that one simple gesture of touch, texture, and connection.

There is nothing quite like collapsing into a loved ones arms at the end of a long day. There is nothing as essentially life giving as picking up a newborn baby and cradling them close as they melt into sleep, comfort and calm. It’s connection. It’s love. It’s belonging.

The act of touch is requires us to be present in something that happens every day. It’s so simple to take a moment and mindfully lean into this simple sense. I try to be present with pause as I touch the familiar, feeling the subtle nuances in my body. Soft. Cold. Warm. Fuzzy. Sharp. Smooth. Hard. The touch of a lover changes our body chemistry almost immediately. Notice it next time. Notice the subtle feeling when your bare feet are touching the soft, warm sand on the beach. Feel the difference when you stroke your cat’s fuzzy head. Lean into the moment a little more.

Because I am certain that if we all felt our way through life more than we are - if we just leaned into all our senses - we would lean into all those soft, juicy, delicious feelings a little more easily.

Seventeen

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Dear Graham.

Seventeen. You are seventeen tomorrow.

The first time I saw you was like a punch right to my chest. A beautiful baby, full of love. I felt it the day you were born. We all felt it. Naked. Wriggling. Quietly wondering. Fully loved.

Today, I stand on the edge of a lifetime of you, deep in the waters of memories of you washing over me, pulling me under like a rip current. My boy, my child, my young and beautiful man. Thoughts of your sweet chubby cheeks and your hands that fit perfectly in mine are overwhelming in my heart. I miss that part - the part where you were little and life was simple. The part where I had the answers, where I could keep you safe.

But now, you are a man…becoming your own person – capable, strong, and oh-so-loving and kind. You have answers all your own that you don’t need me for now. You make the best decisions. You have the kindest heart.

I have watched you evolve this year into something I could have only hoped for a few short years ago. You are beginning to navigate this path of life a little on your own more and more each day, testing the waters while you are still close, while I still have answers to some of those harder questions, and while I can - for a few short moments - still take precious care of you.

I am not sure what the future holds right now, but I know it’s going to be a wild ride. Bends and twists and hopefully plenty of spots to catch your breath. Lean into all of the messiness as you go. Trust that you are on the road you need to be. Even when you get lost. Even when you feel scared. Even when you follow the clear signs that seem like they are written in another language with another alphabet. What makes you the Graham that most people know is that you know how to take it all in stride. But what makes you the Graham that I know is how full of heart you will experience it all. Trust that part.

And steady as you go, my love.

“Confess I'm not quite ready to be left.
Still, I know I gave my level best.
You give, you give, to this I can attest
You made me, you made me.
You and me forever baby.”

Women's Day

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I was remiss at mentioning Mother’s Day on all the usual outlets. I didn’t reach out and wish friends a happy Mother’s Day. And I didn’t write about it or even acknowledge it at all. I am not sure why…I wasn’t sad or depressed or introspective about it. I just…was.

For me, Mother’s Day isn’t a really big deal. I never got into the whole “Hallmark Holiday” thing. Don’t get me wrong…I am happy to be celebrated, but I don’t need a whole ticker tape parade for it. Just some quiet time and maybe a little indulgence….some shopping…a pedicure…or a walk on the beach. Something to honor me and all of us for our incessant hard work.

But honestly, I sort of take issue with us celebrating moms only one day of the year. Because you know what - MOTHERS ARE EVERYTHING. I mean…every. effing. thing.

Mothers are strong and soft. Driven and easeful. They are the duality of all things - as soft as a down bed and as strong as 100 men. They are sage advice givers and tack-sharp fortune tellers. They know how to make cookies, do math homework, plan a meal, do laundry, nurse a baby, and arrange for babysitters so they can attend that work function – all at the same time. Simply put, they are the freaking operating transmission to the functioning world.

I don’t know if it took being a mom to understand what moms do, but friends - it’s a spectacular sight. Women are so amazing. Even my mother, who was imperfect in her way, was the strongest most resilient woman I know.

In the beginning of my lifelong quest of self-exploration and examination, I was initially hurt and frustrated by my Mother’s imperfections. But as I zoomed back and took in more of the picture - the part of her story that wasn’t just about me, but the image of the whole person she was - I sort of marvel at how far she came on her own and how strong she was for us. It was in my darkest moments that my mother took over for me – equal parts comforting and commanding – like a mother goose protecting her little chicks not just ready yet for flight on their own. She was broken, but still had the energy to care for me. Like we ALL do.

It’s amazing when you lean in and really witness to what women do. I am not talking about the perfect image of some cookie cutter June Cleaver-esque mom - there for her husband, food on the table, kids groomed and life running great. But still, that’s effing amazing too. I am talking about the women who struggle to work 3 jobs so they can get their kids out of a life situation they have no control over. I am talking about single moms who have to be everything and everywhere to everyone. I am talking about the foster mom of 6 who sacrifices and fights for those that have less than zero starting out. These are the heroes. They are the ones we need to celebrate. Everyday. Not JUST on Mother’s Day.

So if you are a mom - or really, a woman - hear me out. YOU ARE AWE-INSPIRING. You are strong. You are smart. You are loved. And I see you.

Happy Woman’s World, friends. Keep kicking ass.

After the Storm...

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And after the storm,
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up,
I look up,
on my knees and out of luck,
I look up.

After The Storm, by Mumford + Sons

* I have posted the lyrics to this song before. It’s one of my most favorite ballads of all times by one of my most favorite bands ever. I listened to this music during a very hard time for me and remember feeling like it was a life jacket that some threw me in a wild, stormy sea. It still brings me to my knees when I hear it.

This is depression.

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benji lee

I recently got to shoot some very special portraits for a music feature in the Charleston City Paper on local comeback musician, Benji Lee. The weird part, however, was the shoot and the article really weren't focused at all on his music, his drumming, or even his comeback to the local music scene. The article focused acutely and specifically on his depression.

In my all-too-short time with Benji, we were on a fast track to get to know each other (shooting editorial will do that to you). I don't think there would have been any other way for either of us, though. We became immediate friends. I picked Benji up north on the peninsula of Charleston and we took as short drive to some old, rusty storage shed for the horse drawn carriages near the waterfront. I needed a spot that was a little imperfect. Not the "South of Broad" facade my typical clients request. I needed something real and honest and gritty. I needed something to reflect what I was about to see spilled open in front of my very eyes.

In so many ways, I feel more connected to this shoot I did with Benji than any other shoot I have done in a while. His pure candor and sheer honesty made me want to show more. His humility and gentle spirit made me want to linger all afternoon - asking questions and picking his brain.  I wanted to photograph his insides. His heart and soul. I wanted to show his truth.

So on that steamy afternoon, I found a shady spot to spend a short time with my new hero. He would most likely shun that label, but I think Benji is a brave soldier - fighting the battle every day with depression...slugging it out with himself and still standing strong in the face of one of the worst diseases of all.

If you care to ready about Benji and his battle, check out the Charleston City Paper this week.

In the mean time, warrior on, brave souls. Warrior on.

 

Throwback

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beach boy

I took this photo towards the beginning of the summer. My son came with me on a family shoot I had scheduled weeks prior and the weather was too nice to leave him at home - even though he wasn't super interested in coming with me.

I love stumbling across photos you forgot about...old ones and new ones. It sharpens the memories a little more so they aren't lost in the back of my mind as I shop for groceries or schedule vet appointments. These overlooked little gems are like tiny diamonds, once again cutting open that forgotten pathway to my heart.

Looking back at this photo, I can almost smell the ocean. I can feel the humid evening wind as it gently tousles his hair to and fro. I can remember the milky light that evening and the warmth of the sea. It all just comes back - melting into one memory and sealing it's way into my heart once again.

 

Baby Love

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baby love

Baby love. On the beach.

Sweet, sweet baby love. This shoot with Monica and her sweet family seems surreal in a way. I knew her when we were both single, young professionals and our lives were much, much different. Now here we are, years later, with kids of our own and families to take care of. It seems like a lifetime has gone by in a few short years.

Lucky for both of us, it's a lifetime of love and memories.

 

Time for Summer

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Time to sleep in and catch up. Time to stay up late and sleep in even later. Time to soak up the sunshine, let the wind blow our wild hair and smell the salty air for a few minutes more.

Time to read a book, eat some ice cream, watch a movie, and sleep in later than I should. Time for more sunsets on the beach with wine and warm water, laughter and love. Time for doing a little bit of nothing and a lot of everything.

Time for rest.

It's time for Summer.