Easter Sunday

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.”

The lies we tell.

From a recent shoot with Bros. Gerard Baking Co.

My 21 year old son is struggling a little these days. He was a graduate of the class of 2020. Yeah. That one. The one where the global epidemic crushed our society and everything changed for everyone.

If I am being honest, I think it is more complex than JUST that. It’s hard to be young and pick a track you want to follow. It’s a lot of pressure to put on an 18 year old to just pick something and follow it.

Back when I was growing up, it seemed there weren’t many options. College felt mandatory. There were less choices for us at that time. So the options felt a little more clear cut.

But we live in strange times. Opportunity seems endless. College, Junior College, Trade schools. And a select few are making money posting their lives online (OR FEET?!?! don’t get me started on this…) Or ridiculous videos. Or dances. The rules have changed. And to a 21 year old, I think it’s confusing. A few people are making easy money. And it’s VERY visible.

We have been lying to these kids…to ourselves. We tell each other things are better than they appear. And we tell each other that all it takes to make it is passion.

It got me to thinking about the phrase “Do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” This is absolutely false. I can tell you from my own experience. When I was young, I dreamed of being a photographer. I yearned for it as much as I yearn for water and air. But I never thought I could actually succeed at it. As it turns out, it became a part of my very fulfilling career. But to tell you I don’t work a day in my life is a bald face lie.

I am filled with dread before almost every shoot. What if I fail? What if something goes wrong? How will I make it through 10 hours on my feet? I can’t do this…I suck…

The list is long.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t love what I do. I LOVE it. I am passionate and proud of how much I have accomplished. I am grateful to every client that gives me a chance and every opportunity that pushes me out of my box. But to tell you it doesn’t feel like work is a lie. And an unfair one we are teaching this generation where everything appears better than it is in real life.

I still am guiding my son to follow his passion. But I am reminding him that every job - whether you love it or not - is really hard. And sometimes you have to push through the hard to get to the good parts.

So believe me when I say that I work. I work hard, long, weird hours. I endure things that were never part of this dream (financial, physical, emotional pain…you name it). But through all of this, I am certain that this life - hard or not - is the one I am supposed to be living right now.

Unapologetically me.

I love food. One of life’s greatest pleasures is eating delicious food. The fact that I get to sometimes photograph food and food stories are always a favorite part of my job.

It’s taken me a long time to be able to say “I love food” again. You see, I have never had a great relationship with food. From far too early an age, I was taught by almost all the people around me to be ashamed of myself. I was chubby growing up and struggled to be slim like my peers. I was frequently teased – both by people I both looked up to and people that were supposed to be taking precious care of me. After all, I was an easy target – as most people with visible differences are. I carried around this albatross for years until developing disordered eating patterns that lasted well into my 30s.

For the life of me I will never understand why people think it’s appropriate to discuss someone’s appearance, particularly that of a child. For me in particular, it lead to a lifetime of trauma I have to unravel. 50 years of comments on my appearance by people who are supposed to be responsible adults, doctors, authority figures in my life re knotted into a mess of me not feeling like I am enough. The work I have done on myself the past 10 years is like no other work I have done in my life.

We all carry the mistakes of others around with us. Comments made by others that were inappropriate at the time or that sliced us precisely in half at a vulnerable crossroads are a heavy burden to bear. They become a knotted mess that seems to never want to unravel.

We must be careful how we talk to one another. We must stop judging how someone else feels based on our experiences. It has to stop here. With each one of us.

Start seeing beyond yourself. Start loving people where they are. Start apologizing for your missteps…because we all have them. We all make them. Start with you. Start where you are today. And find the joy in each day.

I am gonna start with my next delicious plate of pasta. Unapologetically.

Summer love.

I love summer.

Wait. Maybe I need to refine that statement. I love summer FOOD!

I love the freshness, the immediacy of summer. The bright foods grown in your own backyard. The seafood caught and eaten the same day. The smokiness of the grill. The spiciness of food. Different temperatures and textures. And lucky for me, the real magic happens at the crossroads of summer food and summer food photoshoots like this one. It feels inspirational and gorgeous.

But, it’s not ACTUALLY REAL. This is staged - perfection in an imperfect world. I look at this photo and remember what happened that day or the conversations of lives crumbling at our foundation, I can’t help but realize we are always telling a story out here. The behind the scenes isn’t always this beautiful. Sometimes in our lives we eat out of plastic containers with sporks.

And you know what…it’s okay! Part of life isn’t what you see. It’s a balance of beauty and fun.

Life isn’t this perfect. But it can be in moments. It is as perfect as you want to make it. Embrace the good parts, because those messy parts are always there, hiding behind the scenes, waiting for you to clean them up.

Of this I am sure.

Reconnecting

Photo taken at a meal during a recent yoga retreat I photographed for Beth Cosi at The Horse Shoe Farm

It’s been a strange year.

It’s been a year of isolation and of disconnection. It’s been a year of reconnection with ourselves and our families. And sorting through the muck and mire of life until we what is most important to us. For me, that has meant a lot of things.

Let me start by saying that the general timing of my life paired with the aftermath of a major pandemic has thrown us straight into transition mode around here. Plans are being formed for the next chapter for all of us that will both carry us away and bring us closer together in some respects. Our lives are so far flung that we are reaching out - both unconsciously and very consciously. We are trying to find our way back to each other in all the ways. We are trying desperately to hang on to each other. To connect.

When life starts pulling at you (money, sickness, kids, life, general stuff), suddenly you can see the holes you managed to sloppily repair in the first place. They are always the first to give way. So, as life pulled at those strings (and as it always will), I quickly saw the holes coming back open like a sweater that easily unravels at the pull of a dangling piece of yarn.

But I have made these repairs so often now that I know how to jump into action. For me, it’s self care: Meditation, mindfulness and movement. That’s all I need to check in and make sure I am okay, regroup and put myself on track.

Or so I thought.

This past weekend, I went to a yoga retreat nestled in the crook of the North Carolina mountains under the safe and regal watch of Grandfather mountain. We had a healthy dose of all the things you need to get on track. Yoga. Meditation. Amazing food. But I felt like there was more there. More that I had missed. It was there that I realized what I have been missing this year - connection and conversation. I needed these things like I needed water. I needed to connect with humans and again - both physically and emotionally. I needed to walk on the earth in my bare feet and feel the grass against my back. I wanted see myself reflected back in other humans, in nature, in the mirror I have so desperately hated to gaze into all these years. I wanted to see both my good and my not-so-good parts.

This year has made me see that the thing I have been missing in this puzzle has been connection. It’s been a crucial piece missing for so many of us, too. Connecting to ourselves and others. Family. Friends. Strangers! I need connection like air. I need to connect over food and music and everything we have in common - not what we DON’T have in common (I’m looking at you politics!)

So each day now as I face a lot of transition and the turmoil of life, I try hard to remember to do the important stuff. I take care of me first. But I also pick up the phone and call someone. I hug my family. I walk in the grass and sit in the warm sunshine. I smile at people in the car next to me. I pet my dogs. And know that these repairs might just be a little more substantial this time.

Rejects

I just found this photo in a folder labeled “REJECTS.” There is nothing inherently wrong with the photo. It’s clear, balanced, and in focus. The content is pretty and good. Maybe a little color balance would be good, but all in all a good photo.

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly what the client was looking for. Maybe there was a better choice in this particular set. It feels like a good photograph in general. But why was it labeled a “REJECT?”

It got me to thinking…do we do this to ourselves? Why are we so quick to dismiss something because it’s not perfect? So many photos don’t see the light of day because they weren’t JUST RIGHT. But this photo seemed pretty good.

Most days my hair looks fine - not great. My face good enough - not perfect. But that’s life. And what actually is perfect? What is great? Perfection, greatness….it’s all in the eyes of the beholder.

So today, I give myself permission to be okay…fine…good enough. And I promise to stop putting myself in the REJECT pile. Because beauty is always seen differently by each one of us.

Blog love

I love food photography almost as much as I love cooking. And I worked tirelessly and forever to develop my craft. The way I did it was to create a food blog, Plate South, where I test recipes and develop new ways of eating classic comforting foods found as close to home as I can get them. That means working with farmers, and even getting some consulting done on my very own little back garden.

This photo was taken in my development on Sausage + Kale soup - a hearty and comforting winter meal for sure. Served up with some crusty bread and a glass of red wine makes for the coziest winter night.

Now all you need is a little Netflix binge and you are ready to go.

Go check out my blog if you love all things food and restaurants in the south!

Libby

Current work

I don’t share tons of current work. It’s my feeling that if you want to see what I am up to, you will just follow along on social media or just look at my portfolio. I am not great at the sharing/shameless self promotion part.

But I have been doing some more recent commercial food photography work that has been pretty fun. This client hired me initially because they really wanted their food accurately represented by not using stock photos for their extremely delicious bistro located inside of a gas station.

They could have easily used stock and not bothered to call me. They could have not cared about standing out. But their work is impressive and they care about every detail of their business. And it shows in everything we’ve done. Its been a pleasure shooting with them.

This shot was born after multiple shoots. We weren’t quite getting the shot…not by the fault of anyone. Just wasn’t emerging quite how they were hoping for. We finally landed here…on one of my favorite food styling photos of all time.

Fresh foods. Fun shot. And literally done on a floor. It doesn’t have to be hard. It just has to be collaborative and creative.

What fun things are you doing with your work?

The Sweet Stuff

I am digging into the sweet stuff…searching for the delicious parts right now. Those bitter parts, the salty bites, the ones that are too hot or too cold or not quite right will all come soon enough. But while I am here in the middle of the sweet spot, I will celebrate and sink in.

Because life is too delicious to pass this part by.

The Sacredness of Food.

I am one of those weird people who finds cooking therapeutic and relaxing. When I tell this to people, they often stare through me, as though I am speaking another language of sorts. Sometimes people mumble back to me, “how do you have time for all that?” or “I just can’t be bothered…too much work!”

I get it. I really do…there are many days that I feel like take out is the best option. But there is something so mystical that I get lost in during the cooking process. Somewhere in the rhythm of chopping, mincing, and mixing, I get a little lost from the thoughts that plague the reality of my life. I get lost in the sacred ritual of it all.

For me, cooking is very definitive. It has a beginning, a middle and an end that usually happen in hours - as opposed to the days or weeks some projects can take. Whether you are baking a chicken or making a cake, the results are instantaneous and tangible. While I can make a cake in an afternoon, it could take days - even weeks and yes, sometimes months - for me to plan, shoot, edit, and deliver photos to a client.

Mostly though, it’s the end result. Feeding someone is giving them a gift you made yourself. When I cook, there is a sacredness to making the meal…I think about what people love, what they need…what they crave. I put energy into sourcing ingredients - where can I get the most delicious produce? Who has the best meats? Who has the “right” food for the meal at hand? The mere process of combining flavors, textures, and smells together makes it feel like art - like a painting coming together in all it’s vibrancy. It’s carefully crafted and created just for them.

So next time you sit down to a meal that someone has made, give pause and think of what went into making it. Or, when you endeavor to make your next meal for someone, think of the gift in the creation of it all. There is a sacredness in the food itself. There is a sacredness in the presentation and the process.

And then, after you think about all of that, dive in with love.

The Not-So-Starving Artist

Recently, I was on the phone with a good friend talking about the daily struggles of life. I told her I was tired, run down and sick of struggling…sick of worrying about my finances.

“You are the one that chose to be the starving artist,” she said.

Her response cut me in half.

Truth be told, I never imagined myself here. I never imagined the starving part…artist, yes! But starving? Not even close.

In my wildest dreams, I always imagined myself to be wildly successful - not for the fame or the legend of it all, but because I wanted to be that good. I knew I could be that good. I knew I had it in me.

But sometimes, life takes over and my story had a mind of it’s own - weaving it’s own vine-twisting, kudzu-suffocating plot twists in where I hadn’t even considered it. Single motherhood. Sick parents. And a relentless economy in the middle of it all. So my dreams took a temporary side step to get out of the way of reality. Temporary.

You see, I am a creative soul - a photographer, an artist, a chef, a writer. I have this need to make things…it’s a draw I can’t ignore, a calling I must answer with every fiber of my soul. I would die sitting behind a desk 10 hours a day, staring at spreadsheets and decimal points. I couldn’t do it. It may mean that I would be able to pay my mortgage, buy a sofa, and plan a trip all in the same month, but in truth that isn’t what drives me. That isn’t my truth. And I would be starving on the inside.

For creative people, there is no other way except To Make. It’s the work that nourishes us and gives back what we need to live. That doesn’t mean we can’t be successful or wealthy. It doesn’t mean we suck at creating either. It just means the rest will come in it’s due time. The rest falls into place when we are ready. So I just keep making, not stopping until I reach the end.

I won’t lie…there are months that are hard. This month, I have to forgo some sweet concert tickets to one of my favorite artists coming through town because I have more pressing needs that need to be met. And that is a bummer…today.

But when I walk out on my back porch to take a business call, azaleas bursting with color around my yard, bees and birds flying overhead, fresh air to breathe during my meeting, I smile. Because a life like this feels like anything but starving to me.

My Best Life

Shooting on farm with sunflowers and toddlers...this is my best life.

Right now, I am living my best life.

Wait...I take that back.

I am living my 95% life.

The reason for the 95%...because I always hope there is room for improvement. I hope there is always space in my life for the phrase, "I can do better." If I think about it, that IS my best life. Always striving for something greater. Otherwise we become complacent, right? We become comfortable. And that is where we stop growing.

I have had an amazing year this past year. I have worked in situations I only thought would exist in my dreams. I have worked with clients who share my vision and style. I have worked with missions that I truly and whole-heartedly believe in. I have photographed things I only fantasized over. I have told stories and taken photos of people, places, and things that make me pinch myself in hopes that I really won't wake up from this incredible dream.

I never thought the possibility was real for me to live my best life. Somewhere along the line, I stopped believing. I believed I wasn't enough - good enough, strong enough, thoughtful enough, skinny enough, pretty enough. But somewhere deep in my soul, I believed there was more waiting for me. There was a little ember of hope burning on my belly, not put out by the wet blanket of self criticism. I believed those dreams could actually happen. I stopped hearing the voice that said "give up...you can't do this." I leaned in to trust. I leaned into the fear. I pushed through. I gave it one more try.

Every day I wake up and am happy to do what I do. Don't get me wrong, this is still a job. It has it's moments. And it has come with it's own set of massive sacrifices (ohhhhh...the sacrifices). But I am happy...at least 95% happy.

It has taken a long time to get here. I have made mistakes. I have lived with crippling anxiety and depression. I have failed miserably...wow, have I failed. But all of that has brought me to this place where I can appreciate the complexity of what makes life feel good.

Will I screw up again? Most definitely. Will I be afraid and paralyzed? Absolutely! Will I know how to get up and dust myself off again? You can count on it!

Today, I am opening myself up to possibility. The possibility of hope, failure, success, despair, highs, lows. All of it. Because without all of that, I am not growing or challenging myself. I am not changing. I am not moving forward, knocking off that last 5%.

But if I have to be honest, I will be happy to settle in where I am... Always pushing. Always dreaming. Never settling.

As I see it

Recently, I spent some time shooting behind the scenes with the Chef Ken from  NAPA  in Mt. Pleasant. I followed him around like a lost puppy, watching him craft dishes and cook delicious, made from scratch foods right before my very eyes. I lurked near him in the kitchen, dodging busy sous chefs and prep cooks. I listened and asked questions while still trying to be a silent observer.

To be honest, this is sort of what I love - what happens behind the scenes. What does life look like when you peek behind the velvet curtains we veil everything with. Is it authentic? Is it beautiful? Is it messy and gritty? I love all capturing the reality of what is happening - whether it's a chef dishing up his daily orders, a nurse doing infusions on a cancer ward, or a mom with her baby at the park. It's what I come back to as a photographer time and time again - authenticity. It's what challenges me and excites me at the same time. Getting a shot that isn't staged or styled is harder than it looks.

I approach all my shoots the same way I approach life now - with wide eyed curiosity and a deep desire to show life as it is and how I see it.

Lately

I have been more quiet than usual this fall and winter. I have been working on some exciting projects and new ventures. Thankfully, quiet = busy… at least for right now.

One of the projects I have hit the ground hard on is a book on saving seeds I am working on with my good friend Julie of Julie's Garden Delights. I liken this project to a type of step by step for seed saving gardeners which has taken me literally from Spartanburg to Charleston and everywhere in between. I have learned so much on this project - not just about seeds and gardening, but about myself and my work. I love when a project comes along and changes everything, don't you?

Here are some images for you to see. I have no idea what's been rejected, but images of vegetables never disappoint! Special shout out the the folks at Charleston Parks Conservancy for my all access pass to their gardens!

In the middle.

Cultivating things takes patience. It's a lot of work in the beginning. A lot of planning, nurturing and caring for the eventual lovely harvest that yields all the best parts. But what about the middle part?

The middle is where the work really is getting done, but you can't see it. Sure, you can define the measured growth along the way. Pull a few weeds. Do a little watering. But the parts that are really making things happen are a little undefined. Maybe the fruit hasn't started forming on the vine. Maybe it's happening underground in a place you can't see it. But the magic is in the middle.

The middle part is always so undefined...uncelebrated. It's the part we want to be over, so we can see the fruits of our labor. We want to fast forward through this part when in reality, this is the most needed part. This is where ideas incubate and bloom. Where you build the muscle for the product. It's where you refine and redefine what the final outcome will be and how it will look. It's essential in the end product.

We are all in the middle really. We are all watching patiently. Revising. Revisiting. And just watching patiently to see what comes of it all. Be patient here. This is where the good stuff is happening.

Blooming.

Growing...

Believe in tomorrow.

"To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow." Audrey Hepburn

A Fresh Future

Fresh Future Farm event for the Charleston Wine + Food Festival, 2017

This past weekend, I got to attend 6 (or more...it's all a haze now) events for the Charleston Wine + Food Festival. One of my dream events was shooting at Fresh Future Farm – an urban farm created as a response to addressing food, health, economic, and environmental disparities. Fresh Future Farm is in the middle of what's known as a food desert in North Charleston - an area where grocery stores have pulled out of the area because these are unprofitable neighborhoods. And as you may well know, grocery stores equate to big business.

So there I was, shooting a farm to table dinner in the middle of a food desert on the cutest little farm I ever did see, with some of the top chefs in the country cooking over open flame and plating up one of the most spectacular meals I witnessed in all the events I attended... maybe even in my whole life. All of it was Inspired food from the region – some of it grown right here in Charleston.

As I stepped away from the event goers and party planners into the field of collards and cabbages, I took a moment to appreciate where I was and what this meant.... For me. For the community. It was all a little overwhelming to be honest. Not only am I doing PRECISELY what I loved (HELLLOOOOOO.... farm, food, & people are my intersectional bliss), but I was getting to witness it being done for a cause that mattered. I saw community coming together and chefs making magic.  Suddenly, my heart felt fuller than the bellies of those lucky little diners.

I am lucky to do what I do every day. It's not easy. It doesn't come with all these romantic notions of love and grandeur and cups that runneth over. Don't be deceived. This work is hard. It's relentless hustling and constant let down. It's time away on the weekends and tired muscles from walking with too much gear. But it's what fills my soul. Especially when it intersects with moments like this.

I am forever grateful for this job, this life, and this continuously unrelenting call that hasn't left me since I first picked up a camera at the age of 12. I love what I do. But today, I feel inspired and incredibly lucky to just be here...basking in the aftermath of it all.

Thanks CHSWFF2017. I can't wait to see what you cook up for next year!

McCrady's Tavern for Charleston Magazine

Back in December, I had a series of fast and furious jobs that came my way. All of them were fun and delicious, but none as long awaited as my shoot for Charleston Magazine at the newly renovated McCrady's Tavern. The food was deliciously artful and the setting amazing. Check out the photos below.

Cultivating faith

A shot from the newly cultivated crops out at Compost In My Shoe.

Cultivating a crop takes patience. It takes time and repetition. It takes weeding, observing, watering, and watching. And sometimes it doesn't go as your careful plan. Pests get in. Frosts hit. Rain washes away your hard work. It's a precarious game making you anticipate Mother Nature's next move.

This can be said for a lot of things, too. Raising children, starting a new job, or even creating something new... like art. It's a balance of patience and grit, of testing and trials. You await for the outside influences to come and hope that you have some semblance of a plan when it all hits. 

But after the battles and the hardships, you are left with new soil and a fresh, new place for seeds take root. New growth come. And the crops that were taken out during the heavy rains, pest invasion and frigid temperatures have made way for fertile ground to sprout new ideas. 

And along the way, you realize that ultimately it is all a test to cultivate a crop of faith in yourself to handle it all.

Giving Thanks

Yesterday was another Thanksgiving. Another reason to pause and show gratitude for the things we have which isn't a tall order for most of us in this country. Our forefathers took over one of the prettiest frontiers of the planet filled with lush forests, dry deserts and vast fields to live a life most people only dream of in their lifetime. We owe grace to that.

Yet still, for some, there are days it's hard to find grace in the mix. Things go wrong. Family gets sick. Relationships crumble out from underneath us. And money can be hard to come by in our society which is focused today on more abundance than I think yesterday was built on. It's hard to find a balance in that. It's hard to say "I'm lucky" when we are feeling less than so.

But pause for a moment. Look around you. Remember the things that matter most. Find something you have that fills you up. Sometimes it's family or a friend. Sometimes it's the place you live or a pet you couldn't get by without every day. Some days it's merely that you have a roof over your head, food in your refrigerator and a soft place to lay your head each night.  Whatever it is, find the gratitude within it and give it the honor it deserves.

Today - on the day after Thanksgiving - I am grateful that I have people I love, a roof over my head, clean water to drink, freedom, the best bed in the south, and some seriously good deep fried Turkey. I have it all, even when I don't.

Everything I need is there...right in front of me, just waiting to be appreciated.