(Shameless plug below.)
CALLING ALL LOVE NUTS
Did you just get engaged? Or maybe the holidays were so busy you forgot to do cards. Whatever the case, I am offering minisessions for Valentine's Day this year! $250 gets you a 45 minute session and edited images to send to your favorite Valentine! Or keep and treasure for the rest of the year!
Email me at libby (at) libbywilliamsphotographs.com for more information or to set up a session today!
Can you feel the love?
Mr. Ravenel, talking about the history of his Charleston, outside of a Freedman's Cottage.
I assisted on an amazing video shoot last week with a friend. He was taping a spot for the Historic Charleston Foundation who are doing a series of videos of local Charleston residents and recording their histories - stories that are pivotal to the community and the history of this lovely city. This was my first experience assisting on a video shoot, so I had a lot to learn and juggle. Luckily, I had a patient teacher in Arnie and a fascinating topic with long time resident of Upper King Street, Mr. Ravenel. His stories were so captivating, I think I got a little lost in my job as PA. He shared his stories about growing up in a segregated city, what the neighborhood used to look like (complete with a downtown peanut farm!), and the changes he has seen in his lifetime. His story was humbling in the best sort of way.
My experience with Mr. Ravenel got me thinking about telling stories - both visually and verbally. He was so humbled and nice and kind. He grew up in a time in history that was very different to what we see now. As he answered the questions posed by his interviewer, he never mentioned any of the really uncomfortable parts I imagine he has seen in his time. He just spoke with kindness and gratitude.
His stories were so sugary at times, I felt like I was looking inside a Norman Rockwell painting. Picking up gum at the corner store. Listening to the "piccolo" (otherwise known as the jukebox). Walking to school. Working his part time job at the market. In my mind, all I could picture was happiness and joy. But I felt like there was more. Something bigger. Perhaps there were stories he couldn't bear to remember. Or maybe he knows we live in a very different world now. But he accounted growing up in a segregated city much like most average childhoods. One where fear was squashed by love and light.
As Mr. Ravenel told more stories, I realized that my photography is much like his anecdotes - brightly colored, well lit, pretty, and somewhat art directed. My work rarely shows the behind-the-scenes events taking place - the chaos of misbehaving children, the waiting in the cold for clouds to pass, or the living room studio I set up. My pictures don't show you the people I had to crop out or the wrinkles I may have softened on a mom's tired face. They show the parts we want to remember - a sort of altered reality in a way. Sort of like the stories Mr. Ravenel was telling us.
Maybe that's what life is at the end...a series of pleasant snapshots when you look back on the overall picture. I have a few more years to catch up to his wise soul, but in the meantime, I hope I keep remembering the album of snapshots filled with the best moments. I hope I keep believing in the power of the pretty parts.
Plant.
Sow.
Reap.
Nourish.
Repeat.
It's that simple.
From a recent shoot with a new client. More on these awesome people to come.
This is the year...the year of gratitude and abundance. This is the year of committing to yourself. It's the year of doing the hard work, getting messy, getting muddy...and dreaming bigger than you ever thought you could.
This year it's time to freshen your view. Wipe the slate clean now. Unravel all those old beliefs that hold you back. Because nobody ever got anywhere mired in doubt or disbelief.
It's time to move forward with everything. And leave behind nothing. Jump on the luck bus, because it's coming through your neighborhood.
This is the year for Trusting. Believing. Seeing. Doing.
This is the year...the year of you.
Caw Caw Interpretive Center is just outside of Charleston and WORTH THE TRIP! Go there. Now.
I am a huge wanderer. Both in my mind and my heart, I feel a sense of pull to explore the world with my camera and document everything I see. I have a restless mind and an even more restless soul when it comes to the subject of seeing the world.
Usually, my heart is telling me there are better places than in my own back yard - new places that I have never seen or smelled or felt on my skin. But as loud as they may be, I still try very hard to find as much adventure right here where I live (I mean, it is a great city after all!). It gets harder and harder with every outing or adventure. And let's face it - life keeps me pretty busy with a home and child and groceries and being present and carpool and the gym and getting time for me...you get the picture. Plus, it's kind of hard to explore what you think you already know.
Let me say that again...it's kind of hard to explore what you think you already know.
Yes. Let that sink in.
The point is, we don't know everything. And we surely haven't been everywhere. So it's nice to experience something new and wonderful every now and then. Or it's nice to RE-experience something we thought we knew all over again. You never know what has changed about that place. Or how your memory skewed things.
I can say the journey I took this week was new. And I will tell you I will make a point of RE-experiencing this journey again. It was one of the most remarkable places I hve seen. And it's right here in my backyard. And it's free to explore. FREE!
So what I have found in my wanderlust is this: adventure is out there. It's everywhere. You just have to want to find it. No matter how much you think you already know it. No matter how tired you are of the same place. It's there. Waiting to happen.
Here's to a year of adventuring. Cheers to 2015.
While I am usually pretty excited to say goodbye to the year we are leaving behind on New Year's Eve, I am not much for the celebrations and huzzahs that ensue. I am glad we are ushering out the old, but I prefer the celebration of New Year's Day.
New Year's Eve feels a little difficult to me. I always feel like I have come through some epic battle, bruised and scarred and worn completely down, like a soldier coming home from battle abroad. Maybe it's the run of the holidays craziness. Maybe it's the blow of last year's losses that cut me in half. Maybe it's just the anticipation of starting something new and fresh all over again that makes me want to jump feet first into the potential of the shiny new year ahead - running and screaming away from what I have been through. This year seems to be no exception.
For some reason, I have come to the belief that I won't haul all my baggage around the next year. It's too heavy and cumbersome and this body has grown weary of carrying all that crap. Somewhere between New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, I believe that I am going to drop off the load somewhere so it can't weigh me down as I forge my way on the unknown path ahead. I have a belief that things will be lighter, shinier, better the next year.
I try only to carry the tools that serve me best...the ones that allow me to practice everything perfectly. And the one tool I keep coming back to - the one I use the most - is Love.
Love carries me through the days I can't imagine. It strengthens all my skills. It aids every tool in my kit. And it guides me safely to where I need to go, banishing doubt and fear from my questioning and tired mind.
I have always known Love is the strongest object we carry with us. (I write about it a lot.) The best tool. The brightest light. But the moment I come back to it, clarity is restored. Balance is given. It's the immediate solution to all my problems.
Love is the answer to the things we try so desperately to work out. It is the solution to your problems and worries. After love, the rest of it falls in line - despite the heaviness or size of the issue.
So 2015...here I come. Armed with Love and light to fight all of your days and fill me with the strength needed to carry on. I am ready.
Love! it is our shelter.
Love! it is our cause.
Love goes on forever.
Yeah, love will leads us all.
Love! it is our honor.
Love! it is our all.
Love goes on forever.
Yeah, love it is our home.
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
Love is all around us. It's there to give. It's there if you need some to take. We are amidst the season of love right now...the season of miracles. So stand back and breathe it all in. That's all you have to worry about. The only thing you need to do right now is to give and receive these everyday miracles and the glorious, unyielding love that surrounds you. That's my wish for you all this holiday season. No presents. No toys. Just love.
Happy Holidays friends and family, clients and curious onlookers. Peace. Light. And Love.
It's getting harder now.
The growing pains we are feeling now aren't from his rapidly growing body. The drama doesn't come from his outburst of frustration that only a teenager could manufacture. The angst isn't from his preteen self navigating complicated issues with peers at school.
The pain is from me now. The hurt. The angst. The drama. It's from the letting go. It's from the change that I am not prepared for. I blink and he grows an inch right now. I sleep and his voice deepens ever so slightly. I turn around and he has become a small man wearing man pants from the Men's Department while he just independently navigates the world now.
Today, I took him out for our annual Christmas card shoot. It's funny really. I have always loved this part. Capturing him on our Christmas cards that line my refrigerator is one of my favorite parts of the holiday season. But nothing feels right this year. No wreath or tiny tree looks good in his big hands. The Santa hat doesn't make sense these days. No cheeky grinned boy pointing at sugarplums on the chalkboard fits him now.
So, instead of a Christmas card this year, I took him out today to capture him in a portrait just like this...just as he is right here and now. Because I am going to blink and he is going to be 20 and in college. And honestly, I want to be able to remember this day here with him.
It seems so cliche to say to new moms and dads "Oh, it goes so fast...enjoy every minute." But it's all I can do not shake them and scream "IT'S GOING TO DISAPPEAR BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES! LIKE A MAGIC TRICK! IT HAPPENS AND POOF THEY ARE 12 WITH SMELLY FEET AND MONEY IN THEIR WALLET AND OPINIONS LIKE YOUR TODDLER COULD NEVER EVER KNOW! PAY ATTENTION NOW!!!"
Instead, I smile, swallow the 12 year old lump in my throat, and say it again... "Enjoy it all...it goes so quick."
Angel Oak Tree, Johns Island, SC
"The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest."
John Muir
From my recent shoot with Charleston Shop Curator! Check her out!
I can't stop dreaming of sunny skies, sunshine and the bright beautiful colors from this recent shoot! Can't wait to share the rest!
There he stands. Right there. Open to the elements of the world. The evil forces. The intense pressure. The heartaches and heartbreaks that I can't shield him from anymore. There he stands...facing it all alone and vulnerable, yet always with a soft place to land. There he stands carrying the most powerful force anyone could ask for - the power of Love. Full Love. Whole Love. Pure and complete Love.
All I can do is give him this gift. All I can do is give him the wings to fly and let him hold my heart in his pocket so he knows he is Love...so he knows I am with him every step of the way...so he knows that no matter what - he is Love.
The joyful photo above was taken at my sweet godchild's 2nd birthday party this year.
The following is a selection from an article I stumbled across the other day (thanks Rowan!) You can read the entire delightful, sunshine-for-your-soul article here. I highly recommend it!
“What is the meaning of life?”
In my entire week with the Dalai Lama, every conceivable question had been asked—except this one. People had been afraid to ask the one—the really big—question. There was a brief, stunned silence at the table.
The Dalai Lama answered immediately. “The meaning of life is happiness.” He raised his finger, leaning forward, focusing on her as if she were the only person in the world. “Hard question is not, ‘What is meaning of life?’ That is easy question to answer! No, hard question is what make happiness. Money? Big house? Accomplishment? Friends? Or …” He paused. “Compassion and good heart? This is question all human beings must try to answer: What make true happiness?” He gave this last question a peculiar emphasis and then fell silent, gazing at her with a smile.
“Thank you,” she said, “thank you.” She got up and finished stacking the dirty dishes and cups, and took them away.
I took the above photo on a shoot I got to do less than a week ago when the weather was sunny, warm and 75 balmy degrees still in November. Today - a mere 6 days later - the temperature are going to struggle to get out of the 40s. The world is a flutter with the polar vortex that has hit us hard, even in the south where the world "polar" isn't something you ever expect to hear unless you are speaking of an exhibit of bears at a regional zoo.
What strikes me as funny is that these dramatic changes occur daily. Often, there are huge shifts - in temperature, in moods, in sand patterns on the shore, and in behavior. Most likely, we know these changes are coming. But regardless of how prepared we are, we all still seem a little shocked and surprised when change really hits.
Maybe it's because change is uncomfortable in all it's definitions. It pushes us out of that cozy place we settled into - be it weather or behavior. When change is afoot, it seems that regardless of how prepared we were to begin with, it still knocks us off our feet for a minute, reeling with polar vortex-like discomfort.
Recently, I made some big changes - both professionally and personally. And although I knew they were coming, I still wasn't fully prepared. It was sort of like catching a falling bag of bricks...despite preparing for the worst, somehow the shock of their impact still knocked me off my feet.
I wonder if the benefit in preparing for change really is in how gracefully you get back up. It's also in seeing the signs of change before hand. The sands will still shift - regardless of how many fruitless barriers we try to put up. the best bet is to watch for the signs and simply brace for the impending impact.
Most people who know me know that fall is one of my favorite seasons. I love the rhythm of days, the falling temperatures after summer's scorching temperatures, the angle of the warm, golden sun in the sky, and leisurely cooking my Sunday afternoons away (chicken and cheddar corn chowder anyone?).
But this fall has been a little different - some would even say a little busy (please send help - in the form of wine and coffee). Admittedly, though, I love this busy pace. I have never been good with sitting still for long. So I have to say, I wish most of my days were this busy. But there is a never-ending ebb and flow to daily life that makes the ritual of being self-employed always thoroughly eventful.
I have spent the past 6 weeks shooting everything from conferences to commercial work, families to fashion, and everything in between. There has been little time for leisurely activity, but when I squeezed it in, it was glorious. And more appreciated than ever.
Despite all the work, I have managed to capture a few moments of in-betweens (mostly taken with my trusty iPhone). Here is a look at what has been happening in those precious and fleeting moments of free time.
You can't have fall in Charleston without an evening on the beach.
And the colors against the tidal trails are always spectacular.
Marsh mornings. That golden marsh grass gets me right in the feels.
Of course, so does this.
Apple picking is one of our new traditions. And this was right before we got soaked to the bone with rain.
I lose myself in these woods time and time again. The smells and the colors and the light. Just spectacular.
What you don't see: Road trips. Work. Frostys. Lots of downtown walks. Family time. Friends. Wine. Meditation mornings. Evening walks in our little neck of the woods. Scouting. More work.
At least someone has time for rest. She seems to be settling in nicely.
The Blue Ridge Mountains. Shot with my trusty iPhone.
Often I have heard the expression "Don't look back, that's not where you are going." And for the most part, this is a point with which I whole-heartedly agree. After all, to get where you want to go, don't you need to focus on the path before you?
The past can look ugly up close - filled with heartbreak and mistakes all looming back there to show you how you went wrong and where you shouldn't have taken that fateful turn. Self-doubt lives down those dark streets and alleyways and hides in the corners we feel least confident about exploring.
But occasionally, I think we all need to look back there. We need to see where we have been and most importantly, what we have come through. And if you get enough distance from it all, you will see it actually paints a picture that isn't half bad.
After all, back there behind you is where you came from - scaling skillfully over mountain tops and repelling into the great unknown below.
Chances are, if you catch an overall glimpse of it for a second in that rear view, you may actually see you have done a good job after all, despite those bumps in the road.
Last weekend, I got a call to shoot a wedding on the beach. I don't normally shoot a lot of weddings, but I do love the smaller ones the most. I really get to know the bride and groom a and feel a more involved in the story around me. These photos seem to tell a more intimate story. But maybe that's because I know so much about what happens.
This wedding, though...this wedding got me right in the feelsies.
When I arrived at the venue, I got out of the car to near freezing temperatures and the most gale force winds you have ever encountered. I normally don't make it a practice to go to the beach on the windiest days. It seems you are fighting against all odds. Struggling and working hard just to stand upright. I avoid struggles like this one at all costs. But these crazy kids...they just didn't let it phase them. Not at all.
The day before the wedding, I contacted the bride. We all knew the forecast wasn't great - rain, falling temperatures, and some of the gustiest wind you can imagine. But I wanted to check in with her and ask a few questions:
"So....ummmm...do you have a back up plan for tomorrow with this weather coming?" I asked.
"Not really...as of now we are still getting married on the beach." She replied, almost sounding relaxed about it all.
I nervously replied, "You know about the wind and the temperatures, right?"
What she said next changed my perspective:
"You know, the most important thing is that I get to marry Andy tomorrow. Everything else will just fall into place after that."
This perspective was so clearly obvious. But considering the circumstances, it was also incredibly grounded and calm. Lindsay had her priorities laid out: she and Andy were to be united in marriage and love - after that everything will work itself out.
To me, this is not only a strong testament to the day, but their marriage. So many people focus on the day and the details - it's hard not to. The money invested in a wedding is no joke. But to her, being united with the love of her life was what it was about. And no windy day, no falling temperatures, no cloudy skies, no raindrops were going to knock this day - or this marriage - down.
So here they stood. Freezing. Shaking. Working against the odds. Smiling the whole time. Happy. In love. Big Love. Whole, full, love that is ready to weather any storm that will come their way.
Congratulations, you crazy kids! I can hardly wait to see what is in store for you both!
I will start this post by telling you that in my experience as a photographer, I have learned that three year-olds are notoriously hard to photograph. They get tired easily. They constantly move. They have new and growing personalities which present a whole different set of problems when you are trying to get the photo of a lifetime from them. No pressure when someone has paid you hundreds of dollars to show up and get the perfect shot, right?
________________________________
"DO YOU WANT TO HEAR A STORY?"
A few weeks ago, I was asked to shoot a small family gathering the beach. After an exchange with the family, we all agreed on a time and place and were very excited about our shoot here in Charleston.
I met the family on a Friday evening. After an unusually calm and easy shoot with 4 couples, 1 almost three year old, and newborn twins, we started winding up the last part of our shoot down by the water. The mother of the little boy here looked at me and said, "Do you want to here a story?" Since I love a good story, I naturally said yes.
Rachel proceeded to tell me through teary eyes about her little boy born prematurely with a rare kidney disorder. As an infant, his kidneys were removed and this little fighter was put on dialysis. Too small to receive a new kidney, he had to grow bigger and stronger before he was able to be considered for a transplant. His little tiny body needed dialysis to keep him alive and well until he found a donor and he was big enough to endure the major surgery.
About a year ago, it was time. They decided Logan was strong enough to undergo the surgery and found a perfect donor match – his dad. He is a new person now. Alive. Active. Happy. And strong. And so cute and sweet, as you can see here.
His mother suggested we get a few photos of him with his shirt off - showing off his battle scars. Obviously, I wholeheartedly agreed and so did Logan. He was game for everything we did this that day. He never stopped smiling or hamming it up for me and my camera. Little did I know, I was working with a pro. Seems like my little friend, Logan, has been in front of the camera for a large part of his little life as one of the faces of the National Kidney Foundation. So this shoot with the typical three year old was not so typical after all.
______________________
I love a story. I love being able to tell the stories of all the people I know and meet. There are some incredible people all over the place. You can find them sitting next to you at the coffee shop. You see them walking through the grocery store. You find them in the house right next door sometimes. But everyone - every single person - has something to tell. And these stories are the magical things that bind us together. If you don't believe me, go check out the blog http://www.humansofnewyork.com/. You won't need much time to see the thread the binds us all is our experiences and our empathy.
To learn more about Logan and his story, you can watch this video:
#tellmeyourstory
Be strong.
Be brave and be fearless. Believe in yourself. Know you can do this thing. Know you can conquer the beast. Know that the only thing keeping you from your fullest potential is you. Don't believe in the bad things. Believe the good. Believe you are strong and able and smart and capable.
Be bold in your choices. But know they will come with work. Hard work. Boring work. Monotonous, tiresome work. It's not all joy and fun. It's not all easy. It's hard. And sometimes the road is long, uphill, steep and rocky.
But you, my friend. You are strong. And capable. And more powerful than you know.
Be strong, mighty soldier. And know that - no matter what - believing you are strong is half the battle.
#lovechs
I am searching for love. Looking for it right now under seashells and behind moss-dripped live oaks. I am looking at the bottom of pluff muddy rivers and on top of gentle salty waves. I am searching on the endless sandy beaches, below tall steeples and beside prickly palmetto trees.
The end of summer has worn me out. It has hurt me in ways I didn't think possible. Every morning for the past month, I woke up dreading the long, steamy, sultry days that September clings desperately onto. I am tired of this game she plays with me with her threats of hurricanes while she taunts me with promises of cooler temperatures. Every year she burns me like no other. And I am falling out of love with the city that brings me these hopeless messages.
As I find myself yearning for cool mornings, cold waters, and warm wooly sweaters, I decided it would be more useful to try to fall in love again. So I am on a search for love inside this pretty city. It won't be hard to find the beauty. But to stay in love through those long summer months will be the trick.
You can follow my efforts to find love where it once was over on Instagram (@libbywilliamsphotos). Join me in my search for love again by hashtagging your own photos #lovechs
Recently, my 12 year old got his black belt in karate. That's right. A Black Belt. Capital B. It was exciting to watch his test and be such a part of this accomplishment with him. He started karate when he was just 3 years old with his teeny tiny black pants and his very own white belt - the symbol of innocence, purity and freshness. And for 9 years he has worked his way up the rainbow-hued ladder of changing karate belts to arrive at this incredibly impressive goal. Seventy-five percent of his short life was directed to the goal of becoming a Black Belt. Amazing if you stop to think about it.
I have written posts before about being a proud karate mom. This isn't one of those posts.
While I want to wax poetic about how proud I am of his accomplishments and how inspired I was watching him grow as a person and pressing through hurdles to his final goal, I will spare you - sort of. What I want to talk about is what I learned about myself as a human - and most importantly a parent - during this time.
It is so hard to watch your children struggle. Most of my life I believed the role of the mother was to fix the problems of your wee little ones. Skinned your knee? Let me fix it with a kiss and a band aid. Hungry? I will feed you nourishing foods. Tired? Time to tuck you in with a bedtime story. Sick? Let's have a popsicle and a snuggle on the couch watching cartoons. That's what we as mothers do.
But it was through the process of watching him become a Black Belt that the true test of Motherhood really started making sense to me. You see, it's easy to cheer someone on when they are excited and passionate about something they are doing. You really just get sucked into the vortex of "yayyy" and "awesome" that goes with the passion. But that didn't happen during his transition from a brown to a Black Belt. His passion for karate started dwindling. He fought me on going to class. He argued about practicing. He complained about being too tired, overwhelmed with all the frustrations that went along with the work involved. He started to become a little lazy. He started just going through the motions of the work...passionless. And me - I started to become discouraged and simply wanted to give into his pleas to let him take a break.
Each time he complained, I rebutted with a "you can't quit now" remark. Each time he waned from his goal, I encouraged him with a "you can do it" cheer. Each time he threw himself in the car after practice - sweaty, salty and teary-eyed - I said "you have got this, buddy." The only rule I had with karate after he was a green belt was that he couldn't quit. He was too close to turn back and he had to finish now. I didn't care how long it took him. But quitting now was not an option anymore.
My knee jerk reaction was to say "I know it's too hard. Go ahead and take a break." But I didn't. I didn't give up on him. I didn't cave in to comfort him and cushion him this time like have always believed was my mission as his mother. On many occasion, I wanted to wipe the tears away and say "Let's go have some ice cream and keep our Wednesdays to ourselves." But in these moments is where we both found our strength and some courage to carry onward to the ultimate goal - his a Black Belt, and mine his Mom.
This was a tough parenting lesson for me. And it took 9 years for me to dissect it and understand what it all meant. I always want to make the harshness of life easier and more gentle on him. I am no Tiger Mom. I even parented myself the same way for years - kind and comforting for my aching heart and soul. I am not hard on anyone really. I am happy to be the soft spot people land when times get tough. But deep down, I know the hard work needs to happen. I know it's better if you put in the blood, sweat and tears. I know you need to painfully shed a few layers before growing into your new person. Most importantly, I know it needed to happen for both of us.
Ultimately, I believed in him. I knew he had what it took to make it to the final goal. The reward is now that HE believes in him. This is the pivotal lesson in parenting and in life. I think that we all need someone to believe in us while allowing us the space and time to do the work it takes to accomplish our goal. You just need someone there pushing you from behind saying "you have got this!" He now knows he can accomplish his goals, regardless of the size. But I think the lesson will always lie somewhere hidden in that little Black Belt. The hard work. The perseverance. The ups and downs. The beginning and the end. The help and cheers when we need them most. It's all right there...for both of us.
The work is always going to be hard. Mothering. Black Belts. Life. But the pride you feel after doing the right thing instead of giving into the voice. That's the stuff we are made of.
So proud of you little man. I can't wait for our next lesson.
Our INCREDIBLE karate family.
