Let’s pretend it hasn’t been 2.5 years since I published a blog post.

Deal?

Awesome.

It struck me that I miss talking to the great unknown of the Internet. I felt I needed to tell you a couple things about the last few years.

• In December 2019 I became foster mother to a 2-year old boy. We call him Jude, for privacy. I said goodbye to him in August 2020. In October 2020 we took in a newborn boy, Ryke, who left us a couple days later. In November 2020 I took in a newborn girl, Coco. We said goodbye to her in March 2021, then a second goodbye in December 2022.  In July 2021 I took in a 2-year old boy named Eden. We said goodbye to him a few short weeks later.  In November 2021 I took in a 5-month old baby, River. He was with us for 10 months. And, two weeks ago, I took in a 6-year old boy, Gale. Time will tell how long he stays. So…That’s a lot in the last few years.
• In addition, finished and released my biggest body of work to date, Samsara. It consists of 29 mixed media original images, sculpture, redacted eulogy poetry, and video. It’s currently on display at the JoAnne Artman Gallery in NYC and the opening is March 9. I’ll be there!
• I started running a fine art business intensive class that opens once a year, called Impact in Focus.
• I resumed my annual convention, Promoting Passion. The next one is coming up in October in Georgia, and registration opens soon.
• I’m continuing to run the photography school for survivors of human trafficking, The Light Space. Our fearless leader Melissa Stiefel has been in Kolkata, India the past four months teaching.
• I made a new video series with Sony called Facing Creativity, and I’m extremely proud of it.
• I got my own studio in downtown Flagstaff, AZ.
• And, I finished my novel and am now pitching it to agents.

Phew.

How are you?

Honestly, that’s all this is. Just a hello in the great unknown.

And, a few things I learned the past 2.5 years:

1. Nothing is permanent. After welcoming 6 kids into my home and saying goodbye to 5 so far, I’ve experienced so much heartbreak over the past few years it may take me a long time to process it. But I know this. Nothing is permanent. The newness of your next endeavor will inevitably turn to comfort. The comfort will turn to sorrow. The pain will turn to joy, and back again. We’re all in a cycle of life, not a still image of it.
2. Life’s too short to not rewrite the negative stories you tell yourself.
3. The greatest thing I can do with my time is connect. In my own way. Through my art. My new mission in the past few years has become to destigmatize grief, and that, right now, is my life’s purpose.

All love, fellow creators.

I started my photography journey on Flickr, back when it was the behemoth of the photo-centered social media scene. I started posting odd, creepy, uncomfortable self-portraits and that triggered some conversation. And then, without understanding, I started to see comments on my pictures that said “congrats on explore!” When I first saw this I had no idea what it meant. “Explore what?” I thought. I quickly came to learn that somehow, for whatever reason (and these things always seem to be vaguely explained), my pictures fit the then-algorithm of Flickr. I was being promoted for free in a place where thousands and thousands of people looked.

I got used to my pictures being in Explore, and, for that matter, the same few photographers constantly being there. I watched careers blossom, including my own, in large part due to that algorithm. And then one day, it stopped. Without explanation, without understanding (and really, it is too vague to nail down), I stopped getting promoted. I was very fortunate for my career to have been started and to have a client base that was feeling secure, but it was confusing at the time.

I have never mastered social media. I choose, very intentionally, not to dive deep into the depths and utter emptiness that is the rat race. So, I took it with a grain of salt and moved on, ever confident (whether I should have been or not) in my ability to self-actualize my dreams.

A few days ago I uploaded a video to Flickr and I woke up the next morning to see those familiar words: Congrats on Explore.

It was like an explosion of memories to the beginning of my photography passion. I assumed I’d never be chosen again. I remember fiercely adhering to my expectation of creating something personal, but still feeling a sense of pride at being chosen. How wrong I was to think that way, at least in my opinion. We can continue to chase the newest algorithm or we can ignore it, and, likely experience similar results.

I hear a lot of complaining these days about algorithms being changed so that you have to pay for your posts. It. Sucks. I agree completely. I have done my share of grumbling that I need to pay X amount of money to reach even a fraction of my “followers”. But I like to go at it with this attitude:

Things will change.

You have to keep creating what is true to you.

It is the way that it is. Roll with it.

Reach those who are looking with the greatest intent and passion.

I won’t lie – I am really proud of the community I’ve tried to build. Here, on Instagram, on Facebook. Social media changes, but the connections we make do not. They grow and are cultivated and are the true, real stuff that the Internet is made of.

You may be thinking that it doesn’t matter what I say on the subject because “Congrats on Explore” used to pop up on my Flickr site, and because my numbers are big enough, and because my career is strong enough. I have been told many times that it is all luck, that it’s random chance that someone builds a career online, that I probably got featured by some entity or fit the algorithm or tricked the system. Luck is always at play, random chance works in both ways, and all of that might be true. But another thing is certain – nothing is certain. My career is not certain, my community, my long road to big dreams. None of it.

This is why I have to actively choose not to focus my energies on what has been. I can only do my very best to cultivate community and shape my future (and indeed this present moment) into what matters most to me. Those things, unequivocally, are kindness and passion. You might say I have an unrealistic, naive sense of my situation, but I believe that authenticity and genuine concern for others is the basis on which our lives and careers are built – in the “real world” and on the Internet, too. It is the algorithm that never changes. It is the currency I trade with exclusively. It is, in my perhaps innocent views, what launched my career and community. And I believe in it, more than you know.

I’ve been to Kolkata, India on 8 separate trips since 2013. It has become a second home for me. Even the parts that make me uncomfortable – the constant cacophony of blackbirds, or the scents that I’m so unused to – have become a beacon of home. The blackbirds especially. I used to stay awake listening to their sounds; now they lull me to sleep and awake again in the morning.

I shot these images in Kolkata. I remember the day so well because we laughed the whole way through it. We – my partner in India, Laura Price – scouted a location. We had to do some begging to get this establishment to let us shoot here. The location: a horse stable. They were very wary of our presence… both the horses and the business.

I needed sticks. So, after securing our location, we scoured the grounds looking for sticks. But, it was so well manicured that that, despite the myriad of trees, they had absolutely no sticks laying around.

I’m a DIY kind of girl. When I need sticks, I find them. But being in the middle of a city with an extremely small car, I was out of luck. So, we went to a stick vendor.

Yes, that’s right – a stick vendor. And low and behold, we were able to buy many bundles of sticks. We had to hire a tuk tuk to get them to our venue, and everyone thought we were psychotic.

The funny thing was that it felt like normal life to me. See, I’m used to doing weird things for self-expression. Others aren’t, and sometimes I forget just how weird I seem to people. My everyday experience means dressing up in strange costumes, crawling into dirty places, or smearing myself in paint. I don’t think it’s so much the things I’m doing that freaks people out – it’s that I make time to do weird things for self-expression. Even the things that take a long time to clean up, or are inconvenient.

I know how important self-expression is. I know the value of being able to create something and say, “That’s me. That’s really me.”

And so I pass those lessons on when I go to Kolkata. I teach self-expression. I teach the value of doing weird things purely for yourself.

On this day, I got to work with some very experienced individuals. These women are Dance Movement Therapy trainors. They have done extensive work in how to move your body to heal. And they have done work to ensure others find that same empowerment. Their organization is called Kolkata Sanved.

The girls and I had been working together for years when I shot these images, so they only thought I was mildly crazy when I asked them to come in their best saris and cuddle up in a horse stable in a pile of sticks.

Mildly crazy.

I did get a lot of long stares, and questions of if I was serious, and then a lot of laughing. And a lot of selfies. Obviously.

The program that I run in India (and other countries, like Sri Lanka, Thailand, and Greece) is called “If I Could Fly”. It is a workshop that asks the question, “If you could fly, where would you go? What would that look like?”. I teach how to use a camera to express your deepest emotions. We often deal with themes of freedom, dreams, and emotional pasts.

These images were inspired by that title. These women are exemplary of the mission we are all trying to uphold: to empower those who have been through hardship to rise up and fly.

I hope you enjoy these images.
I hope you inspire someone today.

And I hope that, if you’re feeling down, you remember these women and all they are doing for their community. They regularly build up women who have been trafficked and have been through abuse to help them fly.

Well done, sisters.

I’ve always loved that my name is Brooke. I’ve identified with streams and creeks my whole life, felt such an affinity with little moving rivers. I love creating in water. I love the shock of it, the abnormality of it. I love the organic movement, the softness of it, the tremendous power of it.

Create in or with water for this challenge. I’m especially eager to see what this brings.

I’ll pull some of the art that I see this week to feature!
Use the hashtag #PromotingPassionChallenge so I can find you!

Here is some food for thought. Enjoy the challenge, and remember to push yourself creatively!

Let us open with one of my favorite poems by Mary Oliver, “A Dream of Trees”:

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories schools, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company.
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere.
There is a thing in me that still dreams of trees,
But let it go. Homesick for moderation,
Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.
If any find solution, let him tell it.
Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation
Where, as the times implore our true involvement,
The blades of every crisis point the way.
I would it were not so, but so it is.
Who ever made music of a mild day?

In these words we see the brilliant struggle of an artist laid out in beautiful words. How, Oliver asks, can an artist create the important work of their life if they live outside of what is important?

Here she likens this to moving outside of the action where everything is slower, calmer, and less dramatic. But how, she wonders, can she do such a thing when an artist must engage in “true involvement”? 

In my favorite line of this poem, she says, “Homesick for moderation, half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.”

I feel that I am one of those artists, in many times, and in most cases. I do shrink away – not falling, yet, into obscurity – but I do shrink. Intentionally, out of fear. 

I navigate safely away from controversy, from high opinions and lofty statements. From divisive rhetoric. From the guts of our world. 

Instead, I navigate inward. In this, I live in the crisis point. I am constantly meeting a new edge within myself. There I thrive. But in the world, I cower. 

I say this because you do this, too. In some way, you cower. We all do. It is the experience of the artist. We touch certain issues, topics, ideas and ideals. We push ourselves, but there is always more to explore. I know of no entirely courageous artist; I only know of those who try radically hard, and others who do not. Many who do not.

It is the job of an artist to always explore. This is what Mary Oliver means when she tells us that artists are homesick for moderation. We are homesick for safer limits. We are homesick for ease. And many of us take that road. I have lived on that road too many times, slept under its branches and bathed in its creeks. I know the comforts of familiarity. 

Only this, I say in conclusion: Who ever made music of a mild day?
Create a windstorm that you can dance in.
Show the world your soul.

I thought paper would be such a fun challenge because it’s so accessible and easy to make things with! From origami to fake snow, book pages and more. It is diverse and creative, and we’re diving in!

Use paper of absolutely any kind to create. Make a statement about recycling, use it to decorate a set, or open a good book. Make it yours, and make it fun!

I’ll pull some of the art that I see this week to feature!
Use the hashtag #PromotingPassionChallenge so I can find you!

Here is some food for thought. Enjoy the challenge, and remember to push yourself creatively!

First, let’s get a show of hands (well you know, virtual hands in the comments) of who considers themselves a creative. And a second hand for who is a professional creative, meaning you do something create for a living.

I have been making my living from creativity for 9 years. I used to say that I’m a photographer, but I’m giving that title up. It never resonated, particularly. I do still mainly create images, but that won’t always be the case. Oh, I think I’ll always make photographs, but there is so much more to do that I don’t prefer the label.

For 10 years I’ve had to be very creative in how my business runs. Anyone who thinks that a career in fine art means creating whatever you want, and then sitting back as galleries sell your work for tons of money, is sorely mistaken. At least in my experience, and in the experiences I know from others.

Maybe one day.

But here’s the thing; I don’t think anything would change for me if it did.

A couple days back I finally finished two massive projects I’ve been working on. I found myself with no pressing deadlines (all self-imposed, mind you) and I didn’t know what to do with myself! I started to flounder. I started to feel useless. I started to panic.

And then my husband took my hand and said, “You have permission to do nothing”. And that changed everything.

I realized how good it felt to give myself that permission; but at almost the same instant, I realized how little I wanted that. Maybe for one afternoon, yes. I watched Beyonce’s new documentary (wow) and layed on the couch for 4 hours.

But today I was up at 5am again, ready to conquer (slay). It’s just not in me to sit back and relax. I don’t want to. You see, the thing that causes me to suffer is what causes me to succeed. I am a creative overachiever. I am highly creative, and I love to achieve more and more milestones.

That means that a career as a freelance artist hasn’t been overly difficult for me because I am an idea machine. It’s like the Alice in Wonderland quote. I think up 100 ideas before most people have had their morning coffee. It flows from me effortlessly, and I have enough confidence to make a lot of the ideas happen.

But it’s not all roses. Like I said, the thing that causes me to succeed also causes me pain. I suffer from anxiety at a level that most people don’t; I operate at a level that even stresses other people out. I work 16 hour days eagerly for weeks at a time. I pursue ideas relentlessly, despite energy/cost/likelihood of failure. If given the chance to talk business, I’ll always take it.

Thankfully I’m not an over-sharer. My friends get a little sad at times because I don’t share what I’m doing unless provoked. But there is always something going on in my head and in my life. I’m not happy unless I have a passion project.

One of the biggest questions I get asked at workshops is: How have you managed to sustain a career in fine art for nearly a decade?

The answer is extremely multi-layered. But the real answer is this: I understand how come up with and activate ideas.

It sounds simple. I understand it is anything but.

If this is something you would be interested in having a seminar about, let me know. I’d be honored to guide anyone interested through a roadmap of how to better hone ideas, how to put them into action, and how to find success via mobilized confidence.

I hope this didn’t sound too much like tooting my own horn. I am proud that I am able to do these things, but it truly does come with a down side. Learning balance has always been difficult for me. Understanding my limits is not something that computes. And sacrificing relationships is something I’ve done many times for the sake of my passion. It doesn’t bring me joy to admit that, but it is the side that no one sees.

Right now I’m on a new routine to manage stress better. Ever since having the epiphany that I operate on a different stress level to most people (ie: constant…even my “down time” is riddled with guilt about not being productive), I’ve taken measure to reduce my anxiety. We shall see!

To operate at that high stress level means that I need to be productive every second of every day. I find myself multi-tasking. Can I brush my teeth while reading my morning emails? Can I put dishes away while brainstorming my next business idea? I try to have the next 6 months strategically planned out with deadlines in my calendar and goals set. If I’m not actively or subconsciously thinking of my future, I feel distressed.

For example, I had an exhibition opening while embarking on a 14 city tour that lasted 6 weeks. It took a lot of effort to get those things settled. But even in the middle of the tour, I mapped out what my year looks like from July to December, just so that when I arrived back home in July, I could hit the ground running.

I am learning to find stillness. To be okay with not achieving something every moment of every day. But I even worry about letting that go, because it is the very thing that has allowed me success over the years. The goal is to reign it in and hone it better instead of letting it spread like a compulsion into everything I do.

I share this in an effort to be more transparent and to aid my community in any way possible. Love to all!

Is there anything more fun than thinking about finding a portal to a new world? If you’ve read Narnia, you know the magic of that discovery. I read books every day so I can experience that joy. I also love creating with that theme in mind. What objects or spaces can you see as a portal?

This is a really broad topic, so take that and run!

I’ll pull some of the art that I see this week to feature!
Use the hashtag #PromotingPassionChallenge so I can find you!

Here is some food for thought. Enjoy the challenge, and remember to push yourself creatively!

In June of 2019 I went to New Zealand. It was winter, but not horrendously cold. Just windy and a little bit biting. I got to speak to 150 creative individuals at NZIPP, a beautiful photography conference in Wellington. 

When I started speaking in 2011 at After Dark Education, I was one of the weird one at a weird conference. There were a lot of weird people who were doing things a little off-kilter. I thrived in it. I remember meeting with one of my mentors, Jed, who said, “are you ready to be thrown into the world of public speaking?” 

Yes.

And so I was, and did. I started speaking all over the world to groups big and small. Sometimes only 5 people would come, and sometimes 5,000. And in all of those workshops and lectures, I realized that I was still the weird one. Except, it only got exponentially more obvious. 

Fast forward to 2019 where I spoke at NZIPP. I was welcomed by the most loving showrunners who helped me get set up for my talk. As I walked over to the event center from my hotel, I noticed we were right on the wharf and the water looked so beautiful. There was even a dock area…so accessible.

So, before my talk, I asked one of the showrunners (Peter, you were a gem and I’m sorry for nearly giving you a heart attack) if I could jump in the water. In winter. In New Zealand. Never having met any of these people before. In front of 150 attendees. 

It was a little risky on my part because I hadn’t felt the crowd out yet. I didn’t know if it would be too weird. But I asked, and after much resistance (they were so worried about my health and safety!), they relented. I have that effect on people. 

I got up to give my talk. We talked of inspiration and Photoshop and all manner of normal things. Except, nothing that I do is normal. My pictures aren’t normal. My way of speaking isn’t normal. 

And then, with 20 minutes to go in my talk, I asked if everyone wouldn’t mind coming out to the docks with me while I jumped in the water. A moment of hesitation, and then a resounding YES. And off we went.

I proceeded to put a costume on, set up my camera on a tripod, and shuffle to the end of the dock. I looked up. 150 people were gathered all around, phones in the air and ready to watch the spectacle. Oh gosh.

I started to explain my thought process, since it would be crazy to just jump in with no explanation. I talked about how I create self-portraits, what conceptually drew me to the water, what I was hoping to achieve visually…

And then I jumped in. The water was absolutely, butt-kicking freezing cold. I laid back, took a deep breath, slowed my breathing, and moved around the water. I closed my eyes. I didn’t care who was watching or what was happening around me. For one minute I floated, so in my flow that the world could have ended and I would have still been peacefully floating in that bay. 

And then I lifted my head, asked if everyone got their shots, and climbed out of the water. Everyone erupted into applause. That’s the icing on the cake, because you see, I do things like this all the time, except I’m usually alone. This is my life on a weekly basis. I make a point of it. 

So to have people there witnessing it, it felt nice. 

Why bother to tell you this story? Because I have built a career out of being weird.

The places I speak at align with my brand because they trust me to be the voice of the weirdos. Why do they trust me to be that? Because I’ve branded myself into it. If someone hires me to speak to their group, they know they aren’t getting a normal motivational speaker; they are getting a firecracker that is both unpredictable and bright. 

It’s not just speaking, and in fact, that is the least of the ways in which branding weirdness is gold. 

We are starved for individuality. In a world where copying trends is not only fashionable and trendy, but also incredibly easy to do (consciously or not), it is like breathing fresh air when someone comes along who is marching to the beat of their own drum. 

I’ve branded myself as myself.

A lot of people brand themselves into perceptions of success. This is why so many people fail to stick with their businesses or even their art, because we can only keep up an act for so long. If you let yourself be exactly who you are, no apologies or explanations necessary, you will find a niche for yourself that only you can occupy. 

When I get hired for a job, be it a photoshoot for a band or a speaking event, I get hired to be 100% authentically me. That follows through to the visuals I bring to the table, the concepts only my brain can come up with, and the way I conduct myself. 

When I have portrait clients come to me to make art, I do the same things with them that I do with myself. We end up lying in a pile of thorns, jumping into freezing cold water, or balancing precariously in trees. That’s just how it is. 

From Day one I decided not to do a job if I couldn’t be myself. Even when talking to brands for sponsorship, the first thing I do is to lay down my ground rules. Rule #1: I do me. I don’t do you. But if you naturally fits with me, let’s do it. 

For real, I actually have those conversations.

If you’re curious if being weird makes money, the answer is that it can. Just like anything else. Everything has that potential. But in an age where individuality is too often strained, the weirdos stand out like a beacon of light in the darkness; a guiding light for other weirdos to follow.

And really, even the most normal of us are a little weird. 

Do you identify with being the odd one out?
Do you feel like you own it or shy away from it?

Playing with the size of an object or a person or even a background in a frame can be so much fun. From creating miniature sets to editing someone to be small in a backdrop, there is so much potential to play with scale! Let’s play with scale this week and see what we come up with!

This could mean a lot of things, so try something you’ve never done before and see how it goes!

I’ll pull some of the art that I see this week to feature!
Use the hashtag #PromotingPassionChallenge so I can find you!

Here is some food for thought. Enjoy the challenge, and remember to push yourself creatively!