Let’s talk about the artist’s evolution. As you continue in your craft – grow, change, repeat – your art will grow with you. It will evolve and expand and collapse. You will hate it and love it and hate it again. You will want to change it, and you will, and you’ll regret that sometimes, and you’ll move forward.

I’ve been a photographic artist for 10 years. That’s a DECADE, people! And in my fairly young life, that’s a third.

In a fortunate turn of events, I’ve also had an audience for those 10 years that I’ve been an artist. From just a couple of weeks into creating up until now, I’ve had people looking at, and commenting on, my work.

Which makes it understandable as to why I’ve heard this comment more times than is countable:

“I prefer the old you.”

In my career this has meant anything from “the you of 10 years ago” to “the you of last week”. And it used to bother me.

Can’t they see I’m GROWING?!

It doesn’t matter if you have a big audience or not. Anyone from your mother to a stranger on the Internet will likely tell you the same exact words sooner or later. Here’s why:

1. People change.
2. People hate change.

…And we all have opinions.

I’ve had periods of what I consider really, really bad art-making in my life.

2013. What a bad year. I look back at that year of my art and cringe! It was so flat, so boring, so not where I wanted to go.

But I had to make that art. I had to do it to move myself forward. To experience, to know that it wasn’t me.

I used to get upset when people told me they prefer a different style that I used to make. I thought it made me less of an artist. I’d second-guess my artistic direction. I’d let it consume me.

Imagine a friend calls you up and they say: You know, I really prefer your personality from a couple of years ago. This one just isn’t cutting it for me. I don’t enjoy being around you as much anymore.

That’s basically the conversation around art and change.
(That might have been a tad dramatic).

So it makes sense that feelings get hurt and that it stings a little to hear it.

As an artist, you want to yell back: “Don’t you see?! I’m doing the best I can!”

But you can’t, without sounding paranoid.

The fact is that we are doing the best we can. Even if you haven’t created in months, that’s the best you can do for yourself right now. You might look back in a year at this time and recognize just how much you needed a break.

Maybe you feel your style shifting and it scares you. Let it, but keep going. You never know where that will lead.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve made some art that I don’t like. And I don’t blame you for not liking either. But that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t worth making.

Perhaps the most difficult part of being an artist with an audience is knowing that, inevitably, someone will tell you that you were better before. And they’re not necessarily wrong. I value every opinion. I don’t disregard someone because they think differently from how I do.

But I do know that the bad art is as necessary as the good. That where I am now is where I’m meant to be. And that where I’m going will remain fulfilling if I listen to myself…

…All opinions valid, none as much as my own.

How, I asked myself, is it relevant to share what my days are like as an artist when everyone is different? The answer came simply: If I share how I structure my time, it might help someone else to shape their routine as well.

Comment below how you would categorize yourself:

A – Creativity is your hobby
B – Creativity is your dream career
C – Creativity is your career

Meaning, do you practice creativity for fun? Would you like to turn your passion into a career? Or, do you already make a living from something creative?

I started out with photography as my hobby. A few months later, I really wished it could be my career. And then a year after that, it was!

I’ve been working as a full-time artist (meaning that I make my living from my photography and related items) for the past 8 years. I make my living via the following avenues: print sales, image licensing sales, lecturing/teaching, and commissioned images.

Favorite quotes from the video:

“It takes being creative about how you are disciplined
and being disciplined about your creativity.”

“It takes a lot of good days to make a great career.”

Since so many of us in this community are interested in how to maximize our creative time (at the least), or to make our creative time into our full time work, I thought it would be great to share what my day is like as an artist.

For me? 50% admin, 50% creativity. Look at the to-do list I managed to complete on the day I filmed this video:

BROOKE'S TO DO LIST

Film a day in the life video
Update my CV
Write TLS email
Release blog/video/newsletter
Update licensed images list
Write pitch for grant
Yoga
Novel outline
Reading
Photo shoot
Clear emails
Build registration system
Build prop

The only thing I didn’t finish was that last item. And, I finished by 4pm and had the whole evening for cooking and personal time.

What’s that? You hate admin work? You thought creatives only created?

Oh. Ohhhh. Let’s chat.

I believe that the most successful creative people you see, at least for the most part, have a really awesome mind for business. Take my BFF Lindsay Adler. If ever you have wanted to meet an insanely creative person who is equally, if not more, savvy in business – you’ve found your girl. Take note. (No, seriously, take notes.)

I’m not that great at it. Not Lindsay Adler great. But, I don’t strive to be. I am extremely motivated in business as well as creativity. I strive for a solid, happy medium between the two.

I get equally excited about a career move or endeavor as I do a photo shoot. And that is, in part, what I attribute any success I’ve had to.

Be it my 24 hour email policy, the contracts I’ve hand-written, the outreach I’ve done for opportunities, or my willingness to fail – I always put myself out there and give my business 100%.

Again, I’m still not the best at it. But I have managed to build a business for 8 solid years that has supported my lifestyle. I’m really proud of that.

Come with me behind the scenes in this video. It’s an in-depth look at my life with the curtain pulled back. What it’s like to go from hour to hour in the life of a working artist.

And please, tell me your top tips for maintaining creativity in your everyday life. I am always looking to improve!

And remember to share:

A – Creativity is your hobby
B – Creativity is your dream career
C – Creativity is your career

Adapt, change, learn, grow…OR ELSE. That is what this July challenge is warning me every day. Today my alarm went off and I was perky, ready to start my hour drive to my location. I could hear it was raining, and when I checked the weather saw it would be worse where I was going. I love shooting in the rain, but my car doesn’t do well driving in it, so I opted for a safer location today. That meant I was up at 4am with no where to go for an hour, so I bided my time by thinking up a new concept, finishing off my emails, and making a to do list for the day. Of course I couldn’t stop myself from leaving early (I’m not good at waiting), so I found myself in the middle of no where in the dark with only the little bunnies to keep me company (which was plenty good for me). I am chronically early. It’s pretty bad.

A little bit of panic sets in when you’re a planner and you’ve got a plan and then something shatters it. I plan to the extreme. I’m really good at being spontaneous, as long as it is within my set parameters. Location: check. Photo idea: check. Spontaneous dip in freezing cold water? Check, as long as my plan has gone accordingly thus far. This morning I did my best not to panic, as I have done all month. I might not seem like it (or maybe I do, who can really judge how they come off to people?), but I tend to be a terrible mix of messy/disorganized and Type A planner. When I do something, I do it all the way. Unfortunately for my cleanliness, sometimes I don’t do it at all. All or nothing. I try to learn balance, but ‘black and white’ always catches up with me again.

So, when it’s 4am and you realize your grand plan isn’t going to work, how do you adapt? How do you change what you emblazoned in your mind? How do you quickly get far enough away from that idea to cultivate a new one?

That was my morning question which thankfully I’ve discovered ways of answering very quickly. I practice, every single day, new ways of being mindful and in tune with my inspiration. The more I touch what inspires me by setting my imagination on fire with it, the easier I can reach for ideas of what to create faster. I practice that. Every day.

Today was foggy and mysterious. It was gorgeous. I love the rain and the fog, so I am always in a battle: Do I live somewhere rainy for my art, or somewhere sunny for my happiness? Happiness always wins, and I live in a very sunny place, which is why I get so excited when it rains. We had a huge storm yesterday with a power outage for a couple hours. An excuse for me to read and slow down. I probably needed it. Today was wet and muddy and the birds were singing despite the damp. I felt right at home.

One week in and I can’t think of a better way to be spending my summer. The mornings are cool and dark and peaceful, my editing sessions are filled with tea and music, and my afternoons are for working. Evenings bring walks and yoga and cooking up new recipes. Nights bring Star Trek and reading.

When I began creating images years ago, I was just out of college (technically still in the very end semester), and I had nothing to my name. I had no money. I was moving and unsettled and had no place to call home. I took a job as a receptionist and saved everything that I possibly could, eating lots of Ramen soup and paying off my student loans extremely diligently. One year in to being out of school, I had paid off my student loans and I was moving toward this dream career.

I remember waking at 5am each morning to shoot before work and editing when no one was looking throughout the day. I remember how exhilarating it was to have the freedom to create; to come up with a new idea everyday made me feel powerful. I also burned out on it, as we all do at times, and I’ve found balance since then. With this July challenge brings memories of that time in my life, when I had never taken pictures before so everything was new. Everything had never been done before, in my world.

During those times, because money was so tight, I had a strict rule for myself: buy nothing. I used hand-me-down equipment, a tripod from a thrift store, and anything I could find around me. I remember once dragging a shopping cart up the stairs to my second floor apartment, getting stuck and pinned on the way there. I remember gathering branches. I remember finding old fabric in an alley. I remember my utter amazement, and subsequent empowerment, I felt at realizing the great many uses of a bed sheet.

We don’t need fancy things to create. Our imaginations are free. We are free to use them. And they can set us free.

Today I celebrate how wonderful it is to be a CREATOR in this beautiful world. To see the things that others don’t; to see potential where others see roadblocks. Is that not what makes an Artist? Seeing something different in the world and expressing that view in your own unique iteration?

Today I photographed the most ordinary items: a rope, an old oar I’ve had for ages, a candle holder…and I created from that. Can I afford more now than I could then? Yes. Do I feel that I need to spend money to prove myself? To make myself feel more ‘professional’? No. So here I create in my happy world of my own building, where rarely does anything cost more than $10 and I can exist blissfully inside my imagination.

There’s lots of room in here, if you want to join.

“Begin Again”

For you who have chosen to dive deep with the creatures we cannot name
or you who never chose to fall so far but caught a wisp of cloud on the way down,
For you who takes a lifetime to say Yes after No has stolen your voice
and you who must die a fiery death to be reborn the whole piece you were searching for.

We are the seekers who find ourselves in the cloak of darkness where we know Creativity is born
and the builders who dig deeper than dirt to find the pillars of our strength,
We are the many and the few who are alone and all at once encompassed by solidarity.

We search for the switch that turns time slower so that we can replay the hideous and beautiful.

For you who cannot speak out loud the names that you wish you had been assigned
or you who looks behind your shoulder every morning to make sure your shadow obeys,
and you who falls to bruised knees to beg for a chance that long passed you by.

To us who need to turn the page and see nothing written but the space to write –

Begin.

To us who close a book and wish we had never opened it for ending inspiration –

Begin.

To us who have fallen deep into the plagiarisms of other author’s stories –

Begin.

And to us who have begun and have been told too many times to end –

Begin again.

While I was traveling I overheard two statements that made me sad:

“I can’t believe how stupid humanity is.”

“People are just naturally cruel.”

I heard two people say those statements in the same day, and for some reason, instead of letting them be random words murmured by strangers in passing, they stuck with me. I wrote them down in my notebook and really thought about them. I thought about all of the horrible things people have done, and all of the senselessness that seemingly goes into decisions that turn out terribly. I felt down that day. I felt like those words got into my head.

Here is the problem with allowing negativity inside: it clouds the good stuff.

The next day I had forgotten all about what those people said, and when I was out for a walk I watched someone help an older woman up some steps at the subway station. Someone held a door for me even and I hardly even noticed. My suitcase got stuck on a curb and a stranger picked it up for me. I gave my leftovers to a homeless person.

And then it struck me: Yes, people can be cruel and people can make poor decisions, but that does not make people universally blanketed by those qualities. I started thinking about the amazing things people do for one another every day. About the way that if we did focus more on the good, we might come to define people based on those attributes.

If we show others more kindness, we might see more kindness in the world.

We are an innovative people. We are always imagining and doing more and creating. To think only of the negative contributions we’ve made is to take away the probability of something changing. If you always scold a dog for doing bad things but never reward them for doing good, how will they know to keep doing those good things? We must remind ourselves of our powerful we are, and use that power to swing ourselves over to the good side.

When I was creating this image I couldn’t help but think about the concept of how powerful our minds are when we allow them to be. From being kind and compassionate creatures to using the little machines in our heads to create amazing art or build an amazing piece of technology, we have the most infinite potential – more than we could ever tap into. Let the magic come from within. Let it envelop you. Let it overcome all other senses. And use it for good. Good art. Good actions. Goodness.

Whenever I see a composited image that doesn’t seem to quite work – my own photographs included – it is always because I am distracted by the editing itself. Case in point is an image I’m working on right now, in which I am editing someone half underwater, but the water line is just too distracting – too white, too big, too in your face. It isn’t blended properly. And because of that, I notice the editing before the concept.

One way that I deal with removing distractions from my edits is to know the order that I like to edit in, and to finish that stage before I move on to the next. My first step is always the actual compositing – literally stitching together various images so that they blend well.

When I was editing this image of my friend Jen Brook in a chateau in France, I had to edit on about eight other images photographed all around her to build out the room she is standing in. Each piece required that I do a couple of things before moving on. First is to blend using a big, fuzzy (soft, 0% hardness) brush to erase where the harsh lines of the edge of the image are so that there were no mistakes where the image was blended. Next was to match up exactly where that new piece of the picture had to go on the underlying image so that everything lined up. This often requires warping (Edit–>Transform–>Warp) so that I can maneuver each piece of the new image into place. Once everything lines up, I click that layer on and off (using the eyeball symbol in the Layers palette) to make sure I’m not missing any pieces. Finally, I retouch the color or exposure of the new piece that has been added, in case the color shifted slightly or the light did.

Once I have all of my images stitched together, and only after they ALL blend perfectly, I move on to lighting. The most common pitfall of compositing is thinking that it stops at blending the separate images together. Compositing must often go beyond stitching because when we enhance light, we take the viewer’s gaze away from certain areas and put it on others in the frame. I like to drastically enhance light, thus doing things like darkening the background and highlighting my subject. In this case below, I selected only the background, feathered my selection (in this case it was about 30px), and then darkened that area using curves and pulling down from the highlights only. This allowed the highlights on the curtains to become dark while maintaining some of the mid-tones, which would include her hair, so that they were not as greatly affected. The result is a more natural fall-off of light.

Working in light and color is rarely necessary in compositing, but it can drastically help the believability of the image. For example, in the above image, by adding blue to the shadows, and by skewing those blacks to be gray, I created a more muddied look in the shadows. This allowed the image to blend together more by taking away some of the sharper details in those areas and creating a painterly look instead. By changing the color of the dress to better fit the color palette, the viewer immediately sees a greater connection between all pieces of the final image. The colors all work together, the light is motivated and draws the eye to a certain part of the frame, and the compositing has no stitching flaws.

Even though my methods may change and evolve over time, my theory on compositing remains the same. I stitch, I enhance or change light, and I enhance or change color. Those three items, in that order, follow me through every edit that I work on.

Are there any go-to methods that you use to create your images, composited or not? Share them below!

The STORY

A year ago I traveled to France to shoot in the most spectacular location I had ever seen. I got there, concepts planned, props in hand, and I shot all day long, for hours and hours straight. I took the images home, proud of what I had done, and yet I had no desire to edit them. The longer I waited the more I came to terms with the fact that I would never edit them. They had lost their magic. They weren’t as special as I thought they were. They were complicated and the lighting wasn’t right, and I felt really down about it. I could have edited them and I could have created something from what I had, but I knew that I was going to go back, and so I didn’t touch them.

A couple of months ago I did have the chance to go back. I went in with an idea but didn’t put too much pressure on myself to do what I had sketched out. Instead, I helped other people shoot throughout the day and contented myself with enjoying the moments I shared with my friends. At some point in the day someone found a dead bird. I went to the attic where the bird was resting and I sat with it for a long while. I pleaded with someone to let the bird stay where it was for a time. The truth was that I wasn’t finished with it. I have a very deep and sincere connection to animals and death, two things one wouldn’t normally pair together, and I am inspired by separately. But put together, I become overwhelmed with emotion – and inspiration.

I find beauty in death, light in darkness, and inspiration in the macabre. This is how it has always been. I embrace it. It makes me who I am. And so I found beauty and inspiration in that tiny bird and what it meant to me, in my life, at that time. To me, inspiration is how we most authentically manifest our truest self. It is why we create. I took that little bird with me throughout the day, carrying him as I looked for locations to create self-portraits, while coming up with a narrative for him, and for myself.

I challenged myself that day. I went into the chateau with ideas in mind that were safe and easy and would guarantee results from the shoot. But when it came time to shoot, I didn’t do what was safe or easy for me. I did several things that I almost never do, as a rule for myself. I shot directly at light sources. I shot in harsh light. I didn’t overcomplicate the work with a lot of Photoshop or heavy editing. I kept it simple, posed how I felt, and embraced the emotion of the day. It felt right. It felt respectful, in a way, for my little co-character. It was all perfect, no worries and massive inspiration. At the end of the day my friend asked if I had anything solid to take away from my shoot. I said I had no idea, and I didn’t…and I didn’t care. It felt wonderful to do what makes my heart soar, to try something new, and to connect with my deepest inspiration.

The TECHNIQUE

While shooting each of these images, I exposed for my skin tone. Because I was so often shooting at a light source, that meant that windows were blown out and the surroundings were bright in order to see detail in my skin and dress. I shot each image underexposed as well, so that everything but the light source fell into darkness. While putting the images together, I used a manual HDR type of stitching process, matching up the darkened window with the nicely exposed images and combining them.

In Photoshop, I spent a lot of time refining the light. In each image, I identified the light source, chose how soft I wanted the light to be and began to create softer light coming from those sources by adjusting my curves layer like this:

I added vignettes to each of the images to make the light stand our more.

I spent a good deal of time selectively changing colors. For example, in the image with the red floor, I had to selectively enhance the color of the floor. It was naturally orange/pink, so I made it a more uniform color and enhanced the darkness and saturation of the red tones. In others I selected the dress to change or enhance the color, and in others still I selected walls/doors to change colors.

To finish each image I softened them to give a more painterly look, since the light spoke to me as being like something from a classic painting.

The CONCEPT

When I found the bird, I wanted to create a small series that would honor his life while also speaking about the fragility of life and how heavy death can feel. The first image I created was the one where I’m standing next to the large feather. In it, I wanted to show how small we can feel around death, and how looming it can be. In a way, we shield ourselves from death so that we can experience life, but it is only when we accept our imminent demise that we can appreciate the impact our life can have.

The second image I created was the one laying down with the bird on the floor. I really pushed myself with this one and the lighting, but I felt it was important because that particular lighting spoke to me about fragility. It seemed so perfect, with the way it raked across the subject and bird, highlighting the shape and form of the lifeless pair. I wanted to pose like the bird, solemn and asleep, eternally or not, to embody the beauty in death.

The third image I went about creating was the white feather on my back. I posed in that space first sitting up and realized quickly that the light would not allow for such a pose, with it being so directional and harsh. That was when I decided to take a concept I had planned for a different room and try it out here. To show the weight of death (and life) was something that was important to me. Death weighs heavy on us all, whether it is thinking of our own or dealing with that of a loved one. All of these images speak to both instances.

The fourth image was taken in the room with the red floor and black dress. I wanted to dress in mourning, yet also like a blackbird – ominous and strong at the same time. Foreshadowing death perhaps, or mourning someone’s life, was what I was thinking of when creating this image. When I started editing I was thrilled with how stark of a contrast it presented in color and light, and I thought that appropriate in such a dark image.

The fifth picture was the one on the bed, looking up at the feather. To me, death feels like a dream – it is something we consider but cannot imagine, something we dream of but cannot feel, and something that is, often, better not to think on. I personally struggle with many dreams of death and darkness, and this felt an appropriate connection for me, visually, to the theme at hand.

The sixth picture was meaningful to me because of a memory I have. When my grandmother died I remember lying on a set of stairs, I couldn’t even say where now, and looking backward out the window, feeling the light on my face, and wondering if it was my grandmother touching my face. I saw these stairs and the light shining down and wanted to create an image in that fashion, looking toward the light with the little bird in my hands, as if offering him up to the light. All of these images deal with light and darkness in a literal and metaphoric way.

I hope that you can find something in one of the images that speaks to you.

She is filled with heaviness
like rain water sitting on a window sill,
cracked wood, fogged glass, unseen.

She is filled with heaviness
like autumn leaves under a long winter snow,
waiting for the melt to breathe again.

She is filled with heaviness
like a small dead bird filled with worms,
under the weight of a feather.

Share with me a series you’ve done, or a theme you are connected to.
Remember to never apologize for what makes you unique.
It is, indeed, what makes you so wonderful.

Fear is a funny thing. No matter how often we confront them we find a new one. When the clouds clear up and the sun shines through we find another cloud to take it’s place. And that is the human condition. It is the desire to find fear and face it that makes us unique. It is our undying affection for challenge and rebirth that makes us interesting.

We shelter ourselves with umbrellas and hats and rain coats so that we cannot feel the sting of the rain, but the rain is rarely as bad as one thinks it will be. It can be unpleasant and cold and lonely, but it lets you know you are alive. Just the same with fear: when we let it touch us, when we do not run away, it has no more power. The more we ignore it or shield ourselves from it, the larger it grows, an ever-present entity in your heart. But when it is unleashed, and we feel it’s full effects, we know it for what it is. We call it by name and look it in the face. We understand what our fear has to say, and we respond in kind.

Do something that requires bravery every single day.

That was the thought I had the other day that changed everything for me. I no longer felt bound by life’s rules. I simply wanted to be brave, to do something that scared me, and to face that thing head on. When we do something that takes courage, we diminish fear. It will never leave our side completely, for if it does we know we are complacent, unchanging, and stagnant. But that cloud will grow smaller, as I have watched mine for the last few years, until it is a friend, a companion, waiting to challenge you.

Don’t let your storm cloud grow so large it changes the lives of others.  And just as importantly, don’t let it cast a shadow over your life. Take control of it. Embrace it. Learn to see the good in it. And when you do, you might find that it has moved on without unleashing the storm you were expecting. Because when we love our fears, we make room for blue sky days.

Model: Mia Hutchinson

Share here a fear that you are currently struggling with.

Share one way that you exhibited bravery in the last month.

My current fear: That my convention won’t be a success. 

Moment of bravery: Emailed new galleries to request exhibitions.

I went into the trip with a great sense of adventure. I’ve rarely been camping before, let alone in Iceland. I had no idea how to work a motorhome. I didn’t know how to navigate the land or if the beautiful sights I wanted to see were actually where Google maps insisted. But I was going with friends, no obligation to anyone except to have fun and lead as best I could. And so I did, and we did, and it was the most grand adventure I could ever have hoped for.

I’ll share more about the trip in due time, but for now, let’s talk about this instantly heart-throbbing place that I was able to shoot at. It is called Glacier Bay, or in Iceland: Jokulsarlon. It is a popular tourist attraction, but we managed to arrive late and do our photographing late, so that when I finally got into the water, it was midnight. The tourists had gone and we had full reign of the space to photograph as we wished. With the light never fully going away in an Icelandic summer, we were able to be with this space as long as we wanted.

I had anticipated our arrival at Glacier Bay, so much so that before I left on my trip I went on a journey for a wet suit. When I finally spoke to someone knowledgable about cold water, I was laughed at profusely and told that I needed a dry suit. That was going to set me back at least $400. And I just couldn’t justify that kind of money for a single shot with the glaciers. So instead, I opted for a much cheaper yet far colder option: waders. You know, the kind that fishermen might use. Plastic or rubber pants that go over your pants to keep the water out. The important thing for me was to stay dry, and my $15 waders did the job.

I put on several layers of pants and then put the waders over top of that and strapped the suspenders around my shoulders. Then, I put the costume dress over top of that and started making my way into the water. Just because spring had sprung in Iceland does not mean that it was warm, by any standards. The temperatures were often sitting at about freezing, or lower in the night as this was shot, but I didn’t care about that. All I wanted was to get in, get out, and get my personal souvenir. Just before I got in the water, someone told me that whales swim through this part looking for seals. At first I tried to put that out of my mind, since I have a huge fear of whales, but I found myself thinking about it as I got in the water, wanting to be more graceful in my movements as I imagined myself an animal amongst that alien, beautiful landscape.

While in the water my waders only leaked very slightly, causing one sock to go damp on the bottom, but nothing more. I did my image, got out and checked it, and then decided to go in again to get a little bit closer to my camera. The water was about waist high (thigh-high on a normal-sized person), which was perfect for what I had been hoping to achieve. I wanted to create a sad story of a woman giving herself to nature, wading into the freezing waters to become frozen in time, just as this place had seemed to me. I caught the image of the bird while shooting there in that spot and had to use it. They say in filmmaking that when someone is exiting the frame to the left, they are going toward their past, and when exiting to the right, they are moving toward the future. I had the bird going backward as to stop time altogether, our heroine stuck in time, frozen there in a dream, and only a single soul closing the curtain on her future.

When I finished my self-portrait I got back in the water to model for my friends, where I waded as gracefully as I could (while avoiding jagged rocks), dipping my arms into the water and allowing my back to give way so that I might look more like the ice that surrounded me. I stayed in the water for a total of about 10 minutes and afterwards needed an army to bring me back to warmth. My dear friends all helped, pulling the waders off of me, putting shoes back on, draping me in coats and giving me a hot water bottle. It was like heaven. It was painfully cold, uncomfortable, and a moment I will never forget. I swam amongst souls frozen in time, huge pieces of ice floating peacefully, others breaking off into the water and rushing toward the ocean, a moment fleeting and forgotten or never seen at all, save for our eyes that night in the darkest of all hours, capturing our version of paradise.