I am so worried all the time that I will never again create something that is meaningful to me. I spend days thinking and thinking, hours staring at blank walls. My husband walks into my office as I’m sat in the middle of my floor, staring. He backs out slowly. There is nothing to say to me. I am within myself, brooding.

I travel through Brazil and teach workshops. At some points I feel like a fraud. I teach, but I feel stuck. The best I can do is be honest about that with the students. I tell them I know my process but that what I will do next is out of my reach.

I drive through Brazil to a remote location with my dad. I come up with a new novel idea that excites me so much I can hardly sleep. I excitedly chat to my husband about it and he adds even better details. I wake up wanting to write, but I look around at my surroundings and I feel guilty. I am looking out over a huge river, a myriad of birds and vegetation, and an old, crumbling house that I call home for a few days. Why don’t I take pictures?

As I watch the water I begin to see the metaphor emerging. There is a cure to the unknown in it. The key, I see so clearly, is not to hold on to inspiration tightly. It is to know when to let go.

As an artist, we should not seek to contain our inspiration. We should seek to know when we are riding a wave and when we are trying to catch one. Or, simply, when we are in calm waters awaiting a storm.

Right now I see my photography as a wave I am trying to catch. I paddle hard and fast but each time it comes I miss it. The wave isn’t right. That wave was meant for someone else. I sit and wait again, I try again, and still it is wrong. I feel like I’m not on water at all, but some dried up space that leaves me wedged between rocks. There is maturity in recognizing this process. There is peace in it. I find acceptance of the self in giving permission to wait for the right wave.

My change in mind is a beautiful thing. It means I have moved on to another level of creating. No longer am I satisfied with easy concepts and beautiful locations. I want something more than cheap clicks. I desire to be challenged.

I am sitting looking at the river. It is constantly changing. It is never the same river at any two moments. This is why I have always been connected to my name. I am constantly changing. I am chasing myself into new forms. I may not even be me, anymore.

Now I’m home, finishing these thoughts after having created. I did explore Brazil, and I did take pictures. I was inspired, all at once knowing that what I would create would not be my best. Sometimes we do not seek to create our best work, but to create at all. Sometimes creations are stepping stones to what we are meant to do, and they are no less special despite their lack of staying power. They are beautiful in their own way.

Where are you in your creation process?
Riding a wave or trying to catch one?

…

If you want to grow your craft and be inspired in your art and life, join the Promoting Passion Convention.
I put my heart and soul into this 3-day event and would love for you to be there!

Moving on…It felt like an apt title for this post since this is video #99, and I am aiming for 100. It is right around the corner, so I’ve had to think long and hard about if I want to continue creating videos or if I need to move on to something else. I’ll elaborate more on that in my 100th video, but for now suffice it to say, I’ll have to slow down a little bit, but not entirely. It isn’t just nearing home plate of my Promoting Passion video series that has me thinking about this topic. It is also the end of the year and start of a new one, as well as a couple memorable moments I’ve had in recent times.

One big thing that happening was that I had my work critiqued at a portfolio review. I’ve never done anything like that before and have never truly had the chance for someone to give me honest and raw feedback about what I do. I went in with almost no expectations and no questions. I was very simply: curious. I had a couple glowing reviews and a couple not so glowing reviews, and one downright bad review. And as we are prone to doing, I focused on the one that hurt the most. At least for a little while. I let it drag me down for a day. I let it really get to me. I let it infiltrate my usual standard of happy and confident. And that was when I decided I had to make a commitment to move on.

I took advice from that review that is invaluable to me. I am applying it to my new 2016 business model (oh yes, I have a 2016 business model. watch out.). But I can’t dwell on it unnecessarily. I think it takes a well trained person to do away with hurtful negativity. That review was filled with both – the hurtful kind and the helpful kind, and it isn’t up to the person giving the review to only give one type or the other. It was that person’s honesty, and my problem. And so we must move on.

I thought about all of the ways we must move on from our lives to create better ones. And these are the 5 ways I’m doing it.

1. Move on from your failures and your accomplishments. Accomplishments lose their value when repeated too often, and failure is never the way you want to come to define yourself.
2. Move on from the person you used to be. Stagnation does not announce itself when it walks into the room. It creeps up on you until you have no idea how to get out.
3. Move on from the idea of perfection. I would rather start a project than never start at all out of fear of imperfection. I would rather finish a project and learn something than never finish at all.
4. Move on from criticism. It exists to teach you a lesson. Take that lesson and leave the rest behind. We cannot carry the weight of it without being slowed down.
5. Move on from what is safe. By the end of a year I have a pretty good idea of what made me feel safest and what made me feel most afraid, and it is in evaluating those moments that makes me realize when I feel most alive. Chase your adventure.

I thought I’d share this outtake from my Iceland adventure today to illustrate what moving on is for me. It is letting go of fears and anxieties and doing something that you might not want to do. It is falling into your natural flow and rhythm to experience all of life’s greatest moments. It is doing, not waiting to do. This image isn’t perfect. It didn’t turn out exactly as I had hoped. But I did it, and that is the greatest accomplishment for me. It is the person I want to be, not who I used to be.

I hope you’ll share with me one thing you are moving on from in your life. It helps to know others are taking steps toward a new self.

I did 30 photo shoots while I was in Iceland, so we can’t really expect the images to let up quickly, right? This is another image from Iceland, and what a brilliant day it was. Our group arrived at this famous site very eager to create, but even more eager to eat. So we cooked in our campers before shooting while I ran ahead and tested the safety of the little bridges that seemed to be created just for us to take pictures with.

When we all saw the location as a group, it was overwhelming. The weather was perfect, with storm clouds rolling in the air, never letting a drop of water out, and vast, insurmountable scenes that only Iceland can produce. I wanted a picture out on the natural pathway, the bridge to nowhere.

The wind whipped at us, as we had grown accustomed to, but nothing can prepare you for a climb out on a rickety ledge in a billowing satin dress. The gusts were harsh, and as it caught my dress I looked down at just the wrong moment, feeling every second of the drop below. I decided it would be best to crawl out since my dress was pulling me so hard. The satin was a poor choice. As I knelt down the fabric was slippery, and my knees and feet were caught on it as I tried to make my way to the edge. In reality it wasn’t a very long way, but it felt winding.

I tried some images laying on the ledge and some standing, but in the end, standing there with the wind pulling at my dress, it felt right. I knew what I was creating, where the story was going, and how to tell it. This is my bliss. This is how I know I am doing what I am meant to do. Creating. Storytelling. Sharing.

It took me a while to edit this image when I got back. I remember creating it and thinking that it was the easiest image I had taken thus far. I knew exactly what I wanted from it, and I could already tell I really liked it. So why, then, did I put it away in a folder on a hard drive and refuse to look at it when I returned? I started fearing I’d never have the motivation to edit it – that it would be one of those images that stays hidden forever, for some unexplained reason. And yes, I have many of them.

I realized, after months of being home from that trip, what it was. I had loved the image so much. Loved the shoot so much. Knew just what I wanted from the image. And in finishing it, that day would be over. A memory captured in that image. Nothing more to go back to, nothing to look forward to. It was like closing a chapter on a day that I loved so much.

But upon editing it, I felt empowered. I relived the magic of that moment. I could feel the wind at my back, pushing me onward to the edge of the bridge to nowhere. And I embraced it. I let those emotions sweep over me. I felt a rush of bliss.

It wasn’t until I was putting this video together that I realized the impact of what I was creating. I went searching for music and came across this song by Message to Bears which touched me so deeply, I felt as though it was the perfect punctuation to a long and elated sentence. It gave the image more meaning. It gave the image life.

Throw it down, look away,
Don’t be scared, it’s okay.
Settle down, set it right,
Don’t be scared, it’s alright.

To have memories that we cherish, to have images to remember them by… Life is constantly growing all around us, and I am content – radiantly happy, even – to sway with it. Let it move as it will, and I’ll create with it as well as I can. Walk out onto the ledge, reach for what you want. Every storm has an eye, every fear a beacon of hope. So settle down, set it right, don’t be scared, it’s alright.

Which music inspires you to create?
Any songs that you feel match perfectly with your vision?

I was on a trip in Iceland. It had been five days with my friends, driving around in RVs, our little homes crammed with people we hadn’t seen in a year but filled with love. Homemade dinners, everyone swapping motorhomes to taste some of each. Pitstops at inspiring places when the mood struck. Sunsets and sunrises that made us all squeal with joy and then immediately stop, and quiet ourselves, and reflect.

It was our last evening. We had been taking pictures for hours in the lava fields. Night was coming for us despite our resistance. We had one more campground to find. One more sleep until we all left the next morning. I called a stop to the shooting so that we could pack up, but I didn’t listen to my own command. As I stood in the lava field, watching everyone slowly pack up, I didn’t want to go. I had an overwhelming, all-encompassing feeling that I should not be leaving – that I belonged there. I stood for what felt like seconds but was certainly longer, staring out at the bleak yet beautiful dropping sun, almost hidden entirely through the misty clouds.

I had been gone for three weeks. I would be returning home the next day. A trip back home is sometimes a welcome thing. I love being home. But on a trip like this one, something changes in you. You see the world more profoundly, and when you do, it is hard to leave. So I stood there, while everyone else did all the work of packing up, and I let it wash over me. It was that feeling of understanding, like your entire person has expanded because of a deeper connection with everything around you. I felt as though I was being spoken to through the bottoms of my bare feet resting easy on the soft moss.

It was cold, but I hardly remember shivering. It started raining, but I don’t remember the drops. It was getting dark, but I only remember the light.

I stood there wondering, before she came over to pose for me, what would I create? If I could do away with what was cliche or what anyone expected of me, what would I create. And that was when it was obvious, like the image was burned there in my mind already. I would create what I felt. I would create what cannot be, yet is my truth. I would photograph her floating, being lifted by the light that didn’t exist but in my mind. I would create an image indicative of my experience there in that lava field, utterly surreal in that surreal place, completely elevated by that experience.

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.

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.

There is a certain song that we sing, sometimes without realizing that our voice escapes our clenched throat, that vibrates through the air, noiseless, until it beats against the place it was meant to find. The lyrics are without words yet speak to a place inside where the voiceless booming of magnetic poetry carves itself in deep. Words are not necessary in this song. It is a pounding mystery. The ocean beating rocks against one another, or the crack of thunder. It carries inside itself a booming melancholy, or a rich light, and when we hear it (for only we can) we know it to be true. Such is the way with certain places. We release a song and hear nothing until it hits hard the place that makes it sing. Such is the way with humans. Such is the way with the soul.

Iceland – June 4th 2015 – 9:00pm

We arrived at the lava rocks with both joy and sadness. It was our last stop for our 5-day adventure together. The friends that I loved would be departing the next day and right then, in those few hours, we would spend our last moments creating art together. I stepped out on the rocks for the first time and bounced. I felt like a child, touching and smelling something for the first time. We rejoiced at so many things that evening – the way the clouds continuously changed, each calling to one another to look in different directions, each of us in awe. We jumped from rock to rock, holding hands, calling out, and laughing. We each strayed off by ourselves for brief moments, taking it all in. And I went with one of my best friends to shoot a private series.

The cold lessened that evening more so than the other days. We felt warm with life and excitement and so creating art nude and exposed felt easier than other times – more comforting. Soon enough we were barefoot, letting the moss tickle in between our toes, and I was glowing with inspiration. When I was photographing my friend, I wondered if the power that we felt would translate in a single image. There are times when I wish I could bring the viewer to the shoot, make them (you) feel the air and touch the ground and let your heart beat to the rhythm of that creativity. But in the moment, knowing there is no way to translate such a feeling, I had to settle for doing the best I could with what I had – a powerful woman nestled in the heart of all hearts, the soft ground covering the dangerous lava rocks in the land of fire and ice.

And so I created five images in a series, making her body look like the landscape. I photographed the first image and asked if I could keep going, changing my angle each time to create a triptych of the same model in nearly the same poses from three different angles. I photographed one pose of her reaching for the camera. At first it spoke to me as someone who needed to be rescued, but the more I looked at her reaching there in that place, I felt she was beckoning to me. Pulling me in and telling me to stay forever in this place where my heart sang more than ever before. Finally at the end of the shoot the inspiration fever had caught on, and Jen asked if she could join the shoot, which I was absolutely delighted about. And so I ended the session with both of them there in that powerful place, a finale to a poetic and emotional day.

Model, Images 1-5: KD Stapleton
Model, Image 5: Jen Brook

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.