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.

A self-portrait does not have to be the whole self. If you’re not there yet with that kind of work (and it is a deep, long-lasting work), only use a part of yourself. A hand, your hair – get creative! And if you feel like you can push yourself, create a full-fledged self-portrait!

This means you are the one working the camera and in front of it. I’ve created over 500 self-portraits in the past 10 years. Whew. Jump on board with me!

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!

Revelation: The thing that surprises me the most about my art is how little I surprise myself.

Terrible revelation, I know. I’m in the process of fixing that. In a few weeks I’ll be locking myself in a house to experimentally create the darkest art I can. And, a few days ago, I challenged myself to stop caring so much about what comes out of my photo shoots. I took my Instax Mini camera out and shot with instant film, experimenting, and trying to woo my past adventurous creative soul out to play.

It worked! I had an incredibly fun time creating with no boundaries, no expectations.

I went into the shoot with no plan, just a vague idea of what could be done with my little orange camera. After a couple of frames, I decided I might try some mixed media. Instead of something shot entirely on that little film camera, I would blend the film into my digital process.

The result is an image that blends film with digital, that got me to think outside the box, and, apart from almost being eaten by fire ants, gave me an unforgettable evening in the desert.

Sometimes adventures aren’t the big kind that take you around the world. Sometimes they happen in our homes or backyards, with the simplest tools. Adventure, for me, is a mindset. It is a willingness to try new things, no matter how small they seem.

An adventurous mindset can bring about enormous change – emotionally, in your art, in your life. I take active steps to see myself as an adventurer; to let myself believe that even these small things, like an instant film shoot in the desert, constitutes adventure. Because, at the end of the day, big adventures might not be within our means. But we can take small steps to broaden our horizons.

Not long ago someone asked me if I get nervous to try new things for the sake of keeping up professional appearances. I thought about it for a while, because at one point, my answer would have been yes. But now my attitude has changed entirely.

I want to dispel any myths surrounding professionalism in art. Yes, we should master our craft and know it intimately, but not at the sacrifice of innovation. I choose to change what professional looks like; instead of always trying to producing something perfect, I’d rather produce a hundred mediocre images in the pursuit of greatness.

What types of art would you mix to create mixed media?
Have you done something experimental this week?

Has anyone ever told you that you can’t do something you want to do?
Or that you shouldn’t, or that it’s best not to?

This past week I had an idea to make myself look like I was covered in tree sap while hanging upside down from the most epic tree I’ve ever seen. In order to do that, I had to cover myself in molasses…or, as it ended up turning out, corn syrup.

On a micro level, there were many reasons why this wasn’t a good idea.

The sticky mess that would take hours to clean.
Messing up my camera equipment.
Ruining clothes.

I had a thought while I was planning. “You’re 31 years old now. When will this stop?” That line of questioning no doubt comes from countless sources, from parental figures to television.

The answer came immediately: It will never stop.

If we stop pursuing the little wonders, the absurd, the silly, the messy, the childish…

…We will lose our sense of wonder.

In my life, if I want to do something and it won’t do any harm to anyone else, I do it.

I don’t care if it is uncomfortable or difficult. I don’t care if it is easy or not. I will do it because I must prove to myself that I am all in for this life.

If we don’t pursue those wild things that are uncomfortable or difficult, our childlike desires will start to disappear. Just like a plan that doesn’t get watered, our imagination will die if it isn’t loosed.

I have known so many people who think I’m nuts. People who think I’m too childish. People who cannot fathom doing the things that I do. But at the end of the day, when those people see the process and result of my madness, they don’t think it’s so mad anymore.

We spend so much time making excuses for why we don’t do something. We come up with difficulties in our heads that don’t really exist. We prefer things to be easy and clean and sterile. We want certainty.

I crave those things too. I fall into long, terrible lulls of ease.

But I recognize them and I want more. I want to look back at my 31st year and remember that Friday that I spent covering myself in molasses. I want people to think I’m crazy. I want to stand out from the crowd. I want to make this life worthwhile.

You may not see the connection. How does covering yourself in molasses make your life more worth living?

It’s a fair question. And it has nothing to do with molasses – not really. It’s about doing something that creates a memory, about doing something uncomfortable so that you feel more.

What is one thing you can do this week that is outside of your norm?
Share it so that I can get more ideas of crazy things to do…[insert evil laugh]

I was reflecting this week about pivotal points in my life, and each memory brought me back to the same four words: You Can’t Do That.

Those words have been spoken or written to me so many times, it must be fun for people to say.

When I made creepy films about death I was told I shouldn’t; when I made creepy photographs about death, I was told I can’t. But every time I did something that was weird and unfavorable, it brought me to a place of lush goodness. There must be a correlation between them.

Subconsciously, I began to associate things I shouldn’t do with happiness, prosperity. I started to believe that the more I did thing that upset some people, the opposite would also happen. Polarizing art means that people hate it and love it. And it is that love that drives my passion.

We place too much confidence in other people – their opinions, their beliefs, their experiences – and not enough on our own. On what could be. On what we might make happen.

This week I’m taking that back. I’m claiming my passion for my own and my path for myself. I’m walking toward my passion with the confidence that if I can build it, I can live in it. If I can imagine it, I can make it.

My words for this topic are short because they are direct, sincere, and final. It’s simply time we took back what we rightfully own: our dreams.

Share two things with us:
1) What have you done despite being told not to?
2) Do you think you could be more bold in your life?

For whatever reason, I have always been hesitant to talk about pain. I live in pain, but I’m not bothered by that and I never felt the need to bother anyone else with it, either. I’ve always been of the mindset that if I take care of myself, and I see the best parts of life, then I can manage day to day. This method is working splendidly for me.

I have Fibromyalgia, which is categorized as wide spread pain. Not very specific. For me, it manifests in joint pain akin to arthritis, chronic fatigue, and extreme body sensitivity. This means hugs hurt me (sadly). It means that I feel a lot more pain when I am touched than the average person would.

That’s just an overview, not a pity party. I don’t mind having Fibromyalgia too much. Some days it’s tougher than others, but I have a really annoyingly positive attitude about it and I don’t dwell on it. I have it easier than a lot of people.

My friends are often annoyed with me because I won’t talk about it or say when I’m not feeling well. How I’ve personally lived my life is to keep my pains to myself and deal with it by myself. I’m not saying this method is healthy; it is just what I’ve done.

So, talking about it openly doesn’t feel great. But, I had a few emails from people recently asking if I would talk about it, so I have. And, I created two images that represent how pain feels to me.

1. I always get 7-9 hours of sleep per night. I don’t have kids so that’s point one. But nonetheless, I prioritize sleep like no one’s business. I usually go to sleep between 9-10pm, and wake up between 5-6am.

2. I eat a whole foods, plant based diet largely without sugar. That works well for me personally: I am not attempting to give nutrition advise.
(Speaking of…I’m about to go slice a fresh loaf of this bread that I’ll smear with avocado. My favorite breakfast!)

3. I see beauty in pain. I really do. It inspires me and I create from it often. I let my poses, my emotions be dictated by what pain feels like to me.

4. I carry light-weight equipment. This has made a HUGE impact in my life. My gear that helps me travel light is: Sony a7rii (mirrorless, full frame camera), 3 Legged Thing tripod (carbon fiber, folds really small), and a Microsoft Surface Pro (laptop under 3lbs!). I use roller bags where possible because I also have nerve damage in my back.

5. I have a gratitude practice.

6. I build downtime into my day. I know that I have energy and feel best in the mornings. I do not, unless it is absolutely necessary, work past 7pm. I let myself relax from that time until I go to sleep.

7. I exercise, lightly. I do yoga everyday and hike 2-3 times a week.

8. A common effect of Fibromyalgia is bad memory. I have it in abundance. I keep to do lists and charts to keep myself organized. This helps to get me excited about finishing a goal as well as keeps my brain straight!

I know that there are people living in pain far, far worse than mine. And there are people who have never lived in pain. No matter your experience, I hope this sheds some insight into working through adversity.

At the end of the day, I have a passion that cannot be silenced. I try not to let time get in the way of pursuing that dream. What I mean by that is this: It might take me longer than I think it should to get some tasks finished. I might need to rest and take care of my body before I can move on and conquer. I’m learning to be okay with that. Passion and dreams do not have an expiration date. Take your abilities one step at a time.

I created these two images based on how I feel in pain.

One, a ripping apart of the body, an explosion within.

The other, a sinking, suffocating feeling as time passes you by.

Maybe one of these images resonate with you. Maybe you know the feeling.

Let me know below.
I’d love to open the conversation so that we all feel that we can share our pain.

I get asked all the time why in the world I take self-portraits. Usually it is a simple curiosity. Especially from fellow photographers who can’t imagine being in front of the camera, this is a strange thing to do. It is vulnerable, reflective, and telling.

But it is also a way to take control over all parts of your craft – to focus on the self is to be bold, brave, and mindful. Or at least, it can be.

Often the fear of self-portraiture goes back to body image. And, the assumption about self-portrait artists is that they love the way their body looks, so they photograph it. I can only speak for myself and what I know of other artists, and that isn’t always true.

One of my favorite self-portrait artists is Samantha Geballe. You’ll see why immediately. She is vulnerable, direct, bold, and innovative in all that she does and says with her lens.

She is also the perfect example of someone who takes the conversation in the direction she wants. She is an artist who drives conversations, not one that takes a backseat.

Self-portrait artists can be harshly judged. I’ve received emails saying that I shouldn’t create self-portraits because I’m not good looking enough. It happens. (Don’t worry about me, I’m a very tough cookie.)

But I think that a really smart artist drives the conversation. If you create a self-portrait and want to talk about body image (like Sam does in a lot of her work), then do that intentionally. Be the one that moves the talk in a way that feels productive to you. That doesn’t mean criticism won’t come in, or that you won’t hear hurtful comments, but you are more likely to command respect and positive attention in this way.

For example, I am very mindful of how I write online about my work. If I feel the focus should be on the theme, I write about the theme. If I feel it should be on the story of the image, I write about that.

This directs the conversation away from a place I don’t feel it should go.

I remember in my very early work I created an image where I highlighted and accentuated my rib bones. I released that image and received a backlash of comments calling me anorexic (which is a horrible accusation to throw around) and, essentially, body shaming.

The next time I posted an image like that, I didn’t get mad about those names I was being called. Instead, I directed the conversation. I drew attention to the fact that I was accentuated my bones for the story of the image. The entire conversation changed, and it became about why that choice was made.

In self-portraiture, we have the ability to direct the conversation just like any other time we release our art into the world. You might argue that we shouldn’t have to do that. That people should just be nice. That we shouldn’t have to deal with judgment. But, that simply isn’t the world we live in. And if I am given a chance to be in control, I am going to take it.

Throughout my 9 years as a self-portrait artist, I have learned more about myself than I ever thought possible.

I’ve learned how to see myself as the main character of my life, not just my images. I’ve learned how to love my body through bad camera angles. I’ve learned to not touch the liquify tool in Photoshop, to not change my body, to let it be as it is. I’ve learned photography through self-portraiture, learned composition intimately, learned how to express emotion through non-verbal communication, and more.

I highly encourage you to create a self-portrait. It might be just what you need and you didn’t even realize it. Or, maybe it’s old hat and you’re in the market to try something new with it. Either way…

This week, create a self-portrait.
Share a link to it in the comments below.

What are your fears about self-portraiture?
What has your experience been?

Scroll for information about today’s giveaway, to watch the video, and read my thoughts.

I took a self-portrait class.

Even though I’ve created over 800 self-portraits,
even though I’ve taught self-portrait classes before…

I went. And I was a student.

Going to this class, taught by the gorgeous person Meghan Davidson, opened up two ways of thinking for me.

The first was one that I had to understand before I went. I’m a natural facilitator. I love teaching, love guiding people. When I went to this class – the first workshop I’ve ever properly taken – I had to put that aside. I wasn’t the one leading, and that is a role I’m not comfortable in.

Instead of walking into the classroom with a leader mindset, I embodied a student mindset. I decided to be curious, to keep an open mind, and to create something I never would otherwise. Watch the video to see what I ended up making (and more!):

This post comes in lieu of those two things: being a beginner + giving gifts.

I challenge you to create like you don’t know what you’re doing.

Even if you’re a professional,
even if you have been creating for 20 years,
even if you think you know your style,
even if you know your craft.

Especially if.

Go back to basics. Do something that scares you, that challenges you. Do something simple. Don’t feel the need to PRODUCE.

That is where this image came from. For me, it was a relatively simple image. I shot it close up, which I normally shy away from, and I didn’t rely on heavy-handed editing.

I covered my body in paint, used a little butterfly I’ve had for 6+ years, and I had fun. Simple, I-don’t-have-to-produce-anything-good FUN.

I tried new techniques in Photoshop, I tried new colors, and I didn’t hold myself to what I already know.

I began again, even though I had already begun creating self-portraits 9 years ago.

What would you do differently if you could begin again?

Scroll for GIVEAWAY!

This week I’ve been given many things, some emotional, some good for the soul, and some were just downright awesome products. I came home from a week away to find a new 3 Legged Thing tripod (this one, specifically) waiting for me as well as a new Microsoft Surface Studio home computer. I mean…

:O

So, I’m passing it on. I really, really needed a new computer (mine was mid-combustion) and I was about to spend money on it. Now that I don’t have to, I’m giving away $150. Because I know this: Someone really needs it. 

If you’d like to enter the giveaway, leave me a comment. Tell me either: a bit about yourself or about a friend who you think could use this kind of a gift. 

And if you have the ability, pay it forward today.

(Read through to the bottom to enter a giveaway for a free portfolio review!)

I have tried and failed to put this idea into words for years. YEARS. But I finally feel like I understand it well enough to talk about. So, let’s talk. Please. Talk this out with me.

I am a Creative Professional. I say it this way because, depending on the day, I fall into different roles: Photographer, Writer, Speaker, Educator, Philanthropist.

Depending on the day I might spend my hours writing emails and proposals, out in the forest taking pictures, writing blog posts (such as this very one!) and more.

It may surprise some people to learn that photography was not my first professional creative outlet; first, I was a filmmaker. Not a successful one, and not one who produced anything, but nonetheless, that was my goal. I worked for a couple of production companies and I have a degree from college that says “Filmmaking” on it.

When I began photography, I remember feeling a SENSE OF GUILT all the time. Every time I blew off hours that I could have spent furthering my career in film, I was instead gallivanting around taking pictures. It wasn’t until I started earning money from photography that I changed how I thought about it. The guilt went away because a photo shoot could equal a paycheck.

This is not to say that I was motivated by money – quite the opposite. Nothing stopped me from creating no matter if I was going to do it for free my whole life. What did change, however, was significant. I started to equate photography with money, and therefore I didn’t feel guilty about spending my time doing it.

Fast forward to now, 9 years after I started photography, and I’m pursuing writing. I had a book published years ago called Inspiration in Photography, and because it was published widely (and it was about photography), I didn’t feel guilty about writing it. It felt like proper work.

This piece of writing is different. It is an entire career shift.
[not leaving photography behind at all though!]
I’m writing a novel, and it takes hundreds upon hundreds of hours. I need to commit to the process, surrender to it. But, every time I started writing, or researching, or spending any significant amount of time on it, an old voice came back to haunt me:

“Brooke,”
it would say,
“you could be spending your time creating an image, or writing emails, or sending proposals.
This book stuff is ridiculous.
You’re wasting time.“

The real heart of what my alter ego was telling me is this: If you choose to spend your time doing something else, you’ll see a faster return on your investment. If you focus on what you already know works, you’ll gain more business, more money, more relationships, and more prestige.

I have always known what an absurd notion that is, but NONETHELESS, it doesn’t stop me from thinking it.

I’m just being honest here, because if I’m not, you might have a vision in your head of me pleasurably writing a novel
(obviously in which I’m wearing a sundress and wide-brimmed hat scribbling away in an old notebook in the French Riviera…)
(P.S. That’s not reality. I live in Arizona and it’s awesome but not French Riviera awesome. And I can’t write a novel with a pen because my brain moves too fast. And also, my hands would ache. Plus, I get cold easily. Back to the point…)
in an idealistic setting when that is not the case.

Everyday is a struggle to sit down and write. This is partially because writing is not just “sitting down and writing”. It is months of research, of brainstorming by staring at white walls, of saying ideas out loud and realizing they don’t make sense, of self-doubt and fear and anxiety. And sometimes, I write words down that make sense. About one in every thousand. And then I feel okay again.

The biggest obstacle I face in writing this book is the simple idea that I might be wasting my time.

How do we know?

For me it is simple and yet entirely difficult: Are you doing something you love? If the answer is yes, it is not a waste of time.

But let’s think beyond passion and focus on probability.

Does this endeavor have a high, medium, or low probability of being sustainable. Sometimes, thinking about big picture ways that we use our time, we need to be practical. If I thought there was an extremely low chance of writing ever being a sustainable way of me spending my time, I wouldn’t dedicate massive amounts of time to it, like I am. However, I am imbued with the most absurd sense of confidence I’ve ever known. So, I believe it will pay off. Therefore, I invest a lot of time into it because I truly believe that one day I will be a writer.

(And, in spending a lot of time on it, I increase the chances of it being a success.)

All of this to ask – do you get it?
Have you ever had this problem?
I’ve been suffering from Wasted Time Syndrome for 9 years.
Have you?

Sometimes being a creative professional can feel like being pulled in too many directions. I have so many passions that I can’t possibly dedicate all my time to a single one of them. So, I shift my time between them, trying to remind myself that what is a passion now might be my career later, so it is worth pursuing.

Here is how you can enter the free giveaway!

Leave a comment on here about this topic,
and I’m going to pick a winner at random
to receive a free written portfolio review!

In the midst of an insanely busy fall season, my darling friend Amy Parrish came to visit. She brought with her hugs and giggles, stories of her travels, and this beauty: a Yashica Mat 124 G camera, that she was just learning how to use. I asked to join in the adventure and we set off on a hike with a poofy dress and mud squishing between our toes.

I admittedly don’t know a lot about film, and the simple not-knowing that we all experience about countless things is too often what stops us from exploring them. I try to embrace the attitude of being willing to learn. After all, there was a time I had no idea how to work my digital camera – how to write, read, form sentences… The more ways we learn to express ourselves, the more outlets we have to be freely ourselves.

I took a film class in high school. The class and I didn’t get on too well. I didn’t follow the rules very closely, I didn’t enjoy the darkroom experience, and I decided I’d never be a photographer. Clearly that didn’t stick. And now, as I pick up a medium format film camera, I can’t help but think of that girl who wrote off photography because of one bad experience. I don’t want to be that person ever, ever again. I want to try everything at least twice. I want to fail at least once.

As Amy taught me how to focus, how to load and wind the film, and each detail that goes into the process, I started thinking about my professors in college. They were film purists, didn’t believe much in digital alteration, and taught me a lot about motion picture film. Because of my experience in film school, I have often brought a sense of preparedness to my digital ways. I took those same skills back to my film roots, this time shooting stills for the first time since I was 16.

I kept remembering film shooters saying that it is best to over-expose your film rather than under, if you are going to do one or the other. I know a lot of rules, but I don’t follow them frequently. I decided I was going to shoot the film intuitively, instead of how I was “supposed” to, so I slightly underexposed each image. Part of that was necessity. It was dark in the forested area where we were shooting and I was toggling between 1/15 and 1/30 shutter speed, which was getting dangerously low for hand-held shooting.

We were positioned in the mud for my little series, so propping the camera up was out of the question. Amy held the camera for me after I composed and if the focus looked off, she fixed it for me. I told her when to click, and she clicked. I owe so much to Amy for sharing that experience with me – for getting muddy and adventuring and letting me be a part of her new creativity.

I tried out some slight editing in Photoshop to tinge them a little more to my color palette. I always have this problem, when I really like an image SOOC (straight out of camera), that I don’t know quite what to do with it. It just feels right. But these felt like they could be taken a little more out of reality, so I colored them.

Friends, keep trying new things. And remind me to try new things, too. We gravitate to comfort so often that we forget the exhilaration of newness. We are so afraid of being bad at something that we can’t see how incredible it is to get good at something. I used to think that growing up meant finally being good at what you are supposed to be doing. How wrong I was. Growing up means embracing the unknown and doing it anyway. As it should be, for an artist to grow.