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.

We settled on a brown color, though which brown I did not know. I like bold change, and so I left the salon with dark brown hair…and I adore it. It is just the change I need to feel like a character again. When I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror I hardly recognize myself…I am a natural blondie after all. The other day I was thinking about this change, and although it is only superficial, had me thinking about more internal matters.

Noticing the stark contrast of my pale skin and the dark hair, I began to think about how white and black are perceived through symbolism. Very often the connotation is good vs. evil, and so I decided to create an image with that theme in mind. I used my hair to my advantage in this self-portrait, allowing it to pull me in one direction while my white dress pulled in another. So often we feel this pull: good/evil, life/death, right/wrong.

To create the image I photographed it on my patio, as I so often do, using my neutral wall as a backdrop. My hair was just dark enough against that gray color to isolate it and cut it out from the background to place it on one I photographed when I was in India a week or so ago. I started this shooting process by flinging my upper body forward with my hair to capture that portion. Afterwards, I began moving the dress behind me and capturing that movement.

Mind you, when I say “dress” I really mean “bed sheet”, as that is one of my favorite costumes. It is versatile, simple, and very inexpensive…my kind of costume! No matter how many dresses I buy, I always go back to different colored bed sheets as my favorite of all. There are so many possibilities with them!

Finally I knew that I needed a dust/dirt effect in my final image. I also knew that I needed to photograph something light for the dust on the dress and something dark for the dust on the hair. That was when I decided to photograph just one handful of “dust” – or in this case I used baking flour – and then invert the color when I needed to make it darker. By adding contrast to that shot, the background became darker while the flour became whiter, making it easier to isolate the flour from the background.

I pulled on my favorite white dress, snow boots and a coat and ran outside with my camera and tripod in hand. I didn’t think twice about what might be a “good idea” or not, I just did it. I wanted a picture in the snow and I didn’t know how long it would last. I wanted to savor that moment as much as I possibly could, recognizing it’s fleeting quality and wanting to be there, right there, logging it in my memory.

As I sit here, just an hour later, I am hit with the incredible metaphor this morning has been for this whole year I’ve just lived. In this last year I have taken strides to be a different person – a better person. I began 2014 with the simplest of goals: be kind, share love, appreciate more. Even the simplest goals have their difficult moments. This morning I slipped in the snow as my feet turned bright red from the cold and nearly dropped my camera in a puddle. But even so, it was worth it, whether a photo results or not. And that is what I learned from this year: It doesn’t matter if something works out in the end. All that matters is how hard we tried, how much we loved, and what story we write in the process.

I can’t help but look out my window and see the snow very much like a twist in a novel. It never snows here. This feels like a New Year’s miracle. And just as a novel might do, life has thrown in a twist of joy. Stories exist to excite our minds. Stories are life and imagination smashed together in a great dichotomy of wonder. And so, in this amazing world we live in, it is easy today to see how even the simplest stories create moments ripe for an amazing life, no matter how small, commonplace, or insignificant they seem.

As each year passes I realize more and more why I am who I am. I am a storyteller, and I want nothing more than to share the world with others in the way I see it. We each see so differently, and beautifully, and it is a shame not to share in those experiences. And so I tell stories, with a camera or with my words, and I hope each time a new one blooms that someone will want to be a part of it.

I have struggled through great life lessons this year. I have recognized my flaws and worked to fix them, knowing that once they are fixed new ones will appear. Life is funny like that. I have seen my impatience and have found peace. I have worked to see all people as equally important. I have embraced a mindset of love, for that is what connects one person to another: the desire for it, and the capacity to share it.

It is so very difficult to look back on this year and see anything tangible. I care so little, more and more, for those things which might traditionally define a person. An exhibition, a speaking event, even creating a new image; it all feels so small in relation to the bigger picture. For each and every endeavor that one can embark on, no matter how many accolades they might receive, can always be reduced to the simplest idea: what kind of story did you create from the experience?

And so I move into the new year with Story on my mind. New goals follow that pursuit, though I’ll leave that for a different blog post. For today, my story is about a girl who gazed in wonder at a scene powerful and moving, and as the snow whipped through the air and settled in her hair she realized that the greatest gift one can receive is that of presence. For in the moment, no matter how small, there are great stories to be told.