Imperfect lenses and seeing clearly . . .

* A note to regular readers . . . I'm suspending The Wednesday Pop until next week, so I can tell the Nicaragua stories in consecutive posts.  Pop will return!


So, you know I just returned from this amazing trip meeting friends in another land.  Everything is different after you do that - thoughts, the way you 'take in' a regular ole' day, the things you appreciate. Nicaragua was wonderful, from the vivid colors of her landscape to the big open hearts of her people.  I can't wait to go back.

I went to Nicaragua in a confusion that I rarely feel.  I decided, after advice from friends who had been before, that taking my 'real' camera wasn't the thing to do.  I vacillated with that decision from its inception until moments before I boarded the plane.

On the one side of my brain, I heard, I always take my camera!  How will I make it, not recording what I see to the best of my ability?  Will I miss something?  Will I be able to retell the story when I return without crisp, sharp photos?  How will I make it without my 'friend'?  

On the other side, I'll really BE there and live in the moment.  I won't have that albatross around my neck.  There will be no worry at the chance of destroying my investment.  My big camera won't be between me and the wonderful souls I'll meet.  

I went back and forth, back and forth.  I do that too much anyway, and this was serious see-sawing!  It drove me crazy!  I researched meaningful photography with an iphone, I threw the question out and tried to hear what God had to say, and I looked into 'making it work' without a DSLR.  I put myself through the ringer, trying to decide.  I tried to remind myself what I tell people all of the time . . . it's not the camera that makes a great photo.

Okay, you get the point.  I was befuddled.  Folks felt like the dusty conditions weren't the right thing for my camera and some wondered if maybe it would be a good exercise for me to see things through a different lens.   What to do, what to do?

So, I went and boarded the plane, loaded down with small cameras and equipment.  I spent the day of travel convinced that I was forgetting something, as I was so accustomed to carrying my heavy camera bag.  I had a borrowed camera, a new small camera to leave with friends in Nicaragua and my iphone, accompanied with my array of extra little lenses for it.  I was armed and ready.  I would leave my Canon at home and I would head off into a new world and see it with my own eyes.  I wouldn't carry a great big instrument around my neck.  I wouldn't worry about which lens was best for each situation.  I would see what I was seeing, instead of composing it through the viewfinder of my comfort zone.  I would retrain myself to use different equipment, and I would enjoy it.

Want to know how I did?  I'm still not sure!  I did enjoy the freedom my camera choices allowed me.  I often felt closer to what I was living than I sometimes feel behind my usual mechanical friend.  I was lighter.  I was quicker.  I didn't worry about water or dust or sand or where to set things down or whether something was safe.  That was good.  I focused with my own two eyes.  Maybe I was more of a participator instead of the director.  I snapped and snapped and snapped.

I guess I could say it was a success.  I missed things, though.  I missed the artistic part of what I do.  I missed the familiar feel of camera in hand, imagining what stories I could tell with what images.  I missed the work that goes into the choices about light and focus and speed, etc.  I was out of my element, a bit.  And, when I returned home, I really missed the crisp photos I like to see.  I was disappointed with the fuzzy images of the people and place I now love so much.  I missed the art.  I missed the bokeh behind my new friends' faces.  I missed the focus on just a small section of the photo of something special.  I missed the clarity I look to find.

But the trial wasn't a blowout.  It worked.  It really did.  My camera stayed safe at home, ready to get back to work when I returned.  I moved effortlessly around a new home in a new land.  I was with my subjects.  I was there.  Nothing was between me and the people I loved.  I snapped and snapped and snapped like I always do.  All was all right.  I learned.  I learned a lot.

I'll admit that when I look at the photos, I often find myself wishing I could 'do it again' with clearer machinery.  I do.  But, in the end, I made the right decision.  I spent my first trip to a new favorite place with less baggage, and that is always a good thing.  I'll go back.  I'll probably go back with a familiar friend around my neck.  But, nevertheless, I did it right the first time.  This time it was about getting to know this place and her amazing people.  I did that.  Thank God.

As I've edited the photos, I've had to re-assure myself of this epiphany over and over again.  I've had to tell myself, again and again, that the images I returned with are just fine.  And, as usual, I did come back with a few thousand photos too many and I can look at them and immediately bring back the moments that meant so much.  They work.  They help to tell a story.  I'm thankful.

The little cameras were just fine to remind me of what I saw.  Wish you could have seen it, too, friend.

 I wish you could have watched this quiet time between my dear friend and this precious little girl, living in the dump just outside of Chinandega, Nicaragua.

I wish you could know the magic of watching one with nothing tenderly helped by one with plenty.  I wish you could have witnessed the gentleness of this speck of time; this moment with no language.

I long to make you see what this child's face looked like when she looked back at Marta with no words and with a thousand words.  A child who is used to nothing walks by with her gift of oranges from us and works to carry them safely back to her shack to her waiting family to share in the magic.

   She and Marta work together, with a few failed attempts, until they got it right, and this little love looks back with thanks.  It was tender.  It was loving.  It was sad and happy and beautiful at the same time.  I snapped and snapped and snapped.

And I didn't need a fancy camera to see the look in the eyes of this little girl from the same area, as she spotted the familiar face of a friend from far away.  I wouldn't have had time to decide on the right settings on my usual camera, but I was able to grab the little one and click, click, click.  I can't tell you how wonderful it was to watch this sweet girl see the face of my friend and lunge into the air to get to her!  What a moment.  These photos don't follow any rules of composition; but for me, they capture that magic moment - a moment when two people who share no language, no realities, no familiarity, come together in love and understanding.  Snap, snap, snap.

And on the day before I left this new place I love, I was able to jump out of the back of the truck when I saw the looks on the faces of my dear friend and this sweet mother in the village.  They didn't know each other.  They share no commonalities.  But, what I saw convinced me that their eyes screamed out in understanding.  They looked at each other in a way that said, from one to another, "We know that feeding our babies, physically and emotionally, is what we are here to do."  They loved each other without words or shared stories.  I was there.  I grabbed my trusty phone and witnessed the magic.  Snap, snap, snap.

So, I'll get over the fact that the photos aren't perfect.  I'll move past it and remember that they can still tell the story.  These fuzzy photos can still tell the story of folks who came together in ways more meaningful than I could ever imagine.  Thanks be to God.

What's the chance of this?

I'm so excited at the moment, I can barely get the words on the computer!  Something so amazing is unfolding, that I want to share it.

On Monday, I leave for a one week trip to Nicaragua.  I'm delighted to be able to do it.  It has been a long time since I've been on a trip like this, and I know how incredibly life-changing these kinds of trips  can be.  I'm ready to meet new people and I want to show folks living a completely different life that friends in another part of the world care very much about them and I want my children to remember seeing their Mama taking trips like this.

I guess my trip is called a mission, though I'm sometimes funny about that word.  I don't ever want to be part of a group that visits people in their homeland and plays the part of the 'Smart American that knows how it should be done.'  I don't like that idea.  I am more comfortable with the idea of my meeting new friends where they are, getting to know them and letting them get to know me.  I like the idea of spreading love by feeding or laughing or dancing or learning or telling stories.  I love that idea.  (We'll be working along with TOGETHER WORKS NICARAGUA.  Check them or find them on facebook.)

So, I have excitedly anticipated this trip.  I look forward to showing the love of God by meeting new people to love and laugh with; and, of course, I look forward to taking photos of the beautiful souls I'll meet.  All of that, coupled with my self-imposed challenge to leave my big camera at home and shoot only with my iphone, has been enough.

But . . . in the last few days, an amazing turn of events has occurred.  I love it!

A couple of months ago, I ran across something on the internet about an organization to empower women and children in struggling areas to tap into their creativity, gain self confidence and help their villages by learning photography.  I was immediately intrigued, but lost the webpage as I went off to tackle one of those minor emergencies that comes up from time to time in a real life - a child in need or a telephone call or some such thing.  The story stuck in my mind, though.

After I realized that I would be joining my friend on this trip to Nicaragua, I thought back and wondered about trying to find the group I had read about.  I kept it on my 'list' but continued to let other things slip in front of my investigation.  Oddly enough, my fascination with Instagram (my username is deanamg if you are fascinated, too) brought the whole thing back to me!  I happened to run across two words that struck me - picture change - and I KNEW that was the name of the organization I had read about earlier.  I was delighted.  I quickly began to investigate to find out more, and I hope you will, too!  Find it here - PICTURE CHANGE and also on facebook.  I have a feeling you'll be as swept up in the stories as I was.  Check out the blog - amazing things are happening for people in far corners of the world.  Check out the cool shop (http://picture-change.org/store/) and see the cool stuff available that is changing people's lives.  I dare you to read the stories on the blog, and not be moved by what Kate, Picture Change's founder, is up to.  Wow.

Now I'll speed up the story a bit. . .

• I find out the area where we'll be visiting.
• My friend who has been before tells me that the young woman who translates was given a computer recently.
• I find Picture Change again, and begin to read about a woman named Rosa who was a Picture Change student and is making strides in her life in Padre Ramos, Nicaragua.  
• I hear my friend call the name Rosa, and I find it a neat consequence.
• I decide to send a message over facebook to Picture Change and let them know how swept away I am with what they are doing and to let them know I'd love to do anything I could while I'm in Nicaragua.  
• Last night, I receive a message back - a wonderful, newsy note from Picture Change, explaining that Rosa where I'm going is the SAME Rosa that is a Picture Change student!  
• I get news on the supplies that Rosa needs for the computer and printer (given to her by Picture Change) and today I purchased them to take with me on the trip!
• Kate discussed ways that I could help Rosa and others while I'm there with photography lessons and how to further the cause.  

This whole thing has amazed me!  I thank God for this chance and for the ways that these things came together.  I didn't sleep much last night - I spent a lot of time imagining how exciting it is to have the chance to share something I love this much with new friends in another place in the world.  I'm thrilled, to say the least.  

So many of you have sent prayers and financial help to assist in this trip, and I thank you.  I'll appreciate good thoughts and prayers as we are gone, and I cannot wait to take you with me on this amazing trip.  

A Window's Reminder . . .

I found this photo on my computer recently.  It was taken a few months ago at a cabin up in the North Georgia mountains.  I like the photo because of all that it symbolizes for me.  This photo, this window, reminds me to keep looking at the possibilities and to remember that the clear light of the sun just keeps on shining through.  This symbol works for me this morning.  I hope it's helpful for you.  I think I'll file this one away in my brain for a rainy day or a confusing moment or a time I forget about all of the possibilities.  

I think pictures tell stories, and this one says a lot.  

I wanted you all to know that the Monday Morning Contest of the last few weeks was won!  My friend, Glenn, was the first to identify three of the photos.  It looks like I'll be photographing on Saint Simon's Island before too long!  

Here are the answers:

THE LINCOLN MEMORIAL

LOVELY LANE CHAPEL ON SAINT SIMON'S ISLAND, GA

A QUAD AT VANDERBILT UNIVERSITY

EXPEDITION EVEREST AT ANIMAL KINGDOM

Picture Prayers

Last week, my family was lucky enough to spend a few days at Kanuga.  If you read that, Cah knew gah, you've pronounced it correctly.  As far as I'm concerned, there are few places that compare to this  peaceful, fun, sacred space.  For years, folks have flocked to Kanuga for rest and renewal, for study and learning and to delight in nature alongside family and special friends.  It is a magical place.

Over the past few years, we have been invited to Kanuga for my Tim to serve as chaplain for a summer guest period full of happy folks on their yearly pilgrimage to the Blue Ridge mountains to a time and place that seems to stand still.   Normally, we are filled with the anticipation of a restful time, full of laughing and praying and walking and game-playing and long, lazy talks and learning and on and on and on.  This time, though, we were on the cusp of a big decision, a life-changing one that had the whole family on edge.

We were facing a big decision about leaving what we know and beginning a new adventure.  We were deep in thought; and, if I'm to be honest, we were angst-filled, too.  We were on edge.  We weren't ourselves.  We weren't 'doing what we do' at Kanuga.  We enjoyed our summer friends immensely, but we couldn't reach that peace-filled place that usually sets in about an hour after arrival.  We were surrounded by majestic beauty and quiet mossy waterfalls, but we weren't relaxing into it all.  The Kanuga lake was there in all its refreshing splendor, but our splashes in it weren't quite as care-free as most summers.  We were happy to be there, but our hearts were tied in knots.

We made our big decision while we were there.  We felt the push to leave what we know and begin another chapter in this crazy life.  We will soon make a move from Covington, Ga to Columbus, Ga - from Good Shepherd to Trinity.  Deciding feels good, but thinking about going home to begin the good-byes put us in an insular, awkward place.  I was happy to be surrounded by God's beauty; but I had a hard time wrapping my brain around all that was to come, and it was difficult to take from Kanuga all that it so freely gives.

One warm night after dinner, I wandered away from the group.  I grabbed my camera bag and headed down the hill, toward the lake, to have some quiet.  I reached for my camera with a confidence that it would help me see things in a different way.  I wanted to be silent.  I wanted to pray.  I wanted to gather myself, and I knew that the camera's lens was the friend I needed on the walk.

It might sound odd to pray with a camera, but I've done it a lot.  Bringing along the camera, makes me stop.  It makes me move slowly and watch.  Having the camera, and being alone, means I take my time.  I look more closely.  I take in the scene and I give it the thought needed to begin to understand.  I pause, I thank God for the moments I was too busy to notice before, and I listen.

I focus.  I press the shutter.

I pause.  I think.  I listen.  Sometimes I re-focus and press the shutter again. I'm not working towards perfection.  I'm not considering anyone else.  It's just me, being quiet and listening.  It's good for the soul - of that, I am sure.

I won't forget that walk.  I needed it.  I'll try to remember it.  I'll take with me the idea of knowing when it's time to walk away to focus, re-focus, press pause on the moment, be thankful and listen.  It's a good routine, I think, and I'm sure life always requires it.

That day I shot some photos I've already taken before.  That wasn't the point.  The process was what I needed - the seeing, the listening, the thanksgiving.

The pictures just help me remember.

WHAT IS IT? Day one photo . . .

The contest is back and appearing for the first time on the blog!  Press Pause, you all, and enjoy the game!  Tell your friends to play!  There is a winner for most accurate guesses and a random winner, too!  Contest rules are on the right side of the blog, just beneath the pin of the week.  Let's play!  Have fun!

Here is the Day one photo . . .

Check the instructions on the right and send me your guess.  One try per day!  Good luck!

. . . what comes naturally.

It's raining today where I am - it's yucky and gray and foggy.  The morning was dark, and it was hard to leave the comfy bed.  You know that kind of morning, the kind where you need to see something in your mind's eye that encourages you to 'take the first step' down off the bed?  I quickly got that picture in my head this morning; I remembered what I was to do later today.

In just a bit, I'm off to work on an art project with sixteen four year olds.  Some of you may hear that and feel a little sick in the pit of your stomach.  Don't feel that way, though.  Read on.  I encourage you to try something similar.  (You can even try it with adults if you can find some willing and daring enough!)

I'm convinced - and there is nothing you can say or show me to change my mind - that we all arrive on this earth loving certain things.  I believe we all begin our life loving a few things artful - dancing and singing and painting and creating.  I can almost feel a few of you getting a bit nervous; you're thinking I'm about to suggest something crazy, something like how creative we all are, something outlandish.  You're right!

Check out the nearest tiny person.  Watch them.  Listen to them.  Ask them to dance and they will, regardless of the music choice.  Ask them to sing, and they will sing out without worry about pitch or volume or tune.  Give them some objects, anything really, and ask them to create something.  They will and it will probably blow your mind.  There will be a story with all sorts of detail and the child will probably have entered a new world by the time they begin to tell you about it all.  Give the same child a stick and a patch of dirt and she will draw the most magnificent mansion.  Give him a paintbrush, and you don't even have to give him any paints - he can create without it.  He might use water on the side of the swimming pool and paint on the cement.  It doesn't matter to a child; it's just fun to 'make something.'

You see, that's what is so refreshing about working with children.   They don't have all of the crazy boundaries that we have built around our selves that tell us not to try.  If he wants to sing, he does!  If she wants to dance, she does!  If they want to paint, they do and it doesn't matter what they paint.  The process is fun, and they aren't painting for anyone else.  They are painting because it feels good, because it makes them feel alive, because it is beautiful.

I'm looking forward to my art time with the kids.  I bet when I give them the paintbrushes and show them the empty canvas, there won't be any hesitation.  The only question will probably be, "where do you want me to start?"  One of them will giggle while she's painting because she feels happy inside.  One of them will probably sing because that's what he does when he feels excited and alive.  A couple of them will probably just talk and talk, without any regard to whether or not anyone is listening.  I'll probably be smiling most of the time.

Take a second and imagine all that we could do - you and I - if we didn't stop ourselves before we even began.  Imagine how much fun it would be if we sang when we wanted to or danced around, without regard to what others thought.  I know some of you may be bristling now.  Don't though.  Just take a second and think about trying something.  Try something out of your ordinary - outside of your box.  Try doing something that your three year old self did whenever she wanted.  Try it!

Just imagine . . .

dear photographs

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.  Writing this blog has had me in a thoughtful place.  (I'm using the word 'place' the way my Dad has always used it.  Dad talks about the place where people are, but it has nothing whatsoever to do with where they live or where they are at this particular moment.  He might say, "She is in a really good place right now," meaning things are just peachy, or "He just isn't in a good place right now," which is bad news.)  So, I'm in a thoughtful place, which is neither good nor bad, just a time period where I've been doing a lot of thinking.  I'm learning that writing a blog will do that to a person; sharing pieces of myself, recalling old memories and putting my words and pictures "out there" gives me occasion to think.  I'm enjoying it.  Thanks for coming along.

I've spent a great deal of time considering what words and pictures I'd like to share.   If you know anything at all about me you know that I have A LOT to say and I take A LOT of photographs.  It's difficult to decide what goes where and when it should appear.  It's fun to think about future stories and pictures I'll share in the time to come; and I've  noticed that even the preparation leads to interesting thoughts and invites me to remember, revisit, consider, and dream.

A few months ago, my good friend Leigh shared a cool website, and I visit it often.  If you haven't heard of it, you're in for a treat - a thought-filled treat!  When you have a few minutes to enjoy something different, something quiet, something that will make you think, point your browser to DEAR PHOTOGRAPH and enjoy.  I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.  The dear photograph site is an antidote to so much we are bombarded with on the internet.  There is no motion or bright colors or exciting graphics.  There is no contest, no competition, no race.

On dear photograph you will see snapshots from the past taken in the present.   Snapshots from the past taken in the present.  What started a couple of years ago with 21 year old Taylor Jones quickly turned into a blog with millions of visitors.  The Canadian, Jones, was living at home with his parents and was looking through an old photo album.  He happened upon a snapshot that was taken at the same table where he sat looking at the photo.  He snapped a new photo of the old photo in the same place.  What came of that and a few other similar photos became this mega hit.  The site will draw you in, I suspect, and it will have you thinking.  Visit and see.  This is fun homework, and it's full of discoveries.

You might enjoy just looking around the site at what others have done.  You might look at all of the photos from one particular day or you may jump from day to day.  It seems when I spend time on dear photograph my mind wanders to places I've known.  Sometimes those are sad places, but many times they are happy ones.  I find myself 'going through the motions' of those on the website and imagine different photos I might use.  My husband loves to look at old photos, and he likes it best when they are in no order.  He thinks it's fun to be surprised each time he reaches for another photograph in the stack, never knowing what might be next.  Visiting this website might be much like that.

Go for a visit and stay for a while or check in quickly and then go wherever your mind takes you.  That's the fun part.  Enjoy.

Just imagining some 'dear photograph' projects.  Hope you will too.

Say "Cheese" and say it often

Photographs ARE more than paper - I know you all know that. And, I know that many of you have already read the post that I am sharing today. It has been all around the internet over the last few days. It is sad, very sad; and it is hard to read. It is hard to think about. I want you to read it, though. I don't want you to read it just to be sad, and I don't want you to read it as some sleazy way to promote what I do. I am a photographer because I love it and because I know that helping to preserve pieces of our lives is important. My clients understand that, and so they are willing to invest in the process. Sometimes it is expensive and always it is worth it.

I want you to read this blog post from another photographer because I think it has more of a message than making the investment in photography. I think this is a call to all of us parents (often Moms) that it is IMPERATIVE that we have photographs of us - when our children are older, they will want to see what WE looked like, what WE did with them, when WE looked happy or tired or excited or sad or content, what WE shared with them. As parents, we work hard to ensure that we have photos of our children at every age, in every phase, at every special event, etc. How often, though, do we think of a zillion reasons why WE shouldn't be in the photos? My answer to that question is . . . OFTEN!

Do we fear that our children will grow into adults who look back at the pictures of us and see tired or overweight or without make-up or not dressed correctly? Are we afraid we won't measure up? Will we not look as good as the other mothers and fathers? Will our children wish that we had been dressed more fashionably? That's preposterous - you and I both know that.

Our children will see the one thing they are looking for - their Mama or Daddy or Dad or Mom or Pop or whatever you are called. They will see you and remember how we usually looked on those regular weekdays when they came in from playing. They will remember what made us laugh and when we got a serious look. They will remember just the way they sat in our laps or just how we threw them in the air or that we always looked at them in 'just that way.' They will look at those photos, snapshots or formal, and they will tell their children what it was like to be the child of us. I doubt they will notice the make-up or lack of it, the outfit we were wearing, or the amount of weight we needed to loose. They won't be looking for that. They will be looking for pieces of their past; pieces of the way things used to be. They will hold on to our photos in the same way we hold on to theirs.

As I look at the above photo I remember a grand good time. I also see a terribly fuzzy photo, taken with a cell phone, of a crazy tired woman with a funny looking paper thing on her head. I doubt that's what Emma and Harry will see when they look at the photo in years to come. I believe they will see a Mama who loves them, who laughed with them and tried to make that particular night fun. I believe they'll remember how they were the waiters and that they served the food to everyone on the porch and that they helped me use paper towels to make a chef's hat. I believe they'll remember.

I write this today and share this post for you AND for me. I suspect that you are like me. I spend most of the time behind the camera; and even with much prodding from loved ones, I rarely step out and get in front of the camera. That's not okay. I might not love seeing myself in pictures, but my children will; and seeing the photographs that we take today will be the tangible pieces they have of times gone by. I cherish the photos of my children as babies and toddling to walk and making a mess when they learned to eat - they will cherish the photos of their Daddy and I laughing and hugging and smiling and being surprised. I owe that to them. I do.

Please read:

http://fototails.wordpress.com/2012/01/02/a-letter-on-my-doorstep-portraits-are-more-than-paper/

Pictures of Hope

I know that if you don't have anything good to say you shouldn't say anything at all, as I use that phrase quite often with my three kids. Usually when you hear that something frustrating is going on. That's not how it came to me today, though. My mind has spent the better part of the day attempting to figure out words for times when words just won't do the job. Today I thought of "not saying anything at all" because the words I wanted did not come. My brain never thought them up.

As I sit in my den, a fire going in the fireplace, Sadie balled up in a pile of old blankets and my family all safe within earshot; a dear friend is saying good-bye to the love of her life, best friend, awesome husband, father of four adult children and soul mate. Today she gathered her family together for their circle to be broken. Today she realized that the race was over. There aren't any good words for that.

And then it seemed that wherever I went today I heard another sad story, another race lost too soon, another tragedy. Three different friends said to me today, "It just seems like there are too many bad things happening right now." Agreed. It's always hard to come up with the right words when 'bad things happen to good people' and always will be. Not much to say when the world gets kicked out from under someone. Nothing we can do to make it right. My brain just kept reminding me of that today and explaining to me over and over again that there was nothing to 'blog' about on this particular day. "Maybe this is THE day to reach people with the perfect message" I explained to my brain. "Yeah, right" my brain sarcastically screamed back, "you don't have the words."

My brain was right. I don't have the words to make things right. I have faith, I have hope, but not words. Sometimes we're just stuck in the bad until glimmers of the good come back. . . and then I realized that glimmers of the good was what I had! "A picture is worth a thousand words" right? I researched the origin of that phrase and found that it was originally on a streetcar advertisement. Apparently the literal translation of the 'Chinese Proverb' was A Picture's Meaning Can Express Ten Thousand Words. Over the years the actual message was that words and pictures work together to give meaning. Okay, I decided, I know what I wish I could say with words, and I have plenty of pictures. I want to give a message of hope, glimmers of hope, until the good comes back.

Here are but a few faces full of hope (and joy and laughter and faith and love). May this small picture express ten thousand words of hope, a message of love to all who suffer with sadness on this night. The good will come back . . . look at these faces.