i did it!

In reference to the previous post...
I did it!!
As I was shooting these I had this amazing moment, where everything just gelled and everything was just working perfectly, the lighting, their interaction, the composition EVERYTHING! And as I was clicking away I was thinking this really is what I'm supposed to be doing. I was in love.
Now I just have to remember that feeling and not chicken out!

it's a long one

Since I started this blog back in 2005 (holy cow, almost 5 years ago...that's crazy!) I've mentioned photography, my love of photography and my desire to make it my career. A lot of time these posts feature my wishy-washyness (yes, that's a word) about what I want to do, and how to go about doing it. And honestly, I've always known what I wanted to do, since I first started taking classes in high school. I've always loved watching people, observing how people interact, the things they do. I knew I wanted to take pictures of people. I used to sit for hours with magazines and catalogs like j.crew (it was my favorite because the models weren't overly posed, there is a very natural quality about their location shots) looking at photographs, cutting them out and pasting them into an inspiration notebook. In high school I would organize photo shoots with my friends as models, trying to recreate the images I saw in magazines. For a little while I thought I even thought I wanted to be a fashion photographer...just so I could work at j.crew. It wasn't until I got out of college and started working at a camera store which was frequented by wedding and portrait photographers that I realized that is what I wanted to do. Up until that point I thought all wedding photographers did the stiff formal awkward and uncomfortable looking poses and photographs. I felt like my eyes had been opened to something new and I knew that's what I wanted to do. I wanted to be able to mix my love of fashion with everyday people to create fun, loose, casual photographs. So why haven't I? I'm a chicken shit. My number one worry relates to me being shy. I've always been shy, not one to start a conversation, but not socially awkward. Although getting older has helped that a lot. Really I've seen a huge change in the past 3 years. I can start a conversation and can quickly let my guard down and joke and laugh and become comfortable. But that shy girl still worries that I won't be able to make subjects feel comfortable and then they won't have fun or get the kind of images they want. I've come to realize a lot of this just takes doing it and it will all fall into place.

When it came time to go to college I decided I wanted to major in photography. It was the only thing I felt I was good at and loved doing, the only thing I could see myself doing. This may sound cheesy and over-dramatic but it's like something in my soul tells me that photography is the path I'm supposed to be on. I think about photography all the time. I dream about having my own photography business and I get really excited and when I think about it not happening I get a lump in my throat and ache in my heart. When I'm taking pictures everything just clicks. I remember once in college a friend was asking for advice on composing images and I gave him some basic pointers but I also explained that I saw things in terms of photographs, everything I looked at I would compose in my mind as a photograph. I've gotten away from that and truly miss it. When I was in school taking tons of photo classes that's what my brain and eyes were focused on. But now, I don't pick up the camera as much as I'd like and I only see that world when I'm looking through the viewfinder. And honestly, it's not as easy to find as it was in school. Since I got a digital camera, I've gotten lazy. I learned photography on manual everything and had to think about everything, when I got my digital camera I was so excited, Auto focus! Aperture priority! I never have to think again! And I was under the impression that all professional photographers no longer used their manual settings. It hasn't been until recently that I realized I was so wrong. I have been not that happy with my exposures and had become certain that it was my camera. I started thinking about getting a new camera and at about the same time I've become increasingly frustrated with my current job and really wanting to make photography my career and was looking for inspiration and somehow stumbled upon a photographer named Jasmine Star. I have literally spent hours looking at her blog (Jasmine, if you have a site meter and there's someone who's been on your site for 5 hours straight, um, Hi!, that's me.). I love her images, they are like what I've been wanting to create. They are razor sharp in focus, excellent exposures, the lighting is insane, well composed and there was more than once I just sat staring wanting to lick my screen. What I also love is that she is so open with information, on her blog she has FAQs and she answers tons of questions about her equipment and her techniques and how she got started with no formal photography training (and has a link to her old blog when she first started where she shares a lot of her frustrations -- which I feel like we share. I also love that she shares her images when she was first starting out and you can see her progression). I feel like I've learned so much and am so inspired by her. After reading her FAQs I realized my camera is not why I'm having exposure issues, I have to go back to manual settings, I'm smarter than my camera...but I could use a couple of better quality lenses (hello tax refund!). :)

So, I've decided I'm going to do it. Be a real photographer. I'm scared but I'm going to push through. Even if I fail, I will have tried (and will keep trying until I make it). I'm taking baby steps to get back to seeing everything as a photograph and to build my portfolio, hello friends! free portraits!

2009 in photos

june 14, 1998

This is something I've been thinking about doing for over two years. I first mentioned it here.
It's taken me years to be able to openly talk about it, I'm not completely comfortable with it, but I've realized it does more harm to me to hold it in than to let it out.


June 14, 1998.

I woke up this morning feeling something was wrong. I get out of the bed I had been sleeping in at my friend's house, none of them are awake yet. It is so hot outside, the leather seats burn my back as I drive home. It's not only hot, it's sticky, the heavy oppressive thick air that only the South knows.

---

I go home everything is quiet, everyone seems on edge, but no one knows why. Alex is already awake, which is rare, he's not usually up this early. I take a shower and I put on a pair of Paris Blues jeans and a white Fruit of the Loom men's v-neck undershirt. I later come to think of this outfit as a bad luck charm, never to be worn again.

---

They pulled up to the house and got out of the car, two of them, a man and a woman. Mom walks outside and closes the front door behind her. They say something to her and she sits down on the steps. Alex and I watch from Mom and Dad’s bedroom window overlooking the porch. She is upset, her head buried in her hands, wiping her eyes with her palms. I am worried. I call Dad on his cell phone. He doesn’t answer, I leave a message "Dad, just wondering where you are, I'm at home. Call us back. I love you." The time passed slowly, I think I call Dad a second time. Finally Mom stands up and they head for the door.

“Lauren, Alex come downstairs” she says. She holds our hands and we sit down at the kitchen table. The only words I remember are Dad, car, accident, fatal. I don’t remember the combination. I cry out as my body collapses. The detective pulls me off the floor and I push him away.

---

I sit next to Mom as she picks up the phone to call my Dad’s younger sister. I hear her scream on the other end of the line.

---

They come back a few hours later and start asking questions. Did your Dad seem happy last night? I am sitting on the kitchen counter. I am mad and rude. Yes. I say. Did your parents fight a lot? No. They fight the same amount as any parents.

---

There was a gun in the car. The gun went off. It hit Dad in the chin below the right side of his mouth. The gunpowder residue was on his hand. They say suicide. I choose to believe accident.

---

Flowers start arriving. Lilies. Asiatic and Stargazer. Their perfume fills the house, it smells like death. Food is dropped off. No one is hungry. Dad always does the cooking.

---

In the mornings before the funeral mom is gone, meeting with the funeral home and making arrangements. I start making a collage of photos to display at the reception after the funeral.

---

We leave for the funeral in a black limousine. We sit on the left side of the church. The simple walnut casket is closed it has more lilies on it. I walk out and notice so many people there, the church is full, there are people I don’t expect to see. At the burial there are bagpipes playing. We go to the reception. I talk to some family and introduce my friends. I sit outside on the porch. I eat a slice of ham, even though I'm not hungry, it is probably the first thing I have eaten in days.

---

After the funeral my Aunt and Uncle invite us to come swimming at the hotel pool where they are staying. It's so hot and miserable outside but I say no.

---

We get Dad’s belongings back. His briefcase covered in evidence tape. I am mad that they just left the tape on. Parts of papers inside are covered in dried blood. His glasses are in a brown paper bag and broken.

---

We go to the lot where his car is, I don’t remember why, but I remember something about donating it for parts. I see his car out of the corner of my eye. It is damaged and dented but not terribly. There is blood all over the front seat.

---

I start to realize how much weight I’ve lost. I am wearing my favorite pair of perfectly worn Levi’s, they have become loose and saggy. The normally loosely fitting gray v-neck is extra baggy. I notice my elbow bones are sticking out much more than normal. But I still have no appetite.

---

School starts. I get sick in the morning. All I can keep down is orange juice and that’s only for about 30 mins. I’m late for school for the first two weeks, that’s if I go in at all. Some mornings I make it to the parking lot but can’t go in.

---

I start seeing a therapist. She asks me on a scale of 1 to 10 how sad am I. I say a 10. She has me look at moving lights, red and green, for several minutes. She turns the light off and asks how sad am I now. I tell her 10. Inside I’m thinking this is bullshit. You expect me to look at lights for 5 minutes and then not feel sad that my Dad has just died?

---

I don’t remember at what point the pain starts to ease. I do remember that into the next few years there I nights that I cry myself to sleep.

shameless self promotion

Just in case you haven't scrolled down to the sidebar...or maybe you're reading through Google Reader...I've started selling some of my photographs through etsy.com.
Stop by and have a look!

Etsy: Your place to buy & sell all things handmade modnyphotography.etsy.com

i'm back

I haven't been posting in a loooong time. I was over at tumblr but for whatever reason, I've decided to come back to blogger. I think I haven't posted in a while because I don't really have anything to say, that was one of the good things about tumblr, you can just post a picture or video, and not write anything. But at the same time that convenience has caused me to fall out of the habit of writing here and looking for things to talk about. So maybe that was just my long winded way of saying I'm trying to get back into the swing of things.
I've been trying to post my tumblr posts back on blogger, but I'm have trouble getting it to work. So hopefully, I can get that situated...
So, that's all for now. Except...HAPPY FALL!!

little things

Little things make me happy, like the fact that Fall is in the air and the breeze through my open window is rustling the curtains.