Thursday, March 28, 2013


While photographing a wedding over the weekend, I remembered why I don't particularly enjoy photographing people. There are several factors involved, the most obvious of which is my height. I'm a shorty and we all know the horror show of a photo from below the chin... yeah, we've all seen an image of ourselves from this unfortunate angle that turns even the thinnest person into the golden Buddha. Sadly, trying to suck in your bottom jaw doesn't work. Trust me.

Because of my stature, when the audience stands, I often lose a shot. When the couple dances, all I see through my lens is Great Aunt Bertie's lavender curls. Also, people like to talk to me, which I appreciate when I'm free to chat, but my easy approachability really sucks if I miss the cake cutting because that peculiar relative (you know which one, every family's got one) is intent on sharing the comprehensive history of cake fondant.

I prefer the details. The food, the flowers, the light on the edge of the waiting champagne glasses... oh, how I love to photograph these things. They tend not to move about, make funny faces, or sweat. Yes, leave the details to me. I forget and remember this about myself every time I pick up a camera.

When finding my bliss in the details at home, I need to remember to do it well before the wok is steaming and everyone is waiting to eat. I'm obsessed with food blogs right now, so the family may have to get used to a few ingredients going missing while I satisfy my muse. I'm sure they won't mind.

Thursday, March 14, 2013


Look, blooms! How very exciting! Spring never fails to surprise me. Of all the seasons, she is the stealthiest. As soon as my eyes have adjusted to the dark of winter, spring sneaks in, layering the landscape in thin veils of light and faint washes of green. One day, I will wake up and wonder who stole into our neighbor's yard and planted blooming tulips. Imagine if your boring lawn was vandalized with flowers. How delightful.

Spring moves quietly, gracefully, joyfully. She is like the allegro of a symphony or the embrace from a long lost friend; a gentle reminder of the abundance to come. Mid March is time to prepare for the coming seasons. Plants can be voluptuous or slender, healing or poisonous, bold or reserved, whatever they turn out to be, I love them all. Plants are undeniably sexy. They are the Latin soul of my Scandinavian aesthetics. I desire to be surrounded by green riots of growth. Frankly, I don't care if these plants produce anything or not. The vegetables or flowers aren't the end goal this year. Giving an avocado pit or a sprouted potato a second chance compels me. What better way to honor the dormant potential in myself than to take what I have mistaken for ugly or useless and nurture it back into something beautiful?  This spring is about the reclamation of wonder. 

And radishes. I have a sudden taste for radishes.