Shutter Sisters

Friday’s Featured Resource – Vision and Verb

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It was a time of hope and innocence. A time when the cries of love and peace rang louder than the thunder of distant war. We wore bell-bottom jeans and mini-skirts and long strings of beads. We rocked to the music of The Beatles, the Grateful Dead, the Rolling Stones and rapped to the rhythm of  the Motown beat. We ate cheeseburgers and fries and malt shakes. For under $1.00 we got to experience Mary Poppins in the big screen theater. We were Sesame Street’s first audience, and loved Mr. Rogers. We adored the Brady Bunch and dreamed of being as strong and  independent as Mary Tyler Moore. We played hopscotch and four-square and ran free as can be. When the first giant step for mankind was taken on the moon, we cheered. We cried when John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King were assassinated. We were champions of equal rights. We were daughters of the feminist and sexual revolution. We believed that we could pursue our dreams and become whoever we wished and hoped to be.

We talked on hard-wired telephones with old-fashioned rings and busy signals. We listened to music that was recorded on long-playing records. Mail was delivered by our local mailmen and dropped in boxes by our front door. Dinner left over from the previous night was reheated in a conventional oven. The television that we watched was restricted to three local channels and rendered only  in black and white. The ‘Land of Oz’ what we knew, wasn’t brought to us in Technicolor.

We were girls of the 60’s.  We knew only what we knew and never imagined how the world might change.

Some  went to college, and pursued their professional dreams. Some got married. Some did not. Some had children. Others never had the desire or the need. Children grew. Marriages changed. Professions that once looked so glamorous and exciting turn out to be not quite as they’d initially appeared. That single solitary bar to which we’d clung so tight no longer felt quite as solid nor as secure. What we believed would fill and fulfill didn’t quite.

We are now of ‘that’ age. Not quite old enough to be truly wise, not young enough to be that innocent and naïve. Each on our own creative path and journey we stretch, we reach out, we look up to the sky in hopes for some sort of divine intervention and inspiration. Searching for our creative voice and style and coming from all parts of the world  we bravely put ourselves out there on this great world wide web, where anything and everything is possible. A universe that was once confined to our immediate surrounds opened itself to our searching fingertips. We believed.

Found through our shared but unique histories and our creative passions we connected. We’ve never met or talked live or in person.  We know nothing about each other’s daily lives.  We join our collaborative and collective forces and find a shared canvas on which to paint. Each in her own voice. Each in her own authentic style. We write. We photograph. We make sense and stories out of our lives.

We talk by email. Our music comes to us on MP3’s. We re-heat last night’s dinners in microwave ovens. And the television we watch is in full color and broadcast worldwide. The children we once were, we are no longer. The world that once  was, has changed. The bar we now swing from is longer and more far-reaching. We’ve grown. We’ve evolved. We have come to believe that we are better versions of ourselves than the ones we once were.

Still full of hope. Still believing that the sounds of peace and love will drown out those rumbles of distant war.

We are women of a ‘certain age’. Reconnected.

We are delighted that Marcie Scudder shared this guest post with us on behalf of she and her co-creator  Toni Johnson and the rest of the amazing contributors at their brand new blog Vision and Verb. Go girls!

serving up a unique project

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The year is ending and so is the photo blog “Table by a Window” I am in awe of photographers that have the discipline to undertake a 365 day project and feel inspired by the recording of life over that time with changes of the seasons, the ebb and flow of it all. Being realistic though, a project that encompassed a year would, for me, be more successful on a smaller scale, something that could that fit a loose schedule while still being maintained throughout a year.

The Table project was originally created with a goal of 100 photos throughout the year (I have gone over that by a bit) featuring a particular place in our home with photos stored in a set on my Flickr page.  As an active blogger though, it was no surprise that the original idea evolved rather quickly to a simple photo blog as well. It remained easy to maintain, there was very little pressure and as photography so often does the process created a fun way of seeing life from this everyday vantage point.

Our kitchen table by a large picture window is a spot where meals are shared, “stuff” often lands, smiles (and a few tears) exchanged, decisions made and daily life unfolds. I am not a professional photographer, no fancy shots or props, just a table similar to the one most everyone has. Following the style of my other blog spaces and to maintain the ease for me, photos were most often posted with little or no text or editing letting the image tell a story, many times sharing the table  “as is” and other images as I created.  Feeling free from daily deadlines it became simple to snap a couple of images a week while attempting to take advantage of the natural light.   

As the blog comes to a close I encourage you to consider a project like this as a simple, yet artistic way to record the year. Will you be starting a photo project or challenge in 2010?  If you began today what would your “Table by a Window” photo be?

Image and words courtesy of Elaine Kean, affectionately known as ELK at Red or Gray and at her 2009 photo project blog, Table by a Window.

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We hope that you are inspired to begin your own photo project for 2010. Whatever it is, let it be fun and challenging…but mostly fun!

If you plan on embarking on the daily 365 project, please join the Shutter Sisters 365 Flickr group for support and encouragement. Leave your notes here or there and let us know what you plan to do for the New Year. And as always, we will host our monthly One Word Projects too so be sure to join us for those as well! We may have a few more things up our sleeves for 2010. Who knows?

Siblings

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Three years ago on my imaginary Christmas list, I only had one wish; that my two sons would be nicer to each other.

Back then everyday was a struggle, constant fighting and very little goodness between my two and five year old. I just wished for a bit more tenderness, companionship and fun between the boys, to make the bickering bearable.

Since then, I’ve observed and photographed sibling relationships among adults and children; friends and family, a fascinating collection of positives and negatives all with a unique bond. So I now realize, I already had my wish; they may not show their love for each other all the time but it is there. I get real comfort and joy when I see such wonderful images of siblings, a precious connection shining through in a photo.

This Christmas I’ll watch my boy’s fuss, fight, and make each other laugh, like only they know how.

Please share with us how you photograph your own sibling relationships or those of your children?

Image and words courtesy of Honorary Sister / Guest Blogger / Flickr star Xanthe Berkeley.

Writing Italy

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I expected to fall in love with the language..the culture..the history..the food. I expected to be romanced by the ancient religious stone, and inspired by its accompanying Renaissance art. In Venice – I expected that the winding canals would sweep me away, and that the colors and light would bedazzle. I was not disappointed. It was everything I expected..and so much more. 

It wasn’t  the picture-postcard views and sights that captivated and caught my attention. As so often happens with me, it was  the art of the everyday ordinary that most intrigued me..and that I most loved. In every corner and alley, I found  lines of colorful laundry softly blowing in the autumn wind. Across canals, the lines appeared to lace and hold old buildings together. Between balconies, these same laundry lines tied neighbors into a community of intimate friends.

Soon, I began to make up  stories about the invisible people who lived behind the hanging wash. I’d heard of the Venetian ‘casalinghe’ – the traditional housewife – who raised the children and ruled the home. It was clear to me as to how this century’s old ritual and tradition had begun, but I did wonder why it is still practiced in these days of such modern convenience and amenity. There had to be more to this than what caught my eye. I imagined  – perhaps – it to be some sort of ‘art’ form passed on from one generation to the next. I thought that – perhaps – it was something that daughters learned from their mothers… who learned from their mothers before them..and those before that. It was not an ‘art’ that was studied, but one that was learned thru observation and osmosis, much like ‘mother tongue’. 

And – I thought about my daughter, and what it is she’d observed and absorbed along her journey. As a young child,  she was often found perched on a stool beside me, assisting and helping with daily dinners. In the afternoons when she returned home from school, she’d sit in the chair next to mine in my office, imitating my drawing  with drawings of her own. She watched..she listened..she learned.  Now 20-years old and living her own adventure and semester abroad, it was my turn to visit and follow her in her life. Studying in a language that I have never mastered, and living in a country and world that is foreign and new, I expected to learn as much from she as she’d learned from me. 

It was my chance to observe..to look..to see. I was curious to discover  what it is she’d held on to…and what it is she’d let go. I thought of the centuries old traditions of the casalinghe – how each and every one had had their own language of ritual and routine. Some – I imagined –  liked to put their clothes out to dry sorting them by color… others by order of size. Some hung in the sunshine..others in the shade. Some – I was quite convinced – hung their clothes out in the light of day..whereas others did it secretly in the darkest hours  of the  night. I thought about all of the unspoken little things and day’s rituals daughters learn from their mothers.  I wondered what mine had learned from me…and hoped that just a little piece of whatever it was, was good enough to take with her as she embarked upon her adult life.

Without question, Italy is magical. My travels and time there met and exceeded all my wildest dreams and expectations. The little girl who once clung to me…who cried when I left the house…who shadowed me wherever I went – had found wings and learned to fly. She’d grown up and  into a more adult version of her childhood self. From that little girl, a young woman is emerging. One who is beautiful, strong, self-aware and self-assured…and is very slowly finding her own voice and means of self-expression.  In our very last moments together I glanced out her window, and noticed the line of hanging clothes suspended there. It bore a familiar resemblance, yet – it was a creation and ‘art’ form that was all her own.

That was the best gift of all.

If any of you have travel stories and experiences you’d care to share..would love to hear about them here.

Image and words courtesy of Honorary Sister / Guest Blogger Marcie Scudder of Daily Practice.

Vision is better

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I wrote a draft post the other day in which I mentioned some peers whose work I highly respect – Marcie, Diane,  and Georgia, to list just a few fellow Shutter Sisters whose names were included – isn’t that odd, “fellow” Shutter Sisters?  Even though in this situation the definition for “fellow” is a male or female colleague, a companion, a comrade, an associate, a partner, a sharer, an alternative definition is man or boy.  I prefer “a sharer”, but I digress.  I was reading a post by David duChemin whose second book, Vision Mongers, was just released and whose first book, Within the Frame: The Journey of Photographic Vision, I’m still trying to read. Why am I still “trying” to read his book?  Because it is so dang good, I keep going back to reread the same sections over and over again.  David’s tag line is something that he always stresses – “gear is good, vision is better” and when I look at the works of the ladies mentioned above, I see works with vision. 

Now, I’m not ashamed to admit that vision is something with which I struggle.  What is vision? Do I have vision?  Do I NOT have vision?  What IS my vision, if I do have it?   DO I have it?? Tell me quick! As you can see, my inner dialogue constantly questions my vision.  Or lack thereof.  Sometimes I feel as though I finally have a grasp on what my vision is, that I’m reaching for the proverbial doorknob of that “aha” moment and about to walk through and embrace it…and then the door slams shut.  How do you know you have vision?  Is it something you find in your photos that you unconsciously keep repeating?  Is it a story you want to tell?  Is it the way in which you want to tell it?  Still with the questions…maybe if I finished the book…

One of the things I do on a regular basis, and it is something we all do or we wouldn’t be here right now at Shutter Sisters, is go blog hopping.  All of the photo blogs I visit are of photographers who inspire me in one way or another – it might be their images or their words or a combination of them both, but regardless, it is someone whom I think has vision.  Their work might be completely different than mine, but I still learn from them, I still take something away with me…and that is inspiration.

How about you?  Is vision something you feel you have or are you still trying to figure out what it is?  Is there someone’s work and vision that inspires you?  What does your inner dialogue have to say?  Share with us in the comments, won’t you please?

Photo and words courtesy of Guest Blogger / Honorary Sister Toni Johnson of Daily Vignette.

photo drive: help brighten the day of some sick kids

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Some time ago, a year or two, maybe, I was talking to my friend Kelly on the phone.  She was having a bit of a rough time of it, so I spontaneously said, “Give me your address.  I want to send you something.”  She gave it to me, and later that day,  I slid a photograph of a sunflower in an envelope with a note that said, “Hey — a friend of mine once told me that she couldn’t look at a sunflower without smiling.  Hopefully this will work for you, too.”  Then I stuck a stamp on it, and put it in the mail.

Over this past summer, I saw Kelly at the BlogHer conference, and at one point she mentioned that she still had the photograph, placed in a location where she could see it.  “It works,” she said.  “I smile when I look at it.”

I was so touched that she told me this, and it made me realize that photographs can be so powerful, you know?  I mean, words are definitely meaningful, but you send someone an email, often it eventually gets deleted.  Letters are better, but even those get tucked away in a drawer or a shoebox, to be looked at only occasionally.  But images, man, they get displayed.  They’re constant little reminders of memories, or sweet sentiments.

So then I started thinking:  if photographs are so powerful, maybe I can do something with them, you know?  It’s getting to be holiday time, and while we tend to do things for the needy (donate old clothes or cans of food, that sort of thing), I was thinking that it would be cool to do something more tangible this year.  So I came up with this idea:

What if we just sent photos (or handmade postcards) to people at hospitals who won’t be able to go home for the holidays, and who could use a little brightening up around their beds?  I thought to start with, we could send photographs for the kids at Texas Children’s Hospital — photographs (or art cards), with perhaps a little sentence on the backs of them that will help lift spirits, and our names (or aliases) and our hometowns, so they know someone is thinking of them from far away?  That way they can have the image next to their beds at all times …

… who’s with me?

If this sounds cool to you, here’s how it would work:

1.  Print a favourite photo of yours — one you’re proud of, one that is meaningful for you, whatever.  Please, no smaller than 4″x6″, and no larger than 8″x10″.  It can be of anything — your favourite pet, a flower, a sunset, whatever.  You can print one or more, or lots of prints of one image, or lots of prints of lots of images.  Whatever.  It’s up to you.  And seriously:  this doesn’t have to be professional quality — just pick a photo you’ve taken that you love.  If it means something to you, trust me, it will mean something to the person who receives it.

2.  On the back of the image(s), say something sweet.  It could be the story behind the picture, or just a short, lovely sentiment, or whatever.  I spoke with the Volunteer Services officer at Texas Children’s Hospital, and she had some advice:

  • nothing religious in nature (like “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Hannukah!” or whatever, since we don’t know the religious backgrounds of the kids who will be receiving the phtoographs or cards)
  • nothing that says “Get well soon!” because well, frankly, some of the kids won’t be getting well
  • restrict your notes say the kinds of things that a kid would love to hear.  You know, things like “You’re amazing!” or “You rock!” or “Dream big dreams!” or “Sending you warm thoughts!”  You get the idea.

3.  Also on the back of the image(s), sign your name (or alias, if that makes you more comfortable), and the city/country you’re writing from.  Because I’m thinking that the kids would be tickled pink to receive photographs from far away places like “Fargo, North Dakota,” let alone “Auckland, New Zealand.”

4.  Send your photo(s) to me postmarked no later than November 30th, 2009, to the following address:

Karen Walrond — Chookooloonks

650 W. Bough, Suite 150-108

Houston, Texas  77024

United States of America

and I’ll be sure to get your image(s) to the hospital.

 

So, are you in?  I hope so.  Just think of the karmic cool points you’ll get from doing this.

 

If, instead, you’d like to organize your own photo drive in your community, by all means, go for it!  Before you do, however, here’s a couple of pieces of advice you might find helpful:

1) Be sure to contact the organization’s volunteer department to get some guidance, so that you make sure you can avoid anything that might inadvertently run afoul of their policies.  It would be a pity to collect lots of cards or photos, only to learn that for some obscure reason, the organization won’t accept them.

2) Find out how late the organization will accept the photos, and adjust your deadline accordingly. You want to make sure that any international participants will have enough time to get their photographs to you, so you can include them in the package you deliver to your organization.

On that note, go forward and make merry.  I can’t wait to see the photographs you share with these kids.

 

(Crossposted at Chookooloonks)

I Picked up my Camera

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I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression (PPD) a little over a year ago.  My reaction to the diagnosis was mixed.  At that point in my life, I was completely numb to everything that was going on around me, detached from my little girls, my husband, my friends.  I guess I could say I was relieved by the news, slightly comforted by the fact that I had an excuse for how I was acting.  The depression wasn’t me; it was something that was happening to me.

Unfortunately, all that came with the diagnosis was a bottle of little blue pills and a handful of books.  I needed help, and I thought I had asked for it.  I couldn’t find support groups or therapists because I would have a panic attack just thinking about having to pick up the phone.  The “what ifs” were incessant, and I was drowning in them.  I had to completely depend on the help of those around me, primarily my husband who truly became my knight-in-shining-armor.  Not only was I numb, detached, and anxious, I felt that I had absolutely no control over what was happening to me.  I would try to talk to myself rationally, convince myself I’d be ok, but emotionally I was consumed.  I felt like my life had stalled.  I kept trying to start it back up again, but something just wasn’t making a connection. 

Slowly, things started to get better, and as they did, I realized that I needed an outlet.  I needed a way to document what was happening, what I was seeing, how I was feeling.  I needed to put myself out there so others could see and understand what was going on in my life.  I picked up my camera and began a 365 day project.  I decided that if I made myself pick up my camera everyday to learn something new about it, or about taking pictures, or about post-processing, then I would be spending less time feeling sorry for myself and I would start a new process of growth.

I failed miserably at my project, only making it 1/3 of the way through, but that was only as far as I needed to go.  Along the way I discovered some pretty amazing people, and they inspired me over and over again, though they may not have even realized it.  Not only that, but I was encouraged to try new things, to set goals, and to take risks.  Most importantly, I found myself surrounded by a community of strong and wise women who brought me back from something dark and scary.  I’m finally at a place, one year later, that I feel I’m on top of things (though we all have our down days).  All it took was working up the nerve to pick up my camera.

What has your camera done for you?

Photo and words courtesy of Honorary Sister/ Guest Blogger Meg Farehbach (Tea & Brie). 

A park with a view

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When someone mentions Oakland, do you think of shimmering water and sailboats?  I didn’t either — until I visited the Middle Harbor Shoreline Park in industrial West Oakland.  After living here almost ten years, I’ve realized that Oakland is a beautiful city with many hidden gems.

My husband Josh and I moved to Oakland’s Waterfront District in 2004.  One day Josh went for a bike ride and discovered this fantastic park just miles from our home.  The park encompasses thirty-eight acres on the site of an old Naval Supply Depot, which was a prominent supply center during WW II.  Military use destroyed the natural state of the waterfront, hundreds of acres of salty marshes and shallow tides.  The Port of Oakland and U.S. Corps of Army Engineers are now working to restore these marshlands, so you’ll see an amazing array of sea birds, geese, pelicans, and diving ducks throughout the year.  And, in California Poppy season the park is decorated with cheerful orange clusters.

Towards the far end of the park, there is an Observation Tower.  The first time Josh took me there I exclaimed “let’s get married here!” before I even realized what I was saying — I just couldn’t believe how much I adored that place.  As it turns out, two years later we got married at that very spot. It was truly a joy to share this beloved place with our family and friends, and to see the smiles on their faces — most of our guests either lived in Oakland or had visited the Bay Area countless times, and none had experienced a view that compared.

This park encompasses the things I love most about Oakland. It perfectly juxtaposes the city’s natural beauty and industrial heritage, and exists as a reminder that these two forms of beauty can co-exist.  Look one direction and you’ll see the shimmering water, sailboats, and an unbeatable view of San Francisco; look the other direction and you’ll find towering shipping cranes actively loading or unloading cargo.  To me, it’s both a photographic paradise and a quiet refuge from life in the Big City.

We visit the park often, and whether we stay for ten minutes or an hour, it always feels like a vacation.  On your next trip to Oakland (or more likely, you’re next trip to San Francisco?) do your best to visit this lovely place. If you’re traveling by car, it’s just minutes from the Bay Bridge.  You’ll pass railroad yards, shipping cranes, and miles of colorful shipping containers when you suddenly spot a graceful row of palm trees.  Follow the path until the end, and then up the stairs of the Observation Tower.  You just might find yourself thinking “Oh Oakland, I never knew…”

 

Pictures and words courtesy of Honorary Sister / Guest Blogger Jen Zahigian.

little gifts

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Beth’s hands.  Photographed with Nikon D300, 60mm lens.

A few days ago, I went to my friend Beth’s house, to take a few photographs for her book.  I have to admit that I did not go over there in the best frame of mind: I had been very overwhelmed with things I have yet to do that haven’t been completed, and coupled with some news I a few days earlier — good news, but news which will require even more responsibility of me — I walked into Beth’s house a completely jangled nerve.

But Beth is one of those truly calming spirits, and within minutes, my stress melted away.  She made me a huge cup of tea — from loose tea leaves, none of this teabag nonsense — and cut me a slice of warm banana bread, which, judging from the heady scent of baking that was still in the air in her home, I knew was fresh from the oven.  We sat and talked, I shared what was going on my life, and she listened closely.  She cheered me on, encouraged me, and gave me advice.  And by the time I picked up my camera, my outlook on life had completely changed.

It was such a lovely reminder:  the little things we do for people can have such an impact on their spirits, can’t they? 

Today, please share your images of the little gifts we give each other (symbolic or otherwise) that can help raise our spirits.

 

(Crossposted at Chookooloonks)

We’re going to Disneyland!

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I take it as a personal challenge to shoot in a location where just about every other person there has a camera in hand as well. Every where you look mothers are begging their children to smile next to the furry character and tourists are clicking away to capture the Disney iconic rides and locals with the fervor of a wild game hunt. I make it a point every time I visit, to find the photographs that NO ONE else has yet to capture. It’s an ambitious task, but each visit I am certain I will get great shots. And Disneyland never fails to disappoint.

 

The added bonus? No one looks at you sideways when you feel compelled to lay down on the ground to get the ultimate shot of the Penny Arcade with a delicious sky. Well, except your husband and kids that is….

 

Our guess is that you have visited and photographed a highly trafficked and dare we say overexposed locale? Did you go out of your way to discover something else no one else might have discovered? Or framed it with your own unique perspective? Do share your vision.

 

Photo and words courtesy of Guest Blogger / Honorary Sister Marcy Massura.