Shutter Sisters

Learning to Speak Again

By

‘Do you remember this?’ My dad asked me, as we stood in my driveway, gathered around his open car boot.

He pulled a piece of card from a book and handed it to me. It was one of those pieces of card that they put in stocking packets, upon which was drawn a castle, set among trees, beneath a rainbow. The scene was faded, though possibly not as much as one would have expected, after twenty years.

‘Who did that?’ One of my girls asked, reaching for it. ‘Your mother did, when she was ten,’ my dad said smiling, ‘and I still have it now.’

I didn’t remember creating the drawing, though I did remember the days when I drew castles, almost obsessively, trying to place each line right so that it would look like it really was made of stone blocks. I loved to draw, to write, on any available canvas.

Other things happened, that tenth year of my childhood. Things that changed all of us forever, that quietened my creative voice and dulled the senses of those who had once listened to it. Like that tree that crashes in the forest without anyone around to hear it, there was only silence.

As I grew, occasionally I could hear the voice stir within me, but it was always quickly drowned out by life’s cacophony. The serious act of growing up, becoming more than I was. The loving, the wedding, the birthing, growing and educating of those four precious girls. Be quiet voice, I have no time, no money, no energy, just leave me alone.

I fooled myself into thinking I’d rather listen to the creative voices of others, than speak my own. I was no stranger to the power of a photographic image. The ability a single picture has to touch the souls of those who view it, without regard for age or race, education or orientation. I’d experienced first-hand the effect of certain pictures, as they embraced, lifted into the air, twirled and spun me, before dropping me back to earth with a thud that left me breathless and altered. Yes, I knew only too well.

Then one day, someone asked me about my camera. It was a capable point and shoot, which I had affectionately named, Mr Fuji. I told them, and they replied that they would have to go out and buy one, because my pictures were amazing. Amazing? My pictures? These pictures? What crazy talk was this?

But my voice had been awakened, and within months I was the proud and excited owner of my very first DSLR camera. My creative voice was speaking, and people were listening. I was connecting with people all over the world through my images, my art. Every time someone emailed me to tell me how one of my pics had brought them to tears, or touched something deep within them, my voice grew stronger, louder.

These days, I’m still finding my voice. At times it cracks and becomes barely a whisper, or disappears altogether for a while. But I don’t fear losing it again, because nurturing it, setting it free, was the greatest gift I have ever given myself, and I know now, that silence isn’t always golden.

Photograph and words courtesy of Honorary Shutter Sister/Guest Blogger Just Hay who can also be found Flickring or Photoblogging at Hay’s Fauxtography.

Comments

  3. Wow… I came here upon the promise of sprinkles and I got so much more!!
    I am so glad you listened to your voice Hay because it is beautiful even when its just a whisper!
    Please keep showing your photographs they truely are inspiring..

  4. Divinely written and I’m sure there are so many people who can really relate to this – only you put the message in such beautiful prose that my heart feels your creative awakening so strongly. Wow! I know that feeling of losing oneself in the midst of growing, nurturing, caring and loving others. I am only just beginning to rediscover ‘me’ and understand the real importance of never losing sight on spending time to nurture my own interests. Thank you, this is beautiful, Sarah x

  6. Yay Hay! So lovely to hear more about your story… Not only do you create beauty through your images, but by engaging us into sharing our own creations in this Flickr community. Thank you!

    xox

  7. oh hay. the first few words appeared on the screen and i had to scroll down immediately to see who wrote them, to find you… again kindred, the ten year old you speaking directly to the ten year old me.

    these words, this sentiment, is completely beautiful. and this: "But I don’t fear losing it again, because nurturing it, setting it free, was the greatest gift I have ever given myself" this, my friend, made me cry.

    xo.

  10. I find it so hard sometimes to remember, remember who I am, who I wanted to be, amid all the hub-bub and distractions and, even, tragedy. Thank you for offering a touching story and reminder.

  11. oh love, this is perfection. yay for you! this post speaks to so many i know it. all of trying to find our voice in this often loud and deafening world. your voice is so very strong. this is wonderful. xo kistin

  15. I think many of us mothers could have written this post, but perhaps not so eloquently. I didn’t recapture that part of myself until about 3 years ago. It started slow, but then gained speed. Now I find allowing my creativity to flow to be so freeing. I love my photography, designing and creating clothes for my kids and drawing. I had a post recently showing my photography and my drawing and how they have intertwined. I just wish there were more time to do it all!

    http://thelandofka.com/?p=1576

  20. When you send that creative voice out there — whether through your images or your writing or those beautiful children whose spirits you nurture — and it connects with others, you’re living your life’s purpose. It’s inspiring. 🙂

  22. Thank you for this post. Sometimes I feel in the hustle and bustle of trying to grow a photography business, that I often lose my true creative voice. As my busy season comes to a close, I long to put more time into learning to speak again, learning to see again, refreshing my soul 🙂

  25. Thank you for making me choke up and realize that I need to find my creative voice and speak louder than the whisper I have been convincing myself is enough.

  26. Hay, you not only are an amazing photographer, but you are also a wonderful writer and storyteller. So much talent in one small package. From you, silence is certainly NOT golden. Scream, sister, scream!

  29. It took me a long time to believe I was creative and lived vicariously through other peoples masterpieces. I didn’t think anyone would want to read my words. I couldn’t believe my pictures were good enough to be shared. I filled my days with a “real” job and hid my jealousy of those bold enough to live out their passions. I couldn’t see what was meant to be. But now I know,

    “Creativity means letting go of trying to be ‘perfect’…it means being willing to be wild, silly and downright outrageous.” -Christine Mason Miller

    I write, therefore I am a writer. I take pictures, therefore I am a photographer. And when I hit “publish” and my work goes live, I feel like I exist. I am an artist.

    http://umbrellablog.com/bravery/i-am/

  30. Gorgeous post, girl! And I’m taking it to heart. My voice has been gone for a while, while I’ve held my breath. I think it is time to get back to that which I love.

    D

  32. I am continually blown away by your magnificent photos…and then you write a post like this and I remember, oh yeah, she’s a fantastic WRITER, too!! You are so talented, Hay–I understand where you creative insecurities come from (sharing them), but honestly–you are really, REALLY good. Shine, sister!!

  33. Hay, as always your writing speaks volumes and each one finds their own note in your music…your freeflowing symphony of life. You often equate my words with wisdom yet I feel the same about you who has only lived half of my lifetime. May you continue to grow in self-worth and pass that on to your beautiful daughters…your pictures tell amazing stories, your humor touches us all, and your wisdom is evident to those who love you! This is a beautiful guest posting…be proud! Love, Lila xo

  36. I can only echo the others when I say I saw myself in everything you said. It’s been almost a year now since I began my quest to get back to the most creative part of me, photography. Thank you for this beautiful post.

  41. Thanks everyone! Especially the lovely SS ladies for letting me post here. All my wonderful blog and Flickr friends who dropped by to say hi…Love you all, with sprinkles on top xxxx

  42. Hay
    You are truly amazing!
    Your life is charmed and you art and voice are clearly alive and well!
    It lives in the images that you craft, you touch peoples lives!
    You’re real and down to earth and that my dear is only the tip of the iceburg!
    Peace and love!