Fey

Reality is merely perception.

There are normal days. Days when being a mother, or a wife, feels natural and right. Days when the focus is on the bills, the housework, meeting the basic needs of everyone. Days when dreams are forgotten upon waking. Days when mundanity rules.

Then there are days like today. Days when dreams cling to waking moments. Dyas when everything seems just that little bit brighter, that much more intense. Days when magic could be real.

Days when the soul is that much closer to the surface.

Days when reality is not quite the same as the day before.

Half-Baked

Ever feel like you're never quite ready for the things life throws at you? Well, that's me. No matter how much I plan ahead, no matter how many times I try to 'cover all the bases', I still end up feeling like I'm either forgetting something vitally important, or feeling like I've been left behind. So that's what this week's photo is about.

"The eye sees not itself, except by reflection..."

-Wm. Shakespeare, Julius Caesar


Sightless, I stumbled through the mountains
Splashed through icy streams
Tumbled down slopes and
Struggled up brutal inclines.
I felt the warmth of the sun,
The chill of the water,
The grit of earth and stone.
My toes found the edge and
I could sense the waiting void.
Outstretched, my hand met only air.
A single frozen instant lay between
Myself and Gravity's pull.
Unexpected warm breath on my cheek
And my eyes opened.
Blinking in the sudden bright
I saw myself poised to fall, and
Reached for the offered hand.
I saw myself reflected in the eyes of the stranger
And I wept.

An Introduction

To begin, a simple portrait.

So why an entire year of self-portraits? Well, a few reasons, actually, and not because I'm egotistical enough to think that the world deserves to see my pretty face over and over. Well, not entirely, anyway. :)

I, like many photographers, have a goal to establish a good reputation for portrait work so that opening a studio can become a reality. To that end, I need practice. (Lots of practice, but that's another discussion.) I need to understand the lighting better. I need to work on setup and pre-shot routines. I need to work on composition and working with the subject. I need to work on post-processing.

Well, why not simply a PaW of portraits of other people? Lack of willing guinea pigs for the most part. And I still don't really feel comfortable enough behind the camera yet (both with setup and execution) to ask strangers to sit for me. It will come, with time. But I want to practice and work out some of the kinks with a subject who mostly won't complain, i.e., me.

So, I want practice, and I'm using the available subject. What else?

Well, that's what I intend to address in the written parts of the blog. An exposure of self. I have spent most of my adult life dealing with and worrying about and caring for other people. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but... The times that I've been able to take for me have been few and far between, to the point that I'm not even really sure who I am, or if I am the person I want to be.

I am defined by others: wife, mother, daughter, sister. I am defined by jobs: maid, teacher, taxi driver, nurse, secretary, accountant. I am defined by hobbies: cook, seamstress, photographer, writer. But is that all there is?

Somewhere, within all of these labels and job titles, Sara exists. But where? And to what purpose? And how to find her?

This promises to be an interesting journey. Hopefully, at the end (or somewhere in the middle), I will find some part of who I am, and meet her again. Until then, I'll see you next week.

Journey to the Center

Exposing the self.
Baring the soul. Freeing the inner child (impish though she may be).
Revealing what is here, hiding behind the 'mommy' and the 'wife'.

Exposing the self.
Showing who I am, what I want to be.
Flinging caution to the wind and shouting, 'I am who I am!'

Exposing the self.
Pictures. Bits and pieces, and then the whole.
Faces, arms, hands, shoulders, legs, breasts, hips. Me.

Exposing the self.
Dreams. Wishes. Goals.
The essence that is Sara, and the foolishness that is me.

Exposing the self.