Bad Self Portraits

I started taking photographs when I was 7. My dad, somewhere, still has the print of a photo I took of a fake dinosaur at a mini golf course—my first, he says. In high school I photographed my friends. I stopped shooting much when I went to college in New York. Cities don’t really inspire me. Now I can trace the ebb and flow of my photography with how engaged and excited I am about living.

I’ve been shooting a lot this year, mostly at the farm. And I’ve been taking a lot of self-portraits.

I take self-portraits for two reasons: 

1) I like photos with people and faces in them, and I’m often alone

2) it’s a practice in self-observation for me, like meditation or journaling. I notice how uncomfortable I can be in front of the lens, and I study that feeling to see if I can change it.

My goal is to be a person comfortable in front of the camera. I want to learn so I can take better images but also so I can direct others to be comfortable in front of my lens, too. Like with any other goal, I use my intention to get me through the uncomfortableness, and I apply my attention to improve. I like that stuff.

(The title, btw, refers to this.)

Secret Garden

It was a big harvest day and Hallie’s birthday, too. The little cart overflowing with flowers underneath the trees seemed straight out of The Secret Garden.

Clara made her a flower crown, and even Shadow got a collar of poppies.

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