At the Threshold of Balance

It's no secret that over the last two weeks, since returning home from Chicago, I've been thinking about balance. I started out by diving into a plan of how to achieve it, but realized that there is a bigger question that has to be answered: What does balance mean to me anyway? I can't develop a plan for balance if I don't have a target of what balance looks like for my life.

For me, balance does not mean focusing on any one thing to the exclusion of others. My life is a dance, moving from side to side of the dance floor. Each side has something different to offer, something different it needs. It encompasses so much more than one "thing." I don't think there is one word that can capture all of this: Photographer/Teacher/Writer/Engineer/Mother/Wife/Friend. There is no all or nothing.

In my photography, balance starts with deciding what is in and out of the frame before I take the picture. But it doesn't stop there, it continues as I play around with different compositions and views. I need to remember I'm doing the same in life - experimenting and playing with the elements that make up my life to create a balanced whole. There is no realistic expectation that says we will get it all right and perfect on the first try.  There is no realistic expectation that we will get it all right and perfect, ever. Maybe perfection happens for a brief moment in time, but life is subject to change.

I'm at the threshold of balance right now. Deciding what is in and out of the frame of life. From there I'll experiment with the details and see how to make things fit in a balanced way. It feels much simpler and freer to think of it as an experiment, where I'm testing to see the outcome, than as a commitment where I "fail" if I don't get it right.

What does balance mean to you? How do you manage this ever-changing process of achieving balance in your life?

Chicago & Me

Chicago & Me

We danced a little dance

of lines and curves.

Looking up, up up,

I forgot to look down,

and saw inside instead.

Saw that life

is play

and art

and travel

and friends.

Life is joy

in the moment,

seized.

A camera,

an orange umbrella

are all I need

to be happy.

City of lines and curves,

of light reflected back,

I see Me.

Forgive the random poetry, I'm reading a book of poetry right now and was inspired by the snippets of ideas strung together. These photos were taken at the Cloud Gate sculpture, aka "The Bean," in Millenium park in Chicago. It was quite empty as I walked past on my way to the Art Institute, and I couldn't resist a few self portraits with my orange umbrella. The moment just made me happy.

Lines and Balance

Downtown Chicago is all about lines. Straight, angled, and sometimes curvy lines. Lines soaring to the sky and back down again. For my few days in Chicago last week I was in the downtown area the whole time. In between the convention I attended, I managed to take in a few sights... an architecture cruise on the river, Millennium Park, and the Art Institute. I would have loved to spend more time there, getting to know the city. I barely scratched the tourist surface. The bottom line - I'll just have to go back!

Today's image is one of the first edited with my brand new toy - Lightroom 3. My birthday is today and this software is now installed on my computer as a birthday gift from my family. I have had this growing urge to learn something new in the last couple of months and Lightroom came out as the winner as I looked into software. Apart from the overwhelming nature of learning a new program, I can tell this is going to be fun! You will likely be seeing all sorts of crazy edits here, as I learn the software and play around. Like any new technique, I'll go overboard and then will settle into my style again eventually. That's just the way I learn.

I can also tell, I haven't been doing enough of this - playing and spending time on my art. I haven't found a good balance yet between all of the things I want to do in life as an artist/engineer/mom/friend, and I tend to overwhelm myself with "to do" lists. Finding balance is something that will be a big focus for me in the coming days and weeks. My birthday reminds me I'm a Libra, Bilancia in Italian, and the scales are my symbol.

Change is coming. Not just because it's a new year for me. Not just because I have the new website (still!) in the works. Not just because of the season. Change is coming for me because I need to find a new balance point. The scales have tipped too far.

Tied up in Knots

The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.

-- Anna Quindlen

I was surprised by the response to yesterday's post. It seems that many of us feel that we are the loner much of the time, different and outside of normal. I thought it was just me. It is ironic that we may feel excluded by our differences, yet in our feelings we are experiencing the same thing.

My current morning reading, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are by Brené Brown, speaks to the universal human desire for love and belonging. We want to be in the bucket, with the other flowers. The irony, she points out, is that we often strive to achieve love and belonging by fitting in and "hustling for worthiness" and acceptance. When we strive to fit in, acting like we think others want us to act, we no longer honor our authentic selves and we short circuit any true connection. She says, "... To fully experience love and belonging, we must believe we are worthy of love and belonging."

In the light of that lone flower, we must each embrace our own differences and take them to heart. Stand alone with confidence in our own value and worthiness. When we say, "Here I am, with all of my quirks and differences, take it or leave it," we are accepting ourselves as we are. From that grounded place, when we reach out to others and feel a connection, the connection is real. It is whole. It is sustainable, because there are no pretenses to keep up.

Have you ever tried to keep up pretenses in a situation? Yeah, it ties you up in knots. After a while, you don't know which direction you are going. You don't know where you are, in the midst of it all. It's not sustainable.

I'm learning, again and again, how important it is to occasionally stand alone, in order to be myself. Whether it is in my art, sharing the photographs I love regardless of technical perfection or perceived photographic ideals, in my relationships, being honest about who I am and what I need, or even at my corporate job, sharing an opinion that may be contrary to the group, I have found the result of standing alone and embracing my differences is true connection. Instead of connection built on the unstable ground of insecurity, it is connection grounded in confident stability.

When I value myself for who I am, others value me too. Go figure.

To all of you who identified with that less-than-perfect lone flower I say: Congratulations. All you need to do now is untangle the knots and stand tall, confident in your uniqueness. Not an easy process, I know from ongoing experience, but so worth it. The reward I have found is connection, with people who are equally as unique, like you.

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What's going on around Kat Eye Studio...

• Did you recognize today's photo as a triadic variation? The current Exploring with a Camera theme is The Color Wheel: Part 2. Check out the post and join in the exploration.
• Are you ready to get your camera off of full auto and see what you can create? Registration is open for Digital Photography Basics! Class starts October 16. Visit here for the details.
• Want to know what's going on in the studio? You can subscribe to the Kat Eye News to stay up-to-date on all the happenings.

Expectations Lost, Happiness Found

What is it about photography, that makes me happy? I've noticed lately, that whenever I go out and photograph, even if it's just for a walk around the block in the rain, that I return in a good mood. I am smiling and there is a spring in my step. I feel buoyant. The sheer act of capturing photographs, whether they end up good or not, makes me grin.

Thinking more on why photography makes me happy this morning, I found that photography is one area of my life where I don't have huge expectations or plans. I've learned to embrace the fun of letting myself be surprised. I follow my intuition and interests, as they pull me along in new directions. I find great joy in discovering what catches my eye on any given day. Amazing things have resulted as I follow those internal nudges - in photography, writing and my study of art in general.

Take Saturday's photowalk visit to the Farmer's Market, for example. Of course I photographed the colorful vegetables, but what really interested me were the flowers on the ground as the vendors sorted and tossed and created beautiful bouquets. Normally I would be attracted to the finished bouquets, but at this moment I was captured by the haphazard nature of the flowers scattered on the concrete and in the buckets. To me, on this specific Saturday morning, these images were the most interesting to explore and compose. These were the images that held a story. Next Saturday, in the same place, it will be completely different.

This gets to the "heart and soul" aspects of photography, or any art. Creating has the power to change how we feel. When we let go of expectations or plans, wonderful things can result. There is an interesting parallel here to the rest of my life I've needed to focus on as well: Letting go of control and expectation. It's something that I am slowly, and surely, learning to do. It's been a long road, but I am lucky to have something like photography to show me the way, with a smile on my face. 

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What's going on around Kat Eye Studio... 

• Linking in to the Creative Every Day today. Hello everyone!
• The current Exploring with a Camera theme is The Color Wheel: Part 2. Check out the post and join in the exploration.
• Registration is open for Digital Photography Basics! Class starts October 16. Visit here for the details.
• Want to know what's going on in the studio? You can subscribe to the biweekly Kat Eye News to stay up-to-date on all the activities and have more great information, delivered right to your email inbox.

Authentic Imagery

In my type of wandering photography, I have a general rule that I follow: Find the beauty in what already exists in the place. I look for scenes that are there, capturing them as they are presented to me. I see my job as the photographer as capturing the beauty without interference. My challenge is to frame the image so that you can see it too, without being distracted by whatever else may be going on around.

I wandered by this lovely display of flowers on Saturday in Hood River, Oregon. Tucked back behind a table along the sidewalk, the texture of this pot, the pop of color and the interesting contrast of the sea shells and succulent plants caught my eye. Much to my son's chagrin (Mom, can we go yet?),  I studied it for a while with my camera trying to find the best way to capture it. This early image is one of my favorites.

After playing with it for a while from different angles, I did something I normally don't do... I actually moved the pot slightly. I straightened it up and moved it back so I could get the purple flower along the blue of the wood. You know what? In viewing my images, the ones where the pot had been straightened fall flat. They've lost their "found" charm. Their authenticity.

Maybe it is just me, but I find that this is one of my values in photography and in life: Authenticity. I have had strong negative reactions in the past to images that I find inauthentic. Particularly fashion photography, where reality is not the goal. For each artist, there is a different view and a different goal. Each artist brings different values to what they create. My reactions are not saying any type of photography is "bad," but they help me to zero in on what I value.

I like to find the beauty in reality, with all of its imperfections. The beauty that exists in the everyday, tucked along the sidewalks of the towns we live in. The beauty that exists in the hearts of each and every one of us imperfect beings. It doesn't matter if we don't live up to our culture's narrow definition of beauty, as prescribed by the mass media. It only matters that we are ourselves, and that we are sharing ourselves authentically.

Oh, look, I've found myself hidden amongst my photography again. Funny how that always takes me by surprise.

Yes son, we can move on now.

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What's going on around The Kat Eye View of the World...

• Linking in with the Creative Exchange today. Hello to all!
• The current Exploring with a Camera theme is The Color Wheel: Part 1. Check out the post and join in the exploration. You have one more day to link in!
• Digital Photography Basics registration opens soon. Subscribe to the Kat Eye News to be notified when registration opens.

A Bike and a Smile

I've been getting a lot of smiles on my bike ride to work lately. It's been odd, people see me coming and they smile at me. It took me a while to figure out what was going on. Why all the smiles? It turns out, they were smiling at me because I was smiling as I rode. 

You see, riding my Italian city bike makes me happy. It's not as cool-looking as this bike I found in Pavia early on in my time in Italy, with its stylish zebra basket liner, but my bike still makes me happy. With it's basket, fenders, chain cover, dropped bar and completely uncool kickstand it is a comfortable, functional bike. It is me.

I've had a lot of experience with bikes that were not me. You see, a long, long time ago I hated riding a bicycle. I taught myself to ride a bike at 8 years old. I never got that comfortable, like the other kids who had been riding since they were 5 and were jumping off curbs around the neighborhood. As a teen, I went to summer camp where one of the activities was cycling. They put everyone on 10-speeds, assuming we could ride them. I was nervous and scared on the 10-speed, all leaned over on a twitchy bike. I felt like I was going to crash, and eventually I did. So much for biking! 

And then... about a year after getting married, I mentioned I might like to try out mountain biking. The bikes looked more comfortable and it was the latest craze. My husband, an avid cyclist prior to our marriage, turned so fast into the parking lot of the bike shop it was almost illegal. Newly armed with biking gear I started to ride the trails with my husband and other friends from work. It was all guys, and I tried to become the cool biker chick. I tried to like mountain biking, I really did. But after a couple of years I decided that I just didn't get why people would want to ride on these skinny dirt trails that you can easily ride off of. I didn't get why people would want to ride on paths with obstacles like roots or rocks in the way intentionally. I made myself ride with the "must-have" clipless pedals for a year, to see if I would eventually like them. I hated them as much the day I took them off as the day I started with them. I forced myself to do all manner of things that didn't seem to fit for me, in order to "become" a mountain biker. I tried to fit in with the mountain biking crowd, my husband and the guys I worked with. For years, I tried. It never worked.

What I did discover though, is that I liked biking to work. I liked the routine of getting out there, twice a day. Clearing my mind by working my body. Both getting somewhere and getting some exercise. Riding an exercise bike, nowhere? Ugh. Riding a bicycle to get somewhere? Perfect! 

One of the things I loved in Italy and Europe is that bicycling is not only a "sport" but a way to get around. A bicycle is an acceptable form of transportation. You don't need snazzy gear and spandex to ride a bike. It opened my eyes to these bikes that were both comfortable and functional, with maybe a bit of style too.  I loved the look of the city bikes that were everywhere. I captured them with my camera but I think it was my heart speaking through the lens, reminding me this type of bicycling was for me. 

So, last summer I went out and found a city bike. It's an amazingly huge and heavy bike, no worries about the lightness of frame here. I sit upright on a comfy seat. The bike has fenders, a chain cover, front and back racks, lights that run on a wheel generator, a kick-stand, wheel lock and a bell. It has the requisite drop bar in the front for riding in a skirt (although I've only done it that one time). I added a basket to the front rack, for even more functionality. I think I'm going to add some flowers to the front of the basket, that would make me even happier.

I look strange riding here in the US, among the mountain bikes on the bike path. There are more and more "city bikes" around but they still aren't that common. My bike is giant and odd-looking. But I'm no longer trying to fit in, I'm just trying to fit me. Seeing as I'm smiling as I ride without even know it, I think I finally got it right. 

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What's going on around The Kat Eye View of the World...

• The current Exploring with a Camera theme is The Color Wheel: Part 1. Check out the post and join in the exploration.
• Are you ready to find your own unique vision through photography? Tomorrow is the last day to register for the fall series of the Find Your Eye e-course. Class starts Sunday, September 25! Visit here for more info.

So Far Away

I've been thinking a bit more about Italy lately. Missing it a bit more. I'm happy to be back, it's been a whirlwind of moving and excitement. It is good to be back, so good, but there are still things that I miss. I miss my walks in Parco di Monza. I miss the idea of Venice being three hours away. I miss being in the same time zone as my European friends, or even a time zone that I could easily chat online with my East Coast friends. Pacific Standard Time seems like it is at the edge of the world.

I'm finishing Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea right now. A beautiful, short book, full of much wisdom. I was reading it in Italy, but it got lost in the shuffle of moving. On going from her island writing retreat back to her life in Connecticut, she writes:

For the natural selectivity of the island I will have to substitute a conscious selectivity based on another sense of values--a sense of values I have become more aware of here.

I feel like that's what I've done with my time in Italy, found a set of values that guide my creative life. Distilled them down and brought them back. It's worked well.

For all that planning, it can never change the physical difference. It doesn't change the yearning I feel when I look at photos from my time in Italy. These feelings are something that probably only time and space will help with. Nothing can diminish the personal changes that I made while in Italy, but that only helps so far on a day when I realize I'm now living far, far away.


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What's going on around The Kat Eye View of the World...

• The current Exploring with a Camera theme is Process of Elimination. Today is the last day to share! Check out the post and explore with us. 
• Do you want to deepen the connection between your heart and soul and your photography? Registration for the fall series of the Find Your Eye e-course is open! Visit here for more info.
• You can subscribe to the Kat Eye News to stay up-to-date on all the happenings.

What were you made for?

Oh, color. Bright and varied color. Deliciously vibrant color. How I love color. It fills me with such happiness to find an image such as this, among the peppers at the Farmer's Market. I think this beautiful pile of peppers was made for me, or maybe I was made for it.
I was reading a guest post by Megan Eckman on the Scoutie Girl blog this morning, where she says, "I believe that if you truly love doing something, you were definitely designed to do it, and thus you're as 'real' as can be!" She was speaking in the context of whether or not she is a "real" artist, but I love the idea of being designed to do something. I want to play with that concept a bit...
Am I designed to see and capture vibrant color? Yes. I find it everywhere.Am I designed to be inspired by beautiful details wherever I go? Absolutely, no matter the place, I find the details that make it unique.Am I designed to bridge the gap? Maybe. Your comments on Friday's post have me thinking hard.Am I designed to help others find their own unique vision? I think so.
As we finished up the July-August Find Your Eye series this week, it was a good opportunity for me to take a look at the bigger picture around these classes. I look back and see a wonderful journey the participants and I traveled together in the last six weeks. I discovered I don't see myself as a "teacher" imparting knowledge from some place on high. I merely share some ideas from my own journey and step back and watch where each participant chooses to go. I learn with them, I grow with them. I see what they were made for, their unique vision of the world as it is revealed to them from somewhere deep inside. Wow. I am part guide, part witness. It has been an absolute honor to be in this position. Even better, to see the connections made between the participants, as we share the journey together.
A year ago, while I was first writing the Find Your Eye course, I was explaining the concept to my sister. She jokingly made the comment, "Trust you to get all cerebral about photography!" You see, she knows through our long history together that I'm an inquisitive thinker. I like to understand the "why" behind things that matter to me. I'm also a goal-setter, a planner and a doer, so if I set my mind to do something, I find a way to get it done. Another key trait I've always had, but only recently recognized, is that of enthusiastic sharer. If I love something, it bursts out of me and in my enthusiasm I have to share it with others. I seem to channel that enthusiasm for different interests into teaching in some way. I clearly see all this as I look back on my personal journey.
Am I designed to help others find their own unique vision? Hell, yes. I was made for this. 
What were you made for? What is your unique point of view? If you want to find out, we can do it together. There is another guided journey starting shortly, as the fall Find Your Eye series starts September 25. I would love to bear witness to your journey too.  
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What's going on around The Kat Eye View of the World...

• Linking in to Creative Exchange today, hosted by the lovely Lisa Gordon. Lisa's premise with the Creative Exchange is, "Your camera in one hand, your heart in the other." I love that point of view! 
• The current Exploring with a Camera theme is Process of Elimination and you only have one day left to share your view! Check out the post and explore with us. 
• I am musing today on Faces over on Mortal Muses. Come by and say hi!

The Gender Gap in Photography

A few months ago I realized there is a gap in photography. A gender gap. What started this realization was reading this article on the top 20 most influential photography blogs. I noticed that they were, 19 out 20, men. The one woman was a wedding photographer, a type of photography I did not have much interest in. I was shocked. Where were all the women?


I mean, here in my corner of the internet, I see mostly women. Most of my blog followers and online friends are women. Most of the blogs I read and photographers I look up to are women. I learned most of my photography skills from women teachers. I came to photography from scrapbooking, an overwhelmingly female-dominated craft. In my world-view, photography is dominated by women.

I looked around a little bit after reading that article and realized for the first time, that yes, in fact, photography is dominated by men. I was surprised at first, until I realized that so much of what is written out there about photography doesn't appeal to me, and isn't about what I value. If I visited those blogs before, they didn't capture my interest enough to come back, no matter how well-known they were. Either I don't connect with their writing or their topics. I'm happy that many of these blogs exist, because when I go looking for information on a subject, I can find it. As far as ongoing reading goes, I'm interested in the art of photography. The expression of heart and soul. The connection to other creative people.

I bring this up because I met a new photographer friend for coffee today, and he suggested I look into proposing an article to a magazine he reads. Since I love photography and writing, it's a perfect combination, don't you think? Funnily enough, I found myself quickly rejecting the idea. I immediately thought I would not have something to share with a wider photography audience. I joked with him about how the average guy photographer would react to my Find Your Eye classes. "You mean you want me to journal about photography? You're looking for a connection to my heart? You've got to be kidding." We both chuckled.

Now, there may be some truth to that statement, when speaking about the stereotype. The gender gap, to me, appears real. But I was already rejecting myself before giving the idea serious thought. Why? I have gotten comfortable in this little corner of the internet, and with people who have a similar approach to photography. I'm realizing my view encompasses a very small space in a much, much bigger place.

It seems like a wide chasm out there. I'm wondering how to bridge the gap.

Heart Message, Acknowledged

On Friday, I wrote a Message from your Heart. Turns out, that was a message from my heart. After two months of living in a whirlwind, the time to pause had come. I needed to listen to my heart this weekend, slow down and do what I love. Some photography, some painting, some time with friends and some organizing. (Maybe the organizing wasn't something I love to do, but my heart thanked me just the same.) I had some general, wide open ideas of what to do with my time, and a lot of flexibility within my days. My whole being seemed to give a big sigh of relief.

I have realized, once again, I can only go at warp speed for so long. It's time to focus back in on the basics, listen to my heart and not try to do everything under the sun. If I could do it over again, I wouldn't plan so much for right after our move home from Italy. The great news, though, is the whirlwind is past and I can set my pace going forward. That pace includes photography excursions, like yesterday's, which yielded this lovely photo from downtown Corvallis. My heart sings with all the yellow! The pace includes time to paint, and to hang out with family and friends. Time to write and create new classes.

This message really hit home as I was preparing my guest post for Ashley Sisk today, on The Care and Feeding of Inspiration. You have to listen to your heart, in order to find and keep inspiration. You can't expect it will always be there for you, if you are charging ahead, ignoring your heart.

Message from my heart, acknowledged.

Linking in to Creative Every Day and the Creative Exchange today.





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What's going on around The Kat Eye View of the World...

• The current Exploring with a Camera theme is Process of Elimination. Check out the post and explore with us.
• Do you want to deepen the connection between your heart and soul and your photography? Registration for the fall series of the Find Your Eye e-course is open! Visit here for more info.
• You can subscribe to the Kat Eye News to stay up-to-date on all the happenings.

Deeper than the Eye

The heart sees deeper than the eye.
- Found on my Yogi tea bag Friday

Inspiration... sometimes elusive, other times abundant. As a creative person, I'm always aware of my sources of inspiration. It comes from the reading I do, the playing in my craft. It comes from exploring the world around me. Inspiration is everywhere.

Let me repeat: Inspiration is everywhere.

This weekend, inspiration was found in crab pots sitting along the bayfront in the coastal town of Newport, Oregon. Aren't the colors and textures just amazing? I spent quite a while exploring the crab pots with my camera. A few years ago I took one picture of a stack of pots in this town, and for some reason that image popped into my head before my excursion. I was on the hunt for crab pots.

During my hunt I found a number of other things... some interesting texture, brought on by the salt water and proximity of the ocean. I found interesting colors, from the quaint buildings to the stacks of containers in the fish processing warehouses. I found interesting contrasts, in the people working in the processing plants in their rubber boots and the tourists in their flip flops. I found inspiration in the process of taking pictures, with three new Exploring with a Camera ideas coming to me. Thank goodness for my little notebook and pen, always with me in my camera bag.

Most of all, I found a deeper truth, finally understood with my heart instead of just my head. My inspiration comes from the process of creating my art. It is found when I am out and about, hunting for photos. Seeing the world through my viewfinder and lens. Translating something that just catches me out of the corner of my eye into something that is beautifully presented. It is the process of photography -- of exploring, capturing and then making those little tweaks in post-processing to perfect an image -- that matters to me. It is the process of creating that is the whole point to all of this artistic stuff. Sitting at home, inspiration doesn't come for me. It takes getting out and doing.

For some reason, a year ago or more, I had this idea that I would move back to Oregon and still share mostly photos of Europe on my blog. I have gazillions of photos from my two years of living in Italy on my hard drive - many unedited and just crying out for review. Who knows, I might even have ones I like better than my favorites hidden in the folders. So I've had this idea stuck in my head, that's what I would do... Edit my photos from the last two years and continue share them here. For some reason, I thought it was Italy and Europe that was inspiring me photographically, and that just the sharing of the images would be inspiration enough to carry me a good long while.

Not true. I know now: It's the creative process itself that inspires me. What living temporarily in Italy did was get me out regularly with my camera, to new places. It exposed me to new and different things. It got me out and doing. It got me writing and sharing. Trying new things, like painting. Once I was doing all of that, the rest took care of itself.

Inspiration is everywhere I go, because it's found within me. 

That lesson, learned with my heart this weekend, may be the most important one I've learned to date. I hope you can take it to heart too.

Linking in to Creative Exchange and Creative Every Day today.

Planting Flowers of Generosity

These lovely flowers grace the doorstep of a store in Carbondale, Colorado. They put here for all to enjoy, freely shared with the passersby. They are meant for everyone, not just one, hence the sign in them, "Thank you for not picking me." I found this sign cute and amusing, but it's a polite little reminder that by a simple inaction - not picking the flowers - you can give the beauty to others as well.

Today I am thinking of generosity and service and how this fits with creating our best work and our best lives. I started thinking on this from an idea in Twyla Tharp's book The Creative Habit: Learn It and Use It for Life, which I am still reading and loving. She writes:

How to be Lucky: Be generous. I don't use that word lightly. Generosity is luck going in the opposite direction, away from you. If you're generous to someone, if you do something to help him out, you are in effect making him lucky. This is important. It's like inviting yourself into a community of good fortune.

Doesn't that quote just feel right? Generosity is luck flowing out. We get as much, or more, from that outflow than when things are coming to us. And I think the kind of generosity she is talking is not about money, it is about spirit and heart. What do we have to offer others? Is it a smile, a phone call? We can be generous with our time and our attention. Our knowledge. Our encouragement, support and enthusiasm. There are a million ways we can be generous every day, and the first step may be leaving the flowers alone so that others can enjoy them too.

Building on this, another idea came my way this morning, via the Brave Girls Club "Daily Truths"emails (you too can sign up for these, go here). The email says:

Dear Influential Girl,

There is a beautiful and little known secret to happiness that it sometimes takes us way too long to finally learn....and it is one that we can start practicing today, fabulous friend.

When life feels overwhelming, upsetting or grim...we can instantly change our outlook on things by getting out and serving someone else. Somehow, when we turn our focus to someone else, and especially to making their load lighter, or their day brighter...it comes back to us ten times stronger even than what we put out. That is some sweet math, isn’t it?

If things are tough right now, even if you feel like you don’t have time......just try it out. Make a phone call, write a kind note.....bake some cookies or make a piece of art for someone. Take time to really visit....help someone do something that is hard for them and easy for you. Something so beautiful will happen that you will forget about your own sadness for a while...and when things start feeling tough again, you have the power to get out and serve mankind in little ways all over again.

Just try, my friend. It will be worth the effort.

This is one of the most magical facts of life....and it works every time.

I like what they wrote, "...do something that is hard for them and easy for you." That feels right to me too. Generosity and service don't have to be hard. They don't have to be a huge sacrifice in order to "count." Maybe it's as simple as sharing something we are good at with others. Maybe it's just sharing a piece of our art in the form of a postcard in the mail, or a technique on a blog post. I think of these things, because they are how I share. They are what I enjoy doing. I hadn't quite thought of them quite in the light of generosity and service before.

At the moment we give of ourselves, we are outside of ourselves. We become part of the larger world and are contributing to a greater good. We make the world a more beautiful place. And, while it's not often our intent with generosity and service, we gain too. We forget our sadness, our own personal issues, and make room for that good fortune Twyla talks about to come our way.

If the first step toward generosity is not picking the flowers, the second step is surely planting and tending a few of our own. I'm pondering what flowers I'm planting today, through simple acts of generosity and service. How about you?

A Realization of the Heart

There are some things that loom larger than life in your future, and then there are the things that sneak up on you unaware. I had a moment yesterday where a "larger than life" part of my life managed to sneak up and catch me by surprise at the same time.

I was walking in Parco di Monza and admiring the wonderfully refurbished Lo Scrittore* sculpture. It's all shiny and looking its best after they worked on it last month. I was wondering how long it would take before it started looking worn again, with peeling paint and the wood falling off. Then I realized, I won't be here to see it. I really won't be here. I burst into tears. What I've known at an intellectual level forever finally hit me at an emotional level. We're moving in three weeks. Three weeks. I will no longer be here, living in Italy. No longer walking in Parco di Monza everyday.

It's interesting, how I can hold two realities in my head at the same time. The reality of living in Italy and the reality of living in Oregon. Both seem so comfortable and real. What is completely unreal and hard for me to even grasp is the reality of living in Oregon after living in Italy. What will it be like to be there, as a completely different person? Because my time in Italy has changed me, changed all of us in our little family, more than I ever imagined. And I'm so, so happy with the changes.

What I have finally realized is that I'm not returning to my "old life" in Oregon. I'm moving to a new life, that happens to be in an old place. Going back to an old place doesn't mean going back to an old life or an old me. It reminds me of the time, four months after my son was born, that I finally realized life wasn't going to go back to "normal." There was a new "normal" with the addition of my son then, and there will be a new "normal" for my life in Oregon now. In a way, this realization is kind of freeing. I'm open to redefine things however I like, as long as I avoid falling into assumptions that life has to be the same just because it's the same place.

I think I've been writing this blog post in my head, over the last 24 hours, as I've wrestled with some of these realizations. There was the little, planner part of my brain that said, "No, no, you're doing Scotland photos this week!" But as always, what I need to write wins out over what I planned to write. This blog is about my creative journey, and I can't write anything else and be true to me. I think that's why I've avoided calling myself a travel blog, or an expat blog, or even a photography blog. Because my blog is all of those things and none of them, depending on the day. Conventional wisdom for "growing a blog following" is to know your topic, know your audience and write for them. Today I'm saying aloud something I've felt for a long time: To hell with conventional wisdom. I write this blog for me.

This blog is about one woman's creative journey wherever she may be. I write about what is important to me, fascinating me, challenging me in that moment. It happens that I have a passion for photography and can't help teaching when I'm passionate about something, and that's why you see a lot of photography. I love art and creativity and reading inspirational books, so you get that too. Since I've been living in Italy, I write about my life here and our travels. All because it's who I am right now. Where my life happens is going to change, but who I am will stay the same.

Thanks for joining me on this unpredictable journey. The fact that my little life and interests can connect with others is one of the most rewarding things I've ever experienced. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

___________________________

*Lo Scrittore is a sculpture by Giancarlo Neri, installed in Monza Park (Parco di Monza) in 2006 to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the park. The sculpture is painted plywood over a metal frame. The table  measures 7.5 meters high and 11 meters long, and the chair is 10 meters tall. I captured this picture while they were working on it last month, to give a better idea of the scale. I absolutely love this sculpture.

Feeling the Fear

Sometimes, as we travel through life, it may seem that we are the only ones with problems. The only ones who feel fear. We may read the stories of these big successes, people we admire, and think, There's no way they feel like I do. We tend to look at the outward positive things and tell ourselves a story, when we can't see the fears that are inside of someone else.

I feel fear. As I start to dream big, after the creative retreat I attended a couple of weeks ago, my fears are growing to match. I recognize now that my fears have accompanied me on every step of this creative journey. Fear of sharing my work. Fear of putting my honest self out here on the blog. Fear of trying something new. The only way I've grown is to face the fear and move past it.

The bigger the steps we take on our creative journey, the bigger our fears become. Last winter, as I was getting ready to start my first run of the Find Your Eye class, I was assailed with an attack of, "Who do you think you are?"  Who did I think I was, to create a class and put it out there to the general public. To think I had something to contribute to the conversation, since I don't have a photography degree or years of professional experience under my belt. Luckily, it was too late - the class was being advertised, people were registered - I was committed and couldn't quit. It didn't mean I felt those fears any less, however.

We all feel fear. Fear of rejection, ridicule, failure, hurt. Maybe even fear of success. Fear is there to protect us, to keep us from getting hurt. Everyone has doubts and insecurities. The face we put out to the world may be a brave one, but I guarantee there is some fear going on inside. We are not alone in this. While it may be a comfort to know others feel fear too, it doesn't make it easier to deal with our own fears.

The only way I personally know how to deal with fear is to acknowledge it. If I can define the fear, understand where it is coming from, I can make a plan to deal with it and move ahead anyway. If I can name it, I'm less likely to let it stop me. The fear doesn't actually go away, I just carry it along for the ride. I think of it as having a conversation with my fear, "Hello there Mr. Fear. I see you lurking there. I see what you are trying to do. Thanks for trying to protect me, but this time I'm not going to listen to you. We are moving ahead anyway. You can come along with me and see how this turns out." Somehow, that helps. But believe me, it's not comfortable, to carry this fear along. It would be easier to run away in the other direction.

Now, as I get ready to hit the submit button on this post, the little voice of fear is talking in my head. Should I admit my fears publicly? Won't this just look weak? Maybe it will to some of you, but to others, it might bring a sigh of relief. You aren't alone.

What do you do when faced with fear? How do you recognize and address it? Move past it? Please leave a comment, and today let's help each other deal with fear.

Balancing Life's Contrasts

In the Athens flea market, I found this stall with a pile of junk. There were probably lots of treasures in this pile, but it was treated as junk. I photographed it for a while, until it seemed I annoyed the owners. They were trying to pack up and close for the night. It was a fascinating subject, because it was full of so many compositional opportunities. So many contrasts.

As I was looking for images with contrast for the Visual Contrast topic we are studying right now, this one popped out at me. There is a light/dark contrast of the image and the items around it, but there is another contrast that struck me at a deeper level. The religious icon dumped amongst everything else gave me a contrast of revered/abandoned. As if someone had lost their faith, and thrown it in with all of the other junk they were sending away. Kind of sad.

Amazing, isn't it, what you might take away from the contrasts in one image. As I've been studying contrasts, I've been seeing how they can show a deeper meaning or message in our photos. I've also discovered that I'm studying the balance of contrasts in other ways. Today I'm on Elizabeth Gonzalez's blog, with a guest post on balancing my artistic and technical pursuits. Elizabeth pointed out to me that the balance of contrasting forces I've found in my own life is just like the balance of contrasts we're studying with Visual Contrast. I didn't realize it until she pointed it out: You can have opposing forces work together in balance, whether it's in life or in art.

Please stop by Elizabeth's blog to read my thoughts on balance. Elizabeth is a talented ceramics and mixed media artist, along with being an engineer like me. When you visit, I hope you will stay around a while and look at the beautiful art she creates.

And oh my gosh - I published and then forgot - it's the giveaway day!  Here are the two winners:
The Favorite Flowers set goes to Wendy of not caught up.
The Superhero set goes to Patty of Nomadic Notebook.
Wendy and Patty, I'll be contacting you for your address, so we can get these in the mail. Thanks to everyone for particpating!

Looking Closer

A small reflection of the Ponte Vecchio (old bridge) in Florence, reflected in a window of the Museum of the History of Science. At first glance, you might only see the window, the buildings and the river. You have to look closer to see the reflection of the bridge.

I haven't shown you many pictures of our weekend in Florence, I've suddenly and completely been distracted by the flowers in the park. I must admit, I'm distracted by not only flowers, but a lot of other projects such as getting my newsletter launched, prepping for my next series of Find Your Eye courses, and putting the finishing touches on the Liberate Your Art postcard swap so I can announce the details. I can't forget the time I spend on other things going on in my life, like planning out our move back to the US (plane reservations are made, final apartment walkthrough scheduled), and visiting Greece next week. Oh yeah, and the occasional soccer game with my son or with my nose buried in a book.

Sometimes I wonder where my "free" time goes, but then I look at the list - just a partial list - and I know. My time goes into things I love to do. The results of those things are not always as immediate and visible as promptly edited photos showing up on the blog, but they are real just the same. So while I don't have a lot of photos from Florence to show you, I'm reminded today that sometimes I need to look beyond the visible and obvious marks of accomplishment. Sometimes I need to look a bit closer, maybe change my angle and see my time in reflection this way, to find that sense of achievement I seem to crave. And take a deep breath, because then it seems like a lot more than I thought at first glance.

How about you, do you like to be able to call something done, to check things off of the list? How do you personally count something as an accomplishment if it's not clearly visible?

Flowers Marking Time (Two Years in Italy)

April brings these lovely flowers to Parco di Monza. They carpet the forest under the trees, and never cease to make me smile. I watch the shoots as they start to push up through last year's fallen leaves, growing tall and strong. Then the flower stems appear, the buds hinting at what is to come and suddenly, one day, they are all bursting open like fireworks, celebrating spring.

These flowers are a marker of time for me. Two years ago today, I arrived in Italy to start my assignment, and as I took possession of our apartment that first week these flowers were in bloom under the trees. I would drive by the park in those early days, see them and smile. I had the desire to walk under the trees and to capture the beauty of the flowers with my camera, but life was a blur of craziness at the time. Just figuring out where to find items in a grocery store was a major, energy-draining event.

One year ago, as the flowers started to bloom, I was able to capture their beauty. This time last year was an amazing time for me, having made it through that first year and settled comfortably into daily life, I was really moving on my creative journey. I was able to see the world with fresh eyes, to approach my photography with an unrepressed joy. I was discovering and uncovering the creative self, the artist, that had been lurking inside of me all along. The burst of creativity I felt in capturing the images of these flowers last year resulted in the first ever Exploring with a Camera post, From a Flower's Point of View. You may recognize these flowers in the Exploring with a Camera button and page, they are the symbol of what "exploring" really means to me: coming to the world around us with wide open arms and hearts, and finding absolute joy in what is discovered there.

This week, I went into the park with my camera once again. I wanted to capture the beauty of these flowers, but I wondered how I could possibly top last year. The excitement and joy of that outing, and the love of those images, still stays with me a year later. But as always, my art reveals things about me I wasn't expecting. With the passing of a year, I have changed and grown. I see differently. While I may have started my outing with the leftover vision of last year's exploration, what I saw in the flowers this year was new and revealing.

This year, I noticed the shadows.

I discovered the beauty of the flowers, revealed in new way.

I saw the leaves as the canvas upon which light painted flowers.

I completely and utterly lost track of time, I was so engrossed in my exploration of light and shadow. I immersed myself in the rediscovery of these flowers, and along the way, had the sad realization that this is my last year of seeing them bloom. Two years in Italy are gone, a little over two months left. I shed a tear or two, there amongst the flowers, holding my camera.

How can I not be wistful, as I contemplate leaving a place that's given me so much? I know it's not Italy itself that has changed me, it has been my response and willingness to take every experience that comes my way, living life to the fullest and seeking growth. As I photographed the shadows of these flowers I realized: Italy is the canvas upon which life has painted me. It is here I learned to look closer, and I discovered myself in the light and shadow.

Creating Art with your Whole Heart

Yesterday I read a wonderful blog post from Karen Walrond, author of The Beauty of Different. In it, she talks about heartbreak, and a philosophy that comes from another author, Brené Brown. Brené, she says, tells her she can't be selectively numb. We have to feel both the good and the bad. We need to lead wholehearted lives.

Wholehearted.
Whole hearted.
Whole heart.

I've written before about following my heart. The only way I know how to truly create, is from my heart. My best work, whether it's writing or photography, starts in the heart. It's a feeling I've learned to recognize and follow. Like this morning, with this post. It came from that place of heart.

I didn't always recognize this feeling or know how to follow it. That has come over time, as I've unmuffled the feelings of my heart along my creative journey. You see, in order to avoid facing any pain or darkness in my life, I had numbed myself to the good as well as the bad. It makes so much sense looking back now, that when I was willing to accept both the light and the dark in me, I was also finding and owning my voice as an artist.

We can't have wholeness without dimension. In art, that means light and shadows on a surface, which create a three dimensional form out of two dimensional shapes. In our lives, that means light and shadows in our soul, which create the depth and dimensions of a person. For our best work, we have to come to our art with a whole heart. In order to do that, we have to come at our lives with a whole heart first. We have to unmuffle the tiny voice inside ourselves, so that we can hear both the good and the bad messages. We have to be willing to accept what we hear, no matter how uncomfortable it may be, so that we can learn from it and bring it to our art.

As I think through this, I'm realizing that living with a whole heart is an important key to claiming your artist. When you claim yourself an artist, you put yourself out in a public way, saying, "Here I am world, look what I create!" You open yourself up to the possibility of criticism or rejection. You open yourself to the bad stuff, the stuff you might want to avoid. In this way, not claiming your artist is a form of self-protection. A way to shield your heart from any pain. But in doing so, your heart is muffled and numbed. You won't be able to hear the good messages either. Your art and your ability to create your best work will be affected.

Today, take a quick look at the status of your heart. Are you living with a whole heart? Do you allow the dimension that comes from light and shadow? Are you protecting yourself from potential hurt and pain and in the process numbing yourself to your heart's good messages? If you're having trouble claiming your artist, maybe this is a good place to start. It's certainly been an important point for me to ponder, to reaffirm the desire and acceptance of living with a whole heart, because I want to hear that little voice inside that leads me to create from my heart.

A Decade Later

Today is a big day, in our family. Today is the day that my son Brandon turns ten. Ten years old. A decade of life. I've realized of late, if he goes off to college at eighteen, we have less left with him in the house than we've already spent. What seems so long at the outset, with all of the sleepless nights and diapers, is really so short, when you're on the side of looking back.

I shared this image, snapped with my iPod on a neighborhood walk, a couple of weeks ago. It's stuck in my mind since then, because it visualized how I feel about my son perfectly. He is my heart, outside myself. We are attached and yet separate. He is still smaller than me, but that won't last long.

He is at the cusp. No longer child, not yet teenager or adult. He doesn't want physical displays of affection in public yet his body betrays him. His had reaches for mine as we cross the street, his body leans in as I go to hug him, even if his mouth tells me to stop. At this moment, he still wants me, needs me, in his life.

A rare moment last November when he posed for a few photos.

He has grown so independent, in so many ways. There is so much that he does for himself. So much that I trust him with. He takes his responsibilities seriously... when he remembers. I think I'm starting to define what grown up is: It's when you remember to brush your teeth by yourself. We're not quite there yet. Talking to parents of other kids his age, it sounds like a common thing.

I have been pondering, at the decade mark, what my role is as a parent. We've moved well beyond the point of protecting him from putting his had on the stove or drinking household cleaners. We've moved into more intellectual discussions of how to treat his friends, what is happening to his body, how to deal with peer pressure, taking responsibility for his own actions and decisions. And of course, reminders of basic hygeine seems to be a continual thread of conversation.

All in all, I think I've come to the conclusion that my role as a parent, a mother, is to help my son be who he is. He's not becoming the person he was meant to be, he already is that person. It's my job to make sure he isn't forced into being something other than he is, especially as we head into the teen years. That he learns to recognize and follow his intuition, his heart. That he doesn't fall in the trap of living his life for other people's expectations... mine or anyone else.

It's a fine line, isn't it? On the one had, I spend my time reminding him of expectations (Brush your teeth! Pick up your clothes!) and on the other I'm talking about helping him learn to avoid living by the expectations of others. That's the mine field we'll have to carefully cross in the teenage years. We're not quite there yet.

Taking a self-portrait with his Nintendo dsi at a car museum last weekend.

For right now, I just want to bottle this moment and put it in a jar for safekeeping. This smart, quirky, energetic, obsessive, happy-but-sometimes-moody ten-year-old boyness. This beautiful spring morning in Italy, with the birds singing and the trees sprouting leaves, when my son still wants and needs me. This moment when my son will reach for my hand at the crosswalk and say, "Mom, have I told you about..."