Saturday, November 8, 2008

Day 81 on Lexapro.

Day 59 on Lamictal.

posted much, much later…

In an effort to get my finances in order, and because my enjoyment and energy for photography has returned, I have slowly started to advertise the return of my sessions again. Less money this time. But less fuss, too.

As a result, more families will be able to book.

I am hoping this will help get Em and me back on our feet again.

The goal is to be fully booked again in 2009.

I would like to bring in money while I’m working on my other goals. Money that will help these goals happen.

And so, today was my first family session in a long while.

It was a family who had been hoping to book a session for some time and a family I had been looking forward to photographing.

They are some of my favorite people — four amazing women and one of my favorite babies – and while photographing them, the love for photography once again returned.

I love these people, I thought. I love being able to do this for them. Capturing these moments, telling their story, means almost as much to me as it does to them. And how much it means to them is important to me.

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Last night I watched a documentary that featured wellknown photographer Albert Maysles. During his segment, Albert led the documentarians out onto a sidewalk in his neighborhood in New York City. He stood there smiling, his white hair dancing happily atop his head, and he engaged almost everyone who passed by.

“Let’s see how many people we can talk to,” he said aloud.

And then he did. He stretched out his hands to different people who passed. And in some cases, people just gravitated to him. Even through the lens, you could see that his energy was magnetic. You could tell that he just loved people. That he was inherently interested in them. That he respected them.

It was truly amazing.

And I loved him watching him.

After his talks with everyone, he would say, “Can I take your picture?”

And then he would. And he would somehow capture the essence of each individual perfectly in their imperfections. Magically. Honestly.

And I was transfixed. And my heart leapt. And there was a warmth within me.

That’s how I want to be, I thought.

As a photographer.

And as a person.

Perfect in my imperfections.

Magic.

And honest, too.