Thursday, January 28, 2010

Walking Through a Rainbow

I brought enormous proportions of meaning to the recent turn of a a new year and decade. I wasn't alone - go figure. New Years' Eve was filled with burning rituals, saging, vision boarding, and journaling away events good and bad over the last ten years. It felt good. Change is on the way. Of course it is, change is always on the way. To my surprise, January 1st turned out to be a bit of a sobering let down. Chalk up another moment of expectations gone awry. In retrospect the first day of the new year, the new decade was just the gap between the decades. Another moment of 24 hours (some moments can be longer than others) to reflect, mourn the losses, the loves, offer forgiveness, love and breathe. I forget that anytime I invade my own psyche with any kind of introspection it causes a disruption in my ordinarily positive cadence and I am always surprised.

24 hours later I am back in full swing, camera in tow, off to my first photographic assignment of the year - a wedding. Love is in the air. A long time friend (within the last decade) has met her life partner and I have been given the honor of documenting their wonderful union. This is a bittersweet occasion as I am reminded of my own journey toward a new love of my own. 2010 marks the 10th year of being a single woman. At times I feel like I am no where, but more than not, very peaceful where I am in the moment knowing that everything can change in a day, in an hour, in a swift moment - a blink of an eye.

As the month progresses, economic pursestrings that were held so tightly in the final quarter of 2009 begin to loosen and work starts to flow and it feels good. The sun is shining and although the air is brisk, the horizon is clear and the collective buzz is ringing nothing but positive. Then rumors ripple through our county that our blessed Southern California weather is about to take a turn. Get out your umbrellas, galoshes, raincoats and quite possibly we may even need to call on Noah's Arc! And here comes the rain. They say the worst in 10 years. There is that number again.

The first day brings flooding as the rain comes down, disproportionate to the rate our drains and plains can handle. This became very evident as 'Casa Milagro' (my home) is now surrounded by what looks like a castle mote and for now I have renamed her 'Isla Milagro'. I always said I wanted to live on an island but this was not what I had in mind. My studio/garage, which was of some concern for possible flooding, had passed the last rain test and so with that my expectation (there it is again) was that I had nothing to worry about. That Monday night, which will now be recorded in history I'm sure as an epoch downpour, is also Dress Up & Show Up night for a band of woman friends. The weather of the day had deterred all but two of us from our outing and now just one hour from meet-up time I have donned quasi rain gear of Ugg boots, Michael Kor raincoat (not really) and baseball cap over my just blown dry straight hair to check on the studio/garage. The water was coming in on three sides of the building and down one wall. It is times like these...I'm just saying. I make two calls, one to cancel my attendance at Dress Up & Show Up and the other to my local heros. Hero#1 leaves the warmth of his cozy house complete with burning fireplace to climb up on the roof to unclog the drain. That is just one of the problems. Meanwhile I am now drenched, my hair has returned to it's natural state of long strands of ringlets and with shovel in hand small trenches are being dug to divert the water away from the studio. Here we go - another test of 'How will she handle it?" I have to say, with a pat on the back, this event was met with calmness and doing whatever had to be done including asking for help, which sometimes is a hard one for me.

There were other challenges that night and I'm not even sure challenge is the right word. Perhaps surprises, something totally unexpected that knocked me off my rail. Challenged me to question and think about who I think I am - who I think I have become. It set me back a few steps...I am getting to the rainbow.

Taking a few days to process all that was going on, I found myself sitting at my newly carved out space for writing (stealing the idea from Carrie in Sex in The City) facing east and overlooking my patio. The rain droned on, raindrops spatting and tapping on the window, then suddenly with a break in the weather a rainbow appeared. Fantastic! I ran for the camera under lock and key, fumbling to capture one of nature's most beautiful renderings that we just can't get enough of. It's timely appearance felt like the winning of a grand prize after such a challenging and emotional week. But it wasn't until the next day as I was driving north on I-805 where I encountered another rainbow. This time a pair of them, arcing over the freeway - what luck! It was then that I had one of those clear moments of thought where everything lined up perfectly, like the seven colors in the rainbow. What flashed in my mind was the living significance of those seven colors. From red to violet, symbolic of how we move from the densest part of ourselves as infants to a more open state as older adults, moving closer and closer to our inevitable transition back to pure energy matter. And more relevant to our, or should I say my, earthly experiences of constant transition, change or growth to some level of personal enlightenment. Red to orange, to yellow, to green, to blue, to indigo, to violet.

And just when I think I have arrived, another rainbow appears for me to walk through.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Is a Picture Worth...?


Entering my 3rd year in the professional photography arena I continue to be blessed with opportunities beyond my own imagination. What I thought would be a medium in which to express my passion for art and creativity has turned quite surprisingly into so much more than that.

While exploring this medium I was intrigued by the idea of photojournalism, combining my travel bug, yearning to help people and storytelling. While this sounds great in theory I had my first introduction into how I was just not cut out for all that photojournalism can bring.

In 2008, I was asked by a local wedding photographer to assist as the second camera for a wedding in Anaheim. The wedding couple originally from Puebla, Mexico were now living in the U.S. with all of their cultural customs, foods, rituals and nuances. So here was my first opportunity to document - albeit a wedding - a cultural ritual, check. Traveling, yes! All the way to Anaheim. The yearning to help people, well that is a bit of a stretch but stick with me here. It was a beautiful Catholic church ceremony with an unfamiliar cadence in my experience, but it wasn't until the reception when I would experience a huge ah hah moment regarding...photojournalism.

The lead photographer kept me apprised of what was coming next since, oh by the way, everything was being communicated in Spanish and while I am semi-biligual, not at that speed! So he says to me "Next comes the turkey dance." And I respond with one of my classic scrunched up face looks and a questioning "Okay?" This is followed by his explanation that this is a ceremony to bring abundance to the newly wed couple. One of the sponsors of the wedding will come out dancing with a white turkey. "Seriously?" He wasn't kidding. Out comes the couple holding one wing each swinging this poor turkey back and forth to the music. Feathers are flying while the turkey is struggling to get loose. With camera ready I have no idea what I will be experiencing during the inordinately long dance. More people join in on the dance and as they pass the turkey to the next couple, and the next couple, until it finally reaches the bride and groom. Now exhausted the turkey stops struggling...thank God! My job...to photograph this culturally imbedded ritual. My inclination...to run and save the damn turkey!

It was in that moment that I knew I was not destined to travel the world capturing images that tell a story of the plight of anything. Most certainly not if there was any chance I could physically help. I imagined my well invested camera equipment dropping to the ground in a muddy rut and left in total disrepair for the salvation of something bigger than myself. If I couldn't stomach the turkey dance it was not likely that I would take this anywhere soon.

I thought of this today as I combed through the AP photos of the recent devastation in Haiti. The images, like many before this, are haunting and from my personal perspective difficult to look at and even more difficult to imagine taking them. It is a fine line for me and at the same time, I understand that without the documentation from these brave professionals - in more ways than one, people like the Haitians may not get the help and response that is immensely needed.

Praise for those that can as I know that I cannot.