About this column
Photo by aussiegall courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons.
Change.
I love change. Here’s what I say about it on my This Is Me page.
I like to think of change — even change forced upon us — as opportunities for reinvention and life optimization.
I wouldn’t say I’m addicted to change. But I do know that the prospect of it — no matter how dramatic — gets me feeling a little more heartened than I was the minute before. Ooh, goodie, I think. Change! Yay. Now things’ll never be the same.
I like to see things turning over, getting uprooted, getting purged, being uncovered. None of those are lovely images in and of themselves, but I love what the process reveals.
Reveals.
That there is my personal keyword. If I’m addicted to anything, I’m addicted to revelation.
And so I don’t like things that feel caught, confined to any one interpretation, left uninterpreted. I like to see and feel things in flux. It makes me feel okay, as if I’m bouncing on top of the waves, protected by the great cushion of ocean underneath. Movement is a safe feeling for me, as if being carried in a womb. Always preparing to be birthed. Stuckness and lack of activity are not good feelings.
Underneath.
That’s another theme, another keyword. I’m most interested in what is underneath and I can’t connect to that by looking at a photo. Perhaps I’m not the visual type.
But also, I have this sense that a photograph is a shred of artifice, a layer distracting us from the truth that lived and breathed in the actual moment. A splintered breath, caught with a click. Not much like the truth.
I think this is why I don’t keep photos of people anywhere in my home — well, except, for the slobbery adorable 4 x 6 close-up of my niece when she was only five months old, which I have propped up in a bookshelf in my bedroom. I love that photo and the child in it, but looking at it makes me sad. It’s a trapped, captured moment that I can never get back. The photo is precious, but it doesn’t breathe, it doesn’t squeal, it doesn’t smile like she did in real life. It feels anticlimactically incomplete. I wouldn’t even have it out in plain sight if it weren’t for my sister-in-law, who’d be mildly offended if I didn’t have even one photo of her daughter anywhere. One of my sister-in-law’s favorite lines during any holiday gathering, as she jostles us into clusters in front of the fireplace and makes us mug for the camera , is, “How else are you going to remember except with pictures?”
But I don’t like to remember that way.
I don’t take many photos — especially not of people — and I don’t like posing for them. I understand that people like to take photos of their kids, their lovers, their animals, because they want a visual way to remember. I guess looking at photos makes them feel…grateful? glad? sentimental? warm? I don’t know.
Looking at a lot of photos in the home of a friend or a a family members makes me feel…pinned down to a moment that should have been allowed to flee by? stressed by the invitation to remember this!? melancholy? even a bit creeped out? Yes, yes, yes, and yes.
Today, most photos that exist of me are artfully staged {to look candid}, taken by a sympathetic photographer friend in settings selected for great lighting. For these shoots, I apply makeup heavier than usual, wear a rich shade on top with nice texture and detail, and insist that I am only shot from the bust up. Nothing actually candid about them. I know the feeling I want to evoke with each photo, so we stage something that will lend itself to that. I want to conjure what is underneath.
For the record, I didn’t grow up with family photos in my parents’ house, either. My mom kept a 2 x 3 photo of each of us — one of my brother at 3 and me at 6, sitting casually on the front porch of our old brick bungalow, smiling cheesily — in matching scroll-y green verdigris frames tucked into a bookshelf in one room of the house, and that was it. That’s still it. We are now 29 and 32 and those are the only photos of us lying around, and the only there have ever been. There’s other stuff on the walls — framed oil paintings, sconces, prints on canvas. But no more photos. Maybe I inherited this tendency to not want to look at faces trapped in bygone moments from her.
Not sure what this all means, except that I’ve been thinking about this a lot and wondering why I’m the only one who doesn’t want to carry around wallet size photos of my dearests.
Yesterday, when cleaning out my studio, I crumpled up and threw away a strip of photo booth candids taken of me and my boyfriend at a wedding reception a few weeks ago. I couldn’t stand looking at us trapped in that moment — the two of us awkwardly crammed onto one tiny stool, he dramatically checking his watch, while one of the bridesmaid’s little boys whipped the booth’s curtain back to reveal just how uncomfortable we were.
I’ve been thinking a lot about change and shifting {and can I just say that I love the metaphor of shifting? wrote about it here when I decided to close my shop earlier this year}. Probably because I’ve been sensing for a while that seven months into Abby Kerr Ink, it’s now time for another shift. A shift toward that which is most meaningful to me. A shift toward the work I believe I’m called to do, however hard that is to define.
And this, this is the type of blog post I want to write more of. Wondering what you’ll think, but releasing that concern, too. Because this is me, and it’s time for a shift.
Click.
What about you? Are you drawn to what’s underneath? What’s underneath the ocean of your life right now that’s ready to bob up to the surface?
Would also like to hear from photographers or those who revel in photography. Let’s talk revelation.
Hello, you.
{ 32 comments… read them below or add one }
For me, a photo is no different from a composition/poem. Both are composed. Both also allow for different interpretations from the viewer/reader.
Good point, sympathetic photographer friend. :) I knew you would see it differently. I’ve never really talked to anyone about this before, but I’ve been thinking about it a *lot* lately — the fact that I don’t like photos of people around, and neither does my mom.
Thing is, I like photos of nature, buildings, rooms, and objects. Just not people or animals.
Think there’s something interesting to explore there.
GASP! As someone who has taken over 40,000 pictures with his camera in the past 3 years (yes, that number is real and not exaggerated), I can’t identify with this blasphemous hate of photography!! I’m pretty sure that somewhere, baby unicorns are crying. ;)
However, I totally agree with the core of what you are saying. I do prefer to seek out what is underneath and to dig deeper. For me, that is actually a goal of mine in photography, to try and capture something that reveals more than the surface. (Sometimes I get it…sometimes not so much)
Still, a fantastic article and I always love knowing what makes you tick. Though it does make me sad that the First Lady of Niche-y-ness made baby unicorns cry.
HAHAHA (I crack myself up)
I love baby creatures of all species with an unreasonable passion, so to think that I’ve made baby unicorns cry breaks my heart. Though I wouldn’t want to put up a photo of one in my home anytime soon, I’d love to hang out with one. :)
I had a feeling that photography lovers find the “underneath” in their photo subjects. I’m just not sure how to do that. I took 99% of the photos that appear on my old shop blog and was resolute that I be {nearly} the only photog — it was important to me that it be my visual POV represented there. I felt as if I could see the store in its best aspect, the way no one else rightly could. So I’m cool with photographing stuff. And interestingly, though I’m untrained and have never studied photo composition, people would always email me and ask what type of lens I was using {I was using a point-and-shoot} and how I got such great photos. My answer? Positioning my body to find the angle, not positioning the objects themselves.
But when someone hands me a camera to take their picture, I often warn them, “You don’t want me taking it. Everyone always looks uglier when I’m the photographer.”
You bring a very interesting thought to light (No pun intended ;) ). I totally know where you’re coming from, and I’m a photographer! Maybe I can relate because I focus on fine art photography (mostly nature and landscapes) which are more a work of art than a snapshot of a moment. I used to want to photograph each big moment or family/friend gathering, but after years of living behind a camera lens, I was done. I only sometimes bring a small compact camera and snap a photo or two of things I find interesting.
I think photographs of people from the past (distant past) are fascinating. Especially from the late 1800’s-early 1900’s, when so much change was taking place in the world. They document major moments in our history, but do they really capture the true essence of the moment? I think photography is very important for learning from history…But I agree that photographs in general often don’t do the actual moment any real justice. Especially if you personally experienced it.
This kind of reminds me of the ancient Celtic druids and bards, who passed their knowledge on to future generations through the art of storytelling. They never wrote anything down. Their belief in the oral tradition seemed to be a way to hone their memory skills, which to teachers and spiritualists is a vital one.
Visuals are so EASY. Nowadays, even reading text on paper or screen is a problem for many. Most people respond better to pictures and graphics. As a web designer, I fix this problem for clients who are sick of answering emails from people asking questions whose answers are front and center, in text, on the homepage.
So I guess I’d like to add to your thought further. People want to *see* to acquire information or an experience. And that’s fine! That’s why so many people like to take thousands of photos and display them in artistically crafted scrapbooks and in frames around their homes. But it’s also a bit sad, because it could mean that people are getting lazier, busier, or worse…they’re not remembering the real moment in their minds, Googling instead of using memory skills, nor using their own imaginations. And we can go even deeper, knowing how many problems are a result of lack of imagination and open-mindedness.
Hey, Catherine —
I appreciate the complexity of your comment. {This is the type of real conversation I’ve been longing to have around here. Guess I do need to write posts like this more often.} :)
Your perspective on web design and most site visitors being visual learners is interesting to me. I agree, and I also disagree. I agree in that a pleasing, user-friendly, intuitively-architected site design is absolutely essential to welcoming visitors, making them feel comfortable hanging out on a site, and {most importantly} hooking them up with the information they need and want. But I’m one of those strange site visitors who doesn’t need photos on a site to engage with it. For instance, I read many blogs that don’t have photos with any of the posts. I’m there for the textual content. If the copy doesn’t inform, inspire, or entertain me, I’m gone, no matter how many awesome photos the site has. But that’s me. I’m not as visually inclined as some of my site visitors probably are {despite having curated a boutique}. I started figuring this out when I had the shop and I wondered why most other shop blogs couldn’t hold my interest, and neither could design blogs. The point of most of their posts was to tell stories through photos. But I wanted textual story, non-visual context, a written conversation.
On the flipside, I hear from people all the time that they visit blogs primarily for visual inspiration and great copy is just a side dish, nice but but non-essential. {Of course it matters why they’re visiting — if they’re there solely to find information, then copy is key.} I hear people saying — and many of these are my right people — that if a site has no photos, they won’t stick around.
I think that as web designer/developers and copywriters, it’s important to be aware of how our client’s right people will want to use the site.
I find this stuff fascinating!
Dear Abby (that has a familiar ring to it! ha): What I am sensing here is…you have a lot “underneath” that you want to “change” and perhaps “reveal”…And you want to now write about it. I get that. I respect that. I “roll” like that…
I have a question regarding moments being trapped and “pinned down” in photos, and understand the photographer’s need and passion to do, just that. As an artist, do I not do the same? Capture a feeling and give it color? Texture? Depth? But is it “pinned down”? (And isn’t that a way of speaking my “truth”?…)
…. Instead of seeing that feeling or vision as being trapped, it actually continues, and “shifts” in meaning to everyone that looks at it. I hope. Just as a photo would become something different each time a different pair of eyes made their interpretation.
So, in other words, does any image ever remain static if it is always open to interpreation? Again, just as someone elses writing can take on a whole new meaning to someone else, or cause a shift….And isn’t that what you hope to do with your writing…in your blog? In your work?
For me, the truth is, at the risk of sounding cliche’; we are always evolving and not static… we all get stuck, unstuck…in love, out…swept up, let down…and things are never the same…continuous movement…
(As for what is underneath the ocean of my life right now…if I revealed that, it wouldn’t simply “bob up to the surface”, it would cause a tsunami.)
Yikes, a tsunami.
And this is why I love you guys and love this blog {and am learning to love it more as it becomes what it needs to be}. True, each artist has a medium through which she interprets sensation/information/inspiration. For me, that’s the written word {and sometimes the spoken word}. For you, that’s visual art. I hope my take on photographs and what they are/what they do didn’t come off as a diss to visual artists. It’s just a medium that I haven’t personally connected with in a powerful way. Yet, it does evoke strangely strong emotions in me: trappedness, incompleteness, creepiness. Hmm.
And yes, Jane, you’re right: this is a season of tidal waves for me. The next one is coming soon.
Watch out for tsunamis.
Two things really came up for me from your post:
1) I really like the image of change as riding on top of waves with the entire ocean cushioning and supporting you underneath. It gives it a much more positive feel, rather than the scary “omg things are changing!” that we usually think of.
2) The issue of taking pictures. We are not a family that takes pictures (which drives our families crazy). And this is with two small kids. There’s a part of me that just forgets and doesn’t think to take pictures in the middle of something. I think most of the time I’m too busy actually being in the experience rather than trying to figure out where my camera is.
I also agree that photos seem like a trapped moment of the event that was happening. A picture just represents one facet, one second of what was going on. Yes, it can capture feelings, emotions… but you have to take the picture at just the right second most times to really get that feeling. And I’m not good at that. I miss a lot of things. Or take a really crappy picture. So I’m not someone who gets into scrapbooking and all that. I just never have enough pictures. (And then I feel like a sucky mom for not having thousands of pictures of my kids.)
Your post reminded me of a tradition I’d thought of a long time ago but just never started – I want to write three monthly journals. One for each of my children to chronicle their lives, and one for our entire family. One month I may discuss what’s been going on, another month tell stories of our past. And include a picture to show the growth of our family.
So thank you for the inspiration. And for the lovely post. I’m very much in a space right now where things are just under the surface, and I’m having to dig in order to find them. And I’m very curious to see what’s there, and what the changes are coming for you, too. :)
Thanks for being here, Mary. :)
I love the idea of keeping journals for your kids and for your family as a whole. That’ll be a beautiful gift to hand down to your kids someday. Also has the makings of an extraordinary blog post for you. :)
For some reason, the water motif has always really resonated with me for the way I experience life. Could be because I’m a Pisces — sign of the fish {though I don’t “believe” in astrology}? I’m convinced it goes back to being carried in the womb, as I always find myself turning back to birth metaphors to describe my creative process, too.
I was at Anthropologie with my friend/graphic designer the other week and I told her that what’s most difficult about writing copy for other people’s businesses is “climbing up the birth canal backwards to get into the womb of someone else’s business.”
Men, am I scaring you away here? ;)
We’re still here Abby :) My first child is on the way, a little girl:), so birth canals, not a thing. Now if you start talking about shoes and shopping, that might be a deal breaker ;)
I really enjoyed this post! I’ve never really thought about pictures in this way before. I also really appreciated the tone of your writing. I’ve only been reading your blog for a few weeks but I can tell difference in the…weight…(is that a good word?)…of what you’re writing. You made me think about this for most of the afternoon today.
I’d have to say that I’m not a picture person mostly because I don’t want to take the time to remember to take a photo and I don’t really care about hanging one on the wall. The thought that it’s a trapped or pinned down moment really captured me tho! I started to really think about what I think about photos.
reading that after I wrote makes me laugh
The only time I’ve ever hung up photos was while I was in Iraq. I did it because I never got to see any of those people, or the colors of home, the leaves changing colors, snow on pine trees, and all the things you miss while you’re away for a long time. Back then a picture wasn’t a memory lost or trapped, it was a window into the lives of the people and places I called home.
This is such an interesting perspective to me!! Thank you for writing it and making me think! Thank you for sharing a piece of yourself with us!
Can you describe more about how you like to remember experiences? Is video different than photos for you (“you” being everyone)?
Oh, wow, your first child! How exciting, Josh? Do you guys have any names picked out. {If it’s a secret, don’t divulge it here! I don’t want Mrs. Buisch getting mad at you. :)}
This is a high, high compliment:
>I’ve only been reading your blog for a few weeks but I can tell difference in the…weight…(is that a good word?)…of what you’re writing. You made me think about this for most of the afternoon today.<
Thank you, Josh. I can feel the difference in the weight of the writing, too. Not that I want every post to be gravely serious and all about my own navel-gazing, but I do want to write more like I think, trusting that my right people like to think about some of the same sorts of things. From what’s going on in this comment section, I’d say it’s a pretty good start. :)
And even though I read your About page on your site, I totally missed that you were in Iraq. Wow. I can only believe that that was a life-altering experience. I can certainly understand the need to be surrounded by photos of loved ones and loved familiar places in that foreign land. I believe that were I in Iraq {or anywhere else so far away and unfamiliar}, I would want the same thing, photo neuroses notwithstanding. :)
Really glad you’re here. I like having men on my ship.
We’re going to name her Nora Nagako. Nora after Janelles grandmother and Nagako after mine. My grandmother is Japanese:) Not your average American name.
Beautiful name, Josh. :)
Thanks!
P.S. – my wife’s name is Janelle. May as well introduce you to the whole family:)
Abby,
I agree that a photographer’s art is subject to the interpretation of the viewer; but I think that we need to distinguish between snapshots and photos. I agree with Abby that snapshots are just that – snapped moments that may or may not carry much meaning at all – and now that we don’t have to process our photos the old-fashioned way how many more digital snapshots are stored on our computers.
However, a skilled photographer creates art in much the same way a painter does, carefully crafting poses, backgrounds, colors, and light to create an image that evokes feelings, memories, etc. I grew up in a house where all of our snapshots were messily stored in shoe boxes in the closet and almost never brought out, but skillfully created portraits of family members by an award-winning photographer (not the Discount Photo Studio kind) were on display in every room.
I had the same photographer that my Mom loved do the photos for my wedding and there was one photo in particular that I loved. It is a photo of the inside of the church where my husband and I were married. The lights are dim, the candles are snuffed, the seats are empty, there are leaves and rose petals strewn about the aisle where kids had played in them after the ceremony, my husband and I are small figures in the aisle – the photographer had caught us in a secret embrace. I LOVE this photo. It captures so much of the magic of that day, the quiet and special love that I feel for my husband, and the reverence of the space that we were married in. It is those feelings and memories that are the subject of that photo, not the people in it. I don’t even strain to look at our faces in that photo because I only want to take in the whole. That is the magic of a good photographer and something you simply can’t get from a snapshot.
Mmm, I like how you talk about photography, Janelle. There is a difference between photos thoughtlessly snapped {AKA my sister-in-law’s frenzied, stalwart shutterbugging during every family gathering} and those that are artfully “found,” kind of like found poems. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Found_poem
I do like clicking through a good online wedding portfolio. I like the photojournalistic style {I think it’s still called that} — it sounds like the shot you love from after your reception maybe falls in that vein? I love this site for great wedding photography: http://www.oncewed.com/
I think maybe what my soul rails against is how some people use photography as a violation — here, let me capture you. They don’t realize it, of course — they think it’s their right to point and shoot.
“Movement is a safe feeling for me, as if being carried in a womb. Always preparing to be birthed.” <– I love this. I feel the same way about movement, though I never compared it to a womb and birth. The comparison feels right to me.
I like photos for the same reason you dislike them. I get the same sense that it's a moment of capture (a violence), but looking into that moment gives me an opportunity to gaze in a way I might not be able to with each person in real life – to pause and see what might be beneath that I hadn't noticed face-to-face.
I also feel like I'm being pulled toward another shift, just as I'm getting momentum in my current work. It's both exciting and scary. But, like water, once it starts to bubble up, you can't really hold it back.
Looking forward to reading more of your posts, Abby.
Hey, Monica! Welcome! Glad you’re here.
Glad the movement/womb metaphor resonated with you. I love guiding metaphors. I’m convinced we each have one. Another one that’s always popped up in my creative work through the years has been darkness and light. Which, now that I think of it, is totally related to photography. LOL What have I written myself into with this post? ;)
What you’ve said about having the opportunity to gaze unabashedly at faces is a good point. For example, I’m always a little sad when my blog commenters don’t have a photo avatar with their comment. I want to see who I’m talking to, don’t you? {BTW, if you don’t have one and want one, you can go to http://en.gravatar.com/ to register your globally recognized avatar.}
If you ever want someone to talk with about the shift you feel coming in your own work, please feel free to email me: abby {at} abbykerrink {dot} com. Change must be in the water. :)
you know, it’s interesting that you post this as I’m processing the images I shot at my aunt and uncle’s wedding reception last weekend. I was honored to be asked to be their “official” photographer for the event.
for me, the goal of taking a picture is to show something more then what’s on the surface. when I’m able to do that, I feel I’ve succeeded in the art….
I’m particularly pleased with the portraits of my aunt and uncle that we shot outside before the event. If you want to check them out:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/healwlove/sets/72157624890249449/
What a great looking couple! Their joy is evident and you captured it, I would say, very honestly. I bet they’re going to love these. :)
Looking forward to interviewing you tomorrow! {BTW, all, Andy’s the next guest on the Creative Solopreneur podcast!} http://abbykerrink.com/category/creative-solopreneur-podcast/
They really are wonderful together, and I’m glad they found each other.
I’m really looking forward to the interview as well!
Your thoughts stayed with me today, and spurred a post of my own….
http://picsiechick.com/2010/09/caged-or-released/
I feel this in such an interesting way. When I walk in nature my lens reveals something deeper, something for which words are insufficient, yet it is vast and mysterious. So often am I lost through my lens in the midst of busy-ness, that there is an alienation and a union all at once.
I know this alienation and so I don’t usually take photos at events. I choose to partake instead of record. There are so few photos in our house, of people and events in our life….I’ve sometimes questioned whether this means I’m missing out on something. I’m grateful that I’m not the only one without a house full of family photos…grateful that it’s okay to remember in my heart not in my photo album.
Hugs and butterflies,
~T~
Hey, PicsieChick —
You and I could be roommates: lots of photos of nature, not so many of people. :)
I am hurrying over to read {and then share} your post. So neat that this one inspired you! Means a lot to me.
— Abby
Have you read “The Loss of the Creature” by Walker Percy. Seems like I’m always recommending that piece to people, so sorry if I already mentioned it here. (I don’t think I did.) Anyway, he talks about the danger of always being a “tourist.” In some ways, photographs trap us into knowing a place or a person in a particular way. I love photographs dearly, but I do see the need to really live, really see, really understand the “underneath.” My favorite photographs usually please me because they remind me of a larger context or story…not the single image itself.
Hi, Erica! —
No, I haven’t read that piece. Not familiar with it at all, actually. But thank you for recommending it. I’m a bit obsessed with the concept of “gazing” — both being the gazer and being gazed at. So I have a feeling I’d like this.
I really dig this that you said: >My favorite photographs usually please me because they remind me of a larger context or story…not the single image itself.< Ooh, that's a yes in my book. There is a story behind each photo, isn’t there? I think I get so focused on the intensity of that one single moment of the click — and what that all means — that I easily lose focus of that bigger story. You’ve reminded me. :)
Hmnn… not like photos?!?!?! I can’t even begin to imagine what that feels like actually. While I can perfectly understand not liking photo’s of yourself.. (I don’t like them of myself either usually) I ADORE taking photos of other people..in fact just posted a crap load of new ones of my boys on Facebook! lol I couldn’t imagine not moving through my life and documenting memories with pictures… especially pictures of people when life is so fleeting it’s so easy to forget what one looked like two weeks ago, much less 5 years ago. And my boys, my babies… I’d hate to look back on my life someday and be unable to remember their sweet baby faces, because they’re all grown up and that memory is now faded. So, while I do understand the need to look beneath the surface, and I understand intellectually what you’re saying, that pictures seem to capture a moment and keep it stuck there… I honestly have a hard time picturing my life WITHOUT the many photos I take. :)
Hey, Cori! Glad you’ve weighed in.
I do wonder if my feelings about photos of people will change once I have {if I have} kids. Perhaps I have to find a photographic style that works for me. :)
— Abby
Abby, you so often vocalize feelings that I’m only vaguely aware of having! I feel the same way about photos of people. I don’t even have pictures of my daughter in my house or in my wallet, even though I consider myself a very doting mother. This despite the fact that I taught scrapbooking classes for over eight years. I love pictures of architecture, nature, interesting objects, and I’m a very visual person who loves collage and mixed media art. I enjoy styling photos with vintage bit and pieces and over the top displays at antique booths or stores like Anthropologie. I feel that a photo of a person doesn’t capture their real essence. At least not the ones I take! And I don’t like to disengage from experiences I’m sharing with my family to take pictures. I’d rather enjoy the moment!
I do agree with Janelle who made the point that a skilled photographer creates art, and I’ve seen many beautiful photos that do just that. I guess words are simply more important to me when it comes to memories. I like to keep journals that chronicle the special moments and events of our lives. I have a journal of letters to my daughter that I’ve written in since she was born, and that I plan to give to her when she graduates. I know a picture is said to be worth a thousand words, but only if you know the story behind it. One of my favorite things about blogging is combining my love of photography with my love of writing, but very few of my pictures include people! It’s interesting how our little quirks are sometimes revealed to us when we recognize them in someone else.
Hi, Kimberly —
I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who feels this way about people in photos. :)
Now, this might be strange, but I do like painted portraiture — and the quirkier and less graceful the face, the better. I could have portraits of people around {not sure how I’d feel if they were people I know, though}, but not so much photos.
I’m with you. I feel sentiment through writing in greeting cards, letters, or special emails. I guess that’s how emotion is carried within me — in words, rather than in pictures.
I guess you and I can be “weird” together. :)
— Abby
Way to use the internet to help people solve prboseml!
Yep! I was agreed, I’ll keep in touch to your blog. This blog is so usefully, Thanks for the posted ;)