December 23, 2021

Sometimes it’s hard to tell if the storm is coming or going.

Over the last few weeks I’ve struggled. Most nights I don’t sleep particularly well. It’s hard to focus, and my brain feels like it’s almost always in a fog. My last post took me a week to write, and went though five different iterations before I finally published it. Despite doing all of the things that I know help me in times of stress, little has helped.

And I’ve come to realize that the reason, or at least one reason, that things have been so hard lately is that I’m tired; burnt out from what the last two years have demanded. Since March of 2020, like so many, I‘ve just been trying to survive. Not only in the physical sense, but mentally and emotionally as well. I’ve focused on just getting through: To hospitals not being overwhelmed. To case numbers and casualties falling. To the latest viral wave subsiding. To the arrival of a vaccine. To my kids being vaccinated. Each carrying its own promise of a return to what we used to know as normal, only to have that promise yanked away.

I tend to be the person in a crisis who can keep a level head. When things go south I’m usually the one you’ll find tending to everyone else, and figuring out the way forward. It’s just how I’m built, how I cope. I can turn off the panic, the fear, the emotion, and I go into triage mode. Then, when it’s all over and the dust settles, I crash. When the chaos subsides and I know my people are safe, it’s then that I let myself fall apart; I finally begin to process it all, I grieve, I rest, and I care for myself.

But the dust hasn’t settled, and the chaos has yet to subside. For 22 months now I’ve been coping, without a break to fall apart. For 22 months I’ve been operating in triage mode. Like many I’m not just tired, I’m exhausted.

And that’s why I share this here. Because I know I’m not alone in that, not by a long shot. The New York Times published an article just a few days ago titled Why 1,320 Therapists Are Worried About Mental Health in America Right Now. Many of those I’m closest to have been candid about going through similar. I see it on social media. I’ve seen it on the faces of strangers. We’re all burnt out. We’re all exhausted. Maybe you’ve seen it too. Maybe you’re even feeling it.

But somehow, it’s that knowledge that we’re all going through this together that makes it seem a little more bearable. Every time someone shares something similar I feel the smallest bit of comfort. It’s the knowing that even as many of us continue to be more isolated than we’d like, we still aren’t actually alone.

Last year when I was feeling a bit more hopeful I wrote about the light that comes after the darkness. I realize this post may sound rather bleak by comparison but believe it or not that hope is still here, albeit buried a little deeper. I know that all things end, eventually. We’ll all get through it, and I think most of us know that deep down. But of course that doesn't change the way it feels right now.

If you’re going through it too then my heart goes out to you. At least maybe now you feel a little less alone. Perhaps you can’t tell if the storm is coming or going; and that’s ok. You’re allowed to simply to stand in the rain. Just remember that the sun will come out eventually; and maybe at least for now you can find some comfort in knowing that we’re all getting drenched together.

Fun on Film

December 19, 2021

I had noticed the two girls earlier in the week. They were probably around 12 or 13; that in-between age when you don’t really identify as a child anymore, but you’re nowhere near adulthood either. They spent most of their time trying very hard to look grown-up, trading sandcastles for sunbathing and ditching splash fights in the surf in favor of walks along its edge. I had spent time on that same beach during those years. I recognized their self-consciousness, their watching and wondering what others thought, and the weight that comes with the expectation of growing up.

One afternoon I was sitting in the sand and watching a big flock of seagulls by the water. They stood just at its edge, all huddled together and staring out into the ocean as if they were waiting for something, presumably their dinner. After catching a shot I liked with my digital camera I decided they might look nice on film as well and so I went and grabbed my little Nikon. As I started back to where the seagulls were I could see that the two girls were walking toward the water too, a few paces ahead of me. I knew I wasn't going to get to where I wanted to make the picture before the girls, so instinctively I just set up and took a shot where I was. About the time I did the girls decided, seemingly on a complete whim, to hang a hard left and run through the birds, causing them to scatter.

It was a beautiful moment, for two reasons. One is that as a photographer you live for those out of the blue moments where you just happen to be in the right place at the right time with your gear in your hand. (Although admittedly you also always judge the images afterward: “Why couldn’t I have had my longer lens?! Or been just a little bit closer?!”)

But mostly it was beautiful because for just a split second those girls quit worrying what others might think in favor of a moment of pure fun. They forgot all about trying to be something, and just were. Anytime you see a human let go and just be it’s a thing of absolute beauty, but this one especially. It felt bigger. It felt like witnessing what might have been one of the last fleeting moments of their childhood.

Dreams and Memories

December 6, 2021

If you’re subscribed to my monthly newsletter then you know from the last one that I’ve been enjoying messing around with a Polaroid camera recently. I love instant film for many reasons, but what I love probably the most is the way the film imbues each image with a soft haziness that makes it feel as though it came from a dream; that perhaps leaves you questioning whether you’re looking at a photograph or a memory.

Last weekend I went out into the woods with the sole purpose of finishing off the small handful of frames remaining on a roll of 35mm I-honestly-don’t-remember-what that I’d loaded into my F3 the month prior. But I also had a few slides of black and white left in the Polaroid, so I figured I’d take it along too. And because my little M50 goes pretty much everywhere I do it was in the bag as well.

There was one image, the first in the set below, that I consciously shot on all three mediums. I’m a sucker for woods scenes but it’s difficult to shoot dense woods without the image just coming off looking messy. I knew between the spacing of the trees and the way the setting sun was lighting them that this one would work, probably well, and so I wanted to take advantage. But it wasn’t until a few days after I got home and really began going through the images that I realized I had actually made the same image on both digital and Polaroid three different times that day. I liked all three of the instant film images, and the digitals as it turned out weren't too shabby either. And seeing them together made me appreciate both mediums all that much more for what they each offer.

But man I do still love those ethereal instants.

A Bit of Fun

November 18, 2021

Sometimes it’s fun just to pick up the camera and play, and really I don’t do that often enough. When I have my camera in hand I often approach what I’m doing more like work. I’m in my head and thinking through every decision, and very often I choose not to even pick the camera up at all if I don’t feel like the end result will serve some purpose. I guess sometimes I forget that the beauty of this thing I do is that it fills the need to create, which is perfectly acceptable to do just because it’s fun and I want to. But every now and then when it’s been too long since I’ve made something I start to feel antsy and I allow myself the freedom to make pictures just because. And sometimes I even like what I come away with. These were all taken early one morning while I was visiting my mom. I can never resist the opportunity to play with light and shadow and reflection.