This sweet girl is getting cuter and cuter. Her family lives in Atlanta and I get the blessing of photographing her every three months (as part of the baby plan) when she’s down here to visit grandparents. We met at my favorite local park, Dorothy B. Oven Park, and spent some time under the beautiful oak trees taking pictures of her newest milestones. She’s a doll. Also, her mama is dear to my heart. When my own girls were babies, she was a blessing for a few hours each Monday morning so I could get out of the house and run errands, go sneak off somewhere and edit photos, or just take a breather. A wise woman once told me that one of the ways you successfully make it though the early years of parenting your sweet babies it by taking a lot of breaks. That advice has proven to be one of the many keys to making those earliest years most enjoyable. I love my babies hard, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need mommy-time too. Zoe’s mama was the vessel that provided those moments of respite for me early on and I am forever thankful for her.
“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.” -Picasso
This quote resonates with me. You know that feeling when there’s something you want to do, but simply cannot do? The feeling that there’s a song inside you that wants to be sung, but you don’t have the words or tune? I think there’s something to that and I hope I’m not alone. I love music, singing, photography (duh) and I have for a long time. As a kid, I was always dabbling in a new instrument. First it was violin, then clarinet, piano, guitar, and back again to violin (which I still dabble in today). Looking back at my relationship with music, it’s as if it beckons me. As if there is some part of me that is asleep but wants to be woken up. Like there’s a voice inside that just HAS to sing and when it can’t, I feel very trapped. My poor family falls victim to my prison at times as I rearrange the furniture… again. Tweaking decorations here and there as I go along. Or painting a chest of drawers on a whim (without moving it from the place it sits and not covering the carpet around it with a drop cloth. I’m a renegade. I know it.). I am so so thankful for my photography.
As my business picks up and I am able to share my creativity with others through the lens of my camera, I feel that those prison walls are cracking… the metal bars, weakening. I can’t help but wonder though, what is it? What is that feeling? Why has it been a constant companion through my life? The more I think about it and the more I study God’s love letter to me and read the writing of other creative believers whom I admire, the closer I come to understanding that I really am made WE really are made in the image and likeness of God. Creativity is His trademark. More accurately, He is creativity personified. He started with creation and hasen’t stopped since. In fact, he’s busy preparing a place for us now. So I’m starting to think more and more about this “pull” inside me. It’s not weird or uncertain. I know exactly what it is but it’s never satisfied… and I’m thinking it won’t be until that place for me is ready… and I can rearrange furniture in it.