A Writer’s Photography: Year 5

An intentional practice: discovering joy one photo at a time.

Several friends have suggested that I should “do something” with my photography. I think the idea is something like… I should be seeking out a gallery exhibit? Or selling them? Perhaps publish a photo-book? I shared this notion with a friend of mine, who’s an actual artist, with photographs currently featured in a gallery.

“You ARE doing something with your photos!” he said.

And yes, indeed, I HAVE. For the past five years I have shared them with friends and family on social media and here on my website. I first introduced it as a “writer’s photography” or one year of intentional practice. My goal was to practice looking at the things around me to refocus my thoughts away from my anxiety and the chaos of the times. One photo at a time, I found joy.

In January of 2020, I wrote the following in my first annual “writer’s photography” post:

When I looked back on the (almost) daily photos I posted in 2019 it occurred to me that each was a story. Each image conjured its own words. And perhaps that’s it. I am a storyteller. And perhaps the form doesn’t matter. Photography as meditation. Photography as story-prompt. Photography to capture a moment. An incredibly beautiful bit of light on a raindrop. Or a beloved friend. A smell. A taste. An emotion. A transition. A cloud passing overhead. A cloud that reminded me to let my emotions follow suit. Acknowledge my feelings. Then let them go. They are not me. They do not define me. They are like a cloud floating overhead.¹

Little did I know what was coming, and how important having such a practice would become critical to my daily sanity. When I was younger, I thought I might want to be a photojournalist. I was reminded of that “road not taken” this past October when I visited an exhibition commemorating the 75th anniversary of the Missouri Photo Workshop, part of the University of Missouri, and featured in the gallery at The State Historical Society of Missouri. This was a program I had once considered applying to. The featured photographs told breathtaking stories in the tiniest of details, as indicated in the “Small towns, Big stories” exhibition title. Yet these intimate moments also reminded me that photojournalists, by nature, most often focus on the injustices of the world. I don’t think my heart could have handled that career.

Year 2 of this practice felt most like an experiment in photojournalism. My first post of 2020 had me thinking metaphorically as I posted a rainy photo on my way to a funeral mass. I had no idea how relevant those memento mori musings would become as the year progressed. The pandemic hit. My mom died. Our dog died. George Floyd was murdered, and my city caught fire in the aftermath. And in the fall, we held an extremely fraught and consequential presidential election. In a year where most days simply felt terrifying, taking time to capture and share small moments of joy helped me choose love over fear. Post-election, when my fellow Philadelphians felt the most fear, as their votes were being challenged, they decided to dance in the streets. Those paying closest attention collectively threw out their Bingo cards as we embraced the idea that anything can happen, anywhere, at any time. There is no normal. But by Year 4 of my daily practice—photography as meditation—I realized I had changed. My brain had changed. Perhaps my heart as well. I can’t *not* see the pretty thing or the weird detail. When I am going about my day or out walking, I can’t help but notice. And that’s a good thing. It doesn’t mean I am a Pollyanna. I know I live in an imperfect city, in an imperfect country, in a world filled with daily injustices that my privilege allows me to mostly avoid. I do my best to keep informed, educate and reeducate myself, and vote. I strive to live each day with integrity and hold space for those less fortunate. As an individual, I cannot hold up the sky for everyone. But perhaps a photo of a sunset or an unusual cloud formation might brighten someone else’s day like it did mine?

Ultimately, what I have accomplished over the last five years is to give myself a gift. I look back on the aggregate—the photos and stories—and I am ever so grateful. When I started, I was looking to move past my leukemia fog. I am in awe of the journeys I have taken between then and now. In the past year I have become aware of a trend called a “glimmer” whereby you share something positive on social media to help combat all the negative. I truly feel like a trendsetter without ever having used that hashtag. Perhaps this exercise has come full circle? I have found myself taking photos and forgetting to share them. Sometimes I feel as if I am repeating myself. Does it really matter? I may or may not ever share another annual “A Writer’s Photography” post. TBD. I am currently working on a novel. I am getting ready to attend a writer’s retreat in a few weeks, so my brain is shifting towards my fictionalized characters. Let’s see how that affects my daily photo practice.

Let’s start with a few of my 2023 favorites:

My tiny city garden. I have included a hint of just how tiny it is in reference to what’s around it. Yet, it’s a big world, this garden I tend internally and externally. It’s a garden in constant motion. Is there such thing as taking too many pictures of a garden?

The tulips arrived in the Spring of 2020. We had never planted bulbs in our pots before then. I don’t know how it happened. But my mother, who had been living with us for a few years, decided to plant them in the fall of 2019. It was the gift she planted before she left this earthly plain. And if you knew my mother, you’d know that was her superpower, planting gardens and leaving beauty in her wake. Now I can’t imagine my life without tulips. They are so dramatic in their daily stretches as they open and close and search for the sun’s rays.

Our large front tree creates the feeling of living in a treehouse. From our windows we watch the seasons change. The bees buzz and the birds chirp. Hazelnut loves all the seasons.

Speaking of Hazelnut… photos of Hazel seem to evoke much joy. I never desired to give Hazelnut her own Instagram account. But apparently, to some of my friends, there can never be too much of Hazelnut and her antics. She arrived during the pandemic, in the midst of much sadness. She reminds me to pause and enjoy the moment.

Yes. We DO have another cat AND a dog. Miss Josephine just turned 14. She mostly sleeps and asks for food and doesn’t care much for Hazelnut. I was attempting to get a pretty photo of Josephine… but Hazel decided to interrupt the photo session. You can clearly see how Josie felt.

Josephine and Piggy, aka the Pigmonster, basically stay as close as possible to the kitchen at all times. Pig’s person is not me. And if his person isn’t home, he will sit and wait by the front door.

My husband convinced me to go sailing in the Chesapeake. I declared myself “ballast” on day one. Yet, by the end of the long weekend, I was actually “doing things” which my husband enjoyed, because as Captain of the boat, I had to do what he told me to do, when he told me to. It rained a LOT and we sailed fast. And I didn’t get seasick.

I actually enjoy taking photos of people. People I know. People I don’t. The more candid the better. Most people don’t mind. Even when I ask them to do something silly. I have discovered my photos used as on friend’s various social media profiles. That makes me happy.

Although… some people enjoy posing. (Yes, I am talking about YOU Trevor.)

And sometimes you are asked to “hide” to capture a special moment. (Ask me anytime!)

Drive-bys… I seem to have taken a lot of these on-the-fly, out-the-window photos this year… all taken while my husband (or someone else) was driving. Or should I say when my husband had zero interest in “stopping for a quick photo…”

The skies over Philly…

The streets of Philadelphia… always…

City Hall Courtyard views on a Sunday afternoon… north, south, east, and west…

Other things that brought me joy… *other* furry souls, cocktails, art, historic sites, and miscellaneous things that caught my attention…

While attending a writing retreat at the Kripalu Center in Massachusetts…day one, two, and three the fog rolled in: on the final morning the crows arrived. I wish I had recorded them. This view out my window felt reflective of my writing practice and the feeling of being unplugged.

During a research trip I was taken to visit the almost 400-year old McBaine Burr Oak tree. It lives outside of Columbia about a half-mile from the Missouri River. Some of my ancestral roots also reside nearby. It’s an interesting connection to ponder.

Selfies- Aging is difficult. I have one of those milestone birthdays coming up. I am attempting to be less critical of myself, because the truth is, this is what growing older looks like. I got cataract surgery over the summer, and I didn’t like how I felt once my oversized glasses weren’t hiding things. Of course, now I am wearing an oversized pair of readers. My crutch.

The perfect reminder from a dear friend…