52Frames: A Year of Photos, Friendships, and Finding My Way

My submission to this week's album in the 52Frames project marks my official Frameversary, my 52nd submission, so congrats to me! Okay, full disclosure, due to my complete hatred of self portraits and an administrative glitch with the signed manifesto at the beginning of 2016, I missed the first two weeks of 2016, but I started in mid December 2015 so I have 52 ACTUAL, if not sequential, submissions. So, yeah, I am considering that a win. (I haven't quite figured out what I am going to do with the coming week which is self portrait again - guess it is time to get uber creative and face my fears!) Being a part of this project has taught me a lot about photography, but also things about myself, and about the importance of being a part of something bigger than yourself.

I can't say that it has been easy. Just getting out there and shooting every week is hard. And the photography submission part has often been the most challenging. Some weeks there have been too many good shots to choose from - a blessing, I know, but still hard when friends and family make it even harder by all liking a different image when you can only submit one! It took me way too long, but I finally learned that on those weeks it is simply best to go with my gut and then just let it go. (It is true that Burning Man started me down that road of learning how to let go, but this project has honed those skills and added a few other life-changing skills. And, yes, the week of photography at Burning Man this year was mind-blowing, even if no image actually taken at Burning Man was ever a 52Frames submission. I know, crazy right!) Some weeks were hard because I was not inspired by the theme or I had difficulties getting my ideas translated to images. Some weeks, well as we on the project committee like to say ... Life! ... but I still managed to get in a submission even if I wasn't entirely thrilled with it. Like anything that is challenging, when you manage to stick with it, you come to realize that it is worth the effort. Staying with this project has made me a better artist.

Practicing my photography again has forced me to see "things" in a whole new light, in ways I once did but had forgotten. Aside from the beauty I see through the lens, this project helps me to see people, including myself (okay mostly myself!), differently. Hopefully that has made me a better person. The weekly themed challenges often have a way of making me deal with issues that until now I have been unable to recognize or have pushed to the back burner for years. Sometimes these self-revelations occur while shooting. Often they happen while choosing an image for submission, when I choose an image not because it is necessarily the best image, or even the best image for the challenge, but instead for reasons that have to do with my own feelings or something that I need to face head on and work on. Those instances usually come through loud and clear in the write-ups that accompany the photos. (I have often said that I am a better writer than a photographer anyway, so perhaps I need to find a similar project for writing! LOL! Seriously, anyone know of one?). And on those weeks, the project wasn't just about photography but helped me in some profound way, a sort of photo therapy. Some weeks it let me laugh or cry when that was what I needed most. Some made me understand and appreciate my own perspective on the world. A few made me see that my images being "liked" or commented on by others is not always the most productive and needed aspect of the project, or of life for that matter. Those I like to call my "consequences be damned" images, and they are typically my favorites. Some things we do simply for ourselves and that is important.

Then there are the friendships. I have local real world, everyday friends in the family fold of 52Frames - thank you to Julie, Laura, and Susan for all the hand holding in this project and in life generally, and to my most important friends, my husband and my two daughters, who support my participation in this project whether it is as a model for a photo shoot, helping me decide on submissions, or just tolerating my late night photo editing and website work. I have befriended some wonderful people from all over the globe through this project as virtual friends, and I am not talking about "friends" strictly in Facebook terms, but people that I feel a true connection with, that I enjoy their art, their conversation, and learning about them and their own hopes, dreams and challenges, besides studying and practicing photography with them. And the committee folks of 52Frames are some of the kindest, funniest, most generous and amazing people I have ever met; but then if you are involved in the project you already know that, you just don't get to see the personal behind the scenes hard work and silliness that happens. I do, and for that I am very grateful.

52Frames is a brilliant project, a wonderful community of creative and supportive people, and it has been my saving grace in a year that has had many challenges. It is a true gift - better than anything that can be wrapped and put under a tree. I'm not sure that I can ever thank its creator, Yosef Adest, enough for his vision and for making it happen each and every week. I am thrilled to contribute where I can, to be a part of something bigger than myself, because I believe so strongly in the project. Besides participating, I have been updating the 52Frames website weekly since spring, I serve on the committee, and I am a patron of the project. My involvement has made me appreciate the project even more. I encourage everyone in the project to push yourself to submit weekly and be involved however you can, even if your involvement is simply making time to enjoy and comment on the art of others. Do it for you. You'll be surprised how much more you get out of the project if you do.

As we all get ready to start a new year that will bring who knows what, I plan to hold on to things that matter, let go of a lot, take lots of photos, and do my best to make each day special for me and for those that I care about. After all, that is really the best you can do. Peace, love, and creativity to you all in 2017.

To see my album of 2016 52Frames Submissions, and a few extra favorite images that I couldn't quite bring myself to let go of, click here. And if you missed my Burning Man photos from this year, they are here. To view the Ted Talk by Yosef Adest, founder of 52 Frames, click here - it might just change your life. And if you would like to join the 52Frames project -- you don't have to be a pro photographer, just a human! -- visit the site here.

We Always Have Options

This week, I had to take my girls to get their sports physicals for high school swim. We went to the pediatrician that they have gone to since they were infants, the same pediatrician that did sports physicals the last two years for my older daughter for high school swim. To assure an easy in and out process I even made early morning appointments for them both - the first appointments of the day. We would knock this out, check a box, and get on with things.

Weight and height. Vital signs. Hearing and eye tests. Boom, boom, and boom. Done. And because the appointments were being done simultaneously, in the same room, this was going to be a piece of cake. Then the doctor informed me that their practice had recently made a "policy change" and because my daughters were adopted and thus we did not have any family medical history for them, they would have to see a cardiologist in order for her to sign off on a sports physical.

I stood there stunned! Dumfounded even. If you know my girls, you know that they are about the healthiest kids around. They have swum Club Swim year round and summer league since they were 7 and 5 years old respectively. They have both danced since the age of 3. They do trapeze and aerial arts. The youngest even enjoys running with her dad. Neither of these kids has ever had any medical issues and rarely even gets a cold! I tried reasoning with the doctor by pointing all of these things out to her. 

Her hands were tied she claimed. It was simply their new office policy. But that's not the state's requirement, I pointed out - there was nothing on that form that indicated that Virginia High School League required that my kids jump through the additional hoop of seeing a cardiologist to be cleared to do an activity that they have done for a decade. She agreed that it didn't make much sense and said that she might be able to sign the form with the stipulation that a cardiologist appointment was recommended. What? That's not a clearance to participate. If anything, that would flag a problem that didn't even exist.

While this discussion was going on between the doctor and I and in front of my kids, one of them began silently crying. The one that never cries, I might add. Seriously, I have seen her cry three times in her entire life. Once when we threw her with a surprise birthday at age 3; a birthday party that she had said for months that she wanted but clearly was not really on board with after all. Once after getting a really serious gash that clearly required emergency treatment; she was not crying from the injury, but rather began crying when we told her that she would need stitches. She actually tried to talk us out of it and she didn't cry while getting the stitches. The third time I saw her cry was on a trip to China when a TSA-equivalent Chinese official removed and confiscated a small snow globe that had been given to her by her orphanage nanny. That one still haunts me to this day because there was nothing I could do to fix it.

When I realized that this encounter with the pediatrician was making her cry, that was it. I was done. I told the doctor that we would be going elsewhere for the needed physicals. I checked out, got copies of their medical records, and we went to the CVS Minute Clinic and got the physicals done that very morning. It made for a very bumpy start to the day, but in the end, all was well.

I am relating this story because when those in my house woke this morning to what for us, and many others across this nation, was very unexpected election news, we were disappointed in our country and the choice that had been made. It's a "policy change" that we are not on board with, and quite frankly makes little sense on its face. Oh, I get that it was born out of frustration and a feeling of helplessness by a certain part of the population. I get that they were willing to overlook some seriously questionable behavior to get what they felt had been taken from them. But still, I am a bit shell-shocked that things didn't turn out better. I want to argue why none of this should ever have happened, that it is not right, that it makes no sense, that no one should be left to have so few options. I want to cry. In fact, I did cry because I am not as stoic as my daughter.

But here's the thing, now more than ever, I am committed to finding a way to protect and support those that I love, to be an advocate for them, find options and make things right. I am, now more than ever, committed to helping those who can not help themselves because if I don't, who will. I am, now more than ever, committed to teaching my daughters to stand up for themselves and to make sure that we always move forward, never back; someday we will get there, hopefully in their lifetime. I am, now more than ever, committed to not letting the bullies and the bastards get me down or change who I am and what I stand for. I am, now more than ever, committed to not simply taking "policy change" as a requirement because there are always options. Today's news made for a bumpy start to the day -- to the next four years even, perhaps -- but we will knock this out, check a box and get on with things. And in the end, all will be well. It has to be. I can't do another snow globe. I won't let that happen.

The More You Know

On the south end of Olde Towne Alexandria, Virginia, sitting atop a hill with a sound barrier between it and a major east coast interstate, I-495 also known as the Capitol Beltway, stands a monument in an open field which from afar seems sadly out of place. Add to that the history that those who live around here know - that until 2007 the property was the site of the Olde Towne Mobil Gas Station. That is how my kids remember it, and we have joked that the monument honors a gas station. But in reality, this is serious history.

Olde Towne is chocked full of history. I love that my city has stories to tell. Lots of stories. Each step taken on the streets and sidewalks of this city brings history, memories, and ghosts of the past. So much so that this very week, construction workers discovered an 18th century ship on the site of the future Indigo Hotel on the shores of the Potomac River (see, Architectual Digest news article). It was a remarkable find, and following its hasty salvage, construction continued as if nothing had happened. So the fact that a gas station was built on a significantly historical site, although somewhat shocking in retrospect, is not terribly unexpected.

An historical marker was erected many years ago on the site of the gas station; long before demolition started. I remember reading it when it went up, but I really hadn't thought much about that plot of land since they started tearing down the old gas station about five years ago. Then we watched the monument be built, and the grass around it be sown and tended last spring and summer. I knew from the historical marker that this was the site of a freed slave cemetery. But sited out in that empty field I had always thought it seemed distant and unimpressive.

Then came week #3 of 52frames with the "Greetings From" challenge where member photographers were asked to "portray the ‘essence’ of your neighborhood, your country" in this week's challenge. Having joined this group late last year, I was enjoying the creative outlet it provided, but hadn't yet shot anything that I liked for the week's subject matter. It was a cold January day, the coldest day of the winter so far but the sun shone brightly, so I grabbed my camera as I headed out to run a few errands.

I shot several subjects along the way, trying to think outside the box as we were encouraged to do with these challenges. I went by the old ship archeology site from the news over the weekend but it was pretty much wrapped up, so nothing exciting there. I tried to get creative but not take typical touristy shots with some classic Olde Towne sites (brick and cobblestone streets, King Street and George Washington Masonic Temple, the Confederate "Appomattox" Memorial). I also tried some out-of-the-way personal favorites of mine (The Little Theatre, Lee Street Park, and the Wilkes Street Tunnel). But nothing was really striking me as worthy of this photo challenge.

With a bit more time to kill before picking up my daughter from school, I thought I would try for a shot from under the Woodrow Wilson bridge crossing the Potomac River into Maryland with National Harbor in the distance. In my shots, the bridge was an impressive subject but the Ferris wheel and harbor across the river looked tiny and unimportant. The scale just wasn't right. I decided to try a different perspective of the bridge, from the old St. Mary's cemetery atop the hill, which overlooks the bridge.

The St. Mary's cemetery was founded in 1795 and like most of Olde Towne has history galore. The tombstones have many names quite familiar to history buffs of the Revolutionary and Civil Wars. The cemetery's hand-crafted Italian marble"guardian angel" and its Vermont granite cross near the front gate, easily viewable from Washington Street, has been photographed by hundreds. Although it is an iconic symbol of death, faith, and peace, even that did little for me artistically on this day.

I took several shots around St. Mary's but could never quite get the right old(cemetery)/new(bridge) angle that I was seeking. Heading back to my car, I realized I still had time and decided to check out the monument standing across the street from St. Mary's that we so irreverently referred to as the "gas station monument." It would prove to be an amazing experience and the source of the perfect photograph to portray the essence of my neighborhood, and my country.

Entering the gate, the monument still seemed as distant and out-of-place as it had from the road for its short life over the past year or so.  But as I approached the statue I noticed both a strength and a vulnerability in its unique depiction of slavery and a time in our history that many Americans still struggle to comprehend. It certainly helped that evening was approaching bringing with it a certain light in the sky that made the monument strikingly beautiful with gold hues against a brilliant blue background. Somehow the clouds even looked like they were being parted by the statue. That was it! There was my photograph.

As striking as this shot was, the truly surprising part of the monument was something one does not see while driving by on Washington Street or even in a single "money shot." Up close, it artfully told a story of great pride, perseverance, and a history nearly lost to the convenience of a gas station. The walls of the monument shared the stories of those trying to rebuilt a new life - stories heart-wrenching and descriptive of the hardship, successes and failures of those who were freed only to continue on in a different struggle. And as I looked out over that empty green space surrounding the monument, I saw simple stones without names placed around the field marking actual graves of those whose names appeared on the Vietnam Memorial type wall of the monument.  The wall lists the names and ages, from 3 months to 60 years plus, of people who had gained freedom only to meet their maker and be interned at the site of a future gas station.

We had poked fun at this monument because we hadn't taken the time to learn enough about it to understand its true value. But on this cold, sunny late afternoon, with a little time and an unrelated mission, I had stumbled upon an amazing tribute which provided a new perspective and brought a tear to my eye. I now knew more. And I can say that the essence of my neighborhood - of my country - sits quietly atop a hill, by a freeway, and often goes unnoticed by most locals, throngs of tourists, and those who simply do not know.