The Call: Behind the Scenes — Jessica

Necessity is the mother of invention. So is being broke.

Photography can be a very expensive hobby. Camera bodies, lenses, filters, speedlites, light modifiers, software, etc — the list could go on and on. Is any of it necessary? Yes and no. Sometimes you need all of that stuff to reproduce the picture that is in your head. That’s when I tend to improvise.

I’ll start with a DIY approach but eventually I manage to find a cheaper or second-hand tool to use. Improvising can get you very far and it does produce some nice surprises. But there is always the right tool for the job and it’s nice to be able to use that.

Response: Better Batter — Cheryl

Ten years ago, when I figured out I had celiac disease, I learned to improvise, so I’d have something to eat. Most of my lunches consisted of nachos (Tostitos, Ortega taco sauce and mozzarella cheese), taco “pizzas” (corn tortillas, pizza sauce and mozzarella cheese), maybe a salad. Giving up peanut butter and jelly sandwiches left me feeling like I had nowhere to turn — gluten-free bread back then was nothing to write home about, and I lost ten pounds in a month or less. I tried baking bread, cookies and cakes, but mixing tapioca starch, brown rice flour, potato starch and xanthan gum made for inconsistent results.

In the last few years, life for celiacs has gotten much easier, tastier and filled with more variety. I still need to improvise on a fairly regular basis, like when we’re out of eggs (2 Tbsp. yogurt and 1 tsp. baking powder for every egg called for in a cake or cookie recipe), but now that I know what I’m doing, it’s easy-peasy.

The Call: Like Her — Cheryl

Growing up, everyone told me I looked like my father, or — even more so, his sister Mabel. Once in awhile I’d look in the mirror and see what they saw. No one ever told me I resembled my mother’s side of the family, and I could easily see why. But one day, stopping in front of a mirror shortly after my mother died seven years ago, I saw her staring back at me. Now, she’s there in the glass more often than not.

The Response: Self-Portrait with Daniel — Jessica

“A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.”
— Tenneva Jordan

The Call: Pear with Flower — Jessica

It was my intention to photograph this pear. And the two others I bought on Monday at the grocery store. I spent more minutes than normal picking through the selection trying to find a few that were as blemish free as possible. You know, photo ready and all. But pears are very delicate and the bagger, as usual, was not very careful. I was distracted, talking with the cashier about the baby who was sleeping soundly in his car seat.

Today, when I pulled the pears out for their little photo shoot they were less than stellar and my intended still life had to be quickly modified. A few minutes with a little cookie cutter took care of the worst part.

Intentions are good, but flexibility is better.

Response: It Is Upon Us — Cheryl

Yellow leaves on the ground remind me that Autumn is upon us. When I look up from them and gaze around my yard, I see weeds, overgrown plants, rosebushes that need deadheading, crowded tomato plants. I also see (in my mind’s eye) what I had wanted the landscape around me to look like. I think about my intentions last spring, shake my head, and wonder, “Will I ever follow through?”

The Call: Local Harvest — Cheryl

After Jack’s “checkout” with the pediatrician, we stopped at the shop of our local apple orchard (less than half a mile from our house: quite convenient) and picked up a few things. Tonight, I’ll use the plums and apples in a crisp, the cucumbers as a side with our brown rice pasta, and I may even put the candles on the table and light them, for a nice change of pace.

The Response: Homework — Jessica

School is back in full swing. All the rules and regulations are learned and the teachers have begun to teach. Now the homework really begins. So, tonight, once they get home from their scout meeting, my two high schoolers will have a heavy stack of books to crack open.

The Call: Origami Original — Jessica

I jump for joy when my children ask me to take a picture. After all, most of the time I’m running after them with the camera begging, “please, just one more shot! I promise I’ll get it this time and be done!”

So when my fourteen year old asked me to photograph his latest origami design, I had to restrain the impulse to drag him into the process. He didn’t want to hear about the light, the reflector, the macro lens, etc. He just wanted to pick a backdrop and have me take a picture that he could post on Facebook.

I also successfully avoided the impulse to buy chocolate at the grocery store this afternoon. Instead I came home with lots of fruit.

I suppose our impulses aren’t always negative. Although when chocolate is involved, they probably are.

The Response: Wicked High Bridge — Cheryl

This is the Penobscot Narrows Bridge (half of it, anyway) near Bucksport, Maine. After it was designed, the public was asked for opinions on what it should be named. I personally liked this suggestion: The Wicked High Bridge. I knew we’d be near it (and possibly drive over it) when we decided to go to Fort Knox for our annual Labor Day field trip. As we rounded a corner and it came into view, my first impulse was to turn around and get far, far away. About seven years ago, as I was driving over the Tobin Bridge in Boston, I somehow managed to convince myself that long and/or high bridges are to be feared. Now, the fear of the anxiety attack I will likely get when I drive over such a bridge is generally enough to keep me from doing so. I was fine (sort of) going over this thing, because Dennis was driving. I keep telling myself that I’ll someday conquer my driving-related anxieties, but thus far, I’ve not been willing to do the work (I avoid interstates, too).

The Call: Waiting for the Boat to Come In — Cheryl

I will tell you something about stories,
[he said]
They aren’t just entertainment.
Don’t be fooled.
They are all we have, you see,
all we have to fight off
illness and death.

You don’t have anything
if you don’t have the stories.

—Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony

The Response: All Done! — Jessica

I know I’ve touched on the concept of storytelling in photography before. I guess it’s something I keep coming back to because I can see the vitality and energy that it adds to photographs and I want to have that same feel in my own photos. It’s a difficult concept to execute successfully. Or maybe I’m just really bad at it. ; )

I read a piece the other day that attempted to show some storytelling photos. One of the commenters took the author to task for showing poor examples. He claimed that since the author had to explain so much of the story behind the photo than it wasn’t really an effective storytelling photo.

So, my example: the empty jar of baby food is prominent and you can see the baby in the back. I’m afraid my f-stop was too wide so Danny is little more than pretty baby bokeh. It leaves the photo with a “so what” feel. On the other hand, if the baby had been more in focus and you could see how much food was all over him, than it would have been a funny story: more food on baby than in baby.

So mark this one as another lesson learned.

The Call: Scratched Up — Jessica

I’m being very literal here. Again. But in this case I’m also revealing something of the house that we live in. With seven children and two dogs running around, most, if not all, of our furniture is dented, dinged and scratched. It’s impossible to not be — unless I rope off a room and never allow anyone to enter on pain of death! I can’t do that. What’s the point of creating a space in your home that will never be lived in? Even if it’s a bit messy and shabby, at least it’s comfortable and warm.

That’s what I tell myself, at any rate.

On another note, we have finished a whole month of our dialogue! I love to celebrate milestones — it keeps the project moving on in my eyes. So, here’s to the second month and here’s to having barely “scratched the surface” of our project!

Response: Why Bother? — Cheryl

Sometimes, when I’m scrubbing, wiping, sweeping or shining, I wonder why I bother. Any result I achieve will be a mere scratch in the surface of the mess that is my home. I persevere nonetheless, knowing that to give up would leave me in a sorry state, and not just in terms of my physical surroundings.

The Call: Demure in Yellow — Cheryl

Whenever I visit a nursery or botanic gardens, I’m drawn to the flashy, uninhibited flowers: the morning glory in their you-know-you-can’t-look-away blue; fuchsia roses; love-lies-bleeding (and dangling) for all the world to see; dinnerplate dahlias so huge you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. But really, how could I not be lured by such show-offs? The run-of-the-mill flowers, like these tall coreopsis, on the other hand, command my respect. As with people of integrity, they are content to brighten their little sections of the world, modestly eschewing the spotlight, knowing that it’s not the praise received for a job well done — but the job well done — that is important.

The Response: Float On — Jessica

Bad news comes, don’t you worry even when it lands
Good news will work it’s way to all them plans
We both got fired on exactly the same day
Well, we’ll float on, good news is on the way
— MODEST MOUSE

I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist. All day long, every time I thought about the prompt those lyrics would float through my head. I finally gave in and had my origami-gifted son make a mouse and when I visited the garden this evening I planted him on a pumpkin.

The Call: Unleashing the Sun — Jessica

Today was one of those days. One of those days that makes the burden of a 365 project almost unbearable. And to make it worse, what an awesome word! There is so much power in the word. Unleash. It makes me think of wild power and freedom. It reminds me of black lab, India, running down the road after she has escaped from the front door.

My shot? Well, just the late afternoon sun warming up the trees in our backyard. Unleash the power of the sun? A bit of a reach? Well, it will have to do. For today.

The Response: Creative License — Cheryl

When I saw Jessica’s tweet with the word UNLEASH this morning, I thought of my dog Caddie. A second later, the phrase, “Unleash your creativity” came to mind, and I knew what my shot would be. That drawer holding ink pads, embossing powder jars and other rubber stamping paraphernalia was custom designed and custom made for my studio. Dennis installed the cabinets recently, and I filled them with my stuff before the drywall screws had even cooled. I am amazed by how much more creative I’ve allowed myself to be in the past few weeks. Those cabinets are one reason: with paints, markers, stamps, paper, etc. within reach, it’s easy to be artsy for ten or twenty minutes at a time. The other stimulus for my creative vigor is that issue of Art Journaling magazine you see on top of the drawer. Art journaling (my first one is open atop the magazine) is a marvelously liberating pastime. There’s no wrong way to do it. I’ve painted on my pages, stamped, added my own drawings, glittered, stenciled — you name it. For now, the writing is secondary, and that’s perfectly fine. I’ve given my right brain a taste of freedom, and it wants to remain off-leash from here on out.

The Call: Swarovski Through Glass — Cheryl

When I started dabbling in beading a few years ago, I was immediately intoxicated by Swarovski crystals. They are the components I reach for first when starting a project. And while crystals may not ultimately end up in my creation, they always get considered for the job.

The Response: Flowing Crystal — Jessica

It took me awhile to decide what to do for this prompt. I wanted to do something literal — after all, I’ve got lots of wedding crystal hanging around, and I wanted to practice with my speedlights. In the end, I pulled out the macro and attempted to pull something abstract out of my crystal flower vase. I’ve twisted this photo ten ways to Monday and cropped and toned it as well. I was going for a kind of bright, but cold burst of energy. Hmm. Well if that doesn’t sound like an oxymoron I don’t know what does!

The Call: Fading Beauty — Jessica

Every difficulty slurred over will be a ghost to disturb your repose later on.
Frédéric Chopin

Response: Someone to Watch Over Her — Cheryl

O Lord, you search me and you know me,
you know my resting and my rising,
you discern my purpose from afar.
You mark when I walk or lie down,
all my ways lie open to you.

If I take the wings of the dawn
and dwell at the sea’s furthest end,
even there your hand would lead me,
your right hand would hold me fast.

For it was you who created my being,
knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I thank you for the wonder of my being,
for the wonders of all your creation.

Already you knew my soul,
my body held no secret from you
when I was being fashioned in secret
and molded in the depths of the earth.

To me, how mysterious your thought,
the sum of them not be be numbered!
If I count them, they are more than the sand;
to finish, I must be eternal, like you.

O search me, God, and know my heart.
O test me and know my thoughts.
See that I follow not the wrong path
and lead me in the path of life eternal.

—Psalm 139: 1-3, 9-10, 13-15, 17-18, 23-24; as published in Magnificat, August 2012

The Call: Bridget Creates Characters — Cheryl

Most of my kids have great imaginations, and for that I am thankful. We all joke with Luke about his lack of creativity, but that’s just because he didn’t naturally take to art and games of make-believe. He’s always been too busy with golf and other sports. The imaginations of Bridget and Henry have long amazed me. Recently, they each decided to write a novel. Bridget sits up in her room, typing away on one of my old laptops, pins (on Pinterest) photos of people on whom she models her characters, and dreams of long, flowing dresses women in England might have worn centuries ago. Henry’s book will be set in Ireland, and he’s told me that he wants to study Irish history this year. His characters will be adept with bows and arrows, and his story is sure to be chock-a-block with adventures of the swashbuckling sort. Sam, Jack and Stella seem to be following in the footsteps of Bridget and Henry, creating imaginative Lego ships, goofy videos, and rather involved games.

The Response: I See Europe! — Jessica

Remember laying on the grass and staring up at the blue afternoon sky? It has been way too long since I’ve done something like that.

The Call: Tiny Weed, Towering Cliff — Jessica

Sometimes “massive” is only a trick of perspective.

The Response: My Feelings for Nature are Bittersweet — Cheryl

When we moved into this house oh-so-long-ago, my mother sneered at the bittersweet vines growing along the fence and said something like, “Oh, you don’t want those! They’ll take over.” Dang, but she was right. I trimmed them this spring, and it was like the attention inspired them to grow faster and bigger than ever. They are massive.

The Call: Book of Truth — Cheryl

Of these I am certain: God loves me; my husband loves me; my kids love me; and I love all of them. I can speak with absolute trust about little else.

The Response: Fall Arrives — Jessica

As night follows day, autumn follows summer — of that I am certain. Time marches on, stopping for no man.