When I taught Jr. Great Books, at the end of the school year I'd always ask my kids to tell me what their favorite stories were. Some of them were so stricken by that question, and I'd be quick to say "ONE of your favorites." I'm with them: having to name a favorite is such pressure.
But when Emma asked me what my favorite Emma 365 shot is, I think I knew right away. With lots of runners up.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Emma 365/365
It feels right that the last one in the set is my favorite. Not much more I can say except it's her. Beautiful her.
Emma 226/365
A really really close runner up to my favorite. I love the light and shadow and the way her glasses fade into the darkness. If I had to say "favorite dramatic photo," this would be it.
Emma 236/365
Such a nice night in early fall, and she was contemplating whether to go swimming in her jeans. And she did.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Mom
My mom is 78 and sick again. She believes she’s nearing the end, and I know the power of her thinking, so I’m afraid she could be right. She sees nothing to live for, and has deemed it so.
My mom is a really beautiful person, inside and out but, riddled with fear and insecurity, is the last person in the world to see that. I can so easily understand how that happens, but it makes me sad. Sad that she’ll die thinking herself lesser, undeserving, defeated. Sad that she won't acknowledge her own strengths: her generosity, her sensitivity--even her sense of style. I know she has her reasons--mostly rooted in childhood--but, to be honest, in my darker moments, it also makes me resentful. I think I’m disappointed that she couldn’t show me by example one of the most important things in life is to believe in yourself.
That sounds so harsh, and I don’t mean it to be. I hope these pictures show that I see my mom’s internal beauty—much more than she ever will, unfortunately. They're also a reminder to me to see my own. If only I had any. Just kidding; I do. Sort of. Well, not really. No, I do. Sometimes. On a good day.
My mom is a really beautiful person, inside and out but, riddled with fear and insecurity, is the last person in the world to see that. I can so easily understand how that happens, but it makes me sad. Sad that she’ll die thinking herself lesser, undeserving, defeated. Sad that she won't acknowledge her own strengths: her generosity, her sensitivity--even her sense of style. I know she has her reasons--mostly rooted in childhood--but, to be honest, in my darker moments, it also makes me resentful. I think I’m disappointed that she couldn’t show me by example one of the most important things in life is to believe in yourself.
That sounds so harsh, and I don’t mean it to be. I hope these pictures show that I see my mom’s internal beauty—much more than she ever will, unfortunately. They're also a reminder to me to see my own. If only I had any. Just kidding; I do. Sort of. Well, not really. No, I do. Sometimes. On a good day.
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About Me
- Mary
- I'm a photographer with little focus. I love taking pictures of nearly anything and everything.