Spotlight on the students of The Simple Edit with Leah Zawadzki

I get so excited about sharing student work because, well, my students make some pretty exciting strides by the end of The Simple Edit. Many people come in with the belief their editing is inconsistent and they don't make cohesive work. By the end of class, students see their work in a completely different way. And they make new work that blows me away!

I have been struggling with how to put words to this class, a short blurb on what this class is all about, something that grabs you and makes you want to take this course with me. But to be honest it's hard to sum it up in one line--we cover a lot in three weeks.

This is a full-on Lightroom class. If you don't know how to use it, you will by the end of the class. If you know how to use it, you'll learn a few new tricks and workflow techniques to save time and add value. I get super excited to show everything I know it's capable of; how it can take hours off your workflow, keep you out of photoshop, create collections to be shared online, make books that hold a family's favorite memories, use the print module to make grids for sharing....and so much more.

In addition to all that technical stuff, we also explore style, editing technique, shooting with heart, learning and growing from the work you make and curating the strongest images.  It saves a lot of time when we can decern between what makes our heart sing and what's not worth the struggle--put your time where it matters. Realize where you are making mistakes, shoot your next image with the right exposure or step back next time, every time we improve our in-camera work, we save time in post-processing and take our work to the next level. Lightroom is a great platform for this kind of reflection.

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One of our assignments is to make new work and use the skills learned in Lightroom to curate and edit. Here is a sample of the work made my a few of my students this year in class. So proud!

Kendra Knaggs

Ella Keren

Ina Esch

Cora Wallin

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Toward the end of class I teach them how to make a grid in the print module (comes in handy for all kinds of things, not just printing). At the same time, I have them scour through their work and curate a "best work" grid. They need to include about nine images that reflect the kind of work they want to make and then re-edit with their new set of eyes. By the end, I've talked most students into the fact that their work is indeed cohesive.

"I first started learning how to edit in Lightroom about 3 years ago. I learned mostly from my brother in law and watching tutorials here and there. I ended up figuring it out and making do with a system I thought everyone had for LR - I just saw it as this beast that I only understood partially, but in the end, was what I needed to edit my photos. If I would have known about Leah's class back then, it would have saved me so much time and energy. I now can honestly say that I now have the tools to do my job, and do it confidently and efficiently. There was so much about LR that I learned in this class that I didn't even think was possible. Thank you so much Leah!!" Mindy Dunlap

"This class really opened my eye for simple vs easy. There is nothing easy on having a good filing and organizing system and the ability to edit your pictures so that the edit looks simple. But it's so worth it to learn. And this is what Leah teaches. She has a fabulous style and I love what she taught me on my edits. This was really eye-opening." Anna Weber

"Leah is an open book, she shared so much knowledge over the course of this class. Her feedback is personal and heartfelt which made the experience really lovely. I learned so much about editing, but also about Lightroom, which was an unexpected bonus and a real game changer for me. I am now culling my images with more conviction and seeing my editing process evolve into a more intentional one. I highly recommend this class and am thankful to Leah for all that she gives to her students." Ellen Shaw

"Leah's class, 'The Simple Edit', was so much more than I thought it would be. Prior to the class I only used presets and while I had a fair understanding of how to alter them I was not achieving the final image that I had envisioned. I can now edit from scratch and alter presets when I want to, I can see what I want to do and know how to do it! My understanding of Lightroom modules and workflow has also really improved. This is what I was hoping for but Leah also took the time to get to know each student individually. She guided each of us appropriately, to our differing skill levels and to our personal styles, she emphasized the importance of staying true to what we love and helped us achieve that. Leah was so caring and gave her all, this is more than just an editing class, it is so worthwhile and thoroughly enjoyable. I loved it!" Megan O'Donnell

Leah Zawadzki | instructor of The Simple Edit

The next run of this class starts September 17. Active seats sold out in the first few days, but there are still a few silent seats left if you would like to participate. This class will teach you Lightroom, including workflow optimization and editing techniques, which will save time and allow more space to focus on artistry and vision.

Head here to grab a seat. 

Spotlight on... the students of Street Smart.

As an in-home documentary photographer the past 10 years for both clients and my own children,  I quite frankly was drained creatively.  We all get in ruts, but this one wasn't a rut. It was a need for change to push myself creatively as a photographer.

I discovered street photography about 5 years ago and was hooked.

Street photography is definitely a genre that is picking up steam.  Street allows you to be totally present in the moment creating images solely for you.  Not for your client, not for your kid's memories, but 100% for YOU.

I am thrilled that Illuminate has given me a place to share my love of street with the community. The first run of Street Smart earlier this year was an incredible eye-opener for the students, most of which had never hit the streets before! I was blown away by how quickly they produced captivating images of the society around them and pushed through fears to get to the other side.  There is no greater photography 'high' in my book than nailing that fleeting moment on the street.

Another thing to note? Street can be shot ANYWHERE. I'm lucky, I live near NYC, but I also shoot suburbia where I live with my family. On the beach, a boat, downtown, suburbia, a park, the possibilities are only limited by your own mind. Street puts a mirror up to society whatever that society may be and the students of Street Smart did just that, and well.

Here's a sample of some of the work a few of the students produced as we cycled through the lessons on overcoming fear, composition, juxtapostion, what makes a great street photo (versus a snapshot) and that critical decision of presenting your street photo in B+W or color.

Jennifer Tonetti Spellman | Instructor of Street Smart

image by Julie Bishop

image by Rebecca Hannicutt

image by Rhianna Sgardner-Meems

image by Susan Hayes

image by Erica Knecht

image by Nicole Graziano

image by Hallie Paulson

image by Kenzi Tainow

image by Dawn Wessman

image by Ariel Dolfo

image by Ann Leaver

image by Jaime Mitchell

Street Smart will be offered again this fall, starting September 10. Click here to register.

Spotlight on the students of...EMBRACING YOUR INNER ARTIST with Deb Schwedhelm

After 10 years of teaching ‘Embracing Your Inner Artist’ (to include an earlier version of the course), I am absolutely still in love with teaching this class. Nurturing, encouraging, educating, pushing, supporting the students from day one through day 21 — it makes my heart so happy. My students leave excited and motivated and so do I. If I’m being completely honest, I love teaching as much as I love photography. I believe I was meant to be a photographer AND a teacher and photography gifted me the path to both. Anyways, enough about me. Today, I want to share with you a few students, from my May 2018 Embracing Your Inner Artist class, who blew my socks off. 

For one of the assignments, the students are encouraged to try something new, something that will push them and challenge their current photography skills.

Beth Rooney came into class with a degree in photography, having interned for Lauren Greenfield, and covered the 2007-08 presidential race. To say that I was a bit intimidated is an understatement but I knew that I had to just do my thing and she wowed me in class with her talents. At the conclusion of our three weeks together, Beth shared that she doesn’t feel lost with her style anymore and that the class recharged her and showed her how to enjoy photography again. For the assignment, Beth photographed a discarded ice sculpture that was left in a church parking lot. Can you believe the images that she was able to make by photographing a melting ice sculpture? Amazing, right?!

And here is her image that was made at a stoplight, through a car window.

Marina Locke pushed herself and photographed this incredible double exposure.

Lisa Tullet photographed through a hole in a leaf (yes, a leaf!) to make these two amazing photographs.

Jamie Sampson attempted panning for the first time and got this killer image of her husband biking with the dog. It’s not easy to get panning right and look how awesome she did.

Last but not least...

I wanted to share Sung-Hee Seewald, who came into the May class after being a previous student in Project Development + Fine Art. Sung-Hee blew me away when she shared her new project on women and female diversity. You can visit her entire body of work on her website but here’s a small sampling of the brave work she is currently making.

Deb Schwedhelm | instructor of Embracing Your Inner Artist 

The next run of this class will be in September. There are still some silent seats left if you would like to participate. This class will help you get to the heart of who you are as an artist, drown out the noise and feel free to BE YOU! Head HERE to grab a seat. 

Spotlight on the students of....WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED with Amy Grace

In life, there’s a fine but permanent line, separating what we keep and lose, what we say and don’t say, what we remember and what fades.

Every photo we make is an act of love for this world. 

A defiance and homage to time. 

And every picture has a story behind it. 

Often, one we never get to hear.

Written and Illustrated is about sharing our stories, not swallowing them down.

Art is the best way to tell the truth, for many of us.

There are the facts  - and then there’s what moved us, changed us, made us feel.

No one ever knows what we hold inside, unless we let it out.

Never perfect, always important.

I am ever moved and impressed by the sheer guts and grace of my students - their honesty, differences, fresh eyes, revelations, formidable experiences, and willingness to stretch their comfort zones and use their talents to understand themselves. 

And to make pictures of it, say it out loud.

It’s a profound experience to be the one sharing, and to be the audience.

Written and Illustrated runs for 3 weeks, this October 2-22. You can register HERE starting August 22nd at noon EST.

This collection of student work is the first of more I hope to share…

Amy Grace | Instructor of Written and Illustrated

Sometimes I want to let fear guide me. She reaches out her hand and I want to take it, climb into her hot air balloon and disappear.

I'm too honest for them, they won't let me be myself and all that bullshit.

What would it solve? What am I running to?

Nothing, Nothing, nothing.

Trust is here for me. She is standing behind me. I didn't see her. When she hugs me in a deep warm embrace, I remember how loved I am.

Tatiana Johnson

Mother’s Day is upon me. I often forget about it; not about celebrating my own mother, of course, but about that fact that it is now a day for others to celebrate my contribution to their life. I am a Mom always – I get two little ones up for school each morning; guide them through dressing and eating and brushing teeth while cramming folders and lunch boxes into back packs. I wait at bus stops. I take breaks from working and baking to fold laundry, change pillow cases, pick up toys. I make dinner, I help with homework. I am a story teller, a song singer. I close my book at night when little feet quietly make their way into my room, needing hugs or more songs, or reassurance in the dark. I am always listening, checking, double-checking, holding, awake while sleeping, hoping, helping. But still, somehow, I forget I’m the Mom. Because there is still 10-year old me inside, singing along to Amy Grant all afternoon and lost in Nancy Drew stories. Fifteen year old me is there, dreaming about boys and crying over journal entries. Twenty year old me is over-spiritualizing her life and trying not to bounce every check she writes. Twenty-five year old me is married and can actually sleep through the night without being afraid. Thirty year old me is pregnant for the first time and finally seeing a therapist. And now there is almost 40 year old me, the woman trying to make sense of aging while still so aware of all the other, younger Sarahs lingering inside. Not Mom, then Mom, then both together, for the remaining miles of the journey.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own

-Mary Oliver, from The Journey

Sarah Kieffer

Everything That’s Wrong With Us and Our Battle With Life

The earth under my head feels grounding. The scratchy grass tickles the back of my neck. That brittle, Australian grass everyone has. It doesn’t need to be watered. "Save Water. Every drop counts".

In front of my eyes. And miles away, clouds threatening. Rolling. Their unrivaled domination of the sky. Then they are the sky. There’s nothing but their slow crashing.

A tiny escapee descends. It’s final dance ending on my lip. Bravely disengaged from it’s source. Adventuring to the unknown below. Now part of this planet’s human moment. Tsk, where’s my umbrella.

Hurrying back, hoping to dodge the inconvenient deluge or momentary shower. Either way, my suede shoes and leather skirt can't get wet. A week’s wage each. Organic leather. Bred indoors to be soft wearing.

I trip over something as I round the last corner home. Looking back, over wind licked and rain specked hair across my cheeks, I see it was two plastic bags full of grass cuttings.

Back inside my four safe walls, freshly painted with acrylic white. Aircon on. Droplets already gone, quickly dried from my face. Nature accepts it's impermanence. Understands the fragility of life. No life without death.

Tap, Kettle, Cup. Hot, sweet tea on my tongue. Milk from our local dairy. Rarely, but with a soft west wind, I can hear the mother cows' sad chorus. Aah, the steam in my lashes. Heaven.

I can’t shake the vision of those bags though. That intervention. A human. Must have known better. Wrapped the grass in plastic. Nature’s course now suspended. Garbage truck driver waves hi on Mondays.

Discarded, buried. Long after that gardener is laid to rest, the grass is still waiting. For it’s captor to crumble. So that it can rejoin nature. But never without it’s eternal plastic virus.

Chilli yaps. Her irritating, staccato signature. Like white noise echoing in my ears. What must the neighbours think. My doomy daydream violently interrupted by this soaking wet dog.

Rose Punch

We almost died getting to Lost Creek Campground. Died a thousand times in our imaginations: toppled off cliffs, slipped spiraling down corkscrew turns, lost and found and lost again in the midsummer dark. When we got there, the camp was closed, but the angels were having a party. They said, “sure,” we could stay the night. So we trespassed under the pines. The colors ate up the sky, thick and alive. We could feel them in our bodies, through the pressing clouds – purple, orange, magenta, gold.

My last thought before sleep was of the world – a watery memory of itself – suspended in a single tear.

Jaime Greenberg

We are such collectors. Collectors of memories, of comforts, of reminders. Of things that make us feel something. Not because of the value that the thing itself holds, but what it reminds us of.

These photos are from the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s. Chemicals and paper. But the reminders that are mirrored on these slips of paper are my heritage and my story. The photographs belong to my grandfather. I have borrowed them to scan, to preserve, to distribute.

I love this photo of Momaw tending to their property. The soft greens, the pale blues, the faded red of the mower. It was taken sometime in the summer of 1968, developed in January 1969. Before they planted the tree that would one day hold our tire swings. Before they moved her mother in next door so they could take care of her easily in her last years. Before they had to install the ramp for Momaw, just so she could get to the door. Before they sold the house to move closer to the hospital, just in case Momaw had "another little spell" with her heart. Before the new owners put an ugly red roof on it, painted over the green siding, ripped down the cabinets and took out walls. Before the white outbuildings were leveled and every one of these trees were chopped down.

See that garden behind her? That was the very soil of my childhood. My Popaw and my dad tilled the garden, plowed the rows and planted the seeds. Popaw tended to it every morning and afternoon. Momaw picked the cucumbers, canned the beans, shucked the corn. My mom helped dig up the potatoes, slice the radishes and snap the beans and make strawberry jam. Eventually, my sisters and I helped plant those wrinkled corn seeds too. We sat under the maple tree with the women, dish towels in our laps and paper bags rolled down beside us and laughed and listened to stories as we shucked the corn. We sat cross legged on the green astroturfed porch, watching cars drive by as we pulled delicate strings and broke green beans into thirds and tossed the pieces into a Tupperware bowl. We did not like picking cucumbers because the fuzzy leaves made our legs itch. But we liked to help her make and eat pickles. We chose fresh tomatoes for slicing every day, lined them up by size on the porch steps.

A lot of what I learned about life came from that garden, those days, those people.

The photos from those days are my anchors.

Fires give you no time to prepare for loss. But hurricanes do. When Irma was headed our way in September, I gathered all of our home videos, our family albums, our hard drives, and these old photos from my Popaw. I slipped them into crude black trash bags, tucked down inside plastic totes with lids. Protection from water, just in case the roof collapsed or the windows blew out. The totes went into my car, and we carried them into a friend’s safer-than-ours house a few miles away. We took only our real treasures: our pets and our people, our photos and videos, the hand-stitched quilts she made and gave to us, a box of memories and letters and truly-irreplaceables, the kids' chosen loveys from their babyhood, food and clothes to last a week.

Everything else, stayed. Anything that could be rebuilt or replaced or rebought, stayed. Furniture and books and appliances and kitchen gadgets and those toys they just had to have, the decorations I put all that thought and effort into, the televisions and the computers that we spent a small fortune on… we determined it all to be “just stuff” in the end.

Just stuff.

The hurricane could have it.

Stacey Woods

Who are we now?

What is left of us?

It feels like

We have been eroded away

By the course of our life.

Julie Guertin

Dear me,

Slow down.

Look up.

Breath.

Pause.

Life is going to be full of wonder. But if you keep hurrying along, you will miss so much of the beauty among the chaos of everyday.

You are young and naive. You think you need to keep pushing full ahead. You think you have to follow some predestined path on the journey of life. But you don't.

You may have grown in the most traditional of family ways. You may still be hurting from watching your parents marriage collapse, your family home crumble, and the life you knew fall apart. But do not let this define you.

The traditions that you have learned - keep them close, but don't let them hold you down. They are a part of you - but they do not own you. Do them because you love them, you feel them, and they bring you joy. Let the expectations go.

You have freedom - let it carry you.

Only too soon will you make big decisions - some of which you will question and challenge for many years to come.

Please yourself.

Take care of yourself.

Be mindful.

Love yourself.... and love will come to you in many unexpected ways, in many forms, in glee and sorrow. It will carry you through.

Love,

future me

Allyson Ell

I called
you from the payphone at the corner store, but there was no answer.

Headed
up the Delaware highway in your rusted out blue pickup

Drove
the stick shift while smoking my cigarette

Barefoot,
t-shirt, cutoffs

Flicked
the embers and drove by the glow from the moon,

It was
a long way, it was our way

Kicked
up the dirt from spinning tires, on the long stretch of barren road

Pulled
into the gravel drive after a long night

Spent
the summer sleeping on the pullout

There
was nowhere to hide

It was
a six-pack of another time ago.

Some days
I’d like to burn it all to the ground, watch those embers float off into the
universe. It's history,
it went down like this.

Elizabeth Huffman

I like keeping everything. All of my kids baby clothes, photos, mementos, any cards or letters people send me .. I am basically a packrat. I can give something away if I know someone will use it and love it. Not a true hoarder but I am very sentimental. In December we had a fire near us (did not affect us) but I had to pack just in case .. and made me think .. and all I packed were my hard drives with photos, my laptop, my jewelry and some documents and passports. Told the kids to pack their school uniforms and an extra change of clothes and that was all. It was not freeing but anxiety provoking but as I looked around I knew I could not take it all and really I took stock in what was important, and only our lives were.This trait comes from the fact that I have very little from my early childhood. I lived in India with my grandparents until I was 5 and then came here to live with my parents and besides some photos to document that time and my memories, no one saved any of my "stuff".

I am sharing a picture (believe it or not) of a pencil that I saved when I was in elementary school in NJ from Kindergarten .. I even made a box for it back then and wrote in calligraphy that I learned in 4th grade and was so proud of .. It's my way of honoring that sentimental child I always was .. even at that age. I forget that I have always been that way .. and that having kids did not make me this way! Even a simple blue bitten up pencil has a special box and place.

Rohina Gandhi Hoffman

i long for a calm life

a field of giant hydrangeas

watered by pure rain

Alena Nobs

I took this photo in April as I rode on a small boat, very low in the water, crossing a big river in Dhaka, Bangladesh. I was regretting taking the boat as I was imagining being tossed carelessly aside by one of the big passenger boats criss-crossing in front of us and my subsequent disgusting death by drowning in the sewage-filled river. At this moment, my shutter button became my life preserver. I clung tightly to my camera and became one with the beautiful man steering boldly into his future.

Shelly Han

My earliest childhood memories are all little pieces of sand reflecting a too bright sun

No one spoke the same language... and I, so dreamy, didn't even try to parse out meaning. I let the YiddishRussianGerman wash over me like the water I loved, like the sand pouring out between my ocean sticky fingers.

Time was endless, and I was so patient, so much more patient than my children

The ENDLESS dinners, with me trying to gag down food until my grandfather, thankfully, would take my food from my plate onto his so I wouldn't have to sit there with the "5 more bites before you can leave the table" over and over and over

Summers at the pool by the long island sound. Allowed to go onto the sand, but not into the polluted ocean waters. Cold mornings as I slid my tiny body into the water for swim club

Sitting under my grandfathers drafting table, or watching him paint or sitting in the red of the darkroom "helping" to work the enlarger, sitting up on the table so that I could pull the metal strand to turn the big red bulb on or off

Sitting under my mothers sewing machine, listening to swears and threats lobbed at the big noise machine that wasn't sewing correctly

Summer camp, endless freedom, dirty dusty woodland trails to the metal swing set. No one telling me what to eat, a summer of saltines and sugar water, swimming in the lake, songs around the campfire, sneaking out to go to church with the church going children. I loved it there, until you forgot to pick me up on Saturday after I was gone for a month. When they had to call you to come get me, and so you came on Sunday. I was 9, and you forgot to pick me up

It all goes south from there.... taunted at school, bullied at a time when bullies ruled and "just ignore them" or "he does that because he likes you" was the norm

Staring out the window during, the endless, stomach churning, hours in school.

Too small,

too small

too small.

No I am not going into Kindergarten, I am 10, I am going into 4th grade, they already held me back because I am "too small" and now I am "Bored and not living up to my potential" This blue Benji lunchbox is for fourth grade, not kindergarten.

car rides in the old blue woody station wagon. Sleeping in the back with the window down on the way to Florida. We ran out of gas, Daddy had to walk away to find gas.... We ran out of money, we had to get off of the highway and avoid the tolls, it was gas or tolls

new school, again, still the smallest in the class, never have to wonder where I will be in the line when we line up by height, always first, or always last, whichever order they were going in. Always someone saying "what's for dinner??? Shrimp! ha ha ha ha" Or picking me up, don't pick me up!

But I always like to think back to the endless summer days, my grandmother and her other giant busted friends in the pool, me in the sand, watching it slip gently through my fingers, slowly finding it's way back to the ground, filtering down, with the sun sparkling in the sky, and my sticky blond curls in clumps on my head. Just waiting to go get a lime ricky with my grandmother

Phyllis Meredith

If I place my thumb

on one side of the bridge,

and a finger on the other,

then I can feel you.

Your heartbeat pulses;

I can almost hear your laughter.

I let go; work to do.

Quickly I return to me.

To the smile held long past its honesty.

Jaw clenched with conflict

in the trap of current time.

Tonight the night guard will cover his shift.

Work to undo the damage done

from the battles fought between us.

Since this time last night;

when I felt you.

Your beloved rhythm of wonder.

You say that I've forgotten.

But I have not.

I swear - I am still you.

It's just that there is now so much

to lose.

Too much.

Erin Hughes

First, there was darkness. The train so bright against the blackest black that all I could do was stare back at myself. We were driven underground, the train car rocking to and fro like a mom shushing an anxious baby. When we arrive we climb out and up, blinking in the dim lighting, herded forward so that all we see are the backs of those in front of us. The hum in the distance mingles with the shuffling of our feet, a cacophony made into melody by the buzz of energy that quaked in the concrete. And then we were there, here, everywhere. The center of the very center of the world. I emerged looking up at constellations bathed in green, perched above a sea of bodies. It didn’t take long before I was swept away.

I fell in love 16 miles north of Manhattan. But it was on those street corners where first love became something lasting. Aquarius stood watchful as I ran against the current into open arms. 16 miles too far a distance, eight hours apart torturous and slow moving. A string connected us on this commute, laid down on the tracks, covered in centuries old soot, to bring me there to that spot. Every time.

Through the years the buildings echoed our laughter, shielded us from the cold that we tried to drive out with our bodies huddled close. Even the memories are fast moving, swept to sea. That concrete island that held so many of our secrets and our joys. So much of our longing floating up with the steam and noise.

From a distance, I felt that pull. Even through the heartache of a city laid gutted and torn, broken and weary, I felt that hope you can only feel in the city. The only city that doesn’t need a name to be known.

I return now as a stranger. The string connecting me to another place far away. But Orion can still find me in the midst of those bodies. And he smiles, like we have a passing secret long buried in the deepest corners of our memory. It’s a secret we keep, a hope that springs eternal every time I come back to the place that, though never home in the way we’re used to, was home to the purest parts of my soul, to the dreams that I only found strength to utter in its streets.

Elaine Palladino

Spotlight on...the students of Food as Art with Anna Larson

The first run of Food as Art  was this spring and I was blown away by the work of my students. My heart is so full from watching others become inspired and motivated to grow in this area of photography. It's incredibly fulfilling to see concepts absorbed and then come to life through everyone's work. Food is such an important part of our culture and I love that the students created work that was meaningful to them.

After two weeks together in our online classroom, each student is invited into a private Facebook community where we continue to grow alongside each other. This is all about the journey.

I'm already looking forward to the next round this fall! If you've been wanting to dive into food work, I hope you'll join me! Registration opens on August 22nd at 12 noon EST. 

Anna Larson | instructor of Food as Art

Now for some beautiful images from my alumni...

Erin Wagnild

Sally Ann Field

Sally Ann Field

Jamie Davis

Dianne Reilley

Dianne Reilley

Sally Ann Field

Jeannie Sucre

Jeannie Sucre

Iris Nelson

Holly Berfield

Iris Nelson

Tania White

Registration for this class and all Illuminate classes opens on August 22nd at 12 noon EST. Last time this class sold out so don't hesitate to grab a seat if you are interested. 

Two and Never Any More

When my son Henry was three, I longed deeply for another baby.  Our eldest, Jane, was six, Henry - three, and it felt like the time to either jump into having a third baby, or decide that two was the right number of children for our family.

We decided Henry would be our last.

Once the decision was made, I felt a light switched off in my heart.  I was so lucky to have two beautiful, healthy babies, but I couldn’t keep myself from turning black.  Selfishly, I knew I already had so much - but there was a part of me that couldn’t deal with the finite nature of the decision.  No more sleepless nights.  No more lush legs slung around my hip.  No more sweet smelling baby heads or hazy nights of nursing.  It was the end of an era in my own womanhood and its passing felt exquisitely sharp.

I wrote a blog post about my twoandneveranymore children.  I felt uncomfortable in my own skin.  And I stopped photographing all newborns.  

It was so painful to realize I wouldn’t be able to photograph a baby of my own again - so how could I possibly photograph someone else’s?  Just the thought of it made me weak.  I was worried I would cry at the session, or loose my creativity under a wave of emotion.

Slowly, after a quiet year, like the universe knew what I needed, a few newborn inquiries trickled in.  Most times I wanted to say no thank you, but when I said yes, it was usually exactly what my artist heart needed.  I would race to my car after the session, shutting the door just in time to welcome a flood of tears.  With my camera still around my neck I would click through the RAWS and see intertwined mother and baby, father and child, human touch, connection. I oddly felt relief.  When I let my heart drive, the most beautiful images surfaced.  Images that felt a bit like a hug or a bandaid.  I knew art was a gift I could give to my clients, but never did I think taking these photos - OF OTHER PEOPLES BABIES - would also be a gift I could give to myself.  

My kids are older now - Jane is nearly 13, my baby Henry, 9.  Like most moms, I still well up when I look at pictures of my babies, because their childhood is going so fast, but I really don’t miss babyhood anymore or long for a third child.  But what persists and grows is my love of photographing new babies.  I think it’s because perhaps, I am still healing.  Our own work is always carving, shaping, healing us - even when it is created for someone else.  And perhaps the greatest peace comes from capturing the tender moments for others I never did with my own son, simply because I didn’t know he’d be my last.  

There is a two-way path we tread with our clients.  They choose us for the art we have the ability to give — and we choose them, because our own creation provides the precise healing, insight, and growth our artist heart needs.  Sometimes it takes years to see these patterns and realize the path, but I believe the images we take are never one-sided and our client/photographer relationships meaningfully intertwined.  What are the clients that are drawn to you?  What are the gifts you are designed to give?  And how do client sessions provide insight into your own creative journey or personal healing?

____

Here is my original blog post on this subject written five years ago.  Just remember the healing, the journey, the making - it always continues:

http://www.roxannebryant.com/blog/2013/05/twoandneveranymore.html

---

Roxanne Bryant

Hi, I'm Roxanne.  I am a photographer and writer, and took my first film class over 20 years ago!  My journey began as a studio based fine artist, focused on drawing, painting and design.  These early disciplines shaped the way I photograph and work with color today.  With an MFA in Art Education, I have taught a wide range of artists - kindergarteners through seniors prepping for art school, to professionals honing their editing skills.  Teaching is core to my artist heart.  I believe that color, like light, is key to crafting an image and telling our stories.  In both my personal and client work, children are my favorite subject because they never sit still:  a blur of imperfection, color, and motion.  Coastal New England is my home, and being on the water with my family is my very favorite place to be. 

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An Artist's Quiet

It is an incredible, and incredibly odd, time to be an artist.  

In this digital age we have access to beauty and inspiration at every turn, at the very touch of our fingertips. And while I believe that this a marvelous advantage to have, I also think it can be a disadvantage as well. 

We can be so plugged into to what everyone is doing, we don't give our selves the time to figure out what we are doing. Inspiration is SO incredibly important. It is important to know your giants, the artists that have come before you; to acknowledge and learn from your peers, and colleagues, that surround you –however we often times become unknowingly caught in the very net we cast. In the exhausting cycle of stretching, connecting, learning, and creating, we forget to take the time to renew; to be still; to just sit and enjoy. 

And our artist's heart, our photographer's eye, is not unlike an animal caught in the net of a hunter; we become desperate and all the more entangled. We end up pushing our selves so hard we don't see how we close we sit to the precipice of exhaustion. We become wild eyed and desperate. We compare ourselves to others. We try to become more like them, to mimic them, to be as they are; to be as liked or have as many followers as they do. Its a wicked cycle that erodes our creative souls and exhausts our self-esteem. 

I grew up in Colorado. Back before I could escape into my phone and FaceBook, one of my means of escaping from my own addled teenage inner trappings was driving. My favorite thing to do was to drive out past the borders of my beloved cow-town at dusk and into the mountains. As I drove, I would watch the landscape change before me. I would watch the light of the setting sun bounce off the sides of the mountains –Turning the valleys from green, to gold, to shades of purple, and dark blue. The cloak of the night air would slowly fall on my shoulders and suddenly I would feel alive again. I would find a place to park (somewhere between here and nowhere); and I would sit on the hood of my car like a queen on her throne and watch the mountains cast their shadows and put the city below me to sleep. I would breathe. I would find quiet. And then, when I was ready to return (or most likely because I had a curfew) I would drive home. 

It wasn't anything fancy. It wasn't anything special. But I was resting my brain. Resetting my heart. 

Do you feel caught in a net? Do you feel so obligated for your #365 project that you find yourself shouting at your kids to "just hold still" so you can make magic? Do you cringe when one of your colleagues is recognized but you are not? If so, perhaps this is your summer to reset. Perhaps this is the summer for you to unplug. Or maybe this is the summer that instead of photographing every day, you try to enjoy every day. That doesn't mean you have to stop living an artist's life, it just means you are allowing your creative soul to breathe a bit so she can sing with more strength and clarity in the future. 

Here are a few ideas that you can try for a day, for a week, for a summer: 

• Don't do anything with your camera at all for a week. Instead, draw with crayons on scrap paper.

• Take a few days while your little ones are napping and go through your files. Print the ones you love and really, truly, delete the ones that are collecting electronic dust (clearing space, not just mentally, but on your hard drive is a good thing!)

• Sign off of Instagram for a while.

• Stop the endless cycle of comparing and contrasting and hunting for likes.

• Write in a diary (with a pen and paper) instead of a blog.

• Go to the pool, pretend you are a goddess.

• Play with your kids.

• Don't judge yourself. Don't judge others.

• Find time to go on a drive. Maybe its just a longer route to the grocery store or three blocks out of your way before you pick up your kids from a playdate. Try it with out a cell phone. With out the radio on. Bring a pad and paper with you. And if something pops into your head, pull over and take the time to write it do

• Most of all, take time to breathe and sleep and eat and love and live.

Just like a farmer who needs to let a field go fallow for a season or two before he can produce a better crop, we need to do that with our own creative souls. Inspiration is everywhere. But sometimes we need to step away from our constant need to create; to quiet the noise; to reduce the clutter. And maybe, just maybe, somewhere, between here and nowhere, you'll find that you were never really lost. And as the net slips away and your life becomes less tangled, your artist's heart will be a bit stronger, a bit more clear, and certainly more creative.

---

Rebecca Coursey

To know me, is to also know I was raised in Colorado. When I was little, shaped by the mountains I ran free in, I dreamed of being able to craft tales about the way I saw the world around me; of illustrating lives, and etching words into stone. Today, my life is sculpted by this dream, made full by both the mother and the photographer in me. I now live in Los Angeles with my merry brood, exploring the mountains of the human heart. The primary focus of my work, aside from mothering, is documenting birth and guiding women into motherhood. I may not know you, but I already love you.

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Just say YES

Just say YES.

My motto in life: The biggest regret I would have in life would be to actually have regrets.

I have always been a risk-taker in my career and listened to my inner voice, starting in advertising which was my first career path for a decade.  When I was in advertising, I loved what I did, but often times I’d ‘cap out.’ Whenever I felt I accomplished what I wanted to, and the so-called ‘challenge’ was gone, I switched magazines. Not the most highly regarded way to be in that industry, but I have always done ‘me.’

In 2009 when I launched my photography business, I also did me. At the time, in-home was NOT a popular genre, nor did anyone really know what the heck to call it. I always described it to clients as ‘photojournalism in your home’ to a degree. I didn’t relate to props or staged photography, so though it was hard to explain and not the most popular genre, I carried on with it. Cue present day, and so many more people (clients + photographers) are loving on the genre.  What once was a new and exciting genre to me became more mainstream. 

In 2011, my photography brain did a full on pivot. Hard. I discovered a street photographer who was just ‘unearthed’ at the time, by the name of Vivian Maier in the Sunday NY post. Holy heck. One look at her raw images of the old NYC pulled me in faster than a Dyson can suck up dirt. Street photography. WOW.

Being I already had a business, and was sharing tons of my personal children work as well as my client children work, I kept this genre I was exploring just for me. I didn’t post my street work. Talk about it. Or join any ‘groups’ on it. I just explored. Without any pressure on myself to make it into something, make money off it, or turn it into a business at all.

The more I shot though, the more I fell deeper in love. Always a realist, and always shooting real (those that have followed me for a while may remember ‘because real is awesome’ being my tagline for years) I look back and say it was only natural this genre found me.  

It wasn’t until 2016 that I decided to go public with my love of street. I kicked it off modestly with an IG page. And leaked a few images onto my FB page. The reaction? Mixed.  But I didn’t expect open arms to be honest. People that were used to seeing my in-home work ‘expected’ something. And the more I was told they ‘expected’ something, well, the more I put out my street work. I started from scratch. No followers, no ‘friends’ in the genre, no recognition. The street world could care less about my in-home work, the genre I built up my following, educated people on and became ‘known’ for if you will. 

So I mentally had to go back to the beginning. Scary but refreshing all at once. I was once again at square one in my photography journey.

I had a few folks offline tell me ‘Jenn I love your street work, but what about your audience you worked for years to build?’ I said ‘well, they can come with me or get off at this stop. I’m cool either way, but there is no way in heck I’m letting what people expect of me dictate what I do. No. way.’  I was in corporate America for well over a decade as I mentioned. When I made the decision to try and make photography my next career path, the difference was it was a creative career with limits I could only put on myself. A career where I steered the ship. And I had only one person to answer to- me. How could someone who is also a creative expect a creative to create when they feel they have done all they could (want to) do in one arena and wanted to set out to explore another? When we start to feel tapped on that creativity, it’s time to expand.

It all goes back to one basic thing: if you are not feeling challenged anymore, and you can shoot basically blind and know you will nail it, then for goodness sake, take a leap into another genre/project that DOES challenge you. So what you start from zero? So what you have a learning curve? So what you will get more frustrated and may wonder ‘why do I always take the path of most resistance?’ Bottom line is it’s worth it for your creative soul.

My Nonno always said ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead.’ Translation to me : LIVE life. Life is just a shell when we stay in the same lane, doing the same speed, in the same car, with the same station tuned in year after year.

My tip for you? Don’t listen to anyone but that interior artist voice, and just say ‘yes.’

---

JENNIFER TONETTI SPELLMAN

Hey all I'm Jennifer, a family photo journalist/street photographer living in New York. Since 2009 I've run a business specializing in going into homes and documenting children exactly as they are as little people existing in the big people world. My goal is to capture their true spirit and uncensored personalities.  When I'm not running my business, I can be found shooting street photography, holding a mirror up to society and recording the neighborhoods around me.

website  |  facebook  |  instagram | street website | street instagram

Spotlight on...the students of The Magician's Cape with Heather Robinson

Motherhood is weird.  The entrance into this strange new world happens so quickly really.  I mean 9 months is nothing when you think about how many years of living and becoming a unique individual that all of us experience first.  And then one day you wake up after days, months, years of this new identity called “Mama” and you realize that all those earlier years of your life (the pre-motherhood days) feel so distant almost as if they never even happened.  But they did happen.  You had an identity before motherhood.  You have stories of a life before children.  And you will have stories of a life long after your children have grown up and left the nest.  What’s more, you have stories that are occurring right now as you live out these fleeting days of motherhood.  

We as the family historians become so consumed with the task of documenting our children’s childhood stories that we forget to also include ourselves in their history.  We shrink away from the camera.  We silence our voices.  We disappear from this history which we seek to preserve.  We deny not just ourselves but also our children from an incredible gift.  We don’t get do-overs in motherhood or in childhood.  When the days together are done, there is no going back and starting over.  When we don’t show up in the family stories that we tell, we are holding our children back from forever knowing the beautifully complicated and magical identity that is “Mama”.  

In my self-portraiture workshop “The Magician’s Cape”, I call upon the students to search their hearts for the hidden stories.  I urge the students to embrace themselves not just as mothers but as women so that they can create artistic and revealing self-portraits that tell their unique stories.  I inspire them to set the record straight by showing realistic images of what strong, intelligent, and beautiful women look like as they live out the days of motherhood alongside their children.  

Below are a few magical self-portraits that the students from the first run of my workshop created during our two weeks together.  I couldn’t be more proud of these women and of the special community that we have formed through this amazing experience.  

Heather Robinson | instructor of The Magician's Cape

There are still a few active and silent seats left in the spring run of this class. If you are interested, be sure to grab a seat becuase this will be the last time this class will be offered in 2018. 

Debbie Deonier

Kellie Pribbernow

Amy Becker

Rachel Wheeler

Kellie Llewellyn

Aimee McCrory

Mandy Benoit

Debbie Deonier

Jennifer Chase

Stephanie Bieniarz

Jessie Delany

Kellie Llewellyn

Andrea Carson

Ohea Graham

Adrianne Picicci

Jessie Delany

Stephanie Bieniarz

If you would like to learn to take self portraits so that you can be in the frame WITH your kids, head HERE to grab a spot in this amazing class. 

Do you remember the camera that changed everything for you?

Do you remember when you got your very first camera? Or maybe not your very first, but the one that changed everything for you, and put you on the path of becoming a photographer? 

For me, it was a little Canon Rebel I purchased in 2007, from Best Buy. I did absolutely no research, I just walked in, picked it out, and was forever changed - although at the time I had no idea that a change was coming. 

I thought I was purchasing a camera - I didn’t know that I was starting down a long, twisty, peaks-and-valleys filled journey that would become to define me almost as much as the most important relationships in my life. I didn’t know I was starting the journey of becoming not just a camera owner, but a photographer. 

We’re a special type, photographers. I’m totally, unashamedly, partial to photographers. We are artists, but we’re also technicians. We’re creators, but we’re also tinkerers. We embrace everything beautiful and soul fulfilling that comes with this art, but we also embrace the nitty gritty things that comes from the craft. We can speak of f-stops, frame rates, sensor sizes, and shutter speeds. But we can also speak of humanity, universality, beauty, pain, and the intangible things that bring us together.

We photograph everything from the highest points of human existence to the very lowest. To the most beautiful places on earth, to the dirtiest. We serve as the record keepers of this life - of our families, our communities, and our world. The places familiar and close to home and the places exotic and far. We hold the visual record of whatever we are inspired to turn our lens towards.

Each click of the shutter is one, simple act. Yet nothing about the results can be called simple. I’m still in awe of how one click can produce art that quenches my soul, and speaks things that I can’t even put into words. when I bought that little camera all those years ago, I had no idea it would have the power to do that. 

I also had no idea the relationships it would bring into my life - peers, friends, students, and mentors - each one leaving an indelible mark on my very being, changing me forever. Relationships that mean the world to me. Some in person, some online, but all meaningful, and all leaving me a richer person than I was before. 

I had no idea the healing balm to my soul it would provide, years later in a hospital, dealing with our scariest night ever as parents. How it would become a record of things intangible, of things too far in the past to touch. How the very act of making a photograph quenches something inside of me I didn’t know was thirsty. 

I had no idea how much I would need a thing of my own, a powerful thing, once I became a mother and my world was no longer only mine. I had no idea the confidence and sureness of self I would gain because of it, and how important that would be for my daughters to see me do.

Photography is powerful. YOU are powerful. Don’t ever let someone else tell you otherwise. 

---

KATE DENSMORE

When I'm not documenting families all over the world or encouraging others to follow their photographic dreams, you can find me spending time with my husband and two young daughters at our national park home (currently the Grand Canyon, Arizona), and dreaming up ways to best illustrate the emotional themes of motherhood, connection, and family in my work.

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Portrait Revolution with Lindsey Bergstrom Giveaway

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PORTRAIT REVOLUTION WITH LINDSEY BERGSTROM

Creating a portrait is an intimate act.  A wordless interchange of trust that passes between the sitter and artist.  A portrait is far more than just a photo of a person; it is their story as an art form preserved in a single moment.  Portraits can be spontaneous and intuitive or calculated and crafted.  They can challenge, soothe, offend, and knock us over.  All are wonderful in their own way.  But what way is your way? What is your portrait voice? What stories and relationships do you want to tell with one single image?  Click above to learn more and good luck!

Food as Art with Anna Christina Larson Giveaway!

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FOOD AS ART WITH ANNA CHRISTINE LARSON

From learning about planning your visual story and mood to camera gear and lens choices, backgrounds and surfaces, styling, composition, color palette's and more, Food as Art is just the class for anyone who has a good understanding of natural light and wants to take their food photography to the next level.

Seriously Social with Rowe Timson Giveaway!

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SERIOUSLY SOCIAL WITH ROWE TIMSON

Most people have a love-hate relationship with social media. On one hand, we love to connect with friends and like-minded people. It makes us feel good! On the other, it’s a huge time suck and although we hope our social media channels will generate income, we rarely see those connections convert to real clients and sales. What Rowe knows for sure is, social media is an imperative part of owning and running a small business in today's world, so we need to learn how to get the most out of the time we invest online.

The Magician's Cape with Heather Robinson Giveaway!

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THE MAGICIAN'S CAPE WITH HEATHER ROBINSON

Rise and shine!  Wipe the sleep from your eyes.  I know you are tired.  I know this because I am tired too.  I am you.  You are me.  We are mothers.  As we know, a mother’s work is never done.  Even in sleep, we work.  We dream of our greatest works of art, our children.  And sometimes we lie awake at night unable to rest our weary minds.  Worry is a poor bed fellow.  Yet, we keep company with it because we love with such an intensity that we constantly want more.  We want more for our children.  We want to be more for them.  There is a desperate need to give our children all that we never had.  We share our love through bountiful acts of devotion.  Sometimes we are so busy carrying out the multiple roles of motherhood that we overlook one incredible role.  We forget to leave a trail for our children to follow should they become lost one day and need to find their way back home to us.  Every person’s story begins with mother.  

Spotlight on...the students of The Simple Edit with Leah Zawadzki

The Simple Edit Class, over this last year, has become everything I wanted it to be. "Editing" to me is so much more than a throwing a preset on a photo, or spending hours to make an image just right. It's a small bit of a larger picture, from the point the shutter clicks to a final photo, observing and learning and then picking the camera up again. It's a full circle; it's integral to the process of making photographs and our growth as artists. 

I love what one of my students had to say; she got it....

The Simple Edit has taught me more than I can say, from editing to organizing, to simply taking better photos. Leah has helped me shape my photos into what I have held in my mind for so long, but not quite been able to make appear on the page. In this class, I have learned to follow the heart of the image I see in the edit. I now view editing as a way to further the telling of a story instead of viewing it as a correction process. This shift has helped me tremendously in my work. Leah's feedback and warmth have helped me bat away my insecurities and move forward in becoming a better photographer.  Lila Smyth

"I have learned to follow the heart of the image I see in the edit." That's a great line. 

All that said, it's still a Lightroom class, and we learn heaps about how to use the program. I love using Lightroom and teaching it because I am convinced that once we get our workflows down, we have more time for all the good stuff mentioned above. 

So proud of all my students and the work they do during our three weeks together. Here is a sampling of work made during class for the project due at the end of week two. I love that in the time it takes to start learning Lightroom, students also learn so much about themselves and the work they want to make.

 Deb Lamb | Winter 2017

Anne Marie Inge | Spring 2017

Holly Parker | Fall 2017

Lila Smyth | Fall 2017

Another favorite assignment is two-fold. First, I have the students take a look at their current body of work and curate to about ten images that represent the kind of work they want to make, re editing images if needed. It's amazing how hard that can be! But editing is not just about the color tone or curve you use in the develop module; it's about being able to differentiate between images and commit to the work you want to make. 

This exercise forces students to do that, at the same time making a grid in the print module. The print module is so much more than about printing! Photo grids for blog posts have never been easier and can all done in the same program. Not saying that learning the print module is easy, it's tricky at first, but with a little practice, it's a great tool to understand. 

Catherine Aldrich | Winter 2017

Jessica Murphy | Winter 2017

Jennifer Chase | Spring 2017

Amber Pembleton | Fall 2017

Love my students and so happy that I am able to share some of the great work that is out there!! Hope to see some of you in Winter session! 

xo Leah

The Simple Edit winter session will run for three weeks and starts January 22, 2018.

Registration for this class and all Illuminate Classes opens November 29 and 12 noon EST. 

Street Smart with Jennifer Tonetti Spellman giveaway!

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STREET SMART WITH JENNIFER TONETTI SPELLMAN

You don't get more real than street. It is the most challenging yet fulfilling genre of photography in Jennifer's book. You cannot plan for the moments, you cannot predict what you will get, you can walk around for hours and not get a single shot!  All you can do is merely hit the streets, be mindful and present and hold a mirror up to society and see what you presents itself. Easier said than done, you say? Well, welcome to Street Smart.

The number one question Jennifer has received from people who see her work is "how do you get past that fear of shooting strangers?" This class will address that question not only in the written words of the PDF but most important in 'live' recordings of Jenn on the street doing exactly what she suggests to you to combat fear. From composition to what to look for, to what to shoot to how to process to complete the story, she covers all the basics for those looking to dip their toe in the street pool and does it all 'live' on video. Because in street seeing is not only believing but understanding how attainable street photography can be for anyone.

Spotlight on the students of...THE FAMILY HISTORIAN with Heather Robinson

On the first day of my workshop, The Family Historian, I share a quote that I wrote years ago.  The words carry great weight in my motivation to create my own family legacy.  

“none of this was all that extraordinary. just some in between moments that would quickly fade from our memories. yet these moments are the glue that holds us all together as we journey from one remarkable moment to the next.”

Days spent with little ones can linger on like an eternity.   And then one day much sooner than we can fathom they push off leaving us reeling.  It is as if these times never even happened.  

These early days are filled with repetitive acts.  Routines lace up our days.  And no matter how many times we tie a bow, those shoe strings never stay tied.  

We could quite easily spend all these childhood years going through the motions as we count down the minutes until each day is done.  Or we could take our eyes off the clock and instead use our cameras to see the beauty of these everyday moments while there is still time.  

During class, I teach my students how to reflect on what matters most in their everyday.  They learn to see the repetition in a new light.  Using not only dramatic light techniques but also creative compositions, my students begin to reveal the beautiful stories that are constantly unfolding in even the most mundane moments.  

It is my sincerest desire to create a safe space in which the students can feel at ease to share their vulnerabilities.  By opening up and finding their truths, the students learn to pair images of the seemingly unremarkable moments of life with intimate, revelatory narratives.  It is through the writing that we connect the dots to see the bigger picture.  And what a breath taking picture it turns out to be.  

I challenge my students to embrace these vulnerabilities so that they can “show up” in their stories not just through their words but also through their presence in the photographs.  These self-portraits often end up being the most treasured of all the family photographs. 

The students regardless of whether they were active, silent, or alumni dedicated themselves to finding their own unique voices with which to retell their family histories for the rest of their days.  Below is just a sampling of the beautiful “in between” that my students captured for themselves and their families.  

Heather Robinson | instructor of The Family Historian 

“Sometimes I feel like all I want is to be by myself, to clean and cook, and sleep.  Alone.  All alone.  But when I look at my favorite spot to photograph without my tribe I feel an emptiness. An echo that pricks my heart that I know that life without you all would lack purpose, and would be essentially empty.”

image and narrative by Shelli Dame

“The play doh "factory" has seen many hours of work in its day. and for once, I didn't hesitate to let you play with it wherever you wanted. and although there were pieces of orange and yellow and green and blue strewn across the floor...and the tables...and the chairs...and the shelves...you took your little orange dust pan and broom and you cleaned up after yourself. but you left your "hummus" on the table as a token of the fun that was had while mom was busy making dinner. and I'll help you clean up any day of the week when you're willing to chip in and do the same.”

image and narrative by Megan Millsop

“it doesn’t happen every time I see your precious belly, but today when you paused your building task to have a peek at your belly button my thoughts went straight to your mom, your China mom, your birth mom, your biological mother. I don't even know exactly what to call her yet. it changes, but we do talk about her. someday you'll even ask me about her. what i know is so very little. but I know about a pink bag, a red coat, and a fancy hotel all evidence of care and concern for you.  evidence of love. my heart is tied to hers just like you were once tethered to her from that very spot that captures your interest in this moment. I wish I could share her with you and you with her. and I cannot. but I will do my best to fill in the missing pieces of your story, but know I cannot fill it all. if I can give you enough that the sadness exists alongside hope, that will be enough. and I will always be there with you even if it is not.”

image and narrative by Stephanie Bieniarz 

“Today you found a dress buried in the closet. It's one of the few that I brought with me here that used to be mine. Before we moved here I went through and found a few things that I wanted you to be able to use when they fit you. You ran to me, and told me about this beautiful dress that you found. In reality its pretty faded, and worn, and smells like it's been in storage, but that didn't change your mind. When I told you that it used to be mine, and that Grandma made it, well that made you even more excited. You told me that you were going to wear it all day, all night, and tomorrow.”

image and narrative by Chrissy Gilliland

“Your room is small, I know. Luckily you love being close to each other and have never complained about sharing a space. You will be older one day and each have a room of your own. Will you visit each other in one room sometimes? Will you stay in your room with your doors closed and music up loud? What will your relationship be like when you are teenagers? Right now I enjoy your need for closeness. You orbit around each other throughout the day, interacting with closeness I can't relate to as an only child. I observe with awe and gratitude that you have one another. “

image and narrative by Sara Wright

“You have been missed. The whole of last week whilst you were away on a school trip your little brother has wandered around the house not really knowing what to do with himself. He's been teasing your little sister and bothering your older sister because his pal and playmate was away. The family dynamics completely changed and although you have been a bit of a pain just recently and I thought it might be good for us all to get some space we actually don't function very well without you.  So now you're back the equilibrium is restored and you go straight back to your imaginary star wars games with your brother. I can see he is more relaxed now you are back to show him how to do stuff, playing Star Wars on your own is a lonely business.”

image and narrative by Abigail Fahey

“We used to eat dinner together every night. That was before daddy and I switched our schedules around so we could have a little more time home with you guys. Now I work a little later at night so I can be home with you in the morning while daddy works in the morning to be home with you in the afternoon. By the time I get home you are done eating and are ready to curl up on the couch and watch TV. You always liked TV more than your sister, who is probably off playing somewhere right now. Your brother is just starting to eat `big people’ food so he eats a little slower. Plus daddy makes sure you two are fed before he feeds your brother. I look forward to the weekends when we all eat together as a family again.”

image and narrative by Debbie Deonier  

“Daddy coming home from work is one of your favorite things ever!  Kissing him with your big open mouth makes you howl with laughter mostly because Daddy can't help but dramatically wipe all your slobber off his face. Even though all Daddy wanted after a long day was to sit down and drink his beer, he happily indulged your games. He knows you need the quality time. It feels like we never see you and your sister anymore. Later tonight, after making it a mere 6 days at home, you big brother is being readmitted to to the hospital. You and your big sister will be back in the loving arms of Grandma who is lovely but, no one plays quite like Daddy.”

image and narrative by Heather Barrett

“You hate when I change your nappies so I try to trick you with kisses cuddles and lullaby (your favorite one "Ainsi font font") that you don’t feel vulnerable. I love those moments. It s part of the routine and when you are on top of the change table we are at the same level. You sometimes put your little arm around my neck and put your head on my shoulder and I melt… Not this time though you were too busy playing with my necklace.”

image and narrative by Nadia Stone

"These days have been some of the longest of my life.  I know I'm blessed to be your mama.  To have had two years of post nap wake ups.  But some days are prettier than others.  There are often lots of tears.  And little hands grabbing at my pants or a toddler on my hip as I try to pull dinner together.  I hold on for dear life until I feel hollow from giving or guilty for giving into laundry and choosing to fold instead of play.  More days than I care to admit I blow up Papa's phone, shooting text after text until he finally walks in the door.

But. The smell of your hair still damp from sleep.  The weight of your body as you snuggle into me while the sleep drifts from your eyes.  The smoothness of your skin as I tickle your back to soothe your emotional, over-tired nerves.  When I stop, everything falls back into balance.

And here I am on the brink of heading back to work.  And I'm scared.  Not of the work.  I'm scared that I missed it, that I didn't soak it in, that I wished these days away.

Tell me it isn't so.  Put your little fingers in my hands, snuggle your downy head into my chest, tell me it will be all right.  And let me tickle your back for a few more minutes."

image and narrative by Sylvie Grahan

This class will be offered this fall. Registration for the next run will open on August 23rd at 12 noon EST right HERE. In the past, the active seats have sold out within minutes so don't hesitate if you are interested.

Spotlight on the students of Embracing Your Inner Artist with Deb Schwedhelm

I often find this class, Embracing Your Inner Artist, difficult to precisely put into words. It’s not a class that revolves around learning a specific hands-on camera or photography technique; but rather a class that pushes each and every artist to grow artistically in a way that they individually need, wish or desire. From discussions on inspiration, style, and creativity to doing research on the masters of photography to making strong photographs in their own unique style, the students are encouraged to quiet the noise and listen to the artist within. 

Throughout the course, a lot of discussion takes place, not only with me but also amongst the students. This is something that I strongly encourage, as I believe that there is so much information and learning to be gained by asking questions, participating in conversations and providing honest feedback on image submissions. And I was blown away by this group of students. Not only did they readily interact and discuss the lesson information, almost every single student participated in every assignment over our three weeks together. 

My heartfelt goal with Embracing Your Inner Artist is to encourage students to recognize and embrace the artist that lies within and gently push them to their next step, in the direction of their own unique path. As each of us embraces all that we uniquely are, we free ourselves from the constraints that are imposed upon us, which allows us to run free in the direction and at a pace that we choose — and that is something to be celebrated.

Today, I celebrate my students from the January 2017 edition of my Embracing Your Inner Artist course, with a small sampling of the work that was produced for the final assignment. For this submission, the students are asked to put everything that was learned and discussed together and share images that embrace their own unique style. Truly, all the students did amazing and I am grateful for their time and commitment to learning.

Deb Schwedhelm | Instructor of Embracing Your Inner Artist and Project Development & Fine Art

Jessica Murphy

Kristin Wahls

Mel Karlberg

Erin Gray

Crystal Mercredi

All of our classes are currently sold out. We will be opening registration in late August for the fall block of classes. Stay tuned for exact dates coming soon!

SPOTLIGHT ON...THE STUDENTS OF THE FAMILY HISTORIAN WITH HEATHER ROBINSON WINTER 2017

'There is a reason the quote, “Home is where the heart is” has become such a common one.  It is true.  Our homes are the places where we live.  They are more than that though.  A home is an anchor that keeps us securely planted in the big, churning world.  It is where we begin our journeys.  And for many of us, it is where we end them as well.  But all along the way, a home is the backdrop for the hundreds of thousands of stories that we live out alongside our families.  

In my workshop, The Family Historian, I encourage my students to show respect to the places that house their most cherished memories.  I challenge them to seek out the light that comes shining in their windows each day illuminating the moments that help define their family.  Additionally, I inspire my students to see what matters most in their homes - the inhabitants.  After all, it is the relationships and the connections that we make with those we love most that make a house a home.  My students feel a strong desire to not only show the place and the people who they are documenting, but to also leave behind evidence of themselves.  Therefore, my students place themselves into the stories that they tell.  They do this with their words and their photographs.  They do this with utmost love and respect.  They do this because they are family historians.  

I am insanely proud of the heart and soul that the students from the January 2017 run of my workshop showed each day that we spent together.  It is a wonderful honor to be able to call these women my friends.  Here is a sampling of the beauty that they found at home. '

Heather Robinson | Instructor of The Family Historian

“1057 square feet is what they give us to live in, here. Student family housing, two years, and a collective 10 months of Minnesota winter. The top floor of our apartment provides just enough room for beds and clothes. It's reserved for sleeping, changing, using the bathroom, and not much else. So we actually spend 80% of our day in half of that 1057 sq feet: 528 square feet of kitchen and living room.

Our kitchen is part dining area, part art studio, part preschool, part office. We eat, we paint, we study, and we play games around this table. For four people, it's not a lot of space. But it's not permanent, either, and we make it work. It's not uncommon to scoot aside a half-finished puzzle or art project in order to make enough room for lunch. Inevitably there are crumbs mingled with beads on the floor. The corner is piled high with preschool lessons/mountains of coloring masterpieces that we can't yet throw away. Daddy's laptop sits next to the flowers he recently brought home for Mommy, while a half-finished lunch lingers, nearby. In a couple hours, the entire table scape will change, based on the need of the next moment.

My life runneth over. It's tight. It's messy. It's madness.

Some days I wish I had just a small place of my own to keep clean and run to. But then, I remind myself, I'd miss the ever present closeness of you---you pieces of my heart that I share this small space with. We truly live together, here. Together, beside, and on top of each other's lives in one big tangled mess of love.

Maybe some day I'll look back on this time as a heroic adventure. Likely I'll cringe at how short my patience so easily got with everything/one under foot. Hopefully I'll remember these simple, packed days when we have little, learn much, and always try to love more.”

Image and narrative by Annie Mangelson

“The sink full of dishes is a clear sign that your overly tidy mama is tired from a week without Daddy. It speaks louder than the lack of the fourth spoon. The Thomas bowl that used to be your sister's but is now yours rests near the teacup that is yours but was used to steep the teabag that soothed her fever blister. A cup of soaking paintbrushes in the mix...always a cup of soaking paintbrushes in the mix. And, sitting on the counter top, is the egg carton sister made with a friend to hold the eggs her family shares with ours. We are not an overly materialistic family but that is not to say that we do not value, even revere objects. Little love worn bowls, cardboard covered in glitter glue, eggs the palest shade of blue green, paintbrushes used so often that the soaking never quite does the trick - my how we love these things. Objects of your work, your play, your hurts, your love left behind when the day is done. These things I carefully tuck into cabinets with a smile or pause to celebrate before loading the dishwasher and wiping the counter clean.”

Image and narrative by Sarah Scott

“this has been a long few days for both of us sweet girl.  you are so exhausted today.  you were awake last night with a never ending cough that would not relent.  i had to take you outside so that you could breath better.  today is a better day.  you have been off playing with your dolls or coming to momma for a snuggle while sister is at her ice skating lessons with daddy.  i want nothing more than to be here comforting you, but part of my heart hurts a bit that i am not there to see sissy ice skating.  the wonder and pain of motherhood... the inability to be in two places at once.”

Image and narrative by Kristin Rutherford

“The living room, in our new home.  The room with the window I always dreamt of.  We have lazy mornings sometimes and spend far too many hours in our pajamas.  This blanket has seen as much of the earth as you.  A necklace today, courtesy of that broken seam. And that hair that I can’t quite figure out.  Should we cut bangs? Lucy is always under foot and always watching the squirrels, quivering with excitement for hours each day. You'd never know she's a geriatric.”

image and narrative by Sara Stiller

"every morning around 6 am, I hear you tip toe into my bedroom and stand quietly by my bedside. I always know you are there even though you don't say a word, and I open my eyes to see you wrapped in your pink blanket, round bare belly sticking out, sleepy eyes, as though your first thought upon waking is always to find me. sometimes I tell you momma needs more sleep, or you climb in and cuddle with me, whispering strangely deep thoughts as though you are still half dreaming, like me. You touch my face with your little dimpled hands so gently, you tell me how hungry you are, how much you love me, you always find a way to get me up. you never ever stop talking. The other morning though, when I felt your presence and opened my eyes, you said to me "momma, sometimes I stand here looking at you while you're sleeping and think how beautiful you are." Your words took my breath away. Your love takes my breath away. I took you in my arms and hugged you. I hoped you felt my love too."

Image and narrative by Melissa Lazuka

“Today I bought myself flowers.  Today I gave in and bought myself my favorite cookies.  I came home from the grocery store with flowers and cookies in hand and you just smiled at me.Between the exhaustion, mild case of depression that is now over and extreme nausea life has felt blurry. Days have ran together. But you my dear, have gone above and beyond for me. When did the boy I meet in high school turn into a man? It must have happened right before my eyes.”

Image and narrative by Chloe Rosser

"I could lay out your clothes from the night before out for you. I could ask your daddy or your grandmother to dress you. I huff and puff whenever I cannot get to you in the morning on time and you're still dressed in pijamas by the time we're eating breakfast. I huff about why does no one else can pick out the right clothes and dress you, they can see I am busy making breakfast...does not one else care?

Truth is, subconsciously I might be sabotaging anyone else's attempts to dress you because I want it all for myself. Sure, it's nice when once in a blue moon you emerge from your bedroom all made up. You even make attempts in dressing your little sister right after you have dressed yourself. I love when that happens. It's no wonder you know exactly which pair of pants goes with which shirt and sweater - you watch me like a hawk and you absorb everything I do with incredible speed. Often it worries me that together with the good you also absorb the bad. Like my bossy tone of voice when I just want everyone to behave so I can get stuff done. You order your little sister in the same tone of voice when she's ruining one of your games. I ask you to speak to her nicely, but then I remember who taught you this and I get mortified. Your little eyes and ears leave nothing out, you see me whole, as I am and you see me worthy of aspiring to. It is a beautiful feeling, yet I am ashamed of myself when I catch myself not being the best example for you. I am sorry, mom is not perfect, I want you to know that. I know now how the nucleus effect works, so I am trying hard to show you that change can happen if one put's her mind to it. I am ashamed of some of the behaviors I've taught you, but what encourages me even more is the opportunity to show you my transformation...no matter how slow and painful it might be.

And you, my darling, teach me every day the most important lesson of all - how to be vulnerable again. You've pried my heart open when you were born and you make sure it will never be closed again."

Image and narrative by Mukarram Dadajonova

“This moment.  This is the moment that brings me home to myself each day, in the midst of the morning hustle. I get up before the sun, before the birds, before the streetlights so that I can arrive in this moment, wholeheartedly, without feeling the need to rush you. I want you to ease into your day softly, with the warm touch of my hand on your back, and the cozy safety of my lap to rub the sleep and dreams from your eyes. The touch of your small hand on my hand makes my heart skip a beat. The weight of your tiny body nestled into mine is sweet perfection. I don’t know how long you will allow me to hold you in my arms like this, so I drink up this moment, and savor its sweetness.  I don’t ever want this feeling to end.

As I have made the transition from being a full time Mama, to becoming a working Mama, the clocks feel like they are in overdrive. All of the days that once felt slow and infinite, are now fast and breathtakingly short.  The times we share together now are the book- ends of my day, rather than the pages. This is hard for me. Leaving you each day makes my heartache. I would give anything to sleep in and snuggle with you in bed and spend all day painting and sword fighting and snacking and hunting for ladybugs in the garden. But now that I must kiss you goodbye first thing in the morning and collect you at the end of the day after both of us are tired and spent, I lean into the moments that I do have with you with everything I’ve got; because I want you to feel my love surrounding and elevating you across the span of the long hours that we are apart from one another. In these quiet moments in the semi-darkness of the early morning that I share with you, I can exhale and return, if only for a moment, to those simpler days that we used to share and hold onto you being little for just a little while longer.”

Image and narrative by Chelsea Feldman

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The Family Historian with Heather Robinson is one of our most popular classes and is all sold out for the spring run. This class will be offered again sometime in the fall. If you want to be notified when registration for the next class will open, sign up for our newsletter HERE.

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Editing for Artists with Roxanne Bryant Giveaway!

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EDITING FOR ARTISTS WITH ROXANNE BRYANT

The power of color leaves a deep and lasting impression on our imagery. The key to confident editing is understanding why color behaves the way it does. In this intensive class, you will gain insight on how color theory creates richness and depth, conveys mood, illuminates focal points and composition, and directly communicates your story.  Learn subtle color control through the mindset of a painter, working with the HSL (Hue/Saturation/Luminance) panel as your palette.  Utilize color theory in LIGHTROOM to correct color casts, analyze color relationships, and separate colors for more sensitive and dynamic color range in your work.  Perfect the "Art of Seeing" through deep self-critique to push your own personal boundaries and confidence with editing.  Finally, embrace a no-short-cut approach to editing - one that will bring greater understanding of every image as a singular work of art.  Be prepared to take risks, try different approaches, and bravely reinvent color in new ways.