When I was growing up, we lived across the street from a family that had four girls (we had three at the time). We were the best of friends and lived outside in the summer and inside each other's houses in the winter. The mom of this troupe, Janet Dawsen, was a beautiful artist. Her front room was wall-to-wall and ceiling to floor with her framed artwork. When they built their new house and moved away, we went to visit them. The mom had painted the ceiling of their dining room with clouds and birds. At 10 years old, I just knew that everything luxurious contained dining rooms with hand painted birds and clouds.
When I was about 7 years old, Mrs. Dawsen decided to teach art lessons. My mom signed my sister and I up. I had my notebook, my pencil, and my chalk. I was prepared to unleash all the artistic talent that had been constrained for those long seven years.
It is truly unreal how horrible I was. I had no sense of proportion. I cannot draw a nose to save my life. After the failed art lessons, I resorted to drawing noses like a pair of roller skates (those were unfortunate years of refrigerator art). Determined not to give up, a few years later, my mom signed me up for some pottery lessons. My ashtray would not have held one bit of ash. Years later, I tried another pottery class. This time in college. For a class where you just needed to show up and "try," it's pretty pathetic that it was the second lowest grade that I received in college.
Flash forward years later: I was living in New York. We attended a Single's Branch on Long Island. Our Branch President and his amazing wife are who I want to be when I grow up. They loved us and welcomed us into our home. In turn, we taught them Bunco. President Larsen swore up and down (not literally) that there was a strategy and is probably still on a quest to figure it out. Sister Larsen was battling cancer at the time. She was in remission...again. She was an Art History Major in college. One day, they took us into the city and she took us on a "personal" tour of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was completely mesmerized by her knowledge and insight. I hung on her every word. (That was the day that we saw "The Coach" - Craig T. Nelson. He was admiring a painting. He was wearing a scarf and a sports jacket. He is a very large man. I don't think you notice when he's on TV. But...I digress.) I walked out of the museum that day certain that I should be an Art History Major and travel the world admiring great art.
While in New York, my sister and a few friends of ours traveled to Italy. It was there that I stood in the Sistine Chapel. I remembered everything I learned in AP History from Mr. Woods in 10th Grade. All I could picture was Charlton Heston up in the air paining while on his back. With the history in my head, I entered that room. I was in awe. At that point, I knew that I could no longer be content with clouds and birds on my dining room ceiling. All doubts were erased. I was definitely going to be an Art History Major and learn how to be a gourmet cook and decorate my house with a dignified, refined style and be just like Sister Larsen.
I graduated as an English Major...and I got married.
Like any good Mormon wife, I attended Homemaking (yes-that was still the name), determined to learn the art of scrapbooking and began my quest to cover every inch of my home with homemade decorations for each and every holiday. I joined a scrapbook group that exchanged ideas every month, I signed up for each and every craft at Super Saturdays, and I frequented Michael's in hopes of finding deals to fill my craft closet. One day, I sat at a table, attempting to finish my duct pipe pumpkin, and listening to some of the sisters explain how the pumpkin fragrance is an aphrodisiac. I looked around and witnessed perfectly round pumpkins when I was on my fourth one praying with all my heart that it won't tear this time. It was art class and pottery class all over again.
It was stressful. It it couldn't look like the "original," then what was the point? Scrapbooking was a mess! I had to have an entire table full of stuff just to do one page. It was not fun for me. Not relaxing. It was a mad rush to try and just "get it done" so I could clean up the mess. Even after I finished a page, I tried to put as many pictures as possible on it just so I wouldn't have to do any more.
Surprisingly, we did not have to spend one cent on therapy. I was able to accept the fact that it was possible for me to be a good Mormon wife and NOT display homemade crafts in my home. It was possible for me to be a good Mormon mom and just put my kids pictures in a normal photo album (you know - you just slide the pictures in) without the backdrop representing every isle of the craft store. It was possible for me to be a good Mormon mom and send my girls to church in store bought Easter dresses instead of homemade. (Actually, I'm still working on accepting that last one.)
Most importantly, I can greatly admire those women and their talent to do crafts and scrapbook and sew and cook gourmet meals and hand quilt their children's bedspreads and make their own jewelry but still be okay with the fact that I happened to take those things off my plate: The Plate of Emily's Expectations for Herself.
With a lighter plate, I gradually became a mother of five children. When I had "Those Days" (you know - if you are inside your house for one more minute you might pull every last hair off your head and then start on your eyebrows), my amazing husband (seriously...I didn't become Sister Larsen - extremely far from it, but I married a man who loves me as much as her husband loved her) would relieve me and take over. At that point, I like to walk over to Barnes and Noble, sit with my hot chocolate, and pour over photography books. I've done it for years. I remember doing it a few times when Austin was in the throes of colic. I walked home feeling rejuvenated being filled with images that were emotional, stunning, and interesting.
For years, Greg begged me to get a hobby. As I've pointed out, I have a lot of interests, but when I tried to do them myself, it just caused a lot of stress. It wasn't relaxing. Three years ago, my husband bought me a camera for our anniversary. I still had my doubts. It was definitely something that I had been interested in for years, and I took my children all over the valley trying to find a photographer that captured their personalities (I finally found her here).
I have to tell you that I have thoroughly enjoyed learning how to use my camera and Photoshop and how to capture those moments. There have been times when I thought, "I can't do this. I'll never be as good as so-and-so" or "I have no business walking around, pretending to 'be a photographer'." But then, I was blessed. A year and a half ago, after I had taken a few classes and learned how to shoot in manual (liberating is not the right word), the instructor told us that we should start charging - even if it's family. It's our time and it's valuable. So, I kind of started doing that. Then, I heard this small voice tell me, "Emily, it is not the time. This is not the season."
A week later, I found out I was pregnant.
Two and a half months later, I found out I was pregnant with twins.
I laughed. I finally had found a hobby. My husband was happy. That camera was not collecting dust like the guitar. I was truly interested and having fun.
But, just like everything else in life, the Lord has different plans. This season of life is not about me; it is about my kids. (I wonder if there will ever be a season of life when it isn't about my kids.) But the amazing thing that happened is that I relaxed even more about the photography. I am enjoying it even more. It is exciting to figure out something new that my camera can do, or add another lens, or play with a different type of light source. It is thrilling to figure out the uses of a lens and how to get the most out of it. It is challenging to take on another element in Photoshop. It is fun to realize that I will never stop learning. I don't have to do it all at once, and I don't have to do it perfectly. I just have to enjoy it and hopefully capture a few "moments."
Everyone knows how much I love this girl and her work. I teach her children piano in exchange for her talent to photograph my children. One of the most important things that she has taught me is to find the beauty. Whenever I am with her, she is constantly complimenting others. Even the most homely person gets a genuine compliment from her. It isn't that she exaggerates; it's that she's looking. I think that has been one of my favorite things about this hobby. I am looking for beauty more often, and I am definitely finding it. Beauty is everywhere. Sometimes it surprises you, but it is always there.
The tricky thing about this hobby is that you need something to photograph. I kind of had a photography blog, but it wasn't really what I wanted it to be, so I deleted it. But, I did want to post some of my favorite pictures from the past year. I keep this blog as my journal, so I wanted to document some of them.
These are some pictures from my gorgeous cousin, Annie and her girls. We took a few of Josie and Annie near the end of her pregnancy. Then, we did some when Evie was born. I am truly grateful for these beautiful people for letting me practice my hobby with them.
