The Missing Girl…

I’ve been meaning to write this very personal blog post for a little while now, but I just had a hard time to put my feelings into words. So tonight I’m giving it a go…

I’m at the point in my career now where I feel that I take decent pictures and capture all the details and emotions that clients love. It took me a little while to build my confidence, but after a lot of practice and lessons learned, I feel that I’m on the right track. I’m getting better and better at reading people’s emotions and catching those specials moment. But like most photographers, I like to do more personal projects. Photos that are not bridal or family fun. Something that lets your inner artist out. But you see, this is my problem. My inner artist is missing…

After reading Alex Beadon’s blog post yesterday where she talks about her inner artist, I really started thinking and today while I mowed the lawn (yes that’s what I did) I started thinking about why I love photography. Then my thoughts went on to my time in school. When I was in high school, we didn’t have the internet and even mobile phones. I was in boarding school in a seriously small town, so I hardly ever went to the movies or watched tv. So if you where creative, you thought of your own designs. There wasn’t much around to give you inspiration. But we did have love stories, nature and hopes and dreams. And at that time I was the most creative I’ve even been. I LOVED to draw and I even got paid by other students to draw their biology drawings for them. I used to come up with the craziest design for pencil cases and made art out of almost nothing. I even made my own clothes without patterns to follow or a sowing machine. I did everything with my eyes. I would see something and remember it and then I could replicate a design without having it in front of me. I’m sure you are getting my point my now. WHY am I telling you this? Because I want you to understand where I’m coming from. That time was like an oasis compared to now. Now I feel like I’m in the Sahara Desert and there is no sign of rescue. I feel very sad that my inner artist has gone missing. I think it was a natural thing for me to fall in love with photography because the way I saw things. I saw the beauty in things that no-one else did and with your camera you can capture it. But now I’m looking and looking, and I’m struggling to see things differently.

I’ll give you another example. I was the first person in my high school (this was a BIG school in the city) to bring my books to school in a little brown suitcase. You know, those little box ones? Not only that, I painted animals and other designs on it. I wasn’t popular at all, but people knew about my suitcase and then they started to copy me. Back then it just came naturally. But now I cannot think of ONE thing that makes me stand out or that is new or different. Almost like the Purple Cow thingy. And that is both frustrating and sad. Where has she gone? And why is she staying away?

Thank you for reading to the end. I just had to let it all out. And if you see my inner artist anywhere, please tell her to come home. I miss her… very much.

H x