I’ve been thinking a lot lately about taking risks, pushing beyond my comfortable limits of experience and expression, particularly in art, but in other areas too. Somehow this has included the gnawing notion of doing some self portraits.
I have to tell you that this is a great stretch for me. I not only dislike my image on “film”, I often can’t bare to look at it. It isn’t so much that I think I’m ugly, though I am very good at zeroing in on all those flaws. It’s more an issue of not recognizing the person I’m looking at. I guess it’s a kind of disassociation with my own face. (When it comes to video it’s even worse. I had to walk out of the room when my hubby and I were viewing our wedding video. I’ve never seen it all the way through.)
But lately, this amazing photographer, person, mama, and member of “all I need is a moment” has inspired me to push my boundaries a bit and see what would happen if I turned the camera on myself. I’m shocked to say it’s not been so bad.
I took a few shots this morning. I didn’t hate the experience, and actually came away with a photo or two that don’t make me cringe. At the moment I can only bare to share one. I gotta pace myself.
I had to do some lighting and color work on it afterwards, due to crappy hotel bathroom fixtures, and it was so intensely difficult to not “fix” all of the flaws I found with myself. (I actually couldn’t stop myself and went ahead with the fixes, but just didn’t save them = neurotic) But, in doing this, it’s important to me to face, and present, the real me.
I honestly think that the courage to do this, amongst all kinds of work on myself in the past few years & the inspiration and courage I gain through other women/mothers/artists in the blogosphere, comes from feeling right in the physical world. The Pacific Northwest is my home. Something about this place just recognizes who I am, and vice versa.