No babies for me, but babies for everyone else.
It’s been keeping me busy.
For more baby goodness, check out my other blog.
If you haven’t noticed, it’s been a bit quiet here lately. Sorry about that, but I’ve been elsewhere . . .
It’s been hinted at before, but now it’s official: I have started my own photo business!
I will still post here with personal content, but most photo-related content will be found on my blog at Just ADG.
To celebrate the launch, I am offering 50% off of kid/baby/family, engagement, and senior picture sessions booked in the next two weeks! Please note you only need to book in the next two weeks–your appointment can fall after that time period!
I will also be offering $25 mini-shoot to anyone who refers new business to me!
To book, you can email me at firstname.lastname@example.org, call (515) 661-4176, send me a Facebook message, or even just leave a comment on this post and I’ll get in contact with you!
Looking forward to this crazy adventure. :)
More photos from this weekend’s session are found here.
In first grade, I spent several weeks in a wheelchair.
But you would never know that, as not a single picture exists of me sitting in that chair. In fact, you’d be pressed to even find a picture of me in the cast I had at that time. Yet I still have the cast itself (hidden in a closet), the only real proof.
There were so many pics of my childhood. Yet there were these little pockets of time completely erased by purposeful avoidance. I asked my mom why and she said she just didn’t want to remember that time. But it happened.
Just like there are no pictures of me with a swollen face after having my wisdom teeth taken out. Or from after my surgery a few years ago; no images of me in a hospital bed hooked up to wires. No pictures of when I accidentally sliced my hand open with a swiss army knife, or from when I rear ended someone in high school.
Sure, due to my sick and twisted mind there do exist now pictures of my broken toes and bruised feet and swollen eyes and bad haircuts (fragments free of context), but for the most part we edit the stories of our lives by omission. We don’t think to pick up our cameras and snap as we and those we love are in pain, and frankly we often do not want to.
But it’s often these things we do not capture, those cracks between the concrete memories we can turn back to, that are the grit in building our character. Try as we can to conceal them, we can’t erase the fact they did happen. At least not yet anyway.
When I started photography in college, our first class “field trip” in just about every photo class was to the greenhouse on campus. During the first week of class each semester, the plants and the heat (yes, even in the winter!) would be invaded by mobs of CKWCs (college kids with cameras). Let’s go back.
(Can you tell which pictures I took during my first semester as opposed to my second? Ha.)