At His Level

Whenever I take pictures of Louie, I like to sit down at his level.  He's generally more receptive of a clicking camera when he can walk up to it, sniff it, and size it up.  Once realizing that no, the camera won't get him, he likes to model.  I only wish I had one of his ears all perked up.

Getting on the ground to take the photos always makes me think of the photographer Tony Mendoza who is well-known for his photographers of a cat named Ernie and his dog Bob.  All the photos are taken low to the ground at the pet's eye level.  Makes for a really interesting photograph.

I don't take photos because I think I'm any good at photography.  I'm only slowly learn how to properly use my camera.  I probably post pictures that would make photo-enthusiasts scream in horror.  But I'm not looking to take photos worthy of being hung in art galleries.  In fact, I submitted tons of work to an art show a few years back and every piece got rejected.  Apparently the female judge was looking for pieces that employed classic techniques and naturalism.  Meaning no abstraction.  Which is what I did.

I did cry a bit.  I was upset that I had worked hard on all my pieces and none got in.  But come time for the open art show, my pieces had the best reception.  I even scored my first commission.  I painted a piece that would become the artwork for an album cover.  The husband and wife team even framed me a plaque with the album inside.  A proud moment for sure.

Anyway, I'm not a great photographer.  But you know what?  I love my photos.  They are absolutely my style.  I love portraits.  While I don't understand other people's never-dying propensity to photograph flowers or skylines, I won't knock it.  I simply enjoy something different.

When I look at a photo I've taken and I smile, I know it's a good one.  Because Lord knows I take plenty of bad ones.

I don't ever take pictures that don't need at least a tiny bit of editing.  That's where I am completely lost in the dark and just tweak certain toggles until I think the photo looks better. 

Regardless of whether I am destroying my photos with bad editing or not, I never want to lose the reason why I took the photo in the first place.  Take the two pictures of Louie.  I took those because of his face.  He has the sweetest, kindest eyes and cutest little tongue that always sticks out.  There's a look in his eye in the first photo that I love.  I can't pinpoint what emotion he's portraying; possibly thoughtful.  The second is simply a visual love letter to my dog and his sweet innocence.

I don't think anyone should be afraid to take photos.  The only way I can possibly get better to to learn more and try more!

1st Anniversary

Remember in this post when I said I was making some coasters and would post a simple tutorial?

Yeah, I had all the pictures taken and planned on posting the instructions on Tuesday.

But I woke up this morning to this post on the blog, Under the Sycamore.  Apparently this published and very well-known blogger beat me to the punch.  My instructions would have been almost the exact same, down to the measurements.  The only difference is I put a piece of batting in between the two fabric layers.  What a bummer.  So, if you want to know what could have been, just go there I guess.

Anyway, if one could tell from my previous post, yesterday was my one year wedding anniversary.  While I think of our wedding with happy memories, I am unbelievably glad to be on this side of the aisle.  The wedding itself was not stressful (neither was planning) but it's good to be done with it and be able to focus attention on something else.  These women who have wedding planning withdrawals are nuts.

I let Jarred do all the planning for yesterday and he did a wonderful job surprising me.  We took a day trip to Nashville where we started our day at Cheekwood Botanical Gardens.  We snapped some great photos of the grounds and had fun taking leisurely strolls through the different gardens.  We had lunch at the cafe, which Jarred enjoyed.  A lot.  He got a blackened grouper sandwich and said it was the best sandwich he'd ever eaten.  I didn't want to ruin my appetite for dinner, so I had a simple Cobb salad with spicy ranch dressing.  SPY-SEE.  Spicy.  Very.  Good thing we were seated right next to the air vent, because my head was on fire.

After some time at Cheekwood, Jarred took me downtown to the Frist Art Museum to view the Andy Warhol exhibit on display.  Let's just say -- it was AH-mazing being that close to his screen print paintings of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, and Judy Garland.

And the last stop on our trip was dinner at Germantown Cafe.  Again, just amazing.  Squash fritters, Caesar salads, and plum pork with green beans and mashed potatoes.  No fanciness or frills.  Perfectly us.

When we finally got back home last night, we sliced our saved wedding cake and toasted to 1 happy year of marriage.  I guess since the first year is history, we're not considered newlyweds.  Mom says we've always acted like an old married couple anyway.

Cheers to 1 year down Sweets!

One Year

J,

How fast a year goes by. 

My normal chatterbox self is hard up for words that describe our first year of marriage.  So I think I'll let some music do the talking.

I made you this slide show using some of my favorite memories of our time together, from the very beginning of our relationship.

('You and I' sung by Ingrid Michaelson)

I love you times infinity plus one.

I take great comfort in the fact that we are one and always will be.  I have my best friend with me for life.  I made some pretty special vows one year ago and I'd say them every day if I needed too.

Husband, you are too cool for words and make me feel all mushy inside.  Year 1 has been a blast and I have a feeling Year 2 will be even better!

-M

How Sorrow and Happiness Affect Art

Though I'm not a musician, I appreciate music.  And I tend to think music and lyrics put together have the ability to speak to the heart in the way simple prose cannot. 

I tend to gravitate toward music that is pretty weighty and deals with heartbreak and lost love.  I've always been that way.  Of course, I love an uptempo song as much as the next person, but I think the most powerful words come through sorrow.

I imagine that writing a song from the heart and performing it heals a lot of wounds.  Maybe that's what this blog does for me.

Not that I have wounds that need healing.  I don't have many problems in life and I thank God for that.  Jarred and I can pay our bills, though we must be careful with our money.  That's not a real problem.

Jarred and I live in a lovely town house that I am in the slow process of decorating.  My parents let me take my bedroom suite when I moved out of the house.  Jarred and I bought a really nice, sturdy, expensive couch and matching armchair for our living room.  We don't have the income to buy and take care of a home at this point.  That's not a real problem.

I am getting to go back to school and study something I'm passionate about.  I have a husband who wants me to have every opportunity in the world to succeed.  I get to take classes and truly enjoy it.  We'll rack up my student loans on top of Jarred's.  That's not a real problem.

Maybe I love sad songs because inside me there is a tortured artist waiting to burst forth.  Sometimes I feel that because I grew up in a happy home, had a happy childhood, and have a happy life, there's no feeling for me to express through art, be it in mediums such as photography, or paint, or simply pen or pencil.  Van Gogh was the epitome of a tortured soul and look how famous he is, though it was mostly after death that he gained notoriety.  I don't know of too many happy artists.

So can I be that one?

That's something I've always struggled with artistically.  I'm happy.  So what do I have to say to the world?  The art world seems to thrive on the weird of Orlan, the controversy for controversy's sake of Andres Serrano, and the 'un-art' of Damien Hirst.  So where would I fit in with all those people?

I wouldn't.

I say yes to a new movement of happy art that truly speaks from the soul.

Because that's what I want to do.

Man, I hope I can express all that in a tapestry.  But I will learn.  And I will always have my own little world of my photography.

I must remember though that these controversial artists are the ones that get attention but don't get respect.  And possibly don't deserve it.  In my first painting class, we weren't asked to recreate anything by Chris Ofili (thank goodness).  We were asked to take cues from Matisse and Rousseau and El Greco.  Those are artists that will be remembered forever.

This goes for everything in life.  There may be people who achieve fame who don't deserve it.  But I take comfort in the fact that 100 years from now, children will still be learning about Martin Luther King Jr, but won't have an inkling what a Kardashian is.  There may be people you know personally who don't deserve the recognition they've gotten.  I sure do.  But I don't concern myself with it because in the end, those people will more than likely falter and the true stars will shine.  Those who deserve to be seen and heard will be.  And will be remembered for it.

Self Portrait

 

I don't take enough photos of myself.

I remember in my first B&W photography class, we were assigned a self-portrait project.  It was hard.  My professor wanted us to capture our raw personalities.  I smiled for most of my pictures and looked off to the side.  That shows I'm artsy, right?

I failed that lesson.  If only because my photos turned out blurry. 

But I remember looking at the negatives to those photos not too long ago and thinking I could do that assignment better now.  

Because this is what I know to be true about myself now:

I'm not all that creative, but I have my moments.

I normally think my photos are better than they actually are.

I must be susceptible to premature greying because I'm plucking a handful every month or so.

I'm only 23.

But where did the time go?  I'm already 23.

30 will be here in the blink of an eye and that scares me. 

I'm scared to get older.

Not for wrinkles and health, but for the mere fact that time goes by way too quickly.  In 10 years time, what regrets will I have? 

Speaking of wrinkles, I'm pretty well set on where mine will be.

I'm a good brow furrower.  Even when I think my face is relaxed, it's not.

Maybe it's because I'm such a worrier.

And I'll probably have crow's feet.  That's from smiling.  So are parentheses wrinkles.  I'll have those too.  I hope I'll think of them as a badge of honor.  It means I've lived happy.

I don't present myself the way a lot of other women do.  I'm okay with freckles and my makeup is sparse.

My skin isn't that great anyway.  So I accept it.

I lack profoundness, but cringe when I see others forcing it.

I sometimes wish I was artsy-fartsy.  The weirdness of the art world is beautiful, though I understand why most people don't get it.  My unsung hero is Sandy Skoglund.  Yet I married a true blue all-American boy who is the definition of baseball and hot dogs and apple pie. 

I find noise in a picture gives it interest.  Maybe I'm just saying that because I'm the Queen of Noise.

I want to be really good at something.  I hope I'm good at weaving once I learn.  It will take time, and patience is not a trait I was blessed with.

Aside from some physical aspects, I am happy with myself.  But the things I don't like can be quickly fixed if I really wanted.

But how do I put all that into a picture?  Is a picture worth 1000 words?  Because when I took this photo of myself, I wasn't thinking all that.  I was simply staring straight into the camera trying to relax my face.  

Alas.  A furrowed brow.  

But it's interesting that once a photo is taken, it can assume whatever form the viewer wants.  When I look at the picture, I see sparse eyebrows and freckles.  But I also see shadows of a younger me.  I guess my looks haven't changed so much after all.  It makes me wonder what I'll look like at age 40.  The same but with aged skin?  Will my brow be more pronounced?  Will my eyes still look the same?  Will more eye surgeries relax my left eye further?

Not exactly 1000 words.

  I now understand what my professor was trying to get out of us.  Art is interpreted an infinte amount of ways.  Just as people are.  

Jarred sees sadness in the photo.  Or Worry.  Or fear.  Possibly.

Those aren't exactly the emotions I was feeling as the photo was being taken.  But that's how Jarred sees it.  And that's important, as an artist or photographer to understand how others view your work.

Which can be a metaphor for life in general.  No, I don't think anyone's life should be controlled by anyone else, but I do believe that everyone should care how they present themselves to the world.  

I sometimes get nervous around people.  But am I seen as snotty?  I talk with my hands.  Does that mean I'm nervous?  I tend to look away as I talk to people when I'm flustered.  Does that make me socially awkward?  I try to be nice to everyone and can converse about shared interests with complete strangers.  Does that make me likable?

Does comparing self-portraits to real life make me profound?

3 years after my photography assignment was due, I understand the importance of self portraits.  For the longest time, I had my mind made up that those who called themselves photographers were just people who didn't like posing in pictures and didn't experience life.  I personally never cared one way or the other.  I never ducked out of frames or threw my arms out to get noticed in pictures either.  I just didn't understand why those who loved using cameras wanted to be stuck behind a lens their entire lives while their family and friends had fun.

Don't they want people to remember they were here?  Don't they want people to remember what they looked like?  Don't they want their loved ones to see their personality come alive through pictures?

I assumed not.

But not true, I've come to find.  Unfortunately, there are too many photographers amateur and professional alike that don't see the importance of capturing themselves.

I love taking photographs.  But I make myself take self portraits.  I want to remember how I looked at 23, a year into marriage and getting ready to journey back into the art field.  The last may be the reason for the brow.  Who knows.

I can't go back in time and resubmit my self-portrait assignment, but if I could, I think I'd be confident knowing that I captured something good.  I captured myself with every perfection and flaw.  I have my idea of what I want people to see when they look at my face, but I can't make them see it if they want to see something else.  

But the most important things I get from this picture is the fact that I am alive, I have lived, I have many stories to tell and I am perfectly me at age 23.

That's what a self-portrait is supposed to say.

Which, one should note, apparently takes 1050 words to say. 

Black

I'm back!  And a wee bit darker.  Back to black, shall we?

My dark roots were coming in strong and I could definitely tell a difference between the dyed red and my roots.  I'd been meaning to dye my hair for a few weeks now, but it was only because I had a dentist appointment this morning that I finally did the job.  I mean, I didn't want my hygienist hovering around my head looking at my nasty-fied  roots.  I know my true color isn't black, but all the box browns are way too light for my head.  I could have almost been mistaken for having back hair before I began dyeing, so I thought it was good enough.

Not too much has been going down in our world.  I've been spending my days trying to keep up our townhome's cleanliness and I've been doing a fair job.  Except for the kitchen.  I've never and probably will never been good at cleaning that room without inducing gagging.  I hate picking up the kitchen.  Apparently Jarred does too.  So I lose that battle.

Up this weekend, Jarred and I have an anniversary coming up.  I'm not sure what we'll be doing, but it won't be anything spectacular and glitzy.  We'll be going to eat somewhere in town and spending a quiet day together.  I'm not disappointed because honestly, no anniversary will top our actual wedding day.  I just want to spend some time with one another doing whatever we want. 

We do have the top tier of our cake to cut into and a bottle of champagne our reception hall gifted us for the honeymoon.  We never opened it, so we decided to save it for our anniversary.  We'll see how it tastes -- I've never had champagne, but I know it's bubbly and I don't like punch or anything fizzy.

I'm also going to be sewing up some drink coasters for our coffee table.  Jarred keeps saying that we need some, so I'll give the sewing machine the old heave ho.  I may even get creative and post instructions.  Who knows.  I can get crazy too!

Keeping Accountable

 Prepare to be super bored.  This post is mostly for myself.  I want to write down everything I'm doing for the week and it will hopefully keep me accountable.

Ever since we moved into our new home, my mind wakes me up around 6:45 and I casually get up with Jarred a little after 7.  It's such a change from when we were in the apartment where I had no will to get up and slept in until noon or after.  Yikes.

It is approximately 8:06 as I write this and I've already gotten up, dressed, brushed my teeth and washed my face, and made the bed.  Mom, did you just read that?  I made the freakin' bed!

Actually, I've been fairly regular about making the bed for a few months now.  Yeah.  I know.  Whoopity-doo.  Gold star for me.  But honestly, after lurking on The Nest message boards for long enough, I found out that the majority of those women (who are mostly in their 30s and have kid(s), by the way) don't make their bed unless they are changing out the sheets  I like making the bed because I love the decorating I've done in the bedroom.  All the colors from the fabric hoops and Sis's green satin pillow covers and the flower pillow I made make from a pretty sight.  That's really the only reason I make the bed.


I have a pretty good cleaning schedule set up.  Obviously wouldn't work for everyone and may not make sense to some.  But it's working for me.  Like magic. 

On Mondays, I clean the living room from top to bottom.  I may or may not clean the downstairs bathroom on Monday.  I did this week.  I also wash our towels used from the past week.  I change out bath towels once a week and kitchen towels every night. 

Tuesdays, I deep clean the kitchen and wash our clothes.

Wednesdays, I clean our office and vacuum the stairs. 

Thursdays, I clean our bedroom and wash our bedding.  I wash our quilt once a month.

And Fridays are bathroom day.  I will clean the master bath and the downstairs bathroom if it didn't get cleaned Monday.  Bathmat gets washed once a month.

So far, this cleaning schedule has been working out for me.  I was getting really burned out taking an entire day once a week and cleaning the entire place.  This way, I've got about 30 minutes to an hour of cleaning a specific area and I can spend the rest of the day tidying up everything else. 


Jarred and I are trying to save money in the food area.  We spent way way way too much on groceries last month.  So this month, we're trying to cut the budget by half.  $125 for a month of groceries for 2 people.  Can it be done?  I really hope. 

I spent a few hours (not all at once) planning our grocery trip this past Monday.  Ended up being under budget.  And no, we haven't had Ramen noodles all week, thankyouverymuch. 

Our Menu:

Monday:  Breakfast dinner with waffles, bacon, and baked eggs.  All I needed to get was maple syrup and bacon.  I had bought some frozen waffles a month ago and wanted to utilize them.  The baked eggs were to die for, by the way.

Tuesday:  Baked potato with salads.  I baked 2 big Idaho potatoes and pan-fried some frozen broccoli to top the potato with.  I placed a slice of American cheese over the potato and broccoli and microwaved for 20 seconds.

Wednesday:  Pizza and Salads.  We can buy a frozen pizza for $4.

Thursday:  Spaghetti and Sauce with pan-fried squash.  Easy enough.  The squash was bought 2 weeks ago.  Still good.

Friday:  Open face Turkey Sandwiches.  Yeah, this recipe can get ghetto real quick, but we still like it.  We toast bread we already have, I buy a large potato to boil and mash, and top it with cheap packaged lunch meat turkey and gravy.  Add frozen green beans and okra as a side.  Not bad.

Saturday night is a fridge raid.  Whether we want Ramen or a grilled cheese or cut up veggies, we just grab whatever we've got in the fridge.

Lunches can be anything from sandwiches to grilled cheese to frozen dinners.  We've found these awesome frozen burritos for 49 cents.  I buy 4 and that last us for 2 days, since Jarred and I normally eat the same thing for lunch.  Sometimes there are leftovers to be eaten.  Jarred always has a snack to take in, be it fresh made cookies or crackers and cheese.

Actually, we spent a few cents over $30 for this weeks groceries and I believe this is one of the better weeks we've had food-wise.  I haven't gone hungry and I don't believe Jarred has either.


Hopefully all this will be saving us some money and will teach us that you don't need much to live happy and healthy.