rcntly {july 2017}

i shot and delivered three weddings and an engagement shoot in july. i drove to canada by myself and got a tattoo. i settled into life atop the water, taking the raft out for sunsets and becoming familiar again with salt lightly caked on my skin. i began to exercise more and felt empowered as my asthma began to surrender to the movement of my body. i am becoming stronger, less afraid, more willing to say what i mean and mean what i say. i am the most confrontational i've ever been, and i'm figuring out if that's really me, or if i'm just learning what it means to be an unapologetic, intelligent womxn wrestling with the tides of culture and expectation. i'm trying to stay humble and kind while standing up for myself (the sun definitely makes that easier). i'm learning that it's okay to be angry and express anger, and i'm learning to forgive and be forgiven. i'm singing in the car daily, rejecting the lies i was told when i was young that said i don't have a voice; i have a voice, and it is beginning to bloom. i recently wrote in my phone notes, i find myself torn between the rhythms of nature and the buzz of the city, and the strange overlap between the two that Seattle finds itself within. i'm stepping into a new season of adulthood this summer, and the skin i'm shedding feels natural and ready.

i'm listening to natasha bedingfield as i type this, the sound of middle school pubescent feminine whimsy. i am slowly, gently returning to and away from myself in the heat of summer sunlight and the cradle of the ocean. thank you, july. you were good to me and those i love. you taught us more about accountability, community, what it means to expand and contract, what it means to communicate and then sit in knowing silence, ask for help, ask for conversation, ask for love when we need it. thank you.

(granted, photos from the 4th of july and the early days of this month were in a previous blog post. i write this blurb mainly for myself. i don't have ocd in many facets of my life, but keeping track of the passing of time is one of the ways it shows up) oh, and one more side note. if you're offended/made uncomfortable by the nude human form or you see naked women and automatically sexualize them, MAYBE don't look at this post and instead ponder upon the way you've been socialized to see breasts and femme folds as inappropriate sexual objects thx (or maybe you're just at work and having a butt pop up on your screen won't fly). peace n respect.

this life is as deeply full and deeply good as it is difficult and frustrating, and i am trying to practice gratitude through it all. thanks for taking a peak into my way of processing and remembering these days.

Krista and Christopher | Jardin del Sol Wedding 7/23/17

The sky was grey when my apprentice and I pulled up to Jardin del Sol on the morning of Krista and Christopher's wedding. We briefly discussed using diffusers and playing around with the soft light, but the moment that Krista arrived to the venue, the clouds parted and the sun burst through. All across Jardin del Sol, the flowers seemed to awaken and exude vibrancy for the sacred commitment that would be made that day.

Krista and Christopher, I am deeply honored and thankful that you trusted me to document your wedding day. Thank you for the good dancing, tasty mac n cheese, and most of all, for letting me into your relationship to capture your full and robust love for one another. Cheers to the rest of your lives, dears!

little fun thing, krista and christopher's wedding was the 25th wedding i've shot! wow!

Diana and Lukasz | Bainbridge Island Engagement Shoot

When I met Diana and Lukasz a few months ago, I immediately knew that the two of them would be a joy to work with and photograph. From the beginning, I sensed Diana's kindness and groundedness, her depth of soul and experience; Lukasz's silliness and observance and steadfastness; both of them intelligent and attentive and completely in love.

Engagement sessions are a funny thing; compared to weddings, where there is a calculated schedule and expected images to deliver, engagements are free form and whimsical. Sometimes posing and guidance is necessary, but sometimes, like with Diana and Lukasz, simply saying, "Pretend I'm not here," does the trick. We took the ferry from Downtown Seattle to Bainbridge Island, trotted around the park where they got engaged, made friends with some flowers, laughed in golden hour, and basked in a windswept dusk back to the city. Below are images that represent a love that is intimate and full within itself, unafraid of outside eyes, willing and ready to exist and flourish with ferry wind in their faces and pink flooding the sky.

Kat and Aaron | Lake Wilderness Lodge Wedding 7/16/17

I drove up from Portland on the morning of Kat and Aaron’s wedding. The air was crisp and warm and full of mid-July whimsy; as I wound my way through Maple Valley to Lake Wilderness Lodge, my fingers dancing above asphalt with the windows rolled down, I was thankful and settled and glad. It was a sacred day. And when I arrived at the venue, meeting my apprentice Kayley at the front of the lodge, we all immediately jumped into Kat and Aaron’s first look. And the rest of the day was swept away with laughter, deep love, greens and blues of the lake reaching towards the sky, and Mount Rainier emerging from a veil of cloud.

Thank you, dears Kat and Aaron, for trusting me to document your day. You have a love that is everlasting, and it was a joy to craft these images that represent your commitment to one another Cheers!

Hannah and Ben | Magness Tree Farm Wedding 7/15/17

It was a very warm 85 degrees on the day Hannah and Ben committed their lives to one another; summer light slid through the trees around their venue, dappling the forest floor with emerald pools and the promise of life ahead. We drank Moscow Mules and sat in the shade of cabins, and we laughed, and we rejoiced. Cheers, Hannah and Ben. It is an honor to have documented your wedding day. Thank you for letting me in and trusting me to capture your essence. I'm so thrilled for all that life has in store for you as a married couple!

video by austin harris of rowboat films

tattoos and black bears and water; whistler, bc.

the longer i exist in this body, chemistry, and personhood, the more i realize how fiercely independent i am and always have been. i am more grounded when i make intentional space for myself, i am kinder, i am more patient, i am more eloquent, i am more gracious. i stand up for myself and am not afraid to express how i feel to myself and to the people i love. i'm more honest. i'm more thoughtful and conscious of how hard it is to be human, and in doing so, i give people the benefit of the doubt more. i'm a better artist. as primarily an extrovert i don't like being alone, but solitude is very different than loneliness. and in independence, solitude is necessary. and from a very young age, i played with homemade toys and ribbons tied to sticks and ran around in my front yard, immersed in my imagination. whenever my family would come outside or a stranger would walk by, i would immediately pretend that i wasn't in my head, that i wasn't curious, that i wasn't strange. i felt shame and embarrassment at eight years old about playing and taking the time i needed to be fully who i am; i was afraid of being seen. and now, out of school for a year after being in a classroom for sixteen years, told to not doodle during class even though it helped me learn and concentrate, fidgeting in my seat because i needed more time than other students to release my energy and anxiety, i am letting the young girl within me speak up again, and she has a lot to say. she is reminding me that it's okay to take my space to play and explore and imagine and be curious by myself. she is reminding me that it's okay to make and sing just for the damn sake of making and singing, even if it doesn't look or sound good. reminding me that my intensity is nothing to be ashamed of. she is reminding me that i can be by myself, and myself is good. and i don't have to run away from her anymore.

at least twice a month i have dreams of singing and letting my voice reverberate within my ribcage and throat without censoring myself. it is a dream of freedom and a cry to be seen by myself again, to no longer be afraid of who i am and what i need.

i went to new york city by myself in the spring to visit friends in brooklyn, and after that trip, i felt almost exactly the same way i do in this moment. empowered, full, grounded, capable. so very capable, and it's one of the most calming, powerful, and lovely feelings. i love traveling with my partner, but as our relationship continues to evolve and become evermore steadfast, i am realizing that i need to escape at times, to listen and breathe and see and learn through my independence and other relationships; personal pilgrimages. as much as austin and i intentionally fight against the gender roles and expectations we have been taught our entire lives by religion and society, there are narratives that we both cannot help but accidentally slip into without even realizing at times. and so, i am discovering that it is a non negotiable for me to step away every so often to collect and remind myself how strong and intelligent and fierce i am. that i can cross the border by myself, trust my gut that a girl i only know from instagram will be a good weekend travel partner as i pick her up in vancouver, that we can find a secret camp site on a random dirt road that my sedan definitely shouldn't have been on, that i can drive twelve hours by myself to get a tattoo that has taken seven months to schedule, that i can kayak by myself and let my heart and eyes overflow into the water and mountains, that i can be a leader in camping and traveling and make calls from my intuition and gut, that i can let the earth cradle me and let experiences be holy and sacred and thoughtful. and it can just be mine. having a human partner to witness my life is a gift, but there are times where witnessing yourself in solitude is an essential form of self love.

i am picking up fragments and souvenirs that i have lost throughout my life. they feel foreign and dear and as though my sensitive, easily broken, porcelain heart is finding a way to beat again. rediscovering that the water is cold but the way that it creates drops upon my skin is fantastical, and friendships are hard but healing is possible, that even when we lose ourselves we are always there to come back to, and we will be embraced by the Divine that is always waiting within to let us collapse and weep and unfurl our leaves into the sunlight once again; rooted, again.

the float (4th) of july

I have a lot of problems with the way that the 4th of July is celebrated and the attitudes of nationalism, pride, and ignorance that arise with a vengence on Independence Day. I am thankful that I have freedom as a white, cis-gender woman who grew up Christian and is dating a man. But my freedom and my gratitude cannot shadow the suffering and fear that too many people still live with in this country. I don't have to fear for my life when I am pulled over. I don't have to hope that my child won't be shot for playing with a toy gun in public. Violence and exploitation still rule this nation; White, Western imperialism should not be celebrated. Instead of being a day of humble gratitude where we look forward to all of the work that still needs to be done and take responsibility as people with privilege to make that work come into fruition, the 4th of July becomes a celebration of white privilege, binge drinking, and power. And that is what I have a problem with.

So, this 4th of July, we sailed and marveled at the natural world. We jumped into the water and ate bread and cheese in different forms and belly laughed. We hugged and splashed, and those who had work off used their day to spend time with their loved ones. We drank tasty brews and set up a hammock on the mast of my boat. We made new friends and leaned our heads onto the shoulders of old ones. We floated, all day. We watched the fireworks quietly. And it was a good day. A strange day to celebrate and come together, but it was a good day nevertheless.

thank you, my dear Austin, for taking some of these photos. you are talented and i love you.

idaho

family vacation means slow mornings of dappled sunlight, good rest for the soul, romping through meadows and beneath the shadows of mountains, jumping into glittering bodies of water, making and consuming homemade ice cream, taking our time to exist in ways that we can't in the movement of normal life. family is complicated, and that's no different when you temporarily change environments. but it does somehow cultivate more kindness, more silliness, more genuine conversation. and it does lead to some photographs i'll cherish for the rest of my life.

thank you, austin dear, for capturing images of my family and i that we would never otherwise have.