(All pics. snapped on 5/09/12)
One of the things that I liked the most about this shoot, was that I rode my bicycle for the first time in 6 or so years, to the place where I took this set of pics.. My poor, lonely mountain bike has sat immobile out in the cold, damp shed - its tires dry rotting, it's gears rusting - pretty much ever since I broke up with my first post-divorce boyfriend, absolutely ages ago. But after this nice guy I know, gave it an overhaul recently - something kinda cool came to mind, and that is: that riding a bike to my shoots would allow me to sneak onto properties that are prohibitively difficult to access by car.
What I didn't like about this shoot, was the fact that my face looked positively horrible from having cried myself to sleep the night before, and then woken up only four hours later - just to start bawling all over again (not a lotta face shots in this entry, you may notice). I basically cried on and off all morning, and up until about midway through this shoot. The least little thing (a hug from a friend, a song on Pandora, the cashier at the thrift store asking, "How are you today?"...a fond memory, or the thought of my foolish hopes and dreams) would cause my face to contort and twist, as I stoically tried (in vain) to keep my eyes from filling with water again...seemed I was powerless to prevent each inevitable deluge of tears from flooding the mascara-stained gorge that had carved its way through the stage make-up that I'd caked on my face for my pics.. I finally gave up even bothering with touch-up's, and trying to conceal my hideously red and swollen peepers...I was fighting a losing battle, as it were.
The bike ride felt good, though - and after hiding my new favorite mode of transportation in the tall grass, and acclimating myself to my surroundings...I got to work.
Initially I'd thought that I might be able to effectively incorporate my recurring crying jags into the day's shoot...and for the first forty frames, I did. The trouble was, I looked so freakin' heinous in the pictures, I knew there'd be no way in HELL that I'd ever let myself post 'em on the blog, with my self-esteem already at such a dreadful, all-time low...but even when I did manage to stifle the sobbing - I still couldn't erase the sad look on my face.
Aside from distant car traffic noise, and dogs barking sporadically in neighboring yards - the only sounds that I noticed during the first half of my shoot - were the constant buzzing of a bumblebee who apparently lived in the shed where I was shooting, my periodic weepy outbursts, and the beep of the timer on my camera. But when I heard the voice of a man close by - shout, "No! Come 'ere!" my heart leapt into my throat, and I panicked. Was he talkn' to me?! Shit! Had he seen me?! Where even was the guy? I frantically grabbed my stuff, ducked into the shed, and peered out through the busted door to see if he was coming towards where I was.
Imagine my surprise and my relief when I discovered that it was nothing more than the man who lived next door, simply walking his dog to the mailbox...and when the dog tried to run off, he had hollered at him...not me...hip hooray and halleluiah...
Better than that though, was when I calmed down enough to realize that the adrenaline surge from the momentary scare had taken my mind off of feeling so sorrowful. I even chuckled a little bit about the brief interlude, and before I knew it I was attacking my shoot once again, but with a completely changed demeanor and attitude. It was almost like some sort of paradigm shift had occurred instantaneously, and completely without warning. Suddenly I was remembering how good it can feel to pour my energy, my love, and my heart into something that actually yields positive and plentiful returns - in this case, my art...which I am becoming convinced, is perhaps the only thing (besides my kids) that will ever reflect more back onto me, than the amount that I put into it...
My most fatal flaw in life (or so it would seem) is that I'm a fool for love...and I gotta stop bein' that way. I guess I should consider it an encouraging sign though, that I do seem to figure it out and deal with it sooner - each subsequent, miserable time...



















