Taking Pictures of My Own Life is Hard
We recently returned from a 5-week stay in Portland, Oregon. We go back as often as we’re able to reconnect with family, eat amazing pastries, and buy clothes that actually fit (that last one is mostly my own journey). Every single year, I have grand plans about documenting the entire experience. I observe families and tease out the narrative that’s created by the seemingly mundane acts of daily life all the time, so why not for my own family? And every single year, I discover that it’s almost impossible for me to do this for myself.
This isn’t just down to the fact that no one else in my family thinks about photos and storytelling as much as I do, although there is that. As a result, I’m in very few photos. I’m always the one taking the photos.
The issue is more that I don’t have the freedom to get lost in making photos when I’m with my own family. I’m wearing too many hats and thinking of too many things. My arms are literally full of crap I’m carrying for my kids. My head is metaphorically full of all the thoughts and feelings that bubble up when I’m with my people. There isn’t enough room for me to think about the story that’s unfolding. I still try and notice the moments, and I know it’ll pay off later. But my bandwidth for noticing is much lower when I’m with my own family.
This makes me a bit crabby, because I’m someone who has to photograph life in order to live fully and presently in it. My camera is how I see. If I can’t empty my mind enough to photograph my own life, am I not seeing it as fully as I could be?
I suppose there’s an argument to be made for not having to make something of life, to just be able to let the experience wash over you like a wave and then be able to say that wave felt good, I’m glad it happened. But that feels so lonely. I think we like to make things because we’re reaching our fingers out into the darkness, and we’re hoping someone else is reaching out from another place and we’ll feel the brush of their fingertips. I want every one of my photos to reach out in this way, to tell a story that’s familiar to people, even if that spark of recognition happens with someone who isn’t even here yet, long after I’m gone. They’ll still feel my touch.
I guess I should offer some concrete advice. Here are my recommendations for making photos of your own life (cell phones work great!):
Never have to carry things, struggle with an umbrella in the rain, or comfort a crying child. You need your hands free for photographing!
Never have any other obligations besides making your art. Tell your family you can’t go by the market on the way home from your photowalk because you need your mind completely free to think artistic thoughts!
Don’t get in a situation where you have to drive people places. Trust me, it never ends.
Better yet, try not to have to be anything for anyone. All these different roles like mother or sister are exhausting and will make you too tired to do anything else.
Is all of this impossible? Okay, here’s a different approach.
Just do it.
Just grab your phone and take the picture. The light is terrible but this moment will never happen again.
Someone is crying, put your phone down. It’s okay, there will be other moments.
You’re tired; your’re busy; everyone is touching you and asking you to do things all the time. Look in the mirror and take a picture so you’ll remember.
Your baby took their first steps and you used your two hands to clap for her. Now take one of those hands to take a blurry picture of her second steps.
Notice what you can; photograph some of it. Just doing this one thing will make you notice more.
Just keep reaching. Sometimes you’ll touch something.
